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Chapter Text

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     Paris. 26 August 1927

"Why didn't you tell us earlier, Papa?" Her tone was tinged with frustration.
"I'm sorry, Emily, but I found out this morning."
"How come you didn't know earlier that someone was coming to live with us?!" Emily was offended.
"His Father called after breakfast and informed me that he would be staying with us," he explained calmly to the girls.
"Yeah, sure, like our home is a hotel," Emily mumbled quietly, but they still heard her.
"And we're letting him stay with us because?" Fleur asked tiredly.
"Because his father was the one who offered our business financial support when we needed it the most, Fleur. So please be nice to his son," he kindly pleaded his daughters as they exited the house.
"Do you at least know this guy? What if he's..." Emily gasped, "a creep?"
"I've never met him, but he's around your age, so you should get along well. All I know is that he's coming to study at the arts college in Paris," Papa explained as they waited at the front gate. "Oh, here he comes!" They watched quietly as a car pulled up in front of their yard. The girls looked at each other, rolling their eyes.
"Say hello to our new snobby roommate," Fleur whispered in Emily's ear, making her chuckle.

The driver held the door open for him before quickly going to the trunk to retrieve the luggage. After being thanked, the chauffeur drove off.
"What a snob!" thought Emily to herself as she tried to analyse her roommate. 

He seemed... strange. Emily's attention was immediately drawn to his piercing blue eyes, which were overshadowed by dark bruises. She then noticed his neatly ironed long-sleeved shirt and wondered why he was wearing it in the heat of August. As he extended his trembling palm to her, she couldn't help but notice the bandages wrapped around both of his hands. She shook his hand gently, afraid of causing him any pain.

With a warm smile, the teenager introduced himself as Nikolaus Jäger.
"It's a pleasure to finally meet the Monets," he said kindly, extending his hand to greet the rest of the family.

Unable to contain her curiosity any longer, Emily blurted out,
"Is everything alright? Why is your face bruised?" Her Father was too shocked by her boldness to say anything. Nikolaus's eyes widened, and he turned even paler than he already was. Emily could hear his heartbeat quicken and noticed that he had stopped breathing.
"It... it is... because...

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     Zürich. 14 October 1936

The sound of the doorbell echoed throughout the entire house, waking Emily. She rubbed her eyes in confusion, looking around the dimly lit room. Her husband, still working at his desk, looked up at her and shrugged, just as clueless as she was. With a tired sigh, Emily got out of bed and reassured him, gently stroking his hair.
"Don't worry, dear, I'll get it." She yawned as she sluggishly made her way downstairs, wondering who could possibly be at her house in the middle of the night. As she opened the door, she was surprised to see Klaus standing there, rain pouring heavily on his head.

"Oh my, sweetheart, aren't you freezing?" Emily asked, her hand slowly rising to her lips in concern as she allowed him to enter without questioning. She hurriedly made her way to the staircase, calling out to her husband with a voice trembling with excitement and worry, "Ferdinand, dear, Collin is here!" She then turned back to Klaus, who was staring at the floor absentmindedly. "Take off those wet clothes and sit at the table; you must be starving," Emily said with a kind voice, bringing him back to reality and startling him.

Her husband rushed down the stairs, eyes wide open in disbelief.
"What are you doing here in the middle of the night, Klaus? Shouldn't you be at the garrison in Germany?" Ferdinand asked, sitting at the table next to the drenched man. Before taking a seat as well, Emily placed a plate of warm food in front of the guest.
"They gave me a week off because father died yesterday," Klaus answered carelessly before starting to eat.
"That's... great news!" Ferdinand exclaimed, patting Klaus's shoulder with excitement. "You're finally free now! You can do whatever you want!" 
"I guess so..." he mumbled, his attention focused on his food. 
"But how did he die?" Ferdinand continued joyously.
"Heart attack? Old age? What do I care?" The couple chuckled at his response, but when they noticed Klaus's lack of amusement, they stopped. Ferdinand furrowed his brows in confusion.
"Why are you so let down? I expected you to be happier."
"I am happy!" Klaus finally raised his gaze to meet Ferdinand's, before quickly looking away again. "It's just... I'm tired, alright?" He continued to eat gloomily, letting the kitchen drown in silence.

Klaus remained quiet throughout the entire meal, staring at his now-empty plate. As minutes passed, Emily grew increasingly uncomfortable with his sadness. She could tell that something was wrong, even though he refused to admit it. She desperately wanted to say something to cheer him up—anything at all. Finally, she remembered.
"Collin, I have a surprise for you!" Emily said softly, wrapping her arms around his shoulders with a gentle smile. He raised an eyebrow, curious. "I managed to arrange a meeting with the jeweler in New York for you! He was so impressed by your design that he's willing to work with you." Her face was filled with excitement and pride.
"I'm not going," Klaus retorted, avoiding her eyes.
"You can't back out now after all the effort I put into convincing him. If you don't accept this meeting, he won't agree to craft your engagement rings." Her voice was tinged with disappointment.
"I said I'm not going anywhere!" He turned at her, his brows furrowed in anger. Emily exchanged a worried glance with her husband, silently pleading for him to ask,
"Klaus, what's wrong?" They both expectantly looked at him as Ferdinand added, "I know you're not upset about your father's death, so what's bothering you?"
"I'm fine," Klaus sighed. "Just don't worry about me," he barely muttered.
"C'mon Klaus, you're not fooling anyone! Let's talk about it." Ferdinand reached out and rested his arm on Klaus's shoulders. "You will feel better if we talk about it."
"I..." Klaus exhaled, continuing to avoid their eyes as if he were ashamed of himself. His voice trembled as he continued, "When I came home from the garrison yesterday," a tear streamed down Klaus's cheek, but he quickly wiped it away, hoping Emily and Ferdinand hadn't noticed, "I found Charlotte in my bed with someone else." Emily gasped as Ferdinand's eyes widened in shock.

Ferdinand's heart shattered. He could feel his brain boiling, his eyes stinging, and his fists curling on their own. How dare that woman, if she could even be called that, make his dear cousin, his brother, cry? He wondered who on God's green Earth she thought she was, daring to upset his family. His heart raced, but then Ferdinand realized that the best thing he could do for Klaus was to comfort him, show him that it wasn't his fault, that he was appreciated, and that he was loved. So, Ferdinand slowly pulled him into a hug while Emily started to stroke his damp hair.

"It's okay, Klaus," he whispered as Klaus started to sob quietly. "It's not your fault." Slowly, he wrapped his arms around Ferdinand's back, hiding his teary face and trying to make himself as small as possible, hoping to disappear.
"But I loved her, cuzz!" Klaus growled painfully. "I loved her, and she didn't even care." His voice trembled with anger. 
"It's okay," Ferdinand shushed, gently cupping Klaus's face and making him look into his eyes. "Who cares about Charlotte anyway?" he chuckled, trying to lift Klaus's mood. "Don't let a whore break your heart. She's not worth it. There's someone out there who will truly love you, Klaus. Don't waste your time being upset over her."

Klaus smiled bitterly before retreating to his safe spot: his family's embrace. No words were needed between them, as the warmth of their closeness spoke louder than any confession of love and support. The gentle splashes of rain on the window provided a soothing sound while the three of them sat at the kitchen table, wrapped in each other's arms. As the sun began to rise, they continued to hold Klaus tightly, as if shielding him from the harshness of the world. Only when his clothes had dried did Klaus finally apologize, avoiding their gaze. 
"Sorry for keeping you up all night." 
"It's okay, Collin. Don't worry," Emily yawned, patting Klaus's head in reassurance. "What matters most is that you're feeling better now." Klaus's innocent expression brought a smile to her face.

Emily released them from the hug only to wash Klaus's plate from the previous day. As she did so, she turned around to say,
"I think you should still meet the jeweler though." She immediately noticed their confused faces, so she quickly added, "It doesn't have to be for Charlotte! You could still get those done for your future someone. I think that whoever that someone will be, she will enjoy that ring, especially because you drew it." Klaus grinned thoughtfully, and looking at Emily, he laughed, 
"You know what? You're right! I will meet with the jeweler and I will get those rings done!" Ferdinand patted Klaus's shoulder.
"That's more like it!"

After a long and overwhelming night, Ferdinand craved a moment of relaxation. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes, offering one to Klaus. However, as Ferdinand attempted to light the cigarettes, his wife overheard and turned around, her arms crossed in disapproval.
"No smoking in my house, you idiots!" Emily scolded, clearly offended. Both men raised their hands in surrender and reluctantly got up from the table. Before leaving the kitchen, Ferdinand playfully ruffled his wife's hair, seeking revenge for being kicked out. They sat on the now-dry doorstep, enjoying their cigarettes in peaceful silence.

Klaus gazed at the lake, just steps away from him. The rising sun cast a beautiful bundle of colorful lights, dancing in perfect harmony on the water's surface. The forest surrounding them on the hill provided a peaceful escape from the noise of the city, creating a little sanctuary only for them to see. As he stood there, Klaus couldn't help but feel like a child again, wishing he could stay another night with his uncle and play with Ferdinand. He looked at the forest, as if seeing himself and Ferdinand still exploring it together, hoping they wouldn't get lost again. Enveiled in his childhood memories, Klaus didn't even notice when Ferdinand turned to him and laughed,
"Remember how you were crying every time Pops didn't release the fish back into the lake after catching them?" Klaus raised a skeptical eyebrow, not finding the memories amusing. He needed to get back at Ferdinand, so he asked,
"Remember when you asked if the fish were drowning in the lake?" However, instead of feeling ashamed, Ferdinand burst into laughter, saying,
"I was only five!" Seeing his cousin's amusement, Klaus couldn't help but break into a chuckle. 

"We should go fishing again, like we used to when Pops was still around," Ferdinand suggested with a wistful smile. Klaus stood up from the threshold and offered his hand to Ferdinand, who gladly took it and stood up as well.
"Yeah, we should." Klaus smiled as they made their way into the house. They settled into the office when Ferdinand suddenly brightened up.
"You know what would be amazing? If you built your own house by the lake and lived next to me and Emily," he exclaimed. Klaus's smile faded as he whispered,
"I can't do that, cuzz. I can't leave the army."

Just then, there was a knock on the door, and Emily entered with two cups of coffee. She placed one in front of Klaus and the other in front of her husband, both of whom thanked her. As she turned to leave, Ferdinand called out to her,
"Why are you leaving, darling?" 
"Well, I figured out that since you came to the office, you have something important to discuss. I didn't want to bother you," Emily explained, looking confused. 
"You could never," Ferdinand pleaded as he offered his chair to her. "Besides, you know that I don't keep secrets from you," he added, sitting on the desk instead.

Now, both of them turned to look at Klaus, and he could feel their eyes on him. His palms began to sweat, making them slippery. Klaus wished he had his gloves on. He started fumbling with his thumbs, hoping that the distraction would calm his racing heart and ease his nerves. But why was he even nervous? He was now surrounded by family who loved him, right? Yes, they did, and because of their love for him, Klaus was even more afraid to say something that would disappoint them and convince them that he's a horrible person.

"Why aren't you leaving the army? Your father is gone, so there is no longer any pressure on you to achieve someone else's dream of a great military career. Unless you suddenly decided to become a Nazi, a murderer," Ferdinand asked, his tone demanding and serious. Klaus's heart raced. Thinking it would calm him down, he took a sip of coffee. It didn't. He exhaled deeply, not realizing he had been holding his breath, and began to explain,
"Because I need favors from the Nazis. I can't just leave Germany."
Ferdinand asked pointedly, his smile disappearing,
"What kind of favors do you need from the Nazis?" He emphasized the last two words.
"I managed to meet the previous owner of the last factory that father bought." The information confused the couple, causing them to exchange puzzled glances.
"What does this have to do with anything?" Ferdinand interrupted Klaus, making him snap, frustrated,
"For goodness sake, just listen, will you?!" Rolling his eyes, Ferdinand made a hand gesture for him to continue.

"I went behind father's back and managed to meet with him last week. It turns out that he was Jewish and had to sell his factory because of it. The Nazis took everything he had and sold it for next to nothing. And knowing how father was a talented Nazi bootlicker, I'm sure he got the factory for a steal." Klaus's voice was filled with disgust. 
"But what happened to him and his family?" Emily asked, worried, giving her full attention to Klaus's story.
"They were imprisoned," Klaus admitted, feeling a little ashamed of his initial belief. "At first, I thought they had been sent to jail." Emily's eyes widened in shock.
"And they weren't?" 
"No," Klaus began rubbing his forehead with his palm. "That's the problem. They were sent to concentration camps." Ferdinand chuckled, unamused.
"That's exactly what I expected from the Nazis—nothing more, nothing less! And if you know the truth, why, for God's sake, would you want to associate yourself with them? Just leave the army before you get caught up in a mess too deep to back down from!" His tone was annoyed and demanding. Klaus got up from his seat and started tapping his finger on the desk, raising his voice angrily,
"I owe them, Ferdinand! Father intended to get richer at their expense! I need to do something to help them! I have to do something!" His expression softened before he whispered, concerned, "But if I simply leave, I won't be able to do anything."

Ferdinand let out a sigh and rubbed his eyes,
"Do you at least have a plan?" Klaus reached for his map and pulled out a pile of documents, which he handed to the couple.
"Who do you take me for? Of course, I have a plan!" he replied proudly. "Father was supposed to meet with Himmler and some other Nazi dogs. My chief executive officer and I will go instead and try to get their signatures for this," he explained as the two read through the papers.

Klaus began tapping his fingers on the desk unconsciously, mimicking the movements of a pianist. This mindless motion eased his doubts. He feared the couple would reject his plan, knowing well that if they didn't approve it, neither would the generals or Himmler.
"It's been 283 seconds already. What takes them so long?" Klaus thought to himself. He had been counting every second since they began reading, eagerly anticipating their opinions as if they were the results of the most important test of his life. But what if this truly was the test of his life?

"Is this your entire plan?" Ferdinand looked up from the papers. "You want to use inmates to start the factory? That's illegal, you know."
"Oh, that's just the official part, cuzz." Klaus grinned cheekily. 
"Official part?" Ferdinand furrowed his brow in confusion. 
"Yes, I plan to bribe them for each prisoner they allow me to take to the factory." 
"And you think bribing and eliminating labour costs will be enough to convince them?" Ferdinand checked the papers again, still skeptical of the idea. 
"How do you even plan to do that, Collin? You still have to pay the workers, and if you cut labour costs entirely, you'll end up bankrupt." Emily took the documents from her husband, expressing her concerns.

"Why would I give them salaries? The party considers them subhuman." Klaus reminded them, disgusted by the policy, "And even if I were to pay them, the money would go to the party, leaving the workers with nothing anyway."
"Still, I don't believe this will work," Ferdinand confessed, unconvinced. Klaus just waved his hand in disapproval. 
"That's because you're a pessimist. With the right amount of money and right acting, it is possible," he said with a smile. "Just imagine: not only could I offer cheaper metal than the competition, but I could also brag about how the 'subhuman' would contribute to the Aryan's evolution. Instead of wasting their lives, they could be useful! Think about the possibilities," he pleaded, trying to convince the couple. It was as if he needed their signatures for the plan to succeed.
"I mean, it's convincing to me," Emily admitted to her husband. 
"You're willing to say anything to get the prisoners out of there, aren't you?" Ferdinand asked, double-checking the documents in his wife's hands. Klaus smiled and nodded excitedly.

"If you are going with your chief executive officer, how will you convince him to support you?" he asked Klaus, finishing his coffee. "After all, wasn't Meyer a die-hard Nazi?"
"Who said that Meyer is still working for me?"
"If Meyer has left, then who is your current chief executive officer?" Ferdinand questioned. Klaus grinned and pointed at Emily, exclaiming, 
"It's you!"
"Me?" Her eyes widened in disbelief. "No, no, I can't do it!" She shook her head, hugging herself for comfort. 
"Why did you spend all those years in college if you don't feel ready now? Besides, you've already proven yourself capable with your Father's company," Klaus frowned in disagreement.
"That was a small watch manufacturing family business, Collin," she pleaded, unconvinced by her own accomplishments. "Not banks and several different firms with multiple factories."
"Come on, Emily, we know you can do it!" her husband added. 
"I not only need someone qualified, like you, but someone I can trust, also like you," Klaus chuckled, attempting to lighten the mood and convince her.
"Collin, I'm a woman," she muttered. "Who will take you seriously with a woman as the chief executive officer?" 
"Anyone who recognizes the importance of working with me. That shouldn't be your main concern." She turned to her husband, hoping for some guidance. Ferdinand laughed and patted her shoulder. 
"Why are you looking at me? It's your decision to make, not mine."

Emily tilted her head slightly, furrowed her brow, and rubbed her temple. She was carefully weighing the pros and cons of taking the offer. After some contemplation, she sighed,
"Fine." Klaus's expression instantly brightened as he grasped her hand and exclaimed,
"You saved my life!" In response, Emily smiled, reassuring Klaus that she would be there to support him and not let him down on his goals. She looked through the documents, which were now her responsibility, and asked, 
"When will the meeting with the officials take place?" 
"Tomorrow at noon," Klaus admitted, continuing to tap his fingers on the table as if playing the piano.
"Tomorrow?!" Emily exclaimed, quickly getting up from the chair and looking at Klaus with panic. "Collin, are you insane? Why didn't you tell me earlier?!" 
"Well, I'm telling you now," he replied, looking confused as Emily rushed out of the office.

As she hurriedly packed for the road, they could hear her slamming things in her room from the second floor. 
"Oh, dear Lord, what have I gotten myself into?" she shouted, upset. 
"I'm sorry, I didn't even think you'd accept," Klaus sheepishly admitted as the woman came downstairs with her luggage. 
"Just shut up!" Emily snapped, without raising her voice but clearly angry. She grabbed a brush and aggressively combed her hair. "Liar, you knew I would accept!" She turned and pointed the brush at Klaus as if it were a weapon.
"Yeah, I knew you'd agree," he laughed, amused by the harmless threat.

After the men went outside to Klaus's car, she returned to her room. They carefully placed the luggage in the trunk, patiently waiting for Emily to join them. 
"You must call me after the meeting," Ferdinand demanded from his cousin. 
"Don't worry, cuzz," Klaus chuckled, but Ferdinand wasn't amused. "If it makes you feel any better, then fine." They hugged when Emily came out the front door.
"I look terrible, thanks to you!" she winced, giving Klaus a murderous look and snuggling up to her husband. 
"Nonsense!" Ferdinand protested, kissing her forehead. 
"Yeah, you could look even worse," Klaus nodded. Emily tried to slap him on the shoulder, but he dodged and laughed.

Klaus started the engine as Emily got into the car. Ferdinand leaned in through the window and nervously reminded them,
"You two take care of yourselves, and don't forget to call me!" Emily responded with a soft kiss on his lips and a pat on his head before Klaus drove off. Ferdinand waved behind, wondering if they would succeed.

Chapter Text

     Outskirts of Berlin. 16 December 1941

Klaus had lost everything. He had been meant to lead the victorious march into Moscow and be the first to set foot in the frozen land's heart. He had dreamed of finally being able to get married and have someone who simply enjoyed his company. Klaus had been so close to fulfilling his dreams, but in the end, he didn't. Instead, he was sitting in his kitchen, mutilated, and clutching a bottle of whiskey with a trembling hand. He may have received a medal and a promotion in return, but at what cost? Was the sacrifice truly worth it? Was it worth having a disfigured face, a broken leg, and ribs? Was it worth enduring the biting cold and hunger for days? And most importantly, was it worth the loss of so many lives?

Klaus took a gulp directly from the bottle with his uninjured arm while holding a napkin with his broken one. He couldn't remember how many times he had read the words scribbled on that napkin—the first thing he received after waking up in the hospital,

Klaus couldn't comprehend where he had gone wrong. How could he have possibly failed? That was impossible! Klaus, who never in his life lost a battle—at anything, was defeated and lost everything. How? He lifted the bottle to his lips and gulped down the golden liquid, his hand shaking uncontrollably.

It wasn't even Klaus's fault. No, it was the soldier's fault. How much he hated that soldier, that damned Soviet soldier who had to ruin everything. Everything! If Klaus hadn't lost that battle, he could have been in Moscow, married, and happy. But he wasn't, all because of that damned Soviet soldier. How much he despised that nameless person in his head, how much he hoped that he was dead. 

Klaus continued to chug down the bottle of whiskey, trembling as he did so. Perhaps he had drunk too much, or perhaps he hadn't drunk enough.
"You know you're pathetic, right?" A voice called out to him. Klaus turned his head slowly, almost falling from his chair. 
"Herr Kuchen?" he asked, with blurred vision in his uninjured eye. 
"Who else could it be? They've all forgotten about you," Herr Kuchen giggled, approaching the drunken man. 
"Haven't heard from you in a while," Klaus replied, struggling to stay upright. 
"That's because you never bothered to reach out to me, dummy," he retorted, sounding offended.
"And you came now to insult me? Thanks, mate, I appreciate it," Klaus muttered. In response, Herr Kuchen smiled, proud of his words. 

After finishing his whiskey, Klaus struggled to open a bottle of vodka. As he took his first sip, he attempted to crumple the napkin, but his broken arm was too weak to complete the motion. 
"Bloody hell," Klaus winced before taking the napkin in his other hand, defeated. Herr Kuchen peered over Klaus's shoulder and asked, curious, 
"Did she break up with you?" 
"That's none of your business," Klaus whispered, his anger evident. 
"At least she left you a note," Herr Kuchen shrugged. 
"Yeah, she left a damn message and ran away like a coward," Klaus retorted. 
"So you would have preferred her to tell you in person, like Carla did?" Herr Kuchen chuckled. 
"Shut up," Klaus barely muttered. 
"To tell you to your face how pathetic you are?"
"Shut up," Klaus interrupted, his voice rising as his anger boiled. 
"To tell you that you're a good-for-nothing drug addict who is now also crippled and useless?" Herr Kuchen asked innocently. 
"Shut the hell up!" Klaus finally shouted, his eyes widening as he gazed at the floor.

Herr Kuchen chuckled, giving Klaus a friendly pat on the shoulder.
"Ah, you remember, don't you?" He wiped away a tear, still giggling. "You remember how she screamed at you in the hospital, saying she wouldn't live with a meth addict? Did you want that kind of attention again? Did you want everyone in the hospital to see how pitiful you are and feel sorry for you this time too?"
"It's not even my fault!" Klaus whined, his voice trembling.
"Oh, really? Then whose fault is it?" Herr Kuchen spoke to Klaus as if he were a child.
"It's his fault! That damned, good for nothing, Soviet soldier!" Klaus screamed, grabbing his disheveled hair.
"Do you even hear yourself? Talking like that about a dead person who was only protecting his country. Just let his poor soul rest in peace," Herr Kuchen pleaded, disappointed.
"Rest in peace? It is his fucking fault I lost everything!" Klaus continued shouting, turning at Herr Kuchen with his left brow furrowed in anger.
"His fault? It's your fault, Nikolaus! You lost against a single tank, yes, you who had ten!" he screamed, pointing at Klaus. "And you keep believing that you're the best, that you're undefeatable. If anything, you're just pathetic." Herr Kuchen shook his head, let down by Klaus's words.

Klaus lifted the bottle of vodka to his lips, the cool liquid burning its way down his throat. He tried desperately to push away the hurtful words that kept ringing in his mind. But his attempt failed miserably, as Herr Kuchen sighed and added,
"No wonder all those girls left you and your family too."
"Why are you even here anyway?" Klaus's head hung low, his eyes fixed on the ground, as he mumbled his question.
"I promised your Mother that I would take care of you," he replied carelessly.
"Great job so far." Klaus rolled his eyes.

Herr Kuchen chuckled once more, moving closer and observing with curiosity as Klaus retrieved a bottle of pills.
"Are you mixing drugs with alcohol?" he asked, perplexed. "What? Are you trying to kill yourself? In front of me?" Herr Kuchen gasped, snatching the small container from Klaus's hand.
"Calm down, you maniac! I was just taking my heart medication," Klaus sighed, too exhausted to argue any further.
"Heart medication, my ass! I know for a fact that you obtained these from the same people who gave you meth." Herr Kuchen pointed at the bottle, his anger evident. "You don't even know what could be in this," he continued, searching for a label on the small bottle.

Klaus's ears were suddenly filled with the deafening echo of his rushing heartbeat. His eyes widened in shock. How? How could Klaus not have realized it earlier? Herr Kuchen was right; the pills were given by the same people who ruined his life the first time. Was Klaus really so pathetic, making the same mistake twice? Was he really about to start drugging himself again? No, it couldn't be true! He couldn't accept that it was true!
"Nikolaus!" He finally snapped, trying to steady his breathing as he turned to Herr Kuchen, scared. "Are you okay?" he asked Klaus, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.
"Please, please," Klaus desperately begged. "Please tell me it's not true! Tell me that I wasn't about to drug myself again!" He started sobbing. Herr Kuchen hugged him, letting his tears roll onto his chest.
"You were," he said, patting Klaus's head gently.
"No, no, no!" Klaus repeatedly slammed his broken arm on the table, punishing himself as he cried, "Oh God, I'm really turning into an addict again!" He continued crying as Herr Kuchen took hold of his arm to stop him from further injuring it. "What a disappointment I am! What would my Mother say if she saw me?" He snuggled closer to Herr Kuchen.

"Let's get you back to bed," he said softly, helping Klaus up from his seat. He could barely walk; his vision was blurry, and his eyes were filled with tears. One of his feet was broken, and the other was shaking. With great effort and Herr Kuchen's help, Klaus was able to make it to his bedroom on the second floor. Herr Kuchen tucked him into bed and proceeded to leave.
"Could you stay with me? I can't sleep," Klaus admitted, embarrassed. Tears still streamed down his cheeks. Herr Kuchen chuckled, wiping his face.
"You drank like a horse, and you can't sleep?"
"I feel like I'm being watched," he whispered, feeling threatened in a way he couldn't comprehend.
"Well, I'm watching you," Herr Kuchen admitted, confused.
"That's not what I meant," Klaus said, furrowing his brows.
"Maybe it's because you drank too much?" he suggested, concerned.
"No, that's the reason I started drinking. I hoped that the feeling would disappear," Klaus shrugged, making himself more comfortable.
"Then it should be because you're tired. Don't worry; when you wake up, everything should be fine," Herr Kuchen said, cuddling Klaus in bed and patting his head.
"Perhaps," Klaus yawned. He still felt the strange gaze upon himself even when he closed his eyes. But he didn't worry; he knew Herr Kuchen was right, and even if he wasn't and Klaus really was in danger, Herr Kuchen would protect him.

     Outskirts of Berlin. ???

     Outskirts of Berlin. ???

     Outskirts of Berlin. ???

"Did you not take good care of yourself?" the nurse asked Klaus as she gave him his medicine. He simply nodded, keeping his head hung low. She smiled, trying to lift his mood, but was unsuccessful. Klaus hugged himself with his healthy arm and, with a voice trembling with anxiety, he asked,
"Frau Obstler, is it normal to feel like someone is watching me?" He paused when she turned to look at him. "I hope you don't think I'm insane," he admitted, embarrassed. Frau Obstler scratched her head, and without thinking too much, she smiled.
"Don't worry, it's probably just because you're tired," she replied, packing her things into her medical bag. Klaus watched as she went to the door, and before exiting the house, she called out to him,
"Make sure to take good care of yourself until my next visit!" Klaus smiled in response, feeling the warmth of someone's care. Even though it was her job to care for him, it still felt better than having no one at all.

Struggling to make his way to the staircase, Klaus collapsed onto the steps, exhausted and in pain. All his muscles were sore, even though he did nothing but walk from the other room, leaning on the walls for support. With a deep inhale, Klaus pushed himself off the ground and began going up the stairs, his hand gripping tightly onto the railing for support. He gasped for air, his heart racing as he continued climbing, his limbs numb and unresponsive. Each step felt like a battle against his heavy body, the stairs stretching endlessly before him like a never-ending mountain.

After what felt like an eternity, Klaus finally reached the top. Exhausted and dizzy, he collapsed onto the ground of the second floor. He needed a moment to catch his breath and let the room stop spinning before he could continue. But he couldn't give up now, not when he was so close to his bed. Summoning all his remaining strength, he struggled to stand up, using his uninjured foot for balance. As he raised his gaze, he was confronted with his own reflection in the mirror. His eyes widened in shock as he took in the state of his body: bony limbs, visible ribs, bloody bandages, bruises, deep cuts, and, worst of all, scars. Everywhere he could see, there were new scars on top of old ones, cuts, and rashes. Klaus was disgusted and scared of himself. Unable to bear it any longer, he punched the mirror, sending shards of glass flying in all directions.

     Outskirts of Berlin. ???

Klaus couldn't take it any longer, so when he woke up, he didn't care how tired he was or how much every muscle of his body hurt, and got out of bed. He spent all day painting, refusing to stop, even though it was harder to paint with a broken hand. His head hurt, he was dizzy, and the room was spinning around him.
"What are you doing?" Herr Kuchen asked when Klaus was putting the final touches on the canvas as the sun was setting.
"I'm painting the eyes that keep watching me," he answered without paying attention to Herr Kuchen.
"Did you see the person?" he asked frantically, approaching Klaus for safety.
"No, but I know how his eyes look," Klaus answered, continuing to add details to his work.
"Did you consider that you're going insane?" Herr Kuchen distanced himself from Klaus, unimpressed by his answer and ashamed that he had approached him.
"Perhaps," Klaus responded, taking a good look at the final results.

He stood there, stunned and unable to believe what he had just painted.
"Oh God," he sighed, exhausted and frustrated. Klaus threw his brush against the wall and covered his forehead with his hand. "It's him!" he exclaimed angrily, slamming his fist on the desk and causing some paint to spill. "That damn Soviet soldier. But he's dead. I shot him. I saw him die!"
"Maybe you upset him, and now he's ghosting you?" Herr Kuchen suggested giving Klaus more space.
"He's mad at me?" Klaus's voice trembled with anger. "Mad at me? He destroyed my life! He robbed me of my dignity. How could he be mad at me when it's his fault that I'm so miserable now?" Klaus shouted, feeling his lungs and throat burn.

Herr Kuchen shook his head disapprovingly.
"I thought you had listened to what I told you last time."
"What? What did you tell me last time?" Klaus snapped, screaming.
"Your mistakes are your own fault," Herr Kuchen raised his voice. "Your Mother would be disappointed in you," he sighed. Klaus's mouth trembled as he forced a smile.
"No, she wouldn't," he muttered, feeling paranoid and knowing that Herr Kuchen was right.
"Yes, she would! Look at yourself, blaming others for your weaknesses," Herr Kuchen said, too disappointed to even look at Klaus. "You're just jealous," he accused, his voice filled with disdain. "Jealous of that young man's victory. You're blaming him because he was more successful than you, and you're too weak to surpass him." Klaus's response was barely audible—a mere whisper.
"That's, that's not true," he stammered, feeling exposed under Herr Kuchen's piercing gaze.
"Yes, it is. And it's such a cowardly move. Instead of looking up at him, learn from him to become better—better than yourself or better even than that soldier would ever dream to be; you're just rotting away in your room, hating everyone." Herr Kuchen's words hit Klaus like a punch to the gut. He felt a surge of anger and shame rise within him, but he couldn't deny the truth in those words. As Herr Kuchen turned to leave, he heard Klaus slamming his things on the ground.

     Outskirts of Berlin. ???

     Outskirts of Berlin. ???

Klaus sat on the cold, snowy ground outside his house, shivering in the biting wind. His muscles ached from the cold, and he regretted not wearing more than just his shorts and bandages. He had some clothes with him, but he didn't bring them outside to keep him warm. No, he had other plans. With the soft strike of a match, he set his Wehrmacht uniform on fire.
"Mind telling me, why are you doing this?" Herr Kuchen asked, startling Klaus, who thought that was alone.
"I hate it. It reminds me of the Nazis," he admitted, taking a sip of whiskey next to the flames.
"Well, you're stupid, like always. You dummy." Herr Kuchen spoke to Klaus as if he were a child, hugging him to warm him up. "It's not the uniform that reminds you of Nazis; it's your own actions."
"My actions?" Klaus asked, confused. "But how? I did everything I could against the Nazis. I fucking hate them. How?" He turned to Herr Kuchen, who was still shielding him.
"Well, maybe, but you're still fighting and winning battles for them," he spoke in a calm tone before getting up. "Let's get you back to bed before you get a cold, dummy," he chuckled, helping Klaus to get up. They went inside the house, leaving the uniform to burn behind.

     Outskirts of Berlin. ???

If he couldn't sleep, Klaus decided to finish painting the rest of the soldier. He jumped on his steady foot to turn on the lights. After gathering some paint that hadn't been ruined during his outbursts, Klaus took the brush in his right hand. But as soon as his damaged hand neared the canvas, it began trembling uncontrollably, smearing paint and blood on the white areas. Feeling frustrated, Klaus took a deep breath before trying again. He received the same outcome. Outraged, Klaus slammed his broken hand on the desk, punishing it for being weak. He also threw all the paint and brushes out the window, giving each of them their own punishment.

Afterwards, Klaus sat on the floor, engaging in a staring competition with his painting and the eyes depicted within it. However, he quickly realized that something wasn't right. He couldn't leave the work unfinished. But how could he finish the painting with his injured hand? Suddenly, a thought struck him, and he exclaimed with joy,
"That's right, I still have my left hand!" Klaus retrieved some colored pencils from a nearby drawer and sat back at the table. Although he had never drawn with his left hand before, he knew that this was the perfect opportunity to try.

     Outskirts of Berlin. ???

Klaus sat on the sill, gazing out the window at the snowflakes falling slowly from the sky. He spun a pencil between his fingers, searching for something, but he didn't know what.
"There's no point in looking outside; no one is coming to see you anyway, dummy," Herr Kuchen giggled.
"You enjoy being mean, don't you?" Klaus exhaled, feeling exhausted, and his head was already throbbing with pain.
"How am I mean, Nikolaus?" Herr Kuchen asked with a sad expression, moving closer to him. "I'm just stating the truth: they all forgot about you," he chuckled in Klaus's face. "Your family," Herr Kuchen started counting gleefully. "Your friends, your wife," he giggled. "I'm sorry, my bad. You don't have a wife," he smiled, amused. Klaus refused to look at him, his healthy hand curling into a fist around the pencil. "Let's see," Herr Kuchen scratched his head. "Who else forgot about you, mein Schatz?"
"Don't you dare fucking call me that, you prick!" Klaus shouted, his brows furrowed in anger. He turned to face Herr Kuchen, who was standing next to the sill, ignoring him.
"Oh, yes, that's right!" he exclaimed. "Your Mother forgot about you!" He started laughing and patting Klaus's shoulder. Klaus bit the inside of his cheek as hard as he could, the bitter, metallic taste filling his mouth as he clenched the pencil even tighter. "She forgot who you were, didn't she, mein Schatz?" Herr Kuchen laughed.

Klaus snapped. In the next two seconds, he was on top of Herr Kuchen, stabbing him with a pencil. The pencil pierced through his chest not once, not twice, but three times. Klaus attempted to raise his fist for a fourth stab, but his arm was too weak and tired to respond. Exhausted, he gasped for air and released the bloody weapon. He summoned all of his remaining strength to rise and strike Herr Kuchen with his broken foot before collapsing onto his bed.

     Outskirts of Berlin. ???

"Excuse me, sir. Are you drunk?" Frau Obstler asked, gently shaking Klaus.
"Oh God, my head feels like it's about to burst. And the room won't stop spinning," Klaus complained, shielding his left eye from the sunlight.
"That's not what I wanted to hear," she sighed, retrieving medication from her bag. Frau Obstler handed it to Klaus and assisted him in drinking it. 

As Klaus took his medicine, he noticed a figure slowly entering his room. His vision was too blurry to make out the person's face, but the woman's muttered words in French gave away her identity.
"Oh, dear Lord," she said, revealing herself to be Emily. "What have you done to yourself, Collin?" she barely managed to whisper.
"Why are you even here? It's been months! You didn't even write or call! You forgot about me!" Klaus spat out these words, disgusted.
"Months? Oh Lord," she cried, "Collin, it's only been ten days! And we called you every single one of them! You didn't answer," she sobbed, moving closer to his bed.
"That's not true!" Klaus screamed, trying to look into her eyes. He felt his heart racing and his chest starting to hurt.
"Yes, it is!" Emily snapped, frustrated. "We called you daily! We've been worried sick. Not only did you not answer us, but you also avoided your doctor this whole time." She explained, hoping Klaus would listen.

While Emily approached Klaus's bed, she grabbed Frau Obstler by the throat.
"Let her go! Are you insane? You're strangling her!" Klaus shouted, wanting to help but unable to move from the bed due to his weakened state. Emily released her grip immediately, letting Frau Obstler fall to the ground.
"Oh Lord," she started sobbing, covering her face with her trembling hands as Klaus's vision blurred and darkened. He could swear he heard Emily calling his name while he closed his eyes, feeling his pain slowly fading. 

Chapter Text

     Outskirts of Berlin. 26 December 1941

Emily parked her car and quickly made her way to Klaus's home. She noticed the open door and the snow piled up in the doorframe. Without hesitation, she began to run towards the house, almost slipping as she tried to enter. Emily's eyes widened in shock and horror, taking in the gruesome scene before her: blood splattered on the walls, stairs, and floor; empty bottles of hard beverages littering the kitchen. As she approached the table, her foot hit something that made a small noise. Emily glanced down at the floor, her breath stopping. It was Klaus's bottle of heart medicine. She picked it up and examined it between her fingers, gasping when she realized that the container, which should have been empty by now, was still unopened. She hurried to the staircase, where she was met with sharp, glimmering shards of glass scattered all over the floor. Emily ran upstairs, the little fragments of the shattered mirror clinging under her heels.

The second floor wasn't any better, with dark red stains splattered on the walls. Walking in the dimly lit hallway, she now feared for the worse. Emily shivered, certain that the temperature inside was colder than the freezing wind outside. She opened her mouth slowly, desperate to call for Klaus. But at the same moment, she heard the echo of his voice. He was talking to someone. Emily's eyes widened in fear, realizing an unknown intruder could be in the house. She searched for something that could serve as a weapon to protect herself and Klaus, her heart pounding in her ears. There was nothing, but Emily couldn't run away. What if Klaus was in danger?

Stopping next to the last door in the hallway, the smell of rotting meat hit her. Emily entered slowly, her breathing quickening as she witnessed all the chaos that was now Klaus's bedroom. The room was a mess, with objects scattered randomly and stained with blood and paint. However, amidst the destruction, one thing remained untouched—a painting resting on the disorganized table. Emily turned her head around, searching the room for Klaus and the person he was talking to. Klaus was all alone.

"Oh, dear Lord," she gasped, seeing the state of Klaus's physical form: his once strong and toned body was now reduced to a mere skeleton. He could barely shiver in the cold, with glass shards piercing his skin and black, filthy bandages covering his wounds. "What have you done to yourself, Collin?" she choked out. Tears filled her eyes at the realization that Klaus was the one rotting.
"Why are you even here? It's been months! You didn't even write or call! You forgot about me!" He spat out those words, disgusted.
"Months? Oh Lord," she sobbed. "Collin, it's only been ten days! And we called you every single one of them! You didn't answer," she cried, moving closer to his bed.
"That's not true!" Klaus screamed.
"Yes, it is!" Emily snapped, frustrated. "We called you daily! We've been worried sick. Not only did you not answer us, but you also avoided your doctor this whole time." She explained, confused by what could have happened to him in less than two weeks.

Emily approached Klaus's bed, her heart heavy with concern. She wanted to sit and carefully remove his darkened bandages, but as she reached for an almost empty bottle lying next to him, Klaus suddenly shouted,
"Let her go! Are you insane? You're strangling her!" Emily was taken aback by his outburst and immediately released her grip on the bottle, causing it to fall to the ground and break. Overwhelmed with worry, she sobbed and covered her face with her trembling hands, realizing that Klaus was hallucinating. As she wiped away her tears, Emily sat down on the bed next to Klaus and noticed that he had closed his eyes. Desperately, she called out his name but received no response.

     Zürich. 28 December 1941

"Remember when Collin taught you how to dance?" Emily asked, wiping away her tears.
"I do." Ferdinand chuckled and hugged his wife. "I was pretty terrible at it." He felt ashamed as he admitted it.
"You were!" Emily laughed, thinking back on the memories.
"What about when he taught you Spanish, because you thought it was more romantic than French?" She smiled wistfully at her husband's words.
"I still believe that," Emily admitted, getting up to adjust Klaus's blanket. However, she immediately noticed that he had his uninjured eye open. "Oh, dear, get the doctor! He's awake!" Ferdinand bolted out of the room upon hearing the news.

"Where am I?" Klaus asked, his voice filled with confusion and fear.
"You're in the hospital, in Zürich," she informed him, sitting on the edge of his bed. He struggled to sit up, but Emily immediately came to his aid.
"Where is Herr Kuchen?" Klaus asked frantically, his eye darting around the room.
"I stitched him up and washed your blood off of him. The stabs are barely noticeable now," she reassured him, trying to calm his worries. "Here, you can have him," Emily said, handing Klaus the teddy bear. "Oh, right," she suddenly remembered, "I also washed his little scarf." She reached into her purse and pulled out a small white cloth. Klaus eagerly snatched it from her, carefully placing it back around the bear's neck and examining the damage he had caused. Frustrated and overwhelmed, he lifted the toy to his face and let out a muffled scream. Feeling embarrassed and vulnerable, Klaus turned away from Emily and pulled the blanket over himself and Herr Kuchen.

     Zürich. 27 Januar 1942

"Doc, he's been really struggling since that terrible battle," Ferdinand said, clenching his fists. "We've tried everything we could think of, but nothing seems to help. What can we do for him?" he asked, desperation evident in his voice.
"Well, I'm not a psychologist," the doctor admitted, scratching his head.
"I understand, but he's refusing to see one," Ferdinand replied. The doctor paused for a moment before offering,
"Perhaps you could try reintroducing activities he used to enjoy before the battle. Alternatively, getting him a pet might bring some joy into his life."
"A pet, you say?" Ferdinand repeated, deep in thought. "Thank you for your advice, doc," he said, shaking the doctor's hand.

After the doctor left, Ferdinand hurried to get dressed. He didn't want to be late for work. He knocked on Klaus's door and poked his head in.
"Klaus, I'm leaving. Emily will be home in an hour." Klaus looked at him but didn't acknowledge the information. Ferdinand felt a pang of sadness, but he had to leave. He couldn't risk being late.

As Ferdinand drove through the outskirts of Zürich, his thoughts turned to the doctor's advice. He couldn't help but think about how happy Klaus would be to have a dog. After all, how difficult could it be to get one for him? Ferdinand made a mental note to buy a dog for Klaus this week, hoping that it would help him forget his sadness. The plan seemed simple enough.

Peering out the window of his car, Ferdinand's attention was drawn to a disturbing scene. A man was driving a carriage with a malnourished and injured horse. The poor animal was struggling to trudge through the thick snow, its legs shaking. Its ribs were protruding through its matted coat. And yet, despite its obvious suffering, the driver started mercilessly whipping the horse. Ferdinand stopped his car.

     Zürich. 29 Januar 1942

"Ferdinand, leave him alone!" Emily shouted, following her husband as he gently maneuvered Klaus's wheelchair down the stairs. However, Ferdinand ignored her and left Klaus on the first floor while he ran back upstairs. He returned with a thick blanket and threw it over Klaus's head.
"Put that on, or you'll freeze," he instructed, tossing his own jacket over the shoulders and buttoning it up.
"You idiot, what's wrong with you?" Emily raised her voice as she wrapped the blanket snugly around Klaus and put a warm hat on his head before taking her coat.

Ferdinand carefully pushed the wheelchair out onto the snow-free threshold, making sure to close the door behind them. He retrieved a large box from the trunk of his car, placing it in Klaus's lap.
"C'mon, open it," Ferdinand suggested excitedly. Klaus did as told, furrowing his brows in confusion. Inside the box, he found lots of art supplies, an old Portuguese book about dog training, and a journal.
"We could've done this inside," Emily whined, shivering. "Idiot," she spit out, making sure that at least Klaus was properly covered.
"What's this?" Klaus flipped through the journal, his expression unimpressed.
"That's an unpublished book documenting Napoleon and his war strategies. A person I worked for gifted it to me. I thought you might like it."
"And what do I need this for?" Klaus asked, showing him the Portuguese book.
"You'll see in a minute." Ferdinand's smile widened as a truck approached their house.

The driver pulled over in their yard. Ferdinand signed some papers before the man got the horse out of the trailer. It was the same one that Ferdinand had seen two days ago.
"Ta-da!" he exclaimed as the truck drove off, and the poor animal kneeled down, exhausted.
"And this, to you, is a dog?" Emily sighed, growing increasingly frustrated.
"A dog, a horse, tomayto, tomahto—it's the same shit, dear," he chuckled, placing his hands on her shoulders.
"Are you out of your mind? Who's going to take care of it, you idiot?" She raised her voice in desperation.
"Him!" Ferdinand turned her around to face Klaus. 

Emily's eyes widened as she saw Klaus kneeling next to the horse, gently patting its forehead. He was shivering because he had used his blanket to cover the abused animal.
"Look at them; don't they look exactly the same?" Ferdinand asked, hugging his wife from behind.
"How do they look the same?" Emily asked, her voice soft and confused.
"Beat up and depressed," Ferdinand laughed. In response, Emily elbowed him in the stomach and pulled away.
"That's not funny," she replied, going inside to retrieve something to keep Klaus warm.

After dinner, Emily went to check on Klaus to make sure he had taken his medicine. However, she couldn't find him anywhere in the house. She panicked and searched every room, but he was nowhere to be found. Eventually, Emily quickly grabbed her coat and rushed outside, braving the darkness and freezing storm. She arrived at the barn and struggled to open the heavy door. Inside, she found Klaus sitting on the ground, leaning against the horse, reading to it while it slept after the vet check.

     Nürnberg. 16 Februar 1942

After parking her car, Emily assisted Klaus to sit in his wheelchair before pushing it. Mr. Duvel was already waiting for them outside the factory.
"Good morning, Herr Direktor," Klaus greeted with a smile, shaking Mr. Duvel's hand.
"Herr Jäger, I didn't expect you to join us," Mr. Duvel replied, also shaking hands with Emily. They didn't have much time for further pleasantries, as they were quickly spotted by the children of the workers.
"Herr Jäger!" they cheered, surrounding him. "How are you feeling, Herr Jäger?" some of them asked. "Did you come to play football with us again?" a boy questioned, passing the ball to Klaus. He deftly caught it with his uninjured hand and let out a hearty laugh.
"Don't be insensitive, children," Mr. Duvel pleaded, his voice filled with concern. "Herr Jäger is injured," he added, his tone becoming more urgent.
"C'mon, Herr Direktor, they're just children," Klaus replied, his voice gentle as he handed the ball back. "Maybe next time, kids," he smiled warmly as the children obediently returned to their playground, following Mr. Duvel's instructions.

"I hope the kids haven't been bothering you with all their letters," Mr. Duvel sheepishly admitted to Klaus.
"Not at all; I actually find it quite nice that they write to me," Klaus replied with a smile.
"You don't have to feel obligated to respond to each and every one of their letters. I understand that you are a busy man, Herr Jäger," Mr. Duvel said, feeling guilty and embarrassed. "On behalf of the children, I want to apologize for any inconvenience they may have caused you," he added. Klaus was taken aback by this statement.
"Please don't apologize. They don't bother me at all. It would be unkind of me to not respond to their letters. I don't want to give them the impression that I am ignoring them," Klaus confessed, feeling saddened by Mr. Duvel's beliefs.

In the director's office, Emily and Mr. Duvel exchanged paperwork. They discussed the economic evolution of the factory while Klaus read the unpublished book that Ferdinand had gifted him. Klaus didn't want to intrude on a matter in which he was not an expert, so he trusted Emily and patiently waited for their discussion to conclude.
"Are the authorities bothering the workers?" Klaus asked once they had finished their conversation.
"Well, not really," Mr. Duvel replied thoughtfully. "They do come for surprise inspections quite often, but for the most part, they leave us alone because they can't find anything," he explained.
"Of course they do," Emily replied, rolling her eyes.
"Unfortunately, there isn't much I can do about it," Klaus admitted, sounding defeated.
"Please don't worry about it, Herr Jäger. They don't use violence against us because they don't want to pay you reparations," Mr. Duvel reassured him.
"Still, I feel sorry that I can't do more for you," Klaus sighed. "Especially for the children," he added, sounding upset. "I regret that I can't offer them a more normal life, like other kids have."
"You have already done more than enough for us, Herr Jäger. And we are deeply grateful for your help," Mr. Duvel replied softly. "There is no need for you to feel sorry for the atrocities committed by others."

The ringing of a bell echoed through the entire building.
"Is it lunch time already?" Emily asked, glancing at her watch.
"I'm starving," Klaus replied. "Do you mind if we join in?"
"I could have someone bring you a plate of food to my office, if you'd like," Mr. Duvel offered.
"Or we could just go to the cafeteria and eat with everyone else," Klaus suggested, not wanting to inconvenience anyone.
"Of course," Mr. Duvel said, slightly confused.

In the cafeteria, Klaus and Emily were greeted by everyone who passed by, expressing concern for Klaus's injury and wishing him a quick recovery. The kids joined them at the table, and although Mr. Duvel was initially skeptical, Klaus and the children convinced him to let them eat together. As they finished their meal, the kids eagerly began asking Klaus questions.
"Could you please tell us about your battles and how you were injured, since you can't play with us?" a boy asked timidly.
"Yes, please tell us how you fought on the frontlines!" they pleaded in unison. Klaus turned to Mr. Duvel, having a reassuring smile to ease his worries.
"We have plenty of time," Emily added, attempting to convince him as well. Mr. Duvel smiled, defeated, and rose from the table to resume his work.
"Remember to show respect, children," he reminded them before leaving.
"We will, Herr Direktor!" they exclaimed excitedly, refocusing their attention on Klaus, who was deciding where to begin his story.

     Zürich. 3 March 1942

Ferdinand and Klaus were sitting outside, fishing together. As they sat in silence, Klaus suddenly whispered,
"The Wehrmacht wants to deploy me in Africa." He absentmindedly stroked his horse's mane as he slept behind them. "I received a letter from them yesterday." Ferdinand's brow furrowed in concern.
"But you still can't walk properly, so when are you planning to leave?" he asked.
"I intended to tell them that I'm demising," Klaus replied, confused. Ferdinand's concern turned to shock.
"Are you out of your mind?" he whisper-screamed, careful not to scare away the fish.
"You said it yourself: leave the army!"
"That's not what I said. I told you to leave the army before you get caught up in a mess too deep to back down from. And guess what? You got yourself in a mess too deep to back down from," Ferdinand explained. Klaus sighed, feeling overwhelmed. "I don't think you realize it; if you leave the army, the party wouldn't be so nice to you anymore and let you keep that factory running. Klaus, if you leave, the workers die," Ferdinand said, disgusted by the reality they had to live in.
"But it makes no sense!" Klaus whined. "What's the point in trying to help people when I'm going to kill for the Nazis anyway? I'm a criminal, cuzz! I have blood on my hands," he muttered, gazing at the blue lake. Ferdinand turned to face Klaus, his expression serious.
"You're not a criminal. You don't kill civilians or innocent people who can't defend themselves. You are killing armed soldiers sent there to kill you. So it's either them or you. You're the one who makes the decision." Klaus hung his head in shame.
"But I'm still killing for the Nazis, so that means I'm a Nazi too," he confessed. Ferdinand shook his head.
"No, you're not! You don't consider any of them subhuman; you don't feel pleasure when you see them suffering; you're not torturing them. You give them a quick, honorable death on the battlefield," he said, his words genuine.
"Breakfast is ready!" Emily called from the doorframe.
"Remember, Klaus, it's either them or you," Ferdinand told him sternly as he pushed Klaus's wheelchair towards the house, the horse following them behind.

     Zürich. 28 April 1942

On the platform, Klaus stood among his family, preparing to depart for Africa. He was supposed to arrive there in early May. Ferdinand patted Klaus's shoulder and said,
"Take care of yourself." Despite feeling sad, Klaus chuckled and replied,
"I will; don't worry."
"We'll write to you every week," Emily murmured with a heavy heart. She quickly added, "We'll also send you pictures of your buddy," pointing to the horse, who had come to say his goodbyes as well. "Fleur will send you pictures of her daughter and the dog," Emily continued, wiping her tears with a napkin. "We'll send you pictures so you won't have to miss us," she mumbled through her tears. Klaus hugged both of them and patted Emily's head to help her calm down.
"Why are you crying?" he asked softly. "We've done this so many times before."
"It doesn't make it any easier to say goodbye," she cried, and snuggled into her husband's chest as Klaus hugged his horse.
"Be a good boy, eat well, and play a lot," Klaus ordered, as if the pet understood him. "When I come back, I want to find you happy and healthy," he told the horse, scratching his ears.

As the train began to move, Klaus quickly embraced each of his family members. Emily's tears streamed down her cheeks as she waved her napkin at Klaus. The couple held each other tightly, their hands gripping the reins of the horse, as they watched a cheerful soldier in his Wehrmacht uniform board the wagon. He carried a guitar on his shoulder, a suitcase in one hand, and a book in the other. Even after the train had disappeared from sight, they continued to watch, as if hoping the soldier in uniform would return with his guitar and play a joyful song, assuring them that the war was over and he wouldn't have to leave again. But the soldier in uniform and his guitar didn't return.

Chapter Text

     Berlin. 3 June 1944

How pathetic that meeting was! Klaus couldn't understand the delusions of grandeur that some individuals possessed. Why did Himmler, that Nazi dog, need someone to hold his book? Couldn't he hold it himself? Apparently no; these kinds of people, if they could even be called that, need servants to wipe their asses after every single move. Disgusting! Absolutely disgusting! Not only that, but the Nazi dog also touched his shoulder. Klaus clenched his gloved fists, frustrated, realizing that he would now have to wash his uniform really well. Looking out the window of his moving car, Klaus breathed deeper, trying to ease his nerves.

He remembered what the dog had asked him. In the moment, Klaus had hastily given an answer, simply to avoid acknowledging his true feelings. But now, as he sat comfortably in his car, he reflected on the question. Did Klaus truly hate the Russians? No, of course not. It wasn't the fault of the Russian people that they were under the rule of a corrupt government. A government that was responsible for the deaths of millions through starvation, sending them to gulags or to Siberia. Communism was really equal in the USSR! They showed no mercy to everyone, killing them regardless of whether they owned property, believed in any god other than the mighty father Stalin, or just happened to be born of a different nationality. All Klaus could feel towards the Russians was pity.

After four long hours, they finally arrived. Thielicke opened the car door for him while Klaus scanned his surroundings. He noticed that they had interrupted what seemed to be a party. As he was spotted by the Nazis, Klaus received numerous shocked glances. The head of the camp introduced himself and asked,
"Shouldn't you be arriving on Monday?" Klaus raised an eyebrow, annoyed by the insolence.
"Shouldn't you all be working today? It's Saturday," he said, raising his voice so that everyone at the party could hear him. The camp head, trying to persuade Klaus, whined,
"But, sir, today is the birthday of my twins. We thought we could organize something nice for them." Klaus shook his head with a kind expression, pretending to understand.
"Good. If that's the case, tomorrow, on Sunday, each of you will be at your posts, doing your jobs to make up for this lost working day," he informed them with a smile. The camp head started to protest, but Klaus waved his hand in annoyance and walked away. He then asked, "Who is the secretary?" The individual in question rose from his seat at the tea table, and Klaus left the party with him to do his work.

He was given a pile of prison identification cards to look through in hopes of figuring out a suitable person. After flipping through the photos of several strangers, Klaus saw him. Suddenly, the scars on his face ruptured into wounds. Suddenly, it was 1941, and Klaus was in his tank, struggling to get out and face him. He was standing there, looking at Klaus with so much grace and honor, unbreakable by anything and anyone. That nameless soldier from his painting. The person who showed Klaus that he wasn't the best, not at that time. He stood again in front of him through a photo on a prison card.

Klaus's hands were shaky as he desperately requested a translator. Upon realizing that the secretary had neglected his orders, Klaus lost his patience and shouted,
"Immediately!" He couldn't take the insolence of these disgusting Nazis surrounding him anymore. Especially in that moment, when he had to meet the soldier as soon as possible.

On his way to the prison cell, Klaus was met once more by the camp head. He looked like a clown as he was helped to get down from his horse.
"Wasn't he supposed to be at his stupid party?" Klaus wondered, certain that the clown was there only to annoy him. After striking the translator and sending her to the ground, everyone around them tried to reason with the camp head, but he just kept shouting. Klaus's heart raced as he fought the urge to shoot him.

When his ears stopped ringing, Klaus began to pay attention to the clown's ranting but immediately regretted doing so.
"This is the order here, Standartenführer Jäger." No, it wasn't. Since Klaus arrived, the order would be dictated by him, not by some Nazi prick.
"Walter, do you want the Reich to win?" Klaus asked, realizing that the only way to gain attention from these disgusting Nazis was to mention their doomed Reich.
"I live for this, Klaus!" He clenched his fists as hard as he could. Klaus couldn't believe that a lower rank had the audacity to call him by his nickname.
"Then don't get in my fucking way," he whispered. "I'm following direct orders from the Reichsführer. I'll take the translator and the tanker under my wing. If anything happens to one of them, then I'll hold you personally responsible," Klaus threatened, a predatory grin spreading across his face.
"Then I'm ready to obey your orders," the clown murmured.
"I'm glad we found a mutual language," Klaus said mockingly. "Good," he whispered, smiling as if he were talking to a child.

Klaus's hand trembled with nervousness as he inserted the key into the keyhole. Slowly, he opened the door and stepped inside. There, lying on a dirty bench, was the soldier from the painting. Klaus could hardly believe his own eyes. What had the war done to him? Rather, what had these Nazi dogs done to him? The poor soldier was barely recognizable. He was covered in filth and wounds, with dried blood staining his body and a long, unkempt beard. The only things that remained unchanged were his beautiful blue eyes and his unwavering honor. Klaus gritted his teeth, contemplating what he would do to those who had the audacity to torture this man. He wanted to shoot each of them in the limbs, one by one, to make them experience the pain and suffering they had inflicted on this person.

"Long time no see, soldier," he said, as the translator did her job and the tanker stared directly into Klaus's eyes. "Do you remember the 27th of November 1941 in the village of Nefedovo?" The mention of this date caught the tanker's attention, and he began to get up. Klaus motioned for the woman to help him, but when he was touched, the poor man screamed in pain. Despite this, he stubbornly refused any help and managed to get up on his own.
"It was your company that I destroyed," the woman translated in a barely audible voice. Klaus was pleased with this response. Even in his current situation, the soldier chose to challenge him.
"I shot you," Klaus whispered with an innocent expression. The tanker was given another chance to live if he agreed to Klaus's plan.
"I have already killed my first crew," the soldier looked at Klaus with sad eyes.
"You fought with dignity," he replied, feeling upset by the tanker's sorrow. "What's your answer?"
"Да пошёл ты!" Klaus turned expectantly to the translator, who avoided his gaze. It was clear that the answer was no.
"Very well," he thought. The Russian wasn't the only one who could play games, and in this situation, Klaus had the advantage.

He walked away and pointed his gun at the translator, who was shaking with fear. Klaus started counting to five.
"One, two, three, four..." But when he said the word "four", his hand started trembling. He feared that the soldier would allow the woman to be killed. After a silence that seemed to last forever, Klaus finally said with a shaky voice, "Five!"
"Да хорош издеваться! Я принимаю!" Those words felt like a weight had been lifted off Klaus's shoulders. He approached the soldier, taking off his gloves. Klaus touched his cheek with his bare fingers and directed his face to look him in the eyes.
"What is your name and rank, soldier?" he asked with a soft voice. Klaus looked at him with gentle eyes, trying to convince the tanker that he wasn't threatening, despite his previous actions.
"Младший лейтенант Ивушкин." When he heard the answer, Klaus patted the tanker's soft, blonde hair with his ungloved hand. He did so to assure himself that he wasn't dreaming and that the soldier from the painting was truly there, under his protection. As he wondered if that was his first or last name, Klaus curiously repeated it in his head:
"Ivushkin, Ivushkin..." He ordered Ivushkin to be washed and given extensive medical care. Then Klaus went to enjoy his meal alone, in peace, away from the ongoing party.

     Ohrdruf. 4 June 1944

It was well past midnight, and Klaus was unable to sleep. He quietly slipped out of bed and crept through the dark hallway, careful not to make a sound as he made his way to the archive. After carefully selecting a pile of documents, Klaus hurried back to his room. He turned on the desk lamp, its soft yellow light casting a warm glow in the otherwise dark room. He began copying the records, determined to continue until he felt sleepy. Lost in his task, Klaus didn't pay attention to the time until he had finished writing down all the information. When he finally checked his watch, he was taken aback to see that it was almost four in the morning. Surprised but still not feeling tired, Klaus quickly returned the documents and then went to bed.

After a long day spent repairing the tank in the workshop, Nikolay was exhausted, frustrated, and bored. Despite his weariness, he was forced to sit and listen to Fritz's words. As the German spoke, Nikolay found himself counting the places he would rather be than in Fritz's office, but gave up when he reached the number 346. He couldn't decide what he despised more—Fritz himself or the fact that he was actually paying attention to him. His anger rising, Nikolay refused to look at Fritz and his despicable Nazi face. He briefly considered focusing on the ceiling instead, but decided that his indifference would be too obvious. Instead, he turned his gaze towards the translator, realizing that she was the only person in the room he didn't yet have a reason to hate. When she caught his eye, he held her gaze, engaging in a silent staring competition as a way to distract himself. Despite the unsettling feeling of her gaze, Nikolay refused to look away, determined not to let her unease him. He couldn't help but wonder how she ended up in a concentration camp for men.

"Are you listening?" Klaus asked, trying to get the Russian's attention. He was pleasantly surprised when Nikolay repeated his plan, even though he didn't expect him to do so word for word. Afterwards, Klaus decided that it was enough for the day, especially because Nikolay had already worked hard on the repairs. He poured drinks for his guests and asked eagerly about the battle in Nefedovo. As the woman translated for Nikolay, he looked at Klaus and said,
"I got into position only an hour before dawn. We barely had time to cover the tank with hay." He chuckled, intentionally poking at Klaus's ego. Curious, Klaus asked,
"What if I had noticed you and used artillery?" Nikolay laughed, and after hesitation, the woman translated,
"But you didn't notice me." Klaus burst into laughter and nodded in approval. He poured a full glass of cognac for Nikolay and wished him good health. They both raised their glasses, and Nikolay said,
"Чтоб у тебя печень лопнула!” Klaus saw the genuine smile on Nikolay's face and realized that his words were meant to insult him. He didn't say anything, even though he knew the translator had lied when she said,
"For a long and happy life."

Chapter Text

     Ohrdruf. 5 June 1944

After seeing the tank, Klaus was impressed by the crew's efficient work. He had not expected them to finish the repairs so quickly, especially since Nikolay had previously requested a few extra days. As he stood up, Klaus turned on the radio to help him concentrate while reporting Nikolay's achievements to his superiors. However, the radio failed to turn on. Feeling disappointed by the malfunction of his recently purchased device, Klaus sat back down in his chair, deep in thought. He pretended to play the piano on his desk, annoyed and wondering how he would ever manage to sleep without any melodies. But what frustrated Klaus the most was that he could have strummed his guitar if only he had brought it with him. Now that he had some free time, Klaus could play the music himself, if only there was an instrument.

His eyes darted across the room, landing upon the demonic figure of the piano, hiding in the shadowed corner. Klaus felt a burning urge to approach it, but he also felt as if his body was chained to the chair, preventing him from doing so. Instinctively, his gaze turned to the sound of his still-tapping fingers. He wondered what the difference would be between tapping on his desk or on the keyboard. Slowly but surely, Klaus shattered the invisible restraints and rose from his seat, making hesitant, unsteady steps towards the corner of the room.

Klaus took slow, deep breaths as he mumbled,
"It can't hurt you; it's not even alive." He was trying to convince himself, but deep down, he knew it was a lie. "It only hurts if you make a mistake," he continued, his voice cracking even though he was only whispering. "And Nikolaus never makes mistakes." Despite his words, his legs trembled as he sat in front of the gruesome instrument. As he lifted the fallboard, his eyes widened, and he couldn't hear anything except for the ringing in his ears. With a barely audible voice, he added, "Nikolaus isn't allowed to make mistakes." Struggling to swallow a lump in his throat, he extended his fingers, bridging the void between himself and the instrument. His fingertips were almost there, almost touching it.

Suddenly, a thunderous knock on the door echoed like an exploding shell on the front lines. Before he could comprehend what was happening, Klaus took rapid steps backwards, his heart pounding against his ribcage. With shaky fingers, he enveloped his wrists, seeking reassurance that the pain was only imagined. Klaus placed a trembling palm on his forehead, attempting to steady his breathing, and told the person to enter. When he caught sight of Nikolay, his heart raced even faster. The pressure to calm himself intensified. What would Nikolay think of him when he saw Klaus like that? He didn't even want to try imagining it. Nikolay already hated him, and if Klaus made himself appear even worse... He needed to find a way to calm himself. But how could he manage to do so if he had the pressure of not appearing weak in front of such an important person?

After enduring yet another day of slavery, Nikolay was boiling with anger. To make matters worse, during his precious resting time, he was forced to listen to Fritz's unending self-talk once again. Desperate for some form of solace, he thought of his crew, but that only further irritated Nikolay as he remembered how they had constantly nagged him throughout the day for being sent to Fritz's office. As he entered the room, he couldn't help but feel resentful towards the guard as well. Nikolay quickly scanned the office, but to his surprise, the translator was nowhere to be seen. Fritz was leaning on his table with his arms crossed, staring at him. Just to be sure he wasn't losing his mind, Nikolay jerked his head to both sides. There was nothing, so what was his deal? Nikolay didn't expect this meeting to be so awkward. His leg began to hurt, and Fritz kept staring at him with a still face. He wondered how much time had passed since he entered. For all he knew, it could have been ten years of his life already. As he stood at the door, Nikolay felt like he was aging by the minute, waiting for Fritz to acknowledge his presence. When his frustration boiled over, Nikolay let out a loud, exasperated sigh. The sound echoed in the quiet room, finally capturing Fritz's attention.

"Oh fuck, I've been staring at you like a weirdo this whole time and didn't even offer you a seat. Your leg must be hurting," he realized, softening his gaze. "Well done, Klaus; you've been so focused on not embarrassing yourself, and what's the first thing you do? Embarrass yourself as much as possible; that's what!" Klaus approached Nikolay to assist him in walking. He extended his hand, but Nikolay took a step to the side, furrowing his brow. Realizing that his help was unwelcome, Klaus immediately raised his hands in defeat, gesturing that he wouldn't make any more attempts. Instead, he pointed to the table, inviting Nikolay to finally take a seat. Afterwards, Klaus rushed to his cabinet and retrieved a new bottle of cognac, placing it on the table just as another knock echoed in his office.

Klaus opened the door for the soldier who brought their dinner, smiling as he thanked him and took the plates from his hands. As he placed one in front of Nikolay, Klaus couldn't help but chuckle at the sight of his furrowed brows and skeptical expression. Perhaps Nikolay believed he would be poisoned, or perhaps he believed something else. Klaus knew he would never find out. After pouring the drinks, Klaus began to eat, savoring each bite. He was pleasantly surprised when Nikolay followed suit. They enjoyed the meal together, the only sound in the room being the clinking of silverware. However, after a while, Klaus couldn't bear the silence any longer.

"I'm proud of you!" he exclaimed with a smile, watching as Nikolay checked his sides once again. "I'm proud because you didn't simply give up and took advantage of this mission," Klaus explained, taking another bite of his food. "Although, I must say, you weren't very good at hiding the shells. What if someone else had noticed them?" he asked, a hint of worry in his voice. "You're right, they didn't," Klaus chuckled thoughtfully. His gaze met Nikolay's as he continued, "I truly hope that you're able to escape and live a free, happy life, far away from the Soviet Union. You deserve it, soldier!" Klaus smiled, but his expression quickly changed as he noticed the annoyance on Nikolay's face. "I knew you didn't understand me," he sighed, placing a hand on his forehead in embarrassment. "I'm sorry; you probably wanted to eat in peace, and I'm disturbing you with my loud mouth," he sheepishly added, avoiding eye contact with Nikolay as he looked down at his plate.

After they finished their dinner, Klaus placed a box of chocolates in front of his guest. Nikolay raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms. In response, Klaus smiled, trying to think of a way to lighten the mood. Some music would be good. Some music... Klaus's eyes narrowed as they landed on his enemy: the lifeless instrument in the corner of the room. In a wave of frustration, Klaus made his way to the piano and sat down on the chair in front of it. As he lifted the fallboard, his courage faded. He knew he had made a mistake. But now, Klaus couldn't return to the table; he would only embarrass himself in front of Nikolay again. He felt trapped. A grown man, afraid of a lifeless object, Klaus was ashamed of himself. He had to play the piano; he had to prove to himself that he wasn't pathetic.

With a deep breath, Klaus started playing the first song that came to his mind: "We'll Meet Again". Despite his racing heart, he refused to give up and continued to play, his fingers trembling with nervousness. Overjoyed by his own accomplishments, Klaus started singing the lyrics, a prideful grin spreading across his face. He noticed, with the corner of his eyes, Nikolay's curious gaze, but didn't think too much about it because the song was widely known. As Klaus reached the chorus of the song, he was certain that he wasn't the only one singing. He stopped, turning to face Nikolay.
"You..." Klaus gazed at him with hopeful eyes. "You can speak English?" Nikolay raised a skeptical brow.
"Yes," he replied nonchalantly. Klaus's face lit up with excitement.
"Then why didn't you say anything?" he chuckled.
"Because you didn't ask, you stupid Nazi prick," Nikolay retorted, looking at Klaus, who only smiled and took a seat next to him. Frustrated, Nikolay furrowed his brow and moved his chair slightly to the side, trying to distance himself from Klaus.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable," Klaus said, sitting on the chair across the table where he had previously been eating.

He gazed at Nikolay thoughtfully from his seat. To Klaus's surprise, Nikolay didn't have an accent, or rather, not a Russian one. He sounded like he was from Texas, and Klaus couldn't help but wonder how he learned to speak this way.
"Why are you starting, you dumb fuck?" Nikolay protested.
"It's nothing," Klaus chuckled. "I was just wondering how you learned to speak without a Russian accent," he admitted, still smiling.
"That's my business that I won't discuss with a Fritz. Besides, your British-ass has no accent either, so you've been butchering my name on purpose?" Klaus looked at Nikolay with an innocent face.
"Perhaps," he admitted with a soft gaze. Upon seeing Nikolay's exasperated face, Klaus couldn't help but start laughing. He expected Nikolay to be mad, but to his surprise, he joined in. They shared a quiet laugh, putting aside their differences.

Afterwards, Klaus leaned his head on the table, his cheek resting on his folded arms as he gazed at Nikolay's face.
"How about you tell me about yourself?" he asked, curious, closing his eyes to better envision the story he expected.
"How about you stop acting all nice?" Nikolay accused him instead. Klaus lifted his head, worried. "Is this some kind of novelty for you?" he asked, his voice filled with frustration. "I bet it's some exotic shit you're into—interacting with the subhuman," Nikolay voiced his opinion, refusing to look at Klaus, disgusted.
"Please don't refer to yourself as that," he begged, his smile slowly fading.
"The übermensch is getting upset hearing his own delusions?" Nikolay asked with mocking concern.
"Those are not my delusions," Klaus tried to explain calmly.
"What do you mean?! Take a good look in the mirror because, in case you've forgotten, you're a fucking Nazi," Nikolay raised his voice. "So stop with the act of being nice, asking about myself, and treating me to good food," he demanded. "You're just doing all this to make yourself feel better by telling yourself that you're better than the other Nazis because you care about those disgusting animals. Well, guess what?" Nikolay asked, shouting. "You're not fooling anyone, maybe just yourself, because you still remain a cold-blooded murderer." He ended his rant with a low voice, almost whispering, staring into Klaus's eyes angrily.
"I'm truly sorry that this is what you think of me," Klaus replied with a tinge of sadness in his voice.
"What I think of you? No, comrade, this is what you are! A Nazi, a Nazi who enjoys killing Jews, Slavs, and countless others!" Nikolay chuckled out of frustration.
"I'm not a damn Nazi!" Klaus screamed, slamming his palm on the table in exasperation. He was fed up. It truly hurt to hear Nikolay accuse him of such heinous acts.
"Oh, so I've angered your Majesty," he asked as if he were talking to a child. "I suppose now your Highness will have to kill the ungrateful pig. But, sir, before that, allow me to offer some advice. Do it right by the door; it would be such a shame to stain this carpet with my dirty untermensch blood," Nikolay explained with a disturbingly gleeful expression. 

Klaus immediately realized his mistake and avoided Nikolay's gaze in shame, rubbing his forehead with his palm. How could he have snapped and screamed at Nikolay? The poor soldier wasn't even at fault in this situation.
"I'm sorry for screaming at you," he admitted, looking Nikolay in the eyes with embarrassment. "Of course I wouldn't kill you," he hurriedly added, unsettled by the fact that Nikolay would even consider such a gruesome thing about him. "And please, stop calling me a Nazi because I'm not," he requested in a whisper.
"You know what?" Nikolay asked, amused. "If you give me even the tiniest piece of evidence that your ass isn't a Nazi," he lifted his arms in defeat, smiling. "Then I will shut my goddamn mouth the hell up," Nikolay offered, convinced that his deal would end without any results.

Klaus knew immediately what the perfect piece of evidence would be, and he had to use it to gain Nikolay's trust and assistance with his mission. He retrieved his diary from under a false bottom in a drawer and began rummaging through it. After finding the envelope he was searching for, Klaus returned to the table.
"May I sit next to you?" he asked with a joyful smile. Nikolay remained silent and simply rolled his eyes, which Klaus interpreted as a yes. He handed the envelope to Nikolay, who raised an eyebrow in confusion. "Open it and read for yourself, because if I read it, you will say that I'm lying." Nikolay was skeptical, but carefully opened the envelope, making sure not to tear it.

Inside, he found a letter and a torn half of a stamp, which he placed on the table. Without even reading a word, he immediately noticed the mark of the US government at the bottom of the page. Nikolay turned to Klaus, confused. Klaus's smile widened. He moved closer to Nikolay, also wanting to read the paper. It was a letter addressed to Klaus, informing him of a location where he had to meet someone to receive a recorder. After those instructions, Klaus was requested to take testimonies from an inmate in the concentration camp and was given a long list of questions he should ask them. Nikolay placed the paper on the table and crossed his arms, furrowing his brow in disbelief. He couldn't believe Klaus—Nikolay didn't want to, but the letter was addressed to him and had the official US stamp. Nikolay was pondering in his head, trying to decide if Klaus was trustworthy. 

Suddenly, a strange noise echoed through the office.
"What the hell was that?" Nikolay asked, startled.
"It's my radio," Klaus sighed, getting up to unplug it. "It broke down yesterday," he informed, sounding sad.
"May I take a look?" Klaus looked at Nikolay, confused. He hadn't expected him to offer help.
"Sure," he replied, a childish smile spreading across his face. He placed the small machine on the table in front of Nikolay.
"Do you have any screwdrivers?" he asked calmly.
"No," Klaus admitted.
"A knife will do too," Nikolay requested. Without hesitation, Klaus handed him his pocketknife. Nikolay used it to remove the screws from the radio as Klaus watched curiously.

While searching for the problem, Nikolay's thoughts became clearer, and he felt a sense of calmness. As he worked with the small wires, he asked,
"And who the hell in their right mind would agree to help you with that... interview of yours?" Klaus hesitated, unsure if he should tell Nikolay. When he noticed the silence, he turned to Klaus, who was giving him puppy eyes.
"You," Klaus pleaded with an innocent voice.
"Hell no," Nikolay replied, amused, returning to his work.
"Come on," Klaus continued to plead. "Who else but a courageous Soviet soldier who survived multiple concentration camps would be so suited for this?" He tried to persuade Nikolay.
"And why does the States even need this shit?" Nikolay asked, exasperated.
"To find out the extent of the Nazis' brutality and punish them after the war," Klaus explained.
"So this is going to help punish the Nazis?" Nikolay asked, interested.
"Yes," he admitted, joyous. "Will you help me?" Klaus asked, hopeful.
"Whatever," Nikolay replied, looking away.
"I knew you'd accept," Klaus patted Nikolay's shoulder, excited.

"You have some faulty wiring," Nikolay stated after completing his examination. "It's not a big deal; I can repair it with some tools from the workshop."
"That would be so nice of you." Klaus looked at him with a grateful smile. Nikolay rolled his eyes and turned away.
"Don't make me change my mind," he whispered threateningly, but that didn't stop Klaus from smiling. He glanced at his watch and realized it was almost midnight.
"Oh, fuck!" he exclaimed, feeling frustrated. "You should leave now," Klaus advised Nikolay. "You have to wake up early tomorrow," he added. "I'm sorry for keeping you here so long," Klaus apologized sheepishly, helping Nikolay to walk. To his surprise, Nikolay didn't protest this time and accepted his assistance.
"Don't worry about it," Nikolay reassured him, easing Klaus's worries.
"Wait, I almost forgot," he remembered as they reached the door. Klaus retrieved a paper bag from his cabinet and handed it to Nikolay.
"The hell is this?" he asked, eyeing the small bag in his hands.
"Don't worry, it's not poison," Klaus chuckled. "You can share them with your crew," he offered, opening the door for Nikolay.
"Thanks, I guess," he replied, feeling confused.
"Have a good night," Klaus said, smiling warmly.
"Good night," Nikolay replied softly, walking away with the guard. As he was escorted back to his cell, Nikolay couldn't contain his curiosity any longer and opened the small package. When he saw the paper bag filled with cookies, he couldn't help but smile.

After finishing copying another pile of documents, Klaus went to bed. He would have liked to stay up longer, but the next day, he had to wake up early.
"I think we did a great job today, Herr Kuchen," Klaus chuckled, hugging the teddy bear and hoping he would help him fall asleep in the overwhelming silence. Klaus wished that at least Nikolay would be able to sleep well.

Chapter Text

     Ohrdruf. 6 June 1944

After taking a refreshing shower, Klaus got dressed in civilian clothes. Before leaving, he carefully placed a small piece of paper between the door and the door frame to make sure no one was entering his office. Klaus held his breath and walked on his tiptoes, trying not to make a sound that would disturb the peaceful silence of the hallways. As the sun began to rise, he pulled into Ohrdruf, his ride coming to an end. It was still dark outside, but Klaus was already standing in front of the pharmacy, exactly as indicated in the letter. He scanned the surroundings, his gaze landing on a man with a suitcase approaching him. The stranger sat down next to him and pulled out half of a ripped stamp from his pocket. Klaus held his piece, which he received with the letter. The two parts matched perfectly. Upon seeing that, the man shook Klaus's gloved hand, nodded, and left, leaving the strange suitcase behind.

He placed the suitcase in the trunk of his car and waited patiently until the first bakeries opened. Initially, Klaus craved a piece of cake to savor during his free time. But then an idea struck him: what if he purchased one for Nikolay as well? The man would come to his office anyway, so why not award him for his work? And that's exactly what Klaus did. He hoped that the sweet treat would bring a moment of happiness to Nikolay. Klaus wanted to see him smile.

At the camp, Klaus struggled to carry both the suitcase and the bags filled with his purchases, desperately hoping to reach his room as quickly as possible. Suddenly, a familiar voice called out from behind.
"Klaus!" it shouted.
"For Christ's sake," he muttered, turning around. "Good morning to you too, Walter," Klaus replied with a smile that was on the verge of crumbling.
"Where have you been? You weren't at the roll call," the clown accused. Klaus took a deep breath before responding.
"For your knowledge, Walter, on Tuesday, the 6th of June, in the year of our Lord 1944, yours truly has a free day," he said mockingly. "Walter, would you mind telling me when the 6th of June 1944 is?" he asked with false curiosity.
"It's today," the clown replied, clearly confused. "But you still should have informed me of your absence," he protested. Klaus chuckled, amused.
"Since when do I need to report to you, Walter?" he asked with a smile. "Have you forgotten who holds the highest rank in this camp? Or perhaps the situation has changed while I was away and our dear Walter here has become my superior?" Upon hearing those words, the clown's face turned red with anger, but he refrained from saying anything further. Klaus silently walked past him, entertained.

He noticed the small piece of paper lying next to his door. It was clear that someone had entered his office. Klaus deduced that it must have been at Walter's order, as he was the only one with access to all the rooms. This also explained why the clown had been insistent on reporting his absence. However, Klaus was not concerned, as he had returned the copied documents and his diary was safely hidden. He stored his purchases in the cabinets and left the building. As Klaus arrived at the workshop, he saw Nikolay and his crew working tirelessly. When he heard his name being called, Nikolay raised his head from the tank. Under Klaus's curious gaze, he hurriedly retrieved the tools he needed to repair the radio.
"Oh my," Klaus murmured, retrieving the pocket square from his suit. "You've stained yourself a bit," he said, carefully grasping Nikolay's chin with his bare fingers to wipe his cheeks. Nikolay was too shocked to speak, but his eyes darted from Klaus to the crew, who were giggling. They fell silent when Nikolay shot them a murderous glare. "Here, clean your hands too," Klaus advised with a smile, handing him the small cloth. Nikolay began doing so, setting his tools on the ground. He couldn't help but feel guilty for ruining the beautiful, embroidered white napkin.
"C'mon, I can carry them myself," he pleaded, tucking the cloth into his pocket, ashamed of giving it back dirty to Klaus.
"Don't worry," he reassured Nikolay, pulling on his gloves. "You're injured and need to focus on recovering," Klaus explained, picking up the tools. As they were leaving, Nikolay shot a final dirty look at his crew, who were watching them closely.

Klaus was walking slowly towards the building, not rushing Nikolay. But suddenly, the familiar voice called out once more.
"Klaus!" it shouted. Klaus let out a sigh and turned to Nikolay, his face filled with exasperation.
"I'm sorry; I will try to get rid of him quickly," he whispered before facing the clown. "For the love of God, Walter, it's Standartenführer Jäger for you," Klaus corrected him, clearly frustrated.
"Maybe if you had worked today," the clown retorted with a sense of superiority, facing them. "But you did mention having a free day on Tuesday, the 6th of June, in the year of our Lord 1944, did you not?" he asked, attempting to mock Klaus.
"I’m not certain if it works that way, but fine, you're correct," Klaus sighed, raising an eyebrow. "Let's go," he whispered to Nikolay, trying to walk away, but the clown immediately blocked their path.
"So, you have a free day, and you choose to spend it with this despicable untermensch?" he asked with a tone of superiority, pointing at Nikolay. Instinctively, Klaus turned to him, only to see Nikolay furrowing his brow in anger and clenching his fists.
"What, Walter, are you the only one allowed to exploit them for your own benefit?" Klaus asked, wanting to leave as soon as possible, realizing that Nikolay was uncomfortable. "Besides, animals are also subhuman, yet I see you spending your free time with your horse quite often," Klaus said with a smile, noticing the clown's annoyance. "Now, if you'll excuse us," he dismissed Walter, taking hold of Nikolay's wrist and walking away.

They distanced themselves from the camp head before Klaus asked.
"Do you know him?" He turned to Nikolay, noticing his furrowed brow. "Did he do something to you?" Klaus hurriedly added, his voice filled with concern.
"Don't worry about it," Nikolay muttered angrily, his head hanging low, avoiding Klaus's gaze.
"If he did something to you." He narrowed his eyes as he turned to look at the clown. "Tell me," Klaus begged, whispering. Nikolay sighed, upset.
"That's the Nazi scum who whipped me," he spat the words frustrated. Klaus clenched his fists tighter around the tools, desperately fighting the urge to go back and beat Walter to death. His blood was boiling with anger, but Klaus realized his anger wouldn't help Nikolay.
"What," he began speaking, with a voice still shaking with rage. "What did the doctor tell you?"
"What doctor?" Nikolay asked, confused.
"What do you mean, what doctor?" Klaus replied with another question, certain he would start losing his sanity. "I ordered them to give you medical care," he informed.
"Well, too bad, because I haven't seen no doctor," Nikolay shrugged, chucking amused. Klaus took deep breaths, trying to calm his racing heart.
"Of course, because if you don't do everything yourself, it will never get done," he muttered through his clenched teeth. "Then let's go now to the hospital wing," Klaus suggested as they entered the office. Upon hearing that, Nikolay frowned.
"I don't need no doctor," he demanded as he sat at Klaus's table.
"What do you mean? You're injured; you need medical care!" Klaus retorted, his voice filled with worry.
"I don't trust the camp doctors, Klaus," Nikolay confessed. "They do experiments on prisoners," he raised his voice, upset. "I don't want to go!"

Klaus's eyes were filled with desperation as he looked at Nikolay, silently begging him.
"But do you trust me?" he asked, hopeful. Nikolay turned to him, confused. "Let me take care of your wounds," Klaus suggested in a soothing tone.
"There's no need to worry about me." Nikolay's lips twitched into a weak smile, trying to reassure Klaus.
"You've been whipped," he replied, approaching the table. "You need urgent medical care." Klaus kneeled in front of Nikolay, his eyes locked onto the man's avoiding gaze. "Please, let me take care of you." He took hold of Nikolay's hands gently.
"Fine," he gave in, making Klaus smile. 

Receiving the approval he was hoping for, Klaus hurriedly retrieved his medical kit from the bathroom as Nikolay undressed his shirt slowly. When he returned, Klaus's eyes widened in horror and disgust.
"My God," he muttered, witnessing the extent of Walter's cruelty. "Why didn't you tell me earlier?" Klaus asked calmly, not attempting to accuse Nikolay or make him more uncomfortable than he already was.
"Why would I profit from your authority to have unfair treatment?" he asked, raising a brow. "I don't want you to feel used," Nikolay admitted.
"You weren't using me if you were asking for my help," Klaus explained, feeling upset that Nikolay was willing to endure the pain of his wounds. "I don't even think I have the necessary medicine to take care of you," he confessed. After some consideration, Klaus asked, deep in thought, "You know what? Go take a shower while I drive downtown and buy you medicine," he suggested, smiling.
"No," Nikolay protested. "There's no need for all this fuss," he retorted, offended.
"Oh, there absolutely is," Klaus chuckled before leaving the room in a hurry.

He returned with a new inmate uniform, which he placed on the table. As Nikolay watched, confused, Klaus started diligently ironing the crumpled but clean clothes.
"Why?" Nikolay asked, frustrated.
"Not only will it look a little better," Klaus explained with a smile. "But it'll also disinfect it," he said proudly, handing Nikolay the folded uniform. Afterwards, Klaus walked to his bathroom, gesturing for Nikolay to follow him.
"Here," he said, placing a clean towel on top of Nikolay's clothes. "There you have soap and shampoo," he pointed at the bottles. "And the lock."
"But," Nikolay protested. Klaus waved his hand irritably and exited the bathroom, saying,
"No buts." He hurriedly wrote a note, which he left on the desk, in case someone entered his office while he was absent. Klaus didn't want to leave Nikolay by himself with the unknown intruder roaming around, but there was no other choice. After locking the door, he ran outside to his car.

In less than half an hour, Klaus returned with a bag full of medicine.
"Did someone come while I was gone?" he asked as he entered the room. Nikolay shook his head, still drying himself with the towel. "Good!" Klaus sighed in relief. "Would you mind if I measured your wounds for a report? It would be valuable evidence of what is happening here," he added.
"Fine," Nikolay agreed, barely audible. Klaus quickly and carefully noted the severity of Nikolay's injuries and memorized every inch of his damaged skin for a later physical report. His priority at that moment was to attend to Nikolay's wounds; he could worry about the documentation later.

As Klaus reached out to touch Nikolay's injuries in an attempt to inject some painkillers, the man flinched and raised his voice.
"Don't touch my wounds!" Nikolay shouted, clearly concerned. Klaus immediately withdrew his hands, looking worried.
"What do you mean?" he whispered, confused by the sudden change of mind.
"Klaus, this is the fourth concentration camp I've been in, and the conditions were far from sanitary," Nikolay explained calmly. "I don't want to risk transmitting you diseases or infections through my blood." He looked into Klaus's eyes, pleading for understanding.
"Nonsense," Klaus dismissed his worries and tried to touch the wounds again. But Nikolay avoided his hands once more.
"No, it's not, you dumb fuck!" he raised his voice, growing frustrated. "I am not risking possibly infecting you," Nikolay demanded firmly.
"Fine," Klaus finally relented, getting up and putting on a pair of medical gloves. "Is this better?" he asked, raising his eyebrows. Nikolay rolled his eyes but didn't move away when Klaus tried to touch him again. "Oh, I'm sorry, I forgot," he apologized. Suddenly, Klaus remembered the main reason why Nikolay allowed himself to be taken care of: trust. "Here, take a look at the medication I'll administer to you," Klaus said, handing him the filled paper bag. "And this is the painkiller I injected you with," he added, placing the small ampule in Nikolay's palm.
"I didn't need no painkillers, you moron," Nikolay replied, frustrated, carefully examining each container. Klaus rolled his eyes in amusement but refrained from making any comments.

They waited for the injection to take effect before Klaus started carefully cleaning Nikolay's wounds. But he wasn't sure of the painkiller's efficiency, so Klaus quickly thought of questions to distract Nikolay from any possible discomfort.
"You still haven't told me how you learned English," Klaus reminded him as he gently stitched Nikolay's wounds.
"I kinda needed to learn it if I wanted to go to college in the States," Nikolay replied with a sarcastic voice, his eyes closed in pain.
"Wait, what?" Klaus asked, shocked. "How?"
"Do I look that dumb—you thought I wasn't educated?" Nikolay laughed.
"No," Klaus protested, gently slapping Nikolay on the back of his head. "It's just... how did you leave the USSR?" He asked curiously while still tending to Nikolay's wounds.
"I was sent there through a foreign student exchange," he explained. After a pause of realization, Nikolay added, "Did you think I tiptoed out of the country by myself?" he asked, with a hint of amusement.
"Kind of," Klaus admitted. "Pretty much, yeah," he chuckled, amused by his own assumptions, causing Nikolay to laugh as well. "Which college were you sent to?" Klaus asked once their laughter subsided.
"You ask as if you know every college in the States," Nikolay retorted.
"I'm sorry," Klaus said, but before he could finish, Nikolay interrupted him.
"At MIT, you moron," he replied sheepishly, feeling guilty for making Klaus apologize again.
"No way," Klaus chuckled, a mischievous grin spreading across his face.
"Master's degree too," Nikolay added proudly.
"You smartass!" Klaus laughed, surprised that Nikolay was a student focused on academics.
"Shut up," he muttered, growing frustrated.
"I'm sorry," Klaus said through his chuckles. "I'll be quiet, you little engineer," he said, bursting into laughter once more. Nikolay rolled his eyes, annoyed and regretting speaking up.

After tending to Nikolay's injured back, they took a lunch break before working on their respective tasks: Klaus wrote the physical report while Nikolay repaired the radio.
"I'm done," Nikolay announced as he gathered the tools from the table. Klaus glanced at his watch upon hearing this.
"Great, it's almost two o'clock. Let's listen to the news," he exclaimed, quickly plugging in the radio and thanking Nikolay once more for his help. As the first news broadcast began, Klaus's jaw dropped in surprise before a wide grin appeared on his face. He moved away from the table and fist-pumped in excitement.
"Mind sharing with the less fortunate?" Nikolay asked, raising an eyebrow.
"The Allies!" Klaus slammed his forehand in disbelief. "They're landing in France! They started invading," he informed joyous, taking a seat.
"Them Nazi bastards are losing," Nikolay laughed, leaning back on his chair.
"Let's have some tea to celebrate," Klaus suggested with a smile.
"Tea?" Nikolay questioned, trying to hold in his laughter. "What's this British-ass celebration?" He chuckled.
"I've given up alcohol," Klaus declared proudly.
"But we drank yesterday," Nikolay raised his eyebrows.
"I'm starting today," Klaus announced confidently.
"And how does that involve me?"
"I suppose you could have a drink," Klaus pondered. "But it's only two in the afternoon, you alcoholic. We still have work to do," he protested, causing Nikolay to roll his eyes.

Klaus carefully set the neatly packaged box from the bakery in the center of the table, making sure it was perfectly aligned with the painted cups of tea.
"I forgot a spatula," Klaus sighed. "How am I supposed to take the cake out?" he mumbled, deep in thought.
"Just use your hands," Nikolay suggested nonchalantly.
"Could you repeat that?" Klaus turned to him, his eyes widening in surprise.
"Just use your hands," Nikolay repeated, less confidently this time, unsure if he had made a mistake.
"Oh God, just when I thought I had heard everything, you surprise me again," Klaus burst into laughter. "How am I supposed to use my hands, you monkey?" he asked, still chuckling.
"I'm sorry, princess, that I tried to help your aristocrat ass," Nikolay replied, feeling offended.
"Why don't you go wash your hands?" Klaus suggested, wiping away his tears. "I'll figure something out," he added as Nikolay sluggishly walked away. When he returned, the cake slices were nicely arranged onto plates. Nikolay had no idea how Klaus managed to do so, but he was still too offended to ask.
"Wait, you have a chessboard in here?" Nikolay finally noticed, analyzing all the interesting decorations in Klaus's room as he savored his tea.
"Yes, would you like to play?" Klaus asked, looking up from his plate to meet Nikolay's gaze.
"I've never played before," Nikolay admitted sheepishly, as if he were embarrassed by the truth.
"After we finish recording, I could teach you," Klaus offered without hesitation. "Only if you want, of course," he quickly added, not wanting to seem pushy. Nikolay smiled and took another sip of tea before responding,
"Sure."

After enjoying their sweet treat, Klaus resumed his work on the physical report. Once he had completed it, he handed it over to Nikolay. Looking through the report, he was taken aback by the fact that Klaus had even included a drawing of his upper body, showcasing all of his wounds. The drawing was executed flawlessly. While Nikolay thought it was a waste of Klaus's time and talent, he chose not to comment on it. Instead, he nodded in approval and remained silent. Nikolay refused to listen to Klaus apologize once again.
"Is the whole suitcase the recorder?" Klaus asked, setting aside his papers.
"And that's as compact as it can get," Nikolay informed him, surprised that it was even that small.
"Have you finished setting it up?" Klaus noticed that it was already plugged in.
"Obviously," Nikolay replied proudly.
"After all," Klaus chuckled, "you're my little engineer, aren't you?" He laughed, teasing Nikolay. In response, Klaus was elbowed, but that didn't stop him from laughing.
"If you call me 'little engineer' one more time," Nikolay threatened with a smile.
"I promise I won't." Klaus looked at him with an innocent expression. "You little monkey," he burst into laughter once more before leaving the room in a hurry.

Klaus returned to the table with a large jug of cool water. After retrieving the letter with the questions, he took a seat across from Nikolay.
"If you want to take a break or stop at any time, just tell me," Klaus pleaded.
"Me? Wanting to take a break? Never," he protested, offended, having a skeptical expression.
"If you say so." Klaus wasn't convinced by Nikolay's bravery. 

They started the interrogation with Nikolay's personal information, then moved on to more important questions. Throughout the interview, Nikolay seemed unaffected by the stories of his past, while Klaus was the one needing to take several breaks. When he couldn't handle Nikolay's answers any longer, he stopped the recording, hiding his face between his shaking palms. Klaus did so out of shame, out of despair. He realized that he didn't deserve to stay in this comfortable office while innocent lives were lost outside his room. He didn't deserve to hear Nikolay laugh, see him smile, or talk with him when he was the reason why Nikolay was captured and tortured. He didn't deserve to sleep in his warm bed on the nights in which Nikolay slept in the winter freezing cold, alone, brutalized, hungry. He didn't deserve anything! And yet Klaus was sitting there, in his office, in a cozy sofa, well fed and well clothed. The only thing he truly deserved was to have died in that village, to rot in that foreign soil, far away from his home. Maybe at least some grass would have grown out of his carcass, and then he would have served a greater purpose than now, sitting in a chair and shuffling papers back and forth all day.

"Are you okay?" Nikolay asked with concern.
"God!" Klaus whispered, his voice trembling. "I'm so sorry for what I've done to you," he apologized, rubbing his forehead. "You didn't deserve any of this!"
"What are you talking about?" Nikolay interrupted, confused. "You didn't do shit to me," he protested angrily.
"It's my fault that you were captured. You suffered because of me!" Klaus looked into Nikolay's eyes, feeling unworthy of even that much. Nikolay pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration.
"It wasn't your fault," he said firmly. "It wasn't your fault because if this shithole was a normal country, any prisoner of war would be treated humanely," he explained calmly. "You didn't create this government, so stop blaming yourself for things that you didn't have, don't have, and you will never have control over!" Nikolay demanded. Klaus gulped down a glass of water, his hands shaking.

After enjoying a peaceful dinner together, Klaus and Nikolay sat down at the chess table to fulfill Klaus's promise. He set up the chessboard and began the lesson.
"The white pieces go first, so you'll be playing with them. It will give you an advantage as a first-time player," Klaus explained. Nikolay's face fell, offended.
"What's with this colonial, racist-ass rule?" he retorted. "What if I want to start with the blacks? Who's gonna stop me?" Klaus burst into laughter at Nikolay's words.
"You're the one being racist by thinking of it that way," he chuckled. Nikolay picked up one of Klaus's pawns and held it between his fingers.
"Ain't this supposed to be a black soldier?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Well, yes, but it's not about race. Black is said to be the lucky color, so it is considered too big of an advantage to have the lucky color and start first," Klaus explained. Nikolay was growing tired of this nonsense, but he continued to listen patiently. However, his patience ran out when he saw the rooks.
"And these are just for decoration?" he asked, lifting one of his rooks and showing it to Klaus.
"No, they're playable pieces," Klaus replied, confused. "Why would they be for decoration?" Nikolay raised both eyebrows.
"That's a fucking tower. Are you telling me that a goddamn tower is supposed to move around the battlefield?" he asked, shocked. Klaus laughed once again, causing Nikolay to sigh in frustration with this nonsensical game.

They began playing after Nikolay understood all the rules. Klaus started going easy on him. However, what he didn't expect was for Nikolay to start beating him slowly. He questioned himself if Nikolay really never played before because he was using advanced strategies that even Klaus, after all his years of playing chess, found difficult to master. No, he was certain; Nikolay wasn't lying, but what kind of strategist could he be to win a chess game after only learning the basic rules? Klaus couldn't understand where the anxiety started to come from again. The pressure of winning grew on his shoulders with every successful move Nikolay made. The fear—he could feel it cocooning, crushing him. He started rubbing his temple with one hand, and with the other, he was frantically moving the chess pieces he managed to take from Nikolay. Klaus couldn't lose; he couldn't possibly lose! If he lost...
"Checkmate!" Nikolay exclaimed triumphantly, causing Klaus's eyes to widen in fear. His breathing became uneven and rushed as he nervously rubbed his wrists. He stared at the chessboard as if it were the worst thing that could happen to him. But then he chuckled. Klaus realized that the pain wasn't there; losing the game didn't cause anything bad to happen. Under Nikolay's confused gaze, he smiled and sincerely congratulated him for the win.

But to Klaus's misfortune, his happiness was cut short when he checked his watch.
"Oh God!" he exclaimed. "It's late, it's late! It's so goddamn late!" Klaus repeated, rushing to the bathroom. "I still have so much to do," he said anxiously, burning the secret letter with the questions over the toilet. Nikolay felt guilty for taking up so much of Klaus's time.
"Can't I help you with anything?" he asked from his seat.
"Don't worry, I'll call someone to accompany you to the barracks," Klaus reassured him, deep in thought as he moved around the room. "Surely, I'll figure something out," he added, though he didn't sound convinced.
"And surely there's something I can help you with," Nikolay suggested, catching Klaus's attention. "It's my fault too that you lost so much time today," he explained. "Just let me help you, damn it!" Klaus sighed, considering his options.
"I suppose there is something you could help me with," he finally admitted, making Nikolay smile.

"These are records from the camp's archive," Klaus began explaining to Nikolay after he set the typewriter in front of him. "I was supposed to copy as many of them as possible and send them to the States."
"Let me guess," Nikolay said as Klaus walked to his bookshelf. "Evidence on what is happening here," he repeated Klaus's words, unsurprised.
"Exactly," he replied, handing Nikolay a German-Russian dictionary.
"The fuck do I need this for?" he asked, confused, tossing the book onto the table.
"Perhaps you'd want to know what you're copying," Klaus shrugged, unsure. "I don't want you to think that you're doing something that will benefit or help the Nazis," he confessed, sitting across from Nikolay and taking a pen and paper.
"I think that I'm doing something that'll help you, moron," he replied, starting to type slowly.
"Thanks," Klaus whispered to Nikolay, who didn't even raise his gaze from the assignment.
"Just do your work," he replied nonchalantly. "You're losing time," he added, leaving Klaus to worry about the article he promised to the press.

Minutes passed by as Nikolay typed faster and faster; only Klaus didn't progress. He stared blankly at his empty paper, lost in thought. How could he possibly write an article about the perfect Aryan soldier when he had never met one? How could he accurately depict someone he had never even encountered? Klaus regretted agreeing to take on the task, but he knew he had to maintain a good image in the eyes of the party to avoid suspicion. Despite his efforts, Klaus's mind remained empty; he began to feel hopeless. That is, until his gaze fell upon Nikolay and a sudden idea sparked within him.

Chapter Text

     Ohrdruf. 7 June 1944

"Listen up, you imbeciles!" Klaus shouted at the roll call, his voice echoing through the camp. "If any of you goddamn pigs have the guts to disobey my orders, then say 'fuck you' directly to my face!" He glared at the Nazi soldiers, his anger palpable. "And if you worthless pigs are too pathetic to follow simple orders, then get out of my way!" His heart raced with rage as he continued to shout. "Don't drag me down with your stupidity!" Klaus paused, allowing his words to sink in for the Nazis surrounding him, if they even had the capacity to understand. "If any of you pathetic pricks dare to disrespect me, disobey me, or interfere with my operation," he threatened with a murderous gaze before suddenly smiling. "Well, gentlemen, I'll have the pleasure of sending you to the eastern front by the end of June." With a sense of satisfaction, Klaus turned to walk away but was interrupted by a voice from behind.
"But, sir, the roll call hasn't even started yet," it protested.
"Walter, shut your goddamn mouth," Klaus dismissed, continuing on his way. His heart raced with fear as he was certain that the intruder was in his room. His breaths came in short, shallow gasps as he ran upstairs. In front of his door, Klaus whispered a small prayer before trying to open it. Upon realizing that the door was unlocked, Klaus slammed it open. His eyes widened in shock as he burst into his room, taking in the scene before him. A gunshot echoed throughout the building.

In the morning, Nikolay couldn't focus on his work properly. He was supposed to assist his crew, but instead his mind was on what had happened at the roll call. Nikolay couldn't help but wonder why Klaus was so upset and angry. Why hadn't he called Nikolay to his office, especially since it was almost dinner time? Why was Nikolay even worrying about that bastard? It wasn't like Klaus couldn't take care of himself; it wasn't like he was in danger, right?
"Commander, are you in love?" Stepan asked, giggling with the crew, startling Nikolay, and pulling him out of his thoughts.
"Uh?" he muttered, confused.
"Just figured out you were thinking about girls instead of helping us out," they laughed.
"No, cuz that makes a lot of sense," Nikolay responded sarcastically.
"Maybe he's thinking about that translator girl," Demyan suggested, causing another round of laughter.
"Well, that's even dumber," Nikolay commented with false surprise. "I don't even know her name," he protested, feeling frustrated.
"She seems like a nice girl, though," Stepan said with a genuine expression.
"And why should I care?" Nikolay shrugged. "I've never even spoken to her." He paused, lost in thought. "What if she's annoying or crazy?"
"Who cares; she's pretty," Demyan added, causing Nikolay to frown in annoyance.
"It takes more than just looks to have a happy life with someone," he protested, but his crew continued to laugh.
"Commander, was there something in your cookies?" Stepan asked through chuckles. "Because you're acting all funny."
"Good thing we didn't eat any," Demyan continued to giggle. Nikolay sighed, fed up.
"Sure, blame them cookies that you have no goddamn decency," he replied, distancing himself to work alone and cool down.

After a short while, a Nazi soldier made his way towards the workshop. Nikolay, focused on his work, didn't bother to look up; he could tell from the sound of the soldier's pace that it wasn't Klaus. So, if it wasn't him, why should he care? He continued working until the soldier called out his name and motioned for him to come along. Nikolay rolled his eyes and did as ordered, but his annoyance dissipated as he realized they were headed to Klaus's office. The soldier held the door open for Nikolay before leaving.

Horror enveloped him as he surveyed the chaos in the office, his eyes widening at the sight of Klaus's limp, bloody frame on the chair, barely holding a glass between his fingers. Nikolay rushed next to him, fearing for the worst.
"Are you injured?" he asked frantically, checking Klaus's body. Klaus didn't answer, but instead threw a sluggish arm around Nikolay, pulling him closer and hiding his face in Nikolay's chest. Unbothered by the sudden movement, Nikolay continued to search for any possible wounds but found none. As he leaned in closer, the smell of alcohol hit him. When Nikolay took the glass from his hand, Klaus didn't protest. He frowned upon smelling the remains of the crystal clear beverage. "You moron, did you at least eat before?" Nikolay scolded, lightly stroking Klaus's short hair. Klaus shook his head against Nikolay's chest. "You dumb fuck!" he exclaimed, pulling away and quickly searching through Klaus's cabinets until he found the jug from yesterday. Nikolay filled it with water and placed it on the desk. "I don't give a damn if you want or if you can, but you'll drink this water," he ordered, trying to help Klaus even though the damage had already been done. "You understood?" Nikolay asked firmly. Klaus nodded and began taking small sips of water. "If you feel like throwing up, tell me, don't just make a mess here. And keep drinking," he added, opening a window for fresh air and beginning to gather the papers from the floor.

"I'm sorry," Klaus began, but Nikolay immediately interrupted him.
"I'm not talking to you while you're drunk," he stated firmly, tossing the last documents on the desk.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend you," he apologized, visibly upset as he continued to drink water. Nikolay let out a sigh and placed a comforting hand on Klaus's head.
"You didn't offend me," he reassured calmly, gently stroking his hair. "But you're drunk, and you might say shit you'll regret when you're sober," Nikolay explained before returning to his work. Taking Nikolay's advice to heart, Klaus smiled and continued to drink water quietly. However, he suddenly remembered,
"Your bandages," Klaus said softly, catching Nikolay's attention. "I need to change your bandages," he pleaded.
"You're drunk, dumbass; you can't even talk properly," Nikolay replied unimpressed.
"I need to change them before they get infected," Klaus persisted. He struggled to get up from his chair, but Nikolay placed a hand on his shoulder and pushed him back down.
"Stay put, goddammit," he ordered, clearly frustrated. "If I change them, will you stop squirming?" he asked wearily.
"I promise," Klaus replied with a smile. Nikolay retrieved the medical kit and proceeded to change his own bandages, while Klaus watched curiously. When he finished, he returned the kit to its place.
"Happy now?" Nikolay asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Very," Klaus beamed like a child, causing Nikolay to chuckle.

He retrieved the dictionary Klaus had offered him the previous day and dragged a nearby chair to the desk before sitting next to the drunk man. Nikolay proceeded to order all Klaus's paperwork that had been thrown around, even though he wasn't asked to.
"Whatcha doin'?" Klaus giggled, playfully leaning his head on Nikolay's shoulder.
"I'm sorting this out," he replied carelessly, placing the documents in different stacks.
"Why are you doing my work?" Klaus asked, upset. "At least let me help you," he said, hiccupping.
"But you're helping me," Nikolay chuckled. "You're helping me by drinking water," he explained, pouring him another glass, which was eagerly gulped down. Curiously, Klaus watched without protest as Nikolay took hold of his wrist and checked the time on his watch. He was amazed by how quickly he finished the task. But Nikolay wouldn't feel right if he simply rested, not while the room was still such a mess. So, he filled Klaus's jug once more and then proceeded to scrub the blood stain off the floor.

Only when the entire office was spotless did Nikolay feel proud of his work. He looked up, the eerie quietness unsettling him. To his unpleasant surprise, Klaus stood in front of the painting of Hitler, pointing his pistol at it.
"Klaus, please drop your gun," Nikolay advised, slowly approaching the desk.
"God, I hate him," he replied, gazing angrily at the picture.
"Please don't shoot, you moron," Nikolay said, getting closer.
"Why?" Klaus retorted, turning to Nikolay. "Don't you hate him?" he asked, confused.
"Yes, I fucking hate him," Nikolay protested. "But shooting at a wall won't do anything," he explained, his voice filled with rage. "Give me your fucking gun," he demanded, fed up. Handing his pistol to Nikolay, Klaus said,
"Now it's your chance to get your revenge," he advised with a smile. "Shoot me, right here," he suggested, pointing at his heart. "Or better yet, shoot me here," he said, pointing at his clavicle. "This way, I'll have a slower and more painful death." Nikolay nodded his head, pretending to be impressed as he took out the ammo and placed it in his pocket. He then left the empty gun on the table and slapped Klaus on the back of his head.
"Didn't I tell you to stop squirming?" Nikolay scolded. "And stop bitching around like a goddamn toddler," he continued as Klaus started hiccupping.
"Nikolay, I don't feel too well," he interrupted. Nikolay sighed and helped Klaus to the bathroom, bringing the jug with them.

He patiently held Klaus's head while throwing up, offering him a glass of water to rinse his mouth. Then, noticing Klaus's stained uniform, Nikolay assigned himself another task.
"Take off your tunic," he instructed. However, upon seeing Klaus's struggle, Nikolay knelt down and began unbuttoning both the tunic and shirt. As he did so, Klaus continued to giggle and placed his palm on Nikolay's face.
"You're pretty," he chuckled.
"I'm not sure if I should be offended or flattered," Nikolay responded, finding Klaus's comment amusing.
"You're smiling," Klaus observed, resting his head on Nikolay's shoulder as he helped him walk. "It's nice to see you smiling," Klaus added with childlike joy. Nikolay sat the drunk man on his bed, leaving him in his pants and an undershirt. For reasons unknown to him, Klaus was also wearing black wristbands. He was eager to find out what was hiding underneath but decided not to remove them. In Nikolay's opinion, it would've been an invasion of Klaus's privacy; it would've been as if he saw him naked. His thoughts were suddenly interrupted by Klaus, who instead of sleeping was tossing in his bed.
"What are you doing?" Nikolay asked, trying to hold back his laughter.
"I can't seem to find Herr Kuchen," Klaus whined, making a puppy face.
"Herr who?" Nikolay was confused, picking up a teddy bear from the floor. He noticed that the poor thing had ripped seams on its little chest.
"You're not saying his name correctly," Klaus protested, reaching out to take his toy back. Nikolay handed it to him, smiling, amused. The last thing he expected from Klaus was for him to sleep with a stuffed animal. "Crap, now you're gonna laugh at me," Klaus frowned, looking upset.
"I won't," Nikolay reassured him, walking towards the bathroom. "Just go to sleep," he ordered.

After successfully removing all the stains, Nikolay hung the uniform up to dry on the shower rod. He didn't forget to wash Klaus's pocket square as well, ensuring it was returned clean. Now that he had taken care of Klaus's paperwork, washed his clothes, and cleaned the office, he wondered if there was anything else he could do. When Nikolay returned to Klaus, he found him still tossing and turning in his bed.
"Give me the keys to the desk," he requested. The drunk man didn't hesitate and pulled them out of his pocket, tossing them to Nikolay. He unlocked the drawer, where he remembered Klaus placing the documents that Nikolay hadn't finished copying. After setting up the typewriter, he continued his task from the previous day, only to be interrupted by Klaus.
"Nikolay," he mumbled. "Nikolay, I can't sleep," he whined, clearly distressed. Nikolay sighed and turned on the radio for some entertainment while he worked. "Don't ignore me, Nikolay," Klaus continued to plead.
"I'm not ignoring you, you goddamned child," he retorted, sitting on the bed next to Klaus and placing the typewriter in his lap.
"Please don't leave me alone," Klaus requested, moving closer to him and taking hold of Nikolay's right hand. He sighed but didn't attempt to remove his hand, hoping that Klaus would finally calm down. To his pleasant surprise, Klaus fell asleep immediately, leaving Nikolay to copy the documents in peace, struggling to type with only his left hand.

He finished half of the stack when Klaus woke up, looking pale and disoriented. Knowing what was going to happen next, he quickly handed a bucket to Klaus. After he finished throwing up, Nikolay gave him a glass of water to wash the unpleasant taste away and went to the bathroom, where he cleaned the bucket.
"What time is it?" Klaus asked, checking his watch as Nikolay returned. "It's midnight!" he exclaimed sheepishly. "Oh, God, I'm so sorry. I'll call someone to escort you to the barracks," Klaus told Nikolay. Upon taking a good look at his room, Klaus was stunned. "There was no need for you to clean up all the mess," he told Nikolay, feeling embarrassed.
"Oh, there absolutely was," he replied, placing the documents back in the drawer.
"Why didn't you ask what happened in here?" Klaus asked, avoiding Nikolay's gaze.
"Well, firstly, cuz you were drunk, and secondly, cuz it's none of my goddamn business," he answered nonchalantly.
"Nikolay, I," Klaus started to say as he accompanied Nikolay to the door.
"We'll talk tomorrow when you'll be sober," he dismissed. "Good night," Nikolay added as he exited the room. In response, Klaus just smiled, not attempting to say anything else.

     Ohrdruf. 8 June 1944

After the roll call, Klaus sat on his desk, waiting for the operator to connect his call.
"Cuzz?" Klaus asked, swinging his legs.
"Klaus?" Ferdinand replied sleepily. "It's six in the morning; let me sleep," he pleaded, tired.
"Cuzz, I need you to come pick up my car after my execution," he explained calmly. "Take my testament and make sure they don't get their dirty Nazi hands on my estates, alright?" Klaus asked, playing with the phone cable, uninterested. "I'll put everything you need to take in my trunk."
"Your what? Your execution?" Ferdinand interrupted, awakened. "Wait a goddamn minute, what did you do, you moron?" he asked, a wave of panic enveloping him.
"Relax, cuzz," Klaus chuckled. "Don't think too much about it," he reassured calmly. "Make sure you feed the horses five times a day and tell everyone I love them," Klaus pleaded before hanging up on his cousin.

He put his diary, the recorder, and his most important belongings in his trunk.
"Take care of them," Klaus said to Herr Kuchen before locking the car. When he returned to his office, he ordered Nikolay to be brought.
"Thank you for everything you did yesterday," Klaus said to Nikolay as he sat down in front of him. "I feel as if I owe you an explanation for what happened yesterday," he admitted, looking visibly distressed. Nikolay raised an eyebrow, skeptical but willing to listen. "When I returned from the roll call yesterday," Klaus paused, taking a deep breath.
"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to," Nikolay interrupted, showing concern.
"But I have to," Klaus insisted. "When I got back to my room, I found the translator going through my things," he continued, his voice filled with anxiety. Nikolay's eyes widened in shock. "I shot her. She died," Klaus confessed, looking down at the floor. He expected to be yelled at or punched, but instead, Nikolay remained silent. Klaus looked up at him, confused. "I killed her, and you're just quiet?" he asked desperately.
"What did you expect me to do?" Nikolay responded, deep in thought. "Did you want me to start screaming?" he added, with a hint of amusement.
"Yes," Klaus replied, his desperation evident. "Why are you laughing?" he asked, concerned.
"Oh, I see," Nikolay realized. "You're not used to killing outside of a tank," he said sympathetically. "If it makes you feel any better, I think you did the right thing. She was a traitor for working with the Nazis," Nikolay shrugged.
"Don't you understand? If she didn't agree, she would've been killed," Klaus said, taken aback by Nikolay's words.
"I would rather have her dead than working with the Nazis," Nikolay protested.
"But I don't understand," Klaus stuttered, confused. "You agreed to work with me before you knew I wasn't a Nazi," he reminded.
"I agreed to save her life, not mine," he retorted, offended. Nikolay sighed, tired of the subject. "Let's just get back to work. I didn't finish copying all the documents yesterday," he pleaded, receiving the key to the drawer.

Both of them worked tirelessly all day to ensure that no valuable evidence would be left behind. They shared a peaceful dinner together, after which Klaus removed his DAK ring.
"I want you to have this," he said with a kind smile, handing the ring to Nikolay, who examined it between his fingers.
"No, I can't take it," Nikolay pleaded, extending his palm for Klaus to take his little gift back. "It seems important," he admitted.
"It is indeed very important," Klaus said, gently taking hold of Nikolay's hand. "That's why I want you to have it; to remember me," he explained, looking into Nikolay's eyes as he curled his palm into a fist, leaving the ring in his grasp.
"To remember you?" Nikolay questioned, confused, not attempting to retrieve his hand from Klaus's.
"I know you're going to run away tomorrow; I saw the shells," he chuckled. Nikolay's eyes widened in disbelief. "Don't worry, I wouldn't do anything about it," Klaus reassured him.
"What about you? What'll happen to you?" Nikolay asked frantically. In response, Klaus simply smiled gently.
"Don't worry about me," he sounded upset.
"No," Nikolay protested, getting angry at himself. "I can't do this, not to you," he pleaded with hopeful eyes.
"You can and you will," Klaus said firmly. "You'll escape, you'll get to the States, you'll get your diploma back, you'll survive!" he retorted. Nikolay shook his head in disapproval, frowning. "But no matter what, don't return home," Klaus advised him calmly.
"What?" Nikolay interrupted him, offended.
"Nikolay, please don't return to the USSR. It's likely that they'll punish you once they find out that you were a prisoner. They will not welcome you with open arms," Klaus explained, concerned for Nikolay's well-being. "Your future in the States is much brighter. Please, just trust me," he begged, wanting the best for him. However, Nikolay responded angrily,
"Don't talk shit about my country." Klaus remained calm and attempted to take hold of Nikolay's hand, but he pulled away. "I won't listen to you, lying piece of shit," Nikolay retorted. Frustrated, Klaus gave in and said,
"Fine, do whatever you want." This only angered Nikolay more; he replied in a low, angry tone,
"I want to leave. That's what I want." Klaus, now fed up, swung the door open and yelled,
"Then leave!" Nikolay shot him a final glare before storming out of the office without turning back.

Chapter Text

     Somewhere near Klingenthal. 9 June 1944

How? How could Nikolay possibly have shot at the tower? A moment of rage, a single moment of rage, and it cost all of Klaus's life. And for what? For revenge, revenge because Klaus simply tried to advise him. How could Nikolay continue running, continue fighting, continue surviving when he knows Klaus's blood is on his hands? He ran his shaking palm through his short hair, trying to grasp onto the reality he brought on himself: he was alive, free, and Klaus wasn't, and all because of him, all because he couldn't control his madness. Nikolay wiped away his useless tears, tears that wouldn't bring Klaus back to life, and went to sleep. He had to rest and continue fighting tomorrow—for his crew, for Klaus.

     Klingenthal. 10 June 1944

Two times in a row he failed Klaus. Why did he let go of his hand? Why did he let him fall? Nikolay looked down at the river, not believing what his stupidity allowed himself to do. But it was too late. Or was it? Nikolay hurried in his tank and grabbed his backpack.
"Commander, what are you doing?"
"Stepan, do you remember where my Mom lives?" he asked frantically.
"Yessir," he replied, confused.
"Good, I want you, Stepan, to tell my Mom that I survived and I'm continuing fighting," Nikolay pleaded, starting to walk away. "Now go! Go without me!" he shouted, running towards the end of the bridge. In his rush, Nikolay could hear Stepan yelling something at him, but in that exact moment, he couldn't care less.

Everywhere he could see—just water. Slowly, Klaus was drifting into nothingness, to the bottom of the bluish hell, meant to seal his fate forever. But even though his head hurt, his lungs hurt, his everything hurt, he couldn't be happier. He received the wish he was praying for: to go down with dignity, to die in battle, at Nikolay's hands, rather than be incarcerated and tortured for this 'failed' mission. One thing Klaus couldn't understand though: why Nikolay's gaze was so saddened as they shook hands and let him go. He didn't want Nikolay to be sad, especially not because of him. Maybe Klaus started hallucinating because he could swear that the last thing he could tell apart in this painful abyss of water before merging into darkness was him again. But even if it was nothing more than a hallucination, it was such a warming, beautiful thing to see as he closed his eyes forever.

Nikolay was unsure whether he took a person or a corpse out of the river. When he realized that the tank didn't cut Klaus in half, he felt a glimmer of hope. As he laid Klaus's limp body on the ground, the cold morning breeze stung his exposed skin. However, Nikolay's own comfort was the least of his concerns. Without hesitation, he tore open Klaus's uniform, exposing his neck and chest to prevent any restrictions on his airways. He pressed his ear against Klaus's chest, relieved to hear faint, slow heartbeats. It was everything Nikolay could have hoped for. Determined not to fail Klaus for a third time, he tilted his head back, opened his mouth, and pinched his nose. As he leaned in to perform CPR, he was met with Klaus's terrified gaze.

After seeing the distress on Klaus's pale face, Nikolay moved away from him. He felt embarrassed, and his cheeks burned, realizing that being naked on top of Klaus with their faces getting closer wasn't a pleasant way to wake up after nearly drowning. While Klaus lifted himself up just enough to throw up, Nikolay pushed his embarrassment aside and retrieved his backpack.
"I have to undress you," he muttered in Klaus's ear. Under his silent gaze, Nikolay carefully removed the damaged and drenched uniform, examining his body for any injuries. "Anything specifically that hurts?" he asked, concerned. Nikolay noticed that aside from cuts and burns, Klaus didn't have any life-threatening wounds. "What about your leg?" he added when Klaus shook his head. The injured man shrugged silently as Nikolay kneeled down to examine his swollen leg. Nikolay was certain that Klaus had sprained his ankle, but luckily nothing was broken. In his backpack, he only had disinfectant and bandages, so he couldn't stitch Klaus's cuts, but at least he could patch them up. It was better than nothing.

When all Klaus's wounds were bandaged, Nikolay retrieved a blanket from his backpack and wrapped him in it.
"Are you cold?" he asked, while being bitten by the morning wind. Klaus shook his head, looking away. "Do you want some water?" Nikolay realized that the experience was exhausting not only for himself but also for Klaus. Carefully, he leaned Klaus's body on his before bringing the bottle closer to his mouth. "Easy," he advised in a shushed voice. "Or you'll feel sick again." Nikolay made sure once more that Klaus was comfortably enveloped in the blanket before dressing himself up. He removed all Klaus's medals and belongings from the damaged uniform before throwing it into the river. Returning to the injured man, Nikolay noticed his strange, unfocused gaze.
"Klaus," he said, kneeling beside him. "How many fingers am I showing you?" Nikolay asked, keeping his hand close enough to Klaus's face. "Oh no, no, no, no," he said frantically. "You squinted; that ain't good," Nikolay informed, sitting beside him, worried. It was normal to have vision problems after nearly drowning, but Nikolay hoped Klaus's would be only temporary.

There was no time to wait for Klaus to feel better. They had to leave before his 'friends' came looking for him. Without hesitation, Nikolay threw his backpack over his shoulders and lifted Klaus up. He hadn't anticipated it to be such a difficult task, but it was. His arms ached, his legs trembled, and his lungs burned as he struggled for air. When Nikolay started feeling dizzy and his head began to spin, he carefully laid Klaus down against a nearby tree before collapsing to his knees in pain. Despite the fatigue, he could see that they were now in the forest and no longer near the river.
"You're still recovering; you shouldn't have carried me," Klaus barely muttered.
"You're chirping again," Nikolay chuckled, trying to catch his breath. "That's a good sign," he added, sitting down next to Klaus. Struggling to breathe, Nikolay surveyed their surroundings and saw a small wooden house nearby. He quickly grabbed Klaus's gun from the backpack and tossed it in his lap. "Look after the bag," he instructed, taking the rifle and slowly making his way towards the house.

An old well and a bench stood in front of the wooden house, as if guarding it. The mailbox at the door was overflowing with envelopes. With a firm grip on his gun, Nikolay burst through the door. Inside, he found a single, small room filled with dust. To be certain, he thoroughly searched every inch of the room. Leaving the door open for fresh air, he went to the well and discovered that it had clean water.
"We're in luck," Nikolay said to Klaus as he struggled to pick him up again. "The cabin is abandoned," he informed, walking inside. Nikolay sat Klaus on a chair before checking the bed. Although it wasn't infested, it was covered in dust. He took out the covers and pillows and shook them outside to remove the dust. Then he gently laid Klaus on the bed and began searching through the cabinets.

Nikolay stumbled upon a large basin and a medical kit. He made the decision to give Klaus a bath and properly tend to his wounds. With determination, he grabbed an ax and headed outside to chop down an old tree. After gathering enough wood, he returned to the cabin and started a fire in the small stove. Once the water was warm enough, Nikolay carefully unwrapped Klaus's bandages and helped him into the basin.
"I can wash myself," Klaus insisted, looking away shyly.
"Of course," Nikolay responded awkwardly, handing Klaus the soap and a bucket of warm water. Giving Klaus some privacy, he closed the door and sat on the staircase, lost in thought. Nikolay was wondering where he could find medication, as the medical kit didn't contain any painkillers or antibiotics, which he was sure Klaus needed. Scratching his head, trying to come up with a plan, he heard Klaus calling his name. He slammed the door open, his eyes wide as he scanned the room for any potential threats, his heart racing with worry.
"I," Klaus began to explain, taken aback by Nikolay's sudden entrance. "I finished washing up," he said as Nikolay laid him onto the bed, his body still wet. Nikolay handed him a clean towel before retrieving the medical supplies. "Why aren't you taking a bath as well?" Klaus asked, noticing that Nikolay was disinfecting his hands.
"Right now, it's more important to stitch your wounds," Nikolay replied casually. He sat down next to Klaus on the bed and carefully sewed his skin together. To ease Klaus's pain a bit, Nikolay administered him morphine. But he kept the dose very small because he didn't want Klaus to become addicted.

"Now, wash up and let's change your bandages," Klaus said, his breaths short and exhausted. Nikolay looked away, deep in thought and biting his lip.
"We have too few bandages left," he informed, starting the fire again to heat water for his bath.
"As few as we have, we're going to share them," Klaus replied firmly.
"Klaus," Nikolay sighed, rubbing his forehead. "I don't need them as much as you," he tried to explain calmly.
"Yes, you do," Klaus protested with a smile. "And if you won't let me change your bandages, then I won't let you change mine either," he said, meeting Nikolay's tired gaze. Klaus remained silent, hoping to convince Nikolay, but his silence was interrupted by a loud growl.
"Are you hungry?" Nikolay asked with a chuckle.
"It would be nice if we had some food," Klaus replied sheepishly, looking away in embarrassment.
"Who said we don't have any?" Nikolay asked, pulling out a can from his backpack and opening it. "But let me heat it first; maybe it'll taste better," he added, placing the can on the stove as Klaus smiled softly.

Nikolay extinguished the fire and carefully wrapped the can in a towel before handing it to Klaus. Grateful, Klaus thanked him and noticed that Nikolay had also cleaned a spoon for him to use.
"Could you help me walk outside?" Klaus asked before starting to eat.
"You're injured; why would you need to go outside?" Nikolay frowned, confused.
"To give you some privacy," Klaus replied, stating the obvious. "You went outside when I was washing," he added, less confidently. Nikolay started laughing.
"Unlike you, princess, I have nothing to hide," he said, trying to ease his laughter. "Just stay put and eat there," he advised, still chuckling. In response, Klaus turned to face the wall as he ate, feeling offended. Nikolay was washing himself, but when he noticed Klaus, he laughed again. "You're acting like a virgin girl," he said, startling Klaus, who was eating in peace.
"Excuse me for having some decency and not staring at you like a pervert," Klaus protested.
"You're excused, virgin girl," Nikolay added, still laughing.
"Shut up, monkey," Klaus retorted, only amusing Nikolay even more with his frustration.

After getting dressed, Nikolay sat down on the bed next to Klaus, who handed him the can. Nikolay was surprised that Klaus had left him half of the food as he opened the can only for him.
"Thanks," he muttered, smiling. Klaus covered himself with the blanket and stared at the ceiling, lost in thought. "What are you thinking about?" Nikolay asked through bites.
"What does water taste like?" Klaus questioned, turning to face Nikolay with genuine curiosity. Taken aback by the question, Nikolay opened and closed his mouth several times before responding,
"I'm sure you got a pretty good taste of water earlier." He poked fun at Klaus, purposely teasing him.
"I know, right? But I still can't figure out what it tastes like," Klaus replied, frustrated.
"I thought you were thinking of a plan or something," Nikolay chuckled, amused.
"But I already have a plan," Klaus replied, confused.
"Mind sharing with the ones around you?" Nikolay asked, finishing his food.
"There's a railway nearby," Klaus began to explain. "On Monday, a coal train from Czechoslovakia will stop at the border for document checks, and then it'll continue on to Munich." Nikolay listened carefully as Klaus continued, "We can get on the train while it's stopped at the border and get off in Nürnberg." He smiled from under the blanket and added, "My cousin is there now, so we'll have a place to stay."
"How do you know all of this?" Nikolay asked, speechless.
"Let's just say I work in the industry," Klaus replied carelessly. "So, you're coming with me, right?" he asked, giving Nikolay a hopeful look. In response, Nikolay smiled. "I knew you wouldn't say no to me," Klaus beamed like a child, excited.
"I didn't say nothing," Nikolay protested, but his smile gave away his true feelings.
"Yes, you did," he chuckled.

Klaus put on medical gloves, and carefully tended to Nikolay's wounds. Once his injuries were covered with fresh bandages, Nikolay retrieved several pillows from the wardrobe, and after fluffing them thoroughly, he placed them along the bed next to the wooden wall.
"What are you doing?" Klaus asked, amused, as he made space for Nikolay's project.
"Well, since you can't walk, it's only logical for you to sleep against the wall," Nikolay informed him. "And it doesn't seem very comfortable to have your skin rubbing against this unsanded wood, does it?" he added, adjusting the pillows for better support.
"No, it doesn't," Klaus admitted, smiling from under his blanket.
"I'm going to sleep," Nikolay announced, pulling the curtains closed for some shade. "I'll wake up in the middle of the night and go to Kraslice to get medicine," he explained as he sat down on the bed.
"You can't do that," Klaus protested, worried. "It's too dangerous," he pleaded.
"You know what else is dangerous?" Nikolay asked, trying to reason with Klaus. "Us staying with dirty bandages, you having so many open wounds and not receiving any antibiotics," he said firmly.
"But," Klaus continued to argue desperately, only to be interrupted by Nikolay.
"I'm not willing to risk you getting an infection," he muttered angrily. "I can't let you down for a third time," Nikolay said, feeling ashamed.
"What?" Klaus asked, taken aback. "You never let me down," he said gently, confused.
"Yes, I did!" Nikolay replied, his voice shaking with anger. "I shot at the tower; I let you fall in the river; I almost killed you twice!" He raised his voice, frustrated.
"You saved me afterwards," Klaus muttered, trying to reason with Nikolay.
"And what if the shell hit you in the tower? What if I didn't manage to pull you out of the river before you drowned?" he shouted, even angrier. "You would be dead, Klaus, that's what," he lowered his voice, trembling with rage. "You would be dead because of me," Nikolay whispered, realizing the painful reality.
"We almost killed each other, if that makes you feel any better," Klaus said, placing a comforting hand on Nikolay's shoulder in an attempt to calm him.
"No, it doesn't," Nikolay replied, looking into Klaus's eyes with desperation. "It's different when we fight in battle and when I shoot at a building where you're trapped." His voice shook as he muttered, "Trapped like a mouse, unable to defend yourself."
"Goddammit, fine, you made a mistake, you messed up," Klaus gave in, trying to soothe Nikolay. "But I forgive you," he said, cupping Nikolay's face in his hands and meeting his gaze.
"I don't deserve to be forgiven," Nikolay protested, turning away in shame.
"You don't get to decide who I forgive," Klaus whispered in his ear, hugging him. "Now, let's go to sleep; you're tired," he said gently, caressing Nikolay's head. Klaus smiled, laying on his back, patting the bed for Nikolay to follow suit. Still upset by his actions, he rested his head next to Klaus's heart. Its calm rhythm reassured him that he was indeed alive, that he was close to Nikolay, that he wouldn't ever let him down again. Lulled by Klaus's heartbeat, Nikolay fell asleep slowly as Klaus gently stroked his hair.

     Somewhere near the Volga River. 30 July 1932

"Get down from the tree; I'm not gonna whoop your ass," his Mother shouted from the bench.
"I'm not so sure, Ma; seeing you so close," Nikolay replied, picking a pear from a branch. "I'll hang around just to make sure," he giggled, taking a bite.
"You've been accepted to a high school in Moscow," the woman sighed proudly. Hearing her son's screams of joy, she added, "Don't get too excited now; it's a correctional high school."
"Whatchu mean? I got straight fives in all my classes; there ain't no grade higher than five," Nikolay protested, frustrated. "Honestly, they should've let me directly into Harvard with my academics," he added humbly.
"Boy, ain't no way you'll ever get into Harvard," his Mother chuckled, amused.
"Maybe not there, Ma, but I'mma get somewhere big one day and make you proud," Nikolay said with determination.
"But I'm already proud of you; I'll always be," the woman admitted, looking up at her child in the tree. "If anything, you should be proud of yourself," she added, squinting to see Nikolay.
"Sure, Ma, I'll be so proud of myself; with my grades to sit in a correctional school," he scoffed, disappointed.
"You don't have a passing behavior grade," his Mother reminded him, fed up. "And that's what you get for throwing chairs at teachers and benches out the windows!" she scolded her son.
"That's what they get for calling you a whore," Nikolay retorted through gritted teeth, angry. When he noticed his Mother slapping her forehead, he asked sheepishly, "Now you're gonna whoop me, aren't you?" The woman started walking towards the house, but before entering she shouted,
"Just get your ass down and come pack your things; we have to go search for a rental for you," she informed, leaving the door open for Nikolay to come inside.

     Somewhere near Kraslice. 11 June 1944

Nikolay woke up to the gentle touch of Klaus's fingers running through his hair. While he slept, Klaus covered him too with the blanket.
"Why aren't you sleeping?" he asked, noticing that the sun hadn't set yet.
"I can't," Klaus muttered, avoiding his gaze.
"Why?" Nikolay repeated, hoping to get an answer.
"I," Klaus paused to choose the right words. "I don't know. Perhaps because it's too quiet," he theorized. "Usually, I listen to music to fall asleep," Klaus admitted sheepishly.
"I see," Nikolay replied, lifting himself on his elbows. "So, if I sing something to you, you'll fall asleep?" he asked, yawning. Klaus looked at Nikolay, confused and searching for signs that he was making fun of him, but he didn't find any.
"I'm not a toddler for you to sing me to sleep," Klaus frowned, unamused.
"I never said you were," Nikolay retorted quietly. "Now, stop complaining like a toddler," he chuckled, tucking Klaus in with the blanket and leaving only his head uncovered. "Let's see," Nikolay said, searching his mind for any bedtime songs.
"There's no need for this," Klaus muttered, pulling the cover down a little. Nikolay gently removed Klaus's hands from the blanket and covered him back up.
"It's not very princess-like to be so naughty," Nikolay frowned. Klaus sighed, defeated, and didn't attempt to protest against Nikolay anymore. Remembering the chorus of the lullaby his Mother used to sing to him, Nikolay started singing it to Klaus while patting his head. He didn't even manage to reach the middle of the song before noticing that Klaus was already fast asleep. Pleased with his work, he snuggled closer to Klaus and closed his eyes.

He closed his eyes but didn't manage to fall asleep again. So, Nikolay slowly rose from the bed, careful not to disturb Klaus, and retrieved the map he had found in the cabinets. Under the soft light of the setting sun, he analyzed the path he needed to follow to reach Kraslice. If he used Klaus's compass, Nikolay needed to walk north for a kilometer and then just follow the railway to town. The plan was simple enough, but in the middle of the night, when the time to leave came, it started raining. Nikolay sighed, annoyed, and decided to go anyway.
"Klaus," he shook him gently but received no response. "Klaus, you fucking laid-back princess, wake up," he whispered, shaking him slightly harder. Klaus jolted up, confused, and turned to Nikolay. "I have to go now," he said, gathering the things he would need.
"It's raining outside; where do you think you're going?" Klaus protested through gritted teeth. Nikolay understood that the effects of the morphine had faded, and now Klaus could feel the pain of his wounds very well.
"I'm going to get us some medicine; that's where I'm going," he replied angrily, handing Klaus the rifle. "You're in pain, dummkopf, and I'm not giving you any more morphine," Nikolay said angrily. As he walked to the door, Klaus told him,
"Just take care of yourself," he breathed out through his discomfort. Nikolay turned to him, smiling.
"Just don't miss me too much, princess," he said, exiting the cabin.

Outside, the rain was pouring heavily on Nikolay's head as he struggled to make his way through the muddy ground. The freezing, nightly wind was pinching his wounded skin, causing him to shiver and realize the true extent of the cold. However, it was nothing compared to the harsh Russian winters he experienced back home; it was nothing compared to the excruciating cold he endured while shoveling snow barefoot in concentration camps; it was nothing compared to the warmth he would feel when he'd see Klaus feeling better. It wasn't even cold, Nikolay realized, entering the town. He managed to find the pharmacy easily, roaming through the quiet streets. Kneeling in front of the door and pulling Klaus's gloves onto his hands, Nikolay checked his surroundings before opening the lock. Proud of his skill, he almost walked inside but realized his boots were filled with mud. Nikolay sighed, tired, and took them off, entering the store with his soaked yet clean socks. Hurriedly, he took a paper bag from the counter, where he noticed a telephone. Nikolay filled the bag with the necessary medicine and some hygienic products before proceeding to leave. But at the door, he saw a shelf with tobacco pouches. Smiling, Nikolay took one and checked once again if everything was clean behind him. He locked the door while the rain continued to soak him, then made his way to the cabin.

Nikolay opened the door without flinching as Klaus was pointing the rifle at him.
"I knew you'd miss me, but I didn't expect you to welcome me so warmly," he chuckled.
"Thank God it's you," Klaus breathed out, setting the weapon aside. Shivering, Nikolay sat at the table and proceeded to prepare an injection to finally ease Klaus's pain. Because of the cold, his hands were too shaky as he struggled under the soft light of the candle. "Perhaps you should warm yourself first," Klaus said, breathing heavily through his discomfort.
"No," Nikolay retorted, slamming his fist on the table to calm its trembling, and handed Klaus the candle. As he kept the light close, Nikolay administered painkillers and antibiotics to Klaus before changing his bandages.
"Now it's your turn," Klaus beamed joyously once Nikolay finished. He sighed but decided to give in, knowing that Klaus wouldn't leave him alone if he didn't. "You're so cold," he muttered, drying Nikolay with a towel. Carefully, Klaus pulled on medical gloves and tended to Nikolay's wounded back. "You should sleep at the wall; it's warmer," Klaus suggested, noticing that he was still shivering. Without any complaints, Nikolay did so and laid with his back against the pillows. He was pleasantly surprised by how comfortable it was to be nestled between the soft pillows and Klaus's warm body, covered by the fluffy blanket. As he leaned his ear on Klaus's chest and listened to his steady heartbeat, Nikolay drifted off to sleep, exhausted. He only remembered that he had forgotten to ask Klaus if he wanted a bedtime song when he was already asleep.

Chapter Text

     Somewhere near Kraslice. 11 June 1944

As the warm sun rays shone down on Nikolay's body, he slowly opened his eyes to feel Klaus's gentle fingers caressing his head. Upon realizing that he was somehow on top of Klaus, a wave of embarrassment washed over him. However, he decided not to complain if Klaus didn't mind. In that surprisingly comfortable position, Nikolay muttered,
"Sorry I didn't sing to you yesterday," with his head resting on Klaus's chest.
"It's alright," Klaus chuckled. "You shouldn't feel guilty about it," he reassured, running his fingers through Nikolay's short hair.
"What time is it?" Nikolay asked tiredly, not bothering to raise his head.
"It's eleven," Klaus replied, but before he could finish, Nikolay suddenly burst out of bed, breathing heavily. "What's wrong?" Klaus questioned, worriedly sitting up. Nikolay sat on the floor, rubbing his forehead in shame.
"Sorry," he said, struggling to catch his breath. "It's just the wake-up time at the camp." He didn't finish his sentence as he returned on the bed.
"I'm sorry," Klaus began apologizing but was interrupted.
"It's not your fault," Nikolay turned to Klaus. "I just need to get accustomed to the fact that there's no more Prisoner 34127," he grinned. "And no more Standartenführer Jäger," he added, causing Klaus to smile from under his blanket.

Nikolay disinfected his hands, and Klaus put on medical gloves before tending to their wounds. With clean, new bandages, they sat at the table, sharing their breakfast.
"I think we should call your cousin," Nikolay suggested between bites. "Not just show up at his door," he added as Klaus choked on his tea.
"How do you propose we call him?" Klaus asked, coughing.
"There's a telephone at the pharmacy," Nikolay said, patting Klaus on the back to ease his discomfort. "I could go there again before the train arrives," he suggested.
"Absolutely not," Klaus said firmly, furrowing his brow. "It's too dangerous, you moron," he said worriedly.
"Nonsense," Nikolay chuckled. "If I call him, maybe he could get you a doctor by the time we arrive," he added thoughtfully.
"I'm not letting you go back there," Klaus protested. Nikolay smiled, amused.
"Are you scared, princess?" he chuckled. "Are you worried about me?" Nikolay fluttered his eyelashes.
"You know what?" Klaus frowned. "Do whatever you want," he said, offended by the innocent accusation, making Nikolay laugh.

After finishing their meal and brushing their teeth, Nikolay suddenly remembered that he had forgotten something. He reached into the paper bag from the pharmacy and pulled out the tobacco pouch.
"Here," he said, handing it to Klaus, who was sitting on the bed. Klaus looked at it curiously, and his face fell when he realized what it was. He smiled, opening and closing his mouth in shock. Unable to find the words to express his gratitude and excitement, he simply hugged Nikolay, burying his face in his belly.
"Thank you," he mumbled, while Nikolay struggled to understand the significance of the gift. Despite his confusion, Nikolay decided not to ruin Klaus's moment of joy and hugged him back without asking any questions. "It's a shame I don't have my pipe anymore," Klaus said wistfully.
"Whatchu mean?" Nikolay asked, feeling insulted. He rummaged through his backpack and tossed Klaus his pipe. "Did you think I threw away your belongings?" he asked, noticing Klaus's guilty expression. "I took everything out, even your medals," he added. "I know how important medals are to a soldier," he said, sitting down on the bed next to Klaus.
"Medals are indeed important to a soldier," Klaus acknowledged, his gaze filled with sorrow as he looked at Nikolay. "I'm sorry that the Nazis took yours," he added, feeling upset. Nikolay furrowed his brow, unsure of what Klaus meant.
"They didn't take my medals," he chuckled, his confusion evident.
"What?" Klaus asked, struggling to understand Nikolay's words.
"I had no medals to begin with," Nikolay clarified, a hint of amusement in his voice.
"What?" Klaus repeated, his confusion deepening.
"Klaus, I didn't have no medals when the Nazis captured me. I've never in my life fought before my battle against you," he chuckled, noticing Klaus's frown of bewilderment. As the realization of Nikolay's words hit him, Klaus's eyes widened in shock.
"I lost to a rookie!" he exclaimed, a mixture of amusement and disbelief in his tone.
"Not just any rookie," Nikolay corrected him. "The best rookie in the world," he said proudly.
"I lost to my little monkey," Klaus laughed at Nikolay's modest statement.
"Yes, you did," Nikolay admitted, joining in on the laughter.
"But still," Klaus muttered once the laughter had died down. "They took everything from you," he remarked, his voice filled with sympathy. "All the things that reminded you of home and loved ones," Klaus added, saddened.
"That's where you're wrong again," Nikolay replied with a smile, not hesitating for a moment. He pulled out the gifted DAK ring and placed it on his finger. "They didn't manage to take everything," he said, his smile growing wider as Klaus looked on, touched by Nikolay's decision to wear it.

     Somewhere near Kraslice. 12 June 1944

In the middle of the night, Nikolay placed clean clothes for Klaus on the bed and gathered all their belongings in the backpack.
"Just get dressed before I come," he instructed Klaus, placing all the necessary items in his pockets.
"Do you remember his phone number?" Klaus asked, concerned.
"It's a six-digit number, and I'm not eighty years old," Nikolay sighed, tired of hearing that question. "You draw the conclusion on your own," he added, walking to the door.
"Be careful," Klaus said after him, still with a heavy heart because he agreed to the plan.
"Don't worry about me," Nikolay smiled to comfort Klaus before exiting the cabin and making his way through the night.

To avoid being noticed in the pharmacy, Nikolay crouched behind the counter, clutching the phone tightly in his hand as he mustered every inch of his acting to put on a Czech accent while speaking with the operator.
"Ferdinand Berlinger, guten Morgen," he muttered sleepily once the call was connected.
"I don't know how guten it is, but whatever," Nikolay sighed.
"Who am I speaking to, sir?" Ferdinand asked confused.
"That's not important right now," Nikolay whispered hurriedly. "What you need to know is that your cousin is injured but alive, and I'll help him get to your house today," he explained quietly. "Any chance you could get him a doctor?" Nikolay asked, hopeful.
"I suppose I can," Ferdinand replied, taken aback. "But what do you want in exchange?" he asked suspiciously.
"Nothing, man," Nikolay replied, offended. "I don't give a damn who you think I am, but I'm not some kind of racketeer, alright?" he said firmly. "By the time Klaus gets to your house, you better have a doctor for him," he added before hanging up. 

When Nikolay attempted to stand up, he heard people talking outside. He immediately dropped down, his blood running cold. His heart began to race, not out of fear but out of frustration. As he listened to the approaching voices, Nikolay couldn't decide what annoyed him more: the fact that Klaus was about to be correct or that he would be left alone without any assistance while injured. Fortunately, the strangers simply passed by the pharmacy without paying much attention to it. To ensure that no one was nearby anymore, Nikolay waited a bit longer inside, calming himself before locking the door and leaving the town.

At the cabin, Klaus was smoking his pipe, dressed, when Nikolay burst in.
"Let's go," he said, gasping for air.
"You know I have an uninjured leg that I can stand on, right?" Klaus asked as Nikolay attempted to lift him up. "It would be easier and faster if you just supported me while I walked," he suggested.
"Fine," Nikolay gave in, taking hold of the backpack, but Klaus stopped him.
"I'll carry this from now on," he informed, getting up and throwing the backpack on his shoulders.
"Why?" Nikolay protested, furrowing his brow.
"Because you have a wounded back and I don't," Klaus replied firmly, leaning on Nikolay for support. Nikolay rolled his eyes in annoyance but placed his hand around Klaus, helping him walk in silence.

They crouched in the bushes beside the railway, keeping a safe distance from the border to avoid being seen. In the dim light of the early morning, they could hear the approaching train. Nikolay was amazed by its immense size; he knew that coal trains could stretch for hundreds of meters, or even a kilometer, but seeing it in person was a different experience altogether. When the train came to a stop, Nikolay helped Klaus climb up the ladder onto the last cart and then quickly followed suit. They laid down on their backs, side by side, in order to remain unnoticeable. As the train began to move slowly, Nikolay inched closer to Klaus.
"Wake me when we arrive," he whispered, closing his eyes. Amidst the rumbling of the train, Nikolay couldn't hear Klaus's heartbeat, but he could feel his gentle fingers stroking his head as he drifted off to sleep.

     Moscow. 1 December 1934

When the bell rang, Nikolay was already waiting in front of the class. He knew that, as with every physics lesson, his fate would be the same: the teacher would call his name, give him problems to solve at the board, and his classmates would either sleep or not show up at all. As he was lost in thought, a piece of chalk suddenly hit him, snapping him out of his trance. He instinctively reached for the chalk to throw it back but stopped when he saw the teacher enter the room with a stranger. He quickly lowered his hand, pretending that he hadn't done anything. However, he couldn't hide his anger, and he bit his fist while shooting a murderous glare at Petrov. Nikolay was leaving his revenge for after class.
"Ivushkin, seat the fuck down," Mr. Vasilevich said, assisting the guest. "Today, you won't be in the spotlight," he added.
"What, no five in the gradebook for me today, teach?" Nikolay joked, but his teacher didn't respond.
"You know what, Ivushkin?" Mr. Vasilevich asked, lost in thought. "Come sit at the teacher's desk; you're all having a test," he said firmly. Immediately, everyone started complaining.
"Why is he sitting at the desk?" the stranger asked.
"Because teach loves me more than the others," Nikolay interjected, giggling, and received a slap on the back of his head for it.
"Because he does 'charity' during the tests," Mr. Vasilevich complained.
"What's wrong, teach? You gotta help those less fortunate than you," Nikolay giggled, receiving another slap. After the tests were distributed, more than half of his classmates left without even trying. The stranger looked defeated as every student left, while Mr. Vasilevich carelessly read his newspaper next to Nikolay.

At the end of the class, only Nikolay remained. The stranger let out a sigh and looked upset as he placed the empty test papers on the desk and took Nikolay's. His first surprise came when he noticed that Nikolay had actually written something.
"Oh my," the guest said, his hand trembling as he examined the test.
"Ivushkin, I swear to God if you drew dicks again," Mr. Vasilevich threatened, slapping him once more.
"He actually solved some of them," the stranger said, his voice filled with joy.
"He did what?" the teacher asked, setting aside his newspaper.
"I did what?" Nikolay repeated, trying to annoy Mr. Vasilevich. The guest took a seat next to them and turned to Nikolay, smiling.
"The tests you just solved were last year's admission tests for MIT," the stranger began explaining to Nikolay. "And you managed to solve some of the problems correctly," he said, clearly overjoyed.
"Damn, teach, you see that I'm smart," Nikolay teased, as Mr. Vasilevich looked at him defeated.
"You are, indeed, young man," the guest laughed. "And with my help, you could take part in the foreign student exchange program," he said proudly.
"Professor, who's going to take you seriously with a misbehaving student from a correctional school?" Mr. Vasilevich said with genuine concern.
"Exactly!" the guest exclaimed. "I want to present them with such a student; to prove to them that with the right teaching, they can be corrected and put on the right path," the professor said. "I want to show them that students from non-prestigious schools also have potential and deserve a chance," he added proudly.
"That's a whole lot of big words referring to a bunch of idiots," Nikolay confessed, dodging Mr. Vasilevich's slap. The professor smiled, amused.
"Come to the Technical University on Monday and we'll discuss further," he said, shaking Nikolay's hand. "Young man, you have only potential now, but with my guidance and a lot of hard work, you could study abroad."

Klaus gently shook him awake. Nikolay opened his eyes, realizing they were in a forest.
"Why's the train moving so slowly?" he muttered, rubbing his eyes.
"We're almost entering Nürnberg; we need to get off," Klaus informed him. Upon closer inspection, Nikolay noticed that the train was moving slowly enough for them to safely jump off. After Nikolay carefully climbed down, Klaus tossed the backpack to him. As Klaus's turn to jump came, he saw his arms; he noticed they were blackened by coal powder, but his main concern were the scars. The pink scars stood out prominently, and Klaus didn't want Nikolay to see them; he feared he would find them repulsive—he feared Nikolay would find him repulsive. In a hurry, Klaus smeared his arms, being careful not to dirty his wristbands, in an attempt to hide his imperfections. He then climbed down with Nikolay's help, who made sure he didn't fall.
"What took you so long?" he asked worriedly, handing the backpack to Klaus.
"It's nothing," Klaus dismissed his concerns, leaning on him for support before they started walking.

They had to navigate through the forested suburbs to reach Ferdinand's house, and the path was uphill. While Klaus, with his consistent military training, had no trouble, Nikolay struggled, gasping for air and growing paler by the minute. Klaus was annoyed that Nikolay refused to take breaks, despite Klaus's suggestion. Frustrated, Klaus couldn't bear to see Nikolay suffer any longer, so he started lying that he needed to rest whenever he saw Nikolay's condition worsening. To his surprise, this secret plan worked wonderfully, and they reached Ferdinand's home with relative ease. Nikolay unlocked the gate with the same effortlessness as the pharmacy lock.

Inside the house, they washed themselves before a knock was heard.
"Perhaps it's the doctor," Klaus said, shrugging uncertainly. Suspicious, Nikolay took Klaus's pistol and walked to the front door, opening it slowly.
"Guten Tag," a smiling, older man greeted Nikolay at the door. Upon closer inspection, Nikolay noticed the man's white robe and realized that he was indeed the doctor. He gestured for the man to come inside. The doctor examined Klaus's body, and after Klaus argued with Nikolay, he agreed to receive a check as well. After concluding that both of them were on the right path to recovery, Klaus asked,
"Mr. Abrams, how is everyone at the factory?" His voice was filled with worry.
"Everyone is fine," he chuckled. "But the children are waiting to see you. They miss you," Mr. Abrams added, gathering his tools.
"Tell them I miss them too, and I'll do my best to come and play with them," Klaus pleaded as the doctor walked away.
"I will," Mr. Abrams reassured him before leaving the house.

After Mr. Abrams left, Klaus began to search through Ferdinand's belongings, despite Nikolay's disapproval. Eventually, he stumbled upon a pack of cards, and the two of them proceeded to play for the rest of the evening, both determined not to end the game in a tie. However, just as they played the decisive game, Ferdinand burst into the house and slammed the door behind him. As soon as he laid eyes on Klaus, Ferdinand struggled to maintain his composure but ultimately failed. He grabbed the nearest wooden hanger and threw it at Klaus, striking him in the back.
"Ouch!" Klaus exclaimed, abandoning his cards on the sofa. "What was that for?" he asked, bewildered.
"You fucking prick!" Ferdinand shouted, approaching Klaus to scold him. "Why did you hang up on me?" he asked, enraged. "Why didn't you explain, like a normal human being, what was happening to you?" Ferdinand added, rubbing his temple to calm himself.
"Relax cuzz," Klaus advised, but received a murderous glare. "What if someone heard our conversation?" he asked, trying to calm Ferdinand. "Or what if the call was recorded?" Klaus suggested. In response, Ferdinand waved his hand in annoyance.
"Just shut up; you talked enough on the phone," he complained, shaking Nikolay's hand instead. After exchanging names, Ferdinand thanked Nikolay for helping Klaus. "I've seen you before," he admitted, squinting his eyes to figure out where he knew Nikolay from.
"If you didn't see me through the phone, then no," Nikolay dismissed.
"Perhaps you're tired, cuzz," Klaus suggested, scratching the back of his head nervously.
"Yeah, you're probably right," Ferdinand said, looking suspiciously at Klaus, now certain that he had something to do with it.

"Congratulations," Ferdinand chuckled, handing the document to Klaus and tossing Klaus's diary and Herr Kuchen on the coffee table. "You're officially deceased," he informed.
"You've already got my things!" Klaus exclaimed joyously, without giving too much importance to the death certificate.
"Yeah, thanks to you, I haven't eaten all day," Ferdinand complained tiredly.
"As if we ate," Klaus replied, frustrated. "They don't let dead people into restaurants, do they?" he chuckled, making Ferdinand laugh too.
"Don't worry, I'll bring some takeout," Ferdinand reassured, getting up from the sofa. Nikolay frowned, confused.
"Just cook, goddammit," he protested. Hearing Nikolay's words, Klaus and Ferdinand looked at each other, then turned back to Nikolay. Upon seeing this, Nikolay burst into laughter. "You two, two grown-ass men, can't cook?" he asked, chuckling. "Wait, wait, wait, let me guess," Nikolay pleaded hurriedly. "You have an engagement ring, so you're married," he said, pointing at Ferdinand. "And that means your wife has cooked for you your whole life." Upon seeing Ferdinand's ashamed look, Nikolay couldn't contain his laughter. "And you," he pointed at Klaus, struggling to calm himself. "If I'm being honest, you seem like you've been fed with a golden spoon your whole life," he chuckled as Klaus looked away, offended. "Like a proper princess," Nikolay added, making a puppy face while looking at Klaus. "Well, that was fun," he giggled, wiping away his tears. "Why don't we go and let me cook something for you?" Nikolay suggested, smiling.

In the kitchen, Nikolay noticed a cookbook on the counter.
"That's ironic," he chuckled, showing the book to Ferdinand. As Nikolay cooked the first thing that came to his mind, Klaus and Ferdinand watched curiously. "Bon appétit," Nikolay proudly wished them after filling their plates. At first, the two eyed the food skeptically, but when they saw Nikolay eating, they decided to give it a try. Klaus's eyes widened in surprise.
"This is delicious," Ferdinand complimented, thoroughly enjoying the dinner.
"I wouldn't say it's that good; there's always room for improvement," Nikolay replied, not completely satisfied with the outcome.
"Are you kidding me? It's amazing!" Klaus exclaimed, savoring each bite. Nikolay smiled, happy that at least they were enjoying the meal.

After the three of them finished their dinner, Ferdinand washed the dishes before heading to Klaus's room.
"Is he your 'perfect Aryan soldier'?" Ferdinand asked. He tossed the newspaper to Klaus, in which he found Klaus's discourse alongside a drawing of Nikolay. "A Slav?" Ferdinand giggled.
"You know that they complimented me for that portrait?" Klaus asked, deep in thought.
"Oh, God, they're such clowns," Ferdinand laughed at the thought of the Nazis finding out the true identity of their 'perfect Aryan soldier'.
"Cuzz?" Klaus asked, pulling Ferdinand out of his imagination. "Would you help me out with something?" he asked. In response, Ferdinand grinned knowingly, making Klaus understand that he would receive his assistance.

Chapter Text

     Nürnberg. 26 June 1944

The sun barely started to rise, but Klaus and Nikolay were already searching for their compartment on the train.
"This should be ours," Klaus pointed, double-checking their tickets. Nikolay, barely awake at such an early hour, laid on the bench as if it were the most comfortable bed, ready to catch up on his sleep. Klaus took out a book from his backpack and wanted to sit next to Nikolay, but there was no room. He smiled and gently shook Nikolay. "Mind sharing the bench?" he chuckled as Nikolay lazily opened one eye. In response, Nikolay let out a tired yawn and shifted over slightly to make room for Klaus. "Am I squishing you?" Klaus asked with concern, sitting in between Nikolay's legs and leaning his back against his chest.
"A pretty princess like you? Never," Nikolay whispered, wrapping his arms around Klaus to keep him from falling while the train moved. As Nikolay rested his head on Klaus's shoulder and drifted off to sleep, Klaus opened his book, determined to read it during the ride.

After finishing reading, Klaus began to feel bored. With nothing else to do, he carefully got up so as not to wake Nikolay and placed his book in his backpack. However, when he returned to his original position, he was caught between Nikolay's arms as he lazily turned to face the wall. Finding himself squished between Nikolay's body and the back of the bench, Klaus started squirming.
"Is this better?" Nikolay asked, now awake from Klaus's movements.
"Much better," Klaus replied happily, turning around to hide his face in Nikolay's chest.
"You wanna sleep?" Nikolay playfully patted Klaus's head.
"Mhm," Klaus mumbled. Nikolay smiled, amused, before asking,
"You want a song?" Shyly, Klaus shook his head against Nikolay's chest. In response, Nikolay hugged Klaus closer and began to sing the lullaby that always worked wonders on him.

    Outskirts of Berlin. 24 April 1917

"Why are you crying, mein Schatz?" his Mother asked worriedly, kneeling down beside him. She carefully took her child in her lap and gently wiped away his tears.
"It's not fair," Klaus cried, hugging her and hiding his teary face. "Why can't I play with other children?" he hiccupped through tears. "Why can't I have any friends?" Klaus asked, looking at his Mother's face for answers.
"You know that your father," she began to explain but was interrupted.
"I hate him!" Klaus yelled, frustrated. "He's nothing more than a spiteful, old geezer," he cried angrily. "Nikolaus don't do this; Nikolaus don't do that; Nikolaus stay inside, do homework, play that stupid piano and chess all day," Klaus complained. "Mutti, I want to play ball, but I don't even have someone to play with," he burst into another hysterical cry.
"Then why don't we go outside and play?" his Mother suggested with a warm smile, cupping his little face and wiping his tears. "I can play with you," she offered. Klaus's face lit up with joy at his Mother's words. She patiently helped him search for his ball before they went outside.
"Mutti, what's after the gate?" Klaus asked, holding his Mother's hand and looking at the tall, elegant fence guarding their yard. His Mother looked at it wistfully before turning to him with a smile.
"A big, beautiful world awaits beyond the gate," she said, watching her son's eyes widen in shock.
"Really? Have you seen it?" Klaus asked excitedly.
"No, mein Schatz," his Mother admitted, upset. "But one day we'll see it together," she whispered with determination.
"Promise?" Klaus asked with puppy eyes, grasping his Mother's hand tighter.
"Promise," she replied, kneeling down to his level and shaking his hand as a deal. They both started chuckling, filled with hope.
"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU TWO DOING?!"

Klaus jolted up, grasping for air. With a trembling hand, he chugged some water to calm himself as Nikolay was still asleep. When his heartbeat returned to its normal rate, Klaus noticed that the train wasn't moving anymore.
"Wake up, you little monkey; we're here." Klaus shook Nikolay awake, and they stepped off the train together. "We still have plenty of time. How about grabbing breakfast downtown and exploring the city?" Klaus suggested after they purchased their next train tickets. "Frankfurt is such a beautiful city," he added, trying to convince Nikolay. However, he raised a skeptical eyebrow in response.
"Shouldn't we keep a low profile?" Nikolay asked, unimpressed. "Aren't you some kind of colonel? What if someone recognizes you, princess?" he added with feigned concern.
"You're right, we should be careful. They might recognize you too," Klaus realized, deep in thought.
"I mean, the discourse was funny when you read it, but now it's coming back to bite us in the ass," Nikolay chuckled at the memory.
"Let's just eat at the train station," Klaus said with determination. "There should be a cafe around here somewhere." Nikolay smiled and followed Klaus as they searched for the cafe together.

To pass the rest of the time after breakfast, they played rock paper scissors and thumb wrestling. Both of them were so engrossed in the little, childish games that they didn't notice the hours fly by. While heading towards the correct platform, Klaus spotted a nearby store.
"Do you want something from the library?" he offered. "You know, not to get bored on the road," Klaus clarified, noticing Nikolay's confusion.
"Isn't the train leaving soon?" Nikolay asked, concerned.
"It'll be quick, don't worry," Klaus reassured him, grabbing Nikola's hand and dragging him inside. "What do you want, though?" he questioned sheepishly.
"A quantum mechanics problem book would be cool," Nikolay admitted, looking away, embarrassed.
"You little engineer," Klaus chuckled, smiling, amused by Nikolay's request.
"Good afternoon. How may I help you?" The librarian greeted them in German with a smile. Klaus explained what they were looking for, and as the young woman returned with the book, she squinted her eyes. "Aren't you the man from the newspaper? The one in the article about 'the perfect Aryan soldier'," she asked thoughtfully.
"No, he's not," Klaus replied with a stern expression, feeling a chill run down his spine.
"Yes, he is!" the librarian exclaimed happily.
"What happened?" Nikolay whispered, looking confused.
"The discourse just bit me in the ass," Klaus sighed, causing Nikolay to chuckle.
"But why isn't he speaking German?" the librarian asked curiously as she packed their book.
"Because he's Swiss," Klaus lied quickly. "From the French-speaking part," he added, noticing her confusion.
"So you speak French?" The young woman turned to Nikolay and asked in French, smiling. Klaus's heart started to race, realizing that he had never asked Nikolay if he knew French.
"Yeah, why?" Nikolay replied with a strong American accent, but in French nonetheless.
"Your accent is a bit unusual," she confessed, noticing it as well.
"I grew up in a small village; that's how they speak there." Nikolay turned to Klaus, unsure if he had said something wrong.
"If you'll excuse us, we're in a hurry," Klaus quickly interrupted, paying for the book. Before leaving the library, Nikolay turned back to the woman and proudly said a butchered "Auf Wiedersehen!" while waving his hand.

Outside, they both burst into laughter, grateful that they had successfully escaped the situation. However, as they regained their composure, Klaus couldn't help but burst into laughter again.
"If you tell me that you also speak Russian with an American accent, I'll believe you," he chuckled, turning to Nikolay as they continued walking.
"Shut up, you linguist," Nikolay retorted, but laughed as he noticed Klaus's amused expression. "Isn't that our train?" Nikolay asked, pointing to a train that had just started moving. Klaus's amusement quickly faded as his eyes widened in shock. He grabbed Nikolay's hand, and they started running. Just in time, Klaus let go of Nikolay's hand and jumped onto the last cart. He grabbed the railing for support and hurriedly extended his hand to help Nikolay onto the train as well.
"That was a close call," Klaus sighed in relief. He turned to Nikolay, only to see him leaning against the wall, gasping for air. "Are you already out of breath?" he asked with concern, handing him a bottle of water. "That's not good," Klaus muttered, upset, wiping Nikolay's sweaty forehead. "I'll make sure you get back in shape," he promised with determination, comforting Nikolay as he rested on the ground.

After having their tickets checked, the two entered their compartment. Klaus handed Nikolay the problem book and an English-German dictionary. As the train moved, Klaus started to draw. Curious, he glanced over at Nikolay's book, which was already filled with scribbled translations. To his surprise, Klaus noticed that there were barely any numbers, only symbols, hieroglyphs, and Greek and Latin letters. When Nikolay caught Klaus looking at his work, he also tried to sneak a peek at Klaus's diary to see what he was drawing. However, Klaus was quick to hide his work.
"It's not fair if I can't see too," Nikolay protested, offended. Klaus responded with a mischievous smile.
"You'll see when it's finished," he said, amused. "You little monkey," he added, teasing Nikolay.
"Shut up," Nikolay whined. "I can't concentrate," he complained, though his smile gave away his true feelings.
"Yeah, I'm sure you can't," Klaus giggled as Nikolay nodded his head with a puppy face.

When the train arrived in Freiburg, it was already dark outside. As Nikolay took in the sight of the city, going down the stairs of the train station, he stopped. Everywhere: happy, smiling people, going in all directions, peacefully. Nikolay's eyes widened in... fear—fear of what all those 'peaceful' people would do to him and Klaus if they knew who they truly were. He struggled to calm down and convince himself that he was being paranoid, but his thoughts were interrupted when someone grabbed his hand. Startled, he turned to his right and saw Klaus looking at him with concern, holding his hand. Nikolay let out a sigh of relief before Klaus pulled him into a nearby alley.
"It's okay," Klaus reassured Nikolay, gently caressing his hand with his thumb. "If you don't feel comfortable walking on the main streets, we can take the alleys to get to the bus station," he suggested, even though it would take longer.
"Are you implying that I'm scared?" Nikolay asked, feeling offended, though his voice still trembled from the previous shock.
"What's wrong with being afraid?" Klaus asked, genuinely curious. "Everyone has their fears," he calmly reminded Nikolay. "Being brave doesn't mean having no fears; it means facing and overcoming them," Klaus whispered as they made their way through the dark alleys, holding hands.
"What are you afraid of?" Nikolay asked, turning to face Klaus.
"Of being alone," he confessed, smiling at Nikolay.

At the bus station, Klaus purchased their tickets, then pulled out his diary and a pair of pencils.
"Let's play tic-tac-toe," he suggested, as they sat in the parking lot under a street lamp, waiting for the bus to arrive.
"First, show me what you drew," Nikolay requested, causing Klaus to frown in embarrassment. "C'mon, you promised," he pleaded. Klaus sighed and opened his diary to the page in question, handing it to Nikolay while looking at the ground sheepishly. Klaus fidgeted with his fingers, afraid of being considered a weirdo. "These are so cool," Nikolay exclaimed with joy, looking at the different drawings of himself and Klaus during their journey.
"So, you like them?" Klaus asked, still not fully convinced.
"Are you kidding me?" Nikolay retorted. "Yes, obviously," he said with a smile, handing the diary back. Relieved and happy with Nikolay's reaction, Klaus gave him a pencil, and they started playing tic-tac-toe under the dim light until the bus arrived. Once they were on the bus, Nikolay rested his head on Klaus's shoulder and whispered in his ear, "Wake me up when we arrive," before dozing off.

    Moscow. 15 April 1935

"Ivushkin!" the math teacher shouted. "Are you sleeping in my class?" he asked, offended. Nikolay lifted his head off the bench lazily.
"Obviously," he replied, rubbing his eyes as his classmates started to chuckle.
"So you think you're smart; you don't need this lesson?" The teacher protested angrily.
"With all due respect, sir, I believe I'm smarter than you," Nikolay shrugged nonchalantly.
"Why don't you come to the board and teach the lesson then, if you're so smart?" the teacher suggested, grinning.
"Bet," Nikolay replied with a smile, causing the class to chuckle again. The teacher watched speechless, boiling with rage as Nikolay got up and walked to the front of the class. He quickly glanced at the board and grinned. "First of all, if you think you're dumb," Nikolay told his classmates. "It's because teach made calculus mistakes here, here, and here," he informed, circling the wrong answers on the board. "But you're still dumb, though," Nikolay chuckled, turning to his classmates. "Now that that's cleared up, you don't want to use teache's solving method; it's long, it's stupid, it's useless," he said with pretended disappointment, causing the class to laugh again.
"Get out of my class!" the math teacher yelled, startling Nikolay.
"Goddamn," he exclaimed with a grin. "There was no need to yell like that; you'll scare the plants, sir," Nikolay said worriedly, pointing at the flower pots by the windows.
"Get the fuck out of my class!" the teacher shouted as Nikolay lit up a cigarette and walked past him, smoking. "And don't come back without your parents!" he added when Nikolay was already in the hallway, leaving the door open behind himself. 

Outside, in front of the school, Nikolay noticed half of his classmates smoking, not even trying to hide during class.
"Kolya!" Petrov called. "We're going to the pub; you coming?" he asked. Nikolay smiled; he could use a drink to ease himself a little.
"Go without me," he replied, changing his mind. "I have something to take care of," Nikolay added as he walked away.
"Just don't break his arms," his classmates chuckled, assuming he was going to fight someone. Instead, Nikolay walked to the Technical University, throwing his cigarette before going inside.
"Prof, I got kicked out of math class," Nikolay informed, knocking on the professor's door before sticking his head in.
"Again?" he laughed, gesturing for Nikolay to come inside.
"Apparently it's a crime these days not to be braindead," he complained, sitting in the professor's chair. Chuckling, the professor gave Nikolay some tea and sweets to eat at his desk.
"I have a class with some second-year students," he told Nikolay as he savored the treats. "You should stay and listen too; it'll be much more useful for you than a high school math lesson."

     Laufenburg. 27 June 1944

They got off the bus in the middle of the night. Walking through the small town, Klaus reached for Nikolay's hand to guide him in the darkness. They made their way to the outskirts of Laufenburg.
"There's the Rhine," Klaus pointed, walking between some crop fields. "Ready to go for a late-night swim?" he chuckled as they reached the shore.
"It's not so wide," Nikolay replied, undressing himself. "Doesn't seem that hard to cross," he added, handing his clothes to Klaus. Suddenly, a loud bark echoed, approaching them as some lights appeared on the hill. Upon hearing people shouting, they realized that they were in trouble. "What are you doing?" Nikolay asked hurriedly as Klaus was placing their backpack in a waterproof bag to keep their belongings dry.
"Go ahead, I'll catch up with you," Klaus instructed, struggling to finish as the sound of the strangers' footsteps grew closer.
"I'm not leaving without you," Nikolay retorted, frustrated. Without hesitation, Klaus threw the wrapped backpack on his shoulders, grabbed Nikolay's hand, and started running towards the river. As they submerged under the water, they could hear the strangers shouting, their lights illuminating the water above them.

Klaus continued swimming, holding Nikolay's hand. However, after a short while, Nikolay's grip on his hand softened. Worried, Klaus turned his head to see Nikolay becoming paler and starting to faint. Nikolay needed air, but the water above them was still glowing from the strangers' lights. They were less than a hundred meters away from the shore, and if they surfaced, they would be shot. Klaus's heart started to race as he frantically searched for a solution. Then, a risky idea came to him: What if he breathed some air into Nikolay's mouth? Klaus knew it was ridiculous; he could provide very little, if any, oxygen to Nikolay, but it was their only chance to survive. He had to act quickly; Nikolay's life was in danger.
Klaus grasped Nikolay's face and looked into his unfocused eyes. With one hand, he pinched Nikolay's nose. In that moment, Nikolay understood the plan and placed his hands on Klaus's waist for support. As Klaus's lips pressed firmly against his own, Nikolay slowly opened his mouth, trying to swallow as little water as possible. Klaus breathed air into Nikolay's mouth before carefully pulling away. Their hands remained locked as they continued to swim, the lights gradually fading behind them. When Nikolay's head began to spin from dizziness, he finally felt the ground beneath his feet and collapsed on the shore, gasping for air. Despite not feeling tired, Klaus also dropped to the ground next to Nikolay, ensuring that the people on the other side of the river had left and they were no longer in danger of being shot.

Hiding behind the trees, Nikolay rested against a trunk, his legs trembling with exhaustion. Klaus's eyes widened with worry as he saw Nikolay's fatigue and quickly grabbed a dry blanket to cover him. Frustrated at Klaus's lack of concern for his own well-being, Nikolay frowned and gestured for him to join.
"Come here," he ordered, making space behind himself. Tired, Nikolay leaned his back against Klaus's chest in search of some warmth but immediately regretted it as he felt Klaus's icy skin against his own. In an attempt to warm him, Klaus vigorously rubbed his palms on Nikolay's body, hoping it would help. "The fuck are you doing?" Upon hearing his offended voice, Klaus's hands jerked away from Nikolay's body as if he had been burned.
"I'm sorry," he started to apologize, ashamed to make Nikolay uncomfortable.
"Your hands are so goddamn cold," Nikolay interrupted, grabbing Klaus's hands and kneading them in between his own. Feeling the gentle touches, Klaus's cheeks flushed with embarrassment, and he quickly buried his face in Nikolay's short hair to hide his red face. "Ask me one of your weird questions," Nikolay requested, surprising Klaus.
"Will that warm you up?" he chuckled.
"Could say that; it'll fry my brain a little," Nikolay whispered, blowing warm air between Klaus's palms. He thought for a moment before finally asking,
"If life is unfair to everyone, does that mean life is actually fair?" Nikolay pondered for a moment, wanting to help Klaus with his endless curiosity.
"Obviously not," he replied quietly. "Life is unfair, but it’s more unfair for some and less unfair for others," Nikolay explained, grateful that the question wasn't too complex.

After they had both stopped shivering, they quickly dressed and continued walking along the road.
"We're right on time," Klaus announced, taking hold of Nikolay's hand before rushing towards a parked black car. Klaus knocked on the window and a woman emerged from it, jumping into his arms.
"Collin!" Emily exclaimed with joy. "Thank goodness you're here. I was starting to worry," she confessed before shaking Nikolay's hand. After exchanging names, Emily squinted in the dark. "Have we met before?" she asked, unsure why Nikolay's face seemed so familiar.
"It must've been from Klaus's discourse," Nikolay reassured her as they got into the car.
"What discourse?" Emily furrowed her brow, confused.
"You know, Em, the one in the newspaper," Klaus said nervously, swallowing hard.
"Oh, sweetheart, I haven't read that," she admitted as she started the car. "But don't worry, I'll figure it out," Emily reassured them as she drove towards the city.
"Collin," Emily called, pulling into the suburbs. "If you make my birds fat again, I swear to God," she threatened, but was immediately interrupted.
"How can I say no to them when they always follow me around, looking at me with their little, sad eyes?" Klaus whined, upset. "Clearly, you're not feeding them enough," he accused. Emily took a deep breath, feeling frustrated as she clenched the wheel tighter.
"They follow you because you keep feeding them," she said in a low tone. "And I give them enough food; thank you very much for your concern," Emily added, with a smile that was on the verge of crumbling.
"What's the problem?" Nikolay asked, confused.
"The problem is this messiah for animals," Emily said, relieved to vent her frustration to someone. "Keeps overfeeding everything that moves around our yard," she complained, struggling to keep her cool.
"That's not true!" Klaus chuckled, amused.
"Shut up, you liar," Emily burst out, feeling even more frustrated. "Did I feed the fishes in the lake today?" She mocked Klaus's words.
"I never said that," Klaus replied, offended.
"You never said that?" Emily asked as Klaus nodded. "Collin, we literally had fat foxes and squirrels around the house—I wonder where they could've come from," she said with false curiosity, looking at the culprit after parking her car.
"You know what?" Klaus asked with a smile. "That's a really good question," he chuckled before storming out of the car and heading to the barn to greet his beloved pets.

After telling the horses a bedtime story and patting them as they fell asleep, Klaus went to his room. He rummaged through his cabinets out of boredom, determined to see what belongings he had left at his cousin's house. Among a pile of unused art supplies and a mountain of unworn clothes, Klaus stumbled upon a jewelry box. Opening the small container, he found a collection of rings and necklaces that he had never worn before. Unable to sleep, he decided to sort through them and donate the ones he didn't like. As Klaus was engrossed in his task, there was a knock at the door, and Nikolay popped his head in.
"You're busy?" he asked, not wanting to disturb him.
"Come in," Klaus reassured him with a smile.
"My stuff," Nikolay mumbled sleepily.
"It's in the backpack," Klaus replied, still focused on his sorting.
"Do you need a song?" Nikolay teased, willing to sing the lullaby to Klaus.
"No," he dismissed. "I'll stay awake a little longer; I want to finish with this," Klaus informed Nikolay as he approached the desk curiously.
"But whatcha doing?" he asked, peering over Klaus's shoulder.
"I'm sorting through them to donate," Klaus explained, moving slightly to the side so Nikolay could see better. Suddenly, an awesome idea came to Klaus's mind. "Why don't you choose something from the pile?" he asked, his face lighting up with joy.
"I can't; you already gifted me something," Nikolay dismissed sheepishly, running his thumb over the DAK ring.
"C'mon; I'm giving them away anyways. Pick anything you like," he pleaded with puppy eyes. Nikolay gave in and looked through Klaus's bundle of treasures. His gaze was immediately drawn to a unique ring with a beautiful blue gem as the ring itself, framed by a thin metal band.
"Anything?" Nikolay asked for reassurance.
"Absolutely anything," Klaus chuckled, realizing that Nikolay had already made his decision. To his surprise, he picked up the woman's engagement ring. As he watched Nikolay's intrigued face studying the little jewel, Klaus didn't regret giving it up—that one he wanted to burn. He had long ago given up on finding someone suitable for that ring, so if Nikolay liked it, why not make him happy? "Do you want that one?" Klaus asked with a smile, watching happily as Nikolay nodded. "It has my name engraved on it," he confessed, causing Nikolay's eyes to widen in surprise as he noticed the small inscription.
"No way!" Nikolay exclaimed joyfully. "That makes it even cooler," he chuckled.
"You still want it?" Klaus raised his eyebrows in surprise.
"Are you kidding me?" Nikolay asked, offended. "Of course I do!"
"But it won't fit any of your fingers," Klaus pointed out, watching as Nikolay's face fell in disappointment. He couldn't bear to see him upset. Quickly, Klaus picked up a necklace, removing the jewel and keeping the delicate chain. He extended his hand, and Nikolay left the ring in his palm, watching closely as Klaus hanged it on the chain. With the new necklace in hand, Klaus stood up and carefully placed it around Nikolay's neck. "You know that's an engagement ring?" Klaus chuckled, watching Nikolay admire his gift in the mirror.
"So we're engaged now?" Nikolay teased Klaus, grinning mischievously. In response, Klaus tossed the matching engagement ring to Nikolay. He examined it curiously, only to find out that, unlike his ring, it was blank on the inside. Looking up, Nikolay noticed Klaus standing next to him, extending his hand and fluttering his eyelashes. Nikolay rolled his eyes and placed the ring on Klaus's finger, both of them giggling. "Now we're definitely engaged," Nikolay laughed.
"You're wearing the woman's ring, so you're the wife," Klaus chuckled, returning to his desk.
"The hell?" Nikolay protested. "You're the princess—you're the wife," he informed proudly, checking himself out in the mirror. "Goddamn!" Nikolay exclaimed, catching Klaus's attention. "Going from a single student to a very distinguished celebrity married to a princess; not bad at all," he said humbly. Hearing his words, Klaus chuckled, amused.
"You're still a little monkey though," he teased.
"Fuck you!" Nikolay shouted, grabbing his books.
"Good night to you too," Klaus replied, amused as Nikolay stormed out of the room. He started counting to see how long it would take for Nikolay to return. When Klaus reached number six, the door cracked open.
"Good night, princess," Nikolay muttered from behind the door, slamming it shut afterwards.

Chapter Text

     Zürich. 27 June 1944

Klaus's legs were trembling from his morning exercises, but he couldn't rest yet. A bunch of poor souls were waiting to be fed, and he couldn't let them down. He mustered all his strength to lift himself up from the ground and, despite the pain from his training, made his way to the barn. First, Klaus fed his two horses, giving them supplements and fresh water. But when he went outside to give Teddy his own breakfast, the impatient fox started screaming.
"Shh, Teddy; you'll wake everyone," Klaus shushed, giving the fox his food. Just as he thought he would finally have some peace and quiet, some cats started meowing. "Shut up!" Klaus protested in a whisper. "Who are you? I don't even know you," he told the cats, giving them some food in an attempt to silence them. Klaus didn't even have a chance to fill the bird feeder before a squirrel jumped onto it. "I got you, you greedy bastard," Klaus laughed, holding the rotund squirrel in his hand. "Haven't seen you in a while," he chuckled, releasing it and giving it a peanut instead. When the squirrel retreated into the trees, Klaus took a fistful of seeds and went back inside.
"What are you hiding?" Emily asked suspiciously, blocking the door.
"Nothing!" Klaus exclaimed, raising his hands in defeat and leaving the seeds inside his pocket.
"Remember that I'm watching you," Emily threatened before exiting the house and letting Klaus go inside.

After taking a refreshing shower and changing his clothes, Klaus grabbed his guitar and headed to Nikolay's room. Upon seeing him asleep, Klaus began strumming. Startled, Nikolay jumped up and snatched the instrument from Klaus's hands, tossing it onto the bed.
"Good morning," Klaus chuckled as Nikolay laid on the floor, annoyed.
"You damn prankster," Nikolay whined, rubbing his face in frustration.
"C'mon, we need to get you back in shape," Klaus instructed, watching as Nikolay dragged a blanket from the bed and made himself comfortable on the floor. Determined not to give up, Klaus retrieved his guitar and began strumming again.
"Just go to hell!" Nikolay shouted. "I give up; look, I'm not sleeping anymore," he pleaded, getting up.
"Good, I'll be waiting for you outside," Klaus said with a mischievous smile, tossing a pile of clean clothes in Nikolay's face before quickly leaving the room to avoid any consequences.

Outside, Emily tended to her small garden, surrounded by five chickens and ducks. She greeted Nikolay, who sat on the ground, leaning against the house.
"Morning," he replied sleepily. Noticing that Klaus wasn't around yet, Nikolay sighed in frustration. "Didn't you have problems with foxes?" he asked, watching as the birds roamed freely.
"We had when Collin stayed with us; he kept feeding them," Emily explained. "But as soon as he left, we relocated them," she said, attentive to her plants.
"What about that one?" Nikolay pointed to a sleeping fox next to the barn.
"Oh, that's Teddy," Emily smiled. "After we removed the foxes, we found him around the yard when he was only a few months old. But don't worry, he's as tame as they come," she laughed. Suddenly, both of them turned their heads, noticing the birds moving away from Emily. Looking up, Nikolay burst into laughter.
"You idiot!" Emily shouted at Klaus, who was feeding the birds from the second floor. Realizing he was caught, Klaus waved at Emily before closing the window.

Klaus didn't even manage to step off the porch as Emily started chasing after him, her birds following them.
"What did I tell you about feeding?" she yelled, her voice filled with frustration, slapping Klaus on his shoulder.
"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" Klaus pleaded, dodging Emily's hits. "I'll behave! Please don't kill me," he laughed.
"Shut up, you idiot," she snapped, resuming her work. Once Klaus escaped her anger, he shifted his focus to Nikolay, who was dozing off while leaning against the wall. They started with a quick run around the yard to warm him up before moving on to other exercises. However, it didn't take long until Nikolay remained out of breath, laying down to rest.
"Didn't you already train today?" Emily asked Klaus as she left her garden.
"No, I didn't," he lied, offended. Emily raised an eyebrow skeptically.
"If you say so," she replied nonchalantly. "I'm heading into town for work; do you need anything?"
"Yes," Klaus said thoughtfully. "Can you give me a ride? I have something important to do downtown," he explained.
"Like what?" Emily asked, curious.
"Like something very important," Klaus teased with a pleading expression. Emily gave him a confused look before heading inside without trying to find out more.
"The fuck you have to do in the city?" Nikolay asked between short breaths as Klaus helped him get up.
"I can't tell you for now," Klaus said excitedly. However, his excitement quickly faded when he saw Nikolay frowning. "Are you upset about it?" Klaus asked worriedly, feeling a wave of panic wash over him. Nikolay remained silent and walked past him. "Wait, are you mad at me?" Klaus reached out, placing a hand on Nikolay's shoulder. Nikolay turned his head to look at Klaus, a mischievous grin spreading across his face before running away. "So that's how it's going to be?" Klaus shouted joyfully, chasing after Nikolay. As Klaus got closer, Nikolay started yelling,
"I didn't think this through! I didn't think this through!" Amidst his laughter, he found himself caught in Klaus's arms and lifted off the ground. "Put me down; it's too hot!" Nikolay threatened. "Let me breathe!" he continued to laugh. Klaus eventually set Nikolay down, but still held him in his embrace.
"I thought you were angry with me," Klaus whined as Nikolay squirmed to break free.
"That's hell of a stupid reason to be mad. You do whatever the fuck you want," Nikolay explained calmly. But as he realized Klaus wasn't letting go, his frustration grew. "Just release me, damn it; we're both sweaty!" he complained, not swayed by Klaus's smiling, happy expression.

Left home alone, Nikolay took his problem book and went outside to solve them in fresh air, surrounded by nature. However, his peace was interrupted by horse whinnying. Fed up by the noise, Nikolay finally gave in and went into the stables to check what happened.
"Could you please be quiet?" he asked the beige mare, who was making all the fuss. To his surprise, the animal remained silent and turned to watch him with curious eyes. "Thank you," he breathed out, scanning the stall to see what was upsetting her. As he noticed the water puddle and the overturned bucket, the mare began chewing on his hair. "Goddammit! I just took a shower," Nikolay protested, pushing the mare's muzzle away. When he entered the stall to retrieve the bucket, the mare started whining again. "Stop being annoying; you're not impressing anyone," he scolded her. In response, the mare fell silent and looked at Nikolay as if she were offended. He realized he must be imagining things because animals couldn't look offended, could they? "Happy now?" he asked, returning with a bucket filled with clean water. Seeing the mare drinking peacefully, Nikolay went back to his book.

After finishing her work, Emily picked up Klaus and noticed that he was unusually smiling.
"So, are you getting along well with Kolya?" she asked playfully.
"What?" Klaus replied, seemingly pulled out of his thoughts. Emily chuckled at his absent-mindedness and clarified,
"I was just happy to see you making friends."
"You're saying that as if I'm antisocial and have no friends at all," Klaus complained while looking out the car window.
"I'm sorry, let me rephrase that; I'm happy to see you making friends outside of your family," she explained, parking in their yard.
"Well, it's not my fault that all my friends keep becoming family," Klaus retorted, stepping out of the car. He was greeted by Emily's lively chickens and ducks, followed by Teddy and the cats, all clamoring for attention and food. Klaus smiled contentedly, heading to the barn to tend to their needs. Before going inside, he made sure to leave some peanuts for his chubby squirrel.

"Hurry up; I made dinner," Nikolay called to them with a smile as they entered the house. They all sat down to eat together, sharing stories and jokes. Afterwards, Nikolay began to do the dishes.
"Let me help you," Klaus offered.
"When was the last time you washed a dish in your life?" Emily chuckled, seeing Klaus's serious expression. "Exactly," she laughed after a long pause from Klaus.
"I guess princesses don't wash dishes, do they?" Nikolay teased. Klaus looked at them with a betrayed expression, which only made Nikolay laugh even more. "C'mon, let me teach you," he suggested, still amused.
"See, Em? I'm going to learn how to do dishes!" Klaus exclaimed excitedly. "I'm going to be the best dishwasher!" he added as Emily retreated to the living room, nodding and pretending to be impressed.
"Calm down, dishwasher," Nikolay chuckled, turning on the water. Meanwhile, Klaus grabbed a chair and sat next to Nikolay, mentally taking notes on every move he made.

It took Nikolay some time to both do the dishes and teach Klaus. Surprisingly, the process was much more calming than Nikolay had expected. He didn't anticipate that washing dishes a second time after Klaus had washed them would be so enjoyable. In the end, Nikolay was proud of himself for teaching Klaus how to do at least one chore. When they were finished, Klaus retreated to the second floor, and Nikolay followed Emily into the living room, where she was sitting on the sofa, knitting.
"May I try?" Nikolay inquired.
"Of course, go ahead," Emily responded, offering her basket filled with yarn and knitting needles. "Wait, really? You know how to knit?" she asked, surprised by his request. "Men knit?" Emily questioned, observing him with curiosity as he settled down with a ball of white yarn.
"Don't expect too much," Nikolay chuckled, beginning to make a knot. "I only learned because we were forced to in school; I wanted good grades," he explained, already envisioning what he wanted to create. They were soon joined by Klaus, who started tuning his guitar. Nikolay couldn't remain silent and not tease him any longer. "Do you even know how to play anything on it?" he asked, watching Klaus's face fall.
"How about we go for a walk and I show you?" Klaus eagerly accepted Nikolay's challenge. Emily rolled her eyes, watching the two grin at each other before leaving the house. But she wasn't about to complain; Nikolay carefully placed her things back, and now she could relax in peace.

Nikolay followed Klaus to the barn, where he watched him retrieve the two horses from their stalls before mounting the black one, the guitar slung over his shoulder.
"Does she really have to come?" Nikolay looked at the beige mare with a doubtful expression.
"C'mon, don't be mean; they need their daily exercises," Klaus pleaded as the mare started chewing Nikolay's hair again.
"Goddammit!" he protested frustrated, pushing her muzzle away, but she didn't give up and started thoroughly checking his pockets instead. Nikolay sighed, tiredly giving up and letting her search. "You're greedy, aren't you?" he muttered, defeated.
"I think you'll get along," Klaus chuckled, struggling to hold back his laughter.
"You think?" Nikolay replied, raising a brow. When he hoped on the mare, she waited no time and immediately laid down on her stomach. "You still think that?" he asked as Klaus started laughing. To Nikolay's relief, his second attempt was more successful; she remained still and didn't try any more funny tricks. Klaus led him on a forested hill, where they could watch the outskirts.
"Is this your secret princess-hiding spot?" Nikolay teased, settling down next to Klaus under the shade of a tree.
"I suppose you could say that," Klaus replied absentmindedly, searching for a melody to play. They sat and watched as the sun slowly descended, with Nikolay listening to Klaus's songs while the horses grazed nearby.

     Zürich. 28 June 1944

"Good morning," Klaus whispered in Nikolay's ear before throwing a mug of water in his face to wake him up. Unfortunately, the plan worked too well, and Nikolay was now fully awake, ready for revenge. Laughing, Klaus sprinted to his room for safety, but to his surprise, Nikolay followed him. Amidst his laughter, Klaus struggled to hold his door shut, preventing Nikolay from entering. "Come on, I just gave you a refreshing morning shower. Don't be mad," he pleaded, poking his head out once Nikolay gave up on opening the door.
"Morning shower my ass," Nikolay shouted in frustration, running his fingers through his hair to shake off the water. He returned to his room to prepare for their morning training.

Once again, they worked out under the curious gaze of Klaus's non-speaking companions, who likely expected to be given attention. And receiving attention they did; when Nikolay fell out of breath after training, Klaus began changing the horse's shoes.
"Wait, you do that?" Nikolay asked as he entered the barn after taking an actual shower.
"Of course," Klaus replied proudly.
"Didn't expect princesses to get their hands dirty," Nikolay laughed, watching Klaus's face fall in offense.
"Don't worry, for every hour he spends doing the horse's shoes, he spends another three doing his own nails," Emily chuckled. Klaus rolled his eyes and decided to ignore them. "I'm going to work; do you need anything?"
"What's up with the cherry tree?" Nikolay asked, pointing to the tree in question, which was filled with ripe fruits.
"I can't seem to find the time to pick them," Emily sighed, knowing well that if she didn't harvest them soon, they would go to waste.
"We can do that," Nikolay said with a smile, patting Klaus's head as he was engrossed in his work.
"No, you're my guests; there's no need for you to do it," Emily pleaded sheepishly.
"We have to do something to be useful while we stay here, don't we?" Nikolay asked Klaus.
"Mhm," he replied, focusing on his task.
"I suppose so," Emily sighed, reluctantly agreeing with Nikolay's suggestion. 

With buckets in hand, they headed outside. Klaus chuckled, watching Nikolay effortlessly climb the cherry tree.
"I knew you were a monkey!" he exclaimed as Nikolay started picking the cherries.
"Don't make me get down at you," Nikolay threatened while Klaus smiled at him from underneath. They filled the buckets slowly, until not a single cherry could be spotted on the branches. After making sure once more that he didn't leave any fruits behind, Nikolay climbed down. When he noticed Klaus's filled bucket, he started chuckling.
"That's how I know you didn't grow up on a farm," Nikolay teased, watching Klaus's confused expression.
"What did I do?" he protested, upset.
"You're supposed to pick them with stems; they'll spoil slower that way," Nikolay explained, amused by Klaus's childish disappointment. "We could make some jam out of them," he offered, patting Klaus on the shoulder.
"Really? Do you know how to make jam?" Klaus asked, hopefully. Nikolay rolled his eyes, smiling.
"It's not that hard to make jam," he reassured, flattered. In the kitchen, the two listened to the radio while removing the seeds from all the cherries before starting to cook them.

When a waltz song started playing on the radio, Klaus's face lit up.
"C'mon, let's dance," he pleaded with puppy eyes.
"I don't know aristocratic dances," Nikolay retorted.
"It's not that hard to dance waltz. I'll teach you," Klaus offered. Upon hearing Nikolay sigh, he knew that he had given in, so he rushed to the hanger and retrieved one of Emily's scarves. Klaus carefully wrapped it around Nikolay's head. "I'll lead, so you'll act as the woman," he informed, chuckling at Nikolay's exasperated face. Klaus placed one hand behind his back, and with the other, he took hold of Nikolay's palm. "Firstly, you need to kiss the lady's hand," he explained, bringing Nikolay's hand to his face and placing a gentle peck on it.
"What if I jerked off with that hand?" Nikolay chuckled mischievously.
"You're breaking character," Klaus protested, placing a hand on Nikolay's back and pushing him closer.
"Oh, right, I'm sorry," he giggled. "What if I jerked off with that hand?" he repeated with a higher pitch. In response, Klaus purposely tripped Nikolay but caught him before he could fall to the ground.
"You seem a bit clumsy today, my lady," Klaus muttered with a grin.
"Thank God for this strong man, who can't cook for shit but takes care of my dumbass," Nikolay replied, with the same high-pitched voice, before they both burst into laughter.
"Am I interrupting something?" Emily asked, laughing too. Immediately, the two parted from each other as Klaus snatched Emily's scarf off of Nikolay's head and hid it behind himself.
"No, nothing, Em," Klaus replied, a wave of embarrassment washing over him. She laughed, handing Klaus a pile of envelopes and leaving the kitchen.

Dinner was silent, with occasional awkward glances, which amused Emily more and more.
"So, did you like my scarf, Kolya?" Emily asked, struggling to hold back her laughter.
"It," Nikolay paused, frowning at Klaus. "It was nice," he replied, looking down at his plate. After they finished eating and doing the dishes, things returned to normal. Nikolay and Emily continued knitting together while Klaus answered his mail nearby. He was delighted to receive letters from the children at the factory. When he opened one of their envelopes, Klaus was left speechless by a clumsy drawing of himself, made by one of the kids. As he looked at the little portrait, he decided to paint a picture of all the children and send it back to the factory. Klaus hoped it would bring some joy to them.

"Do you want to keep knitting?" Emily asked, yawning. "I'm going to sleep," she added, turning on the light in the living room.
"I can't go to bed until I finish," Nikolay said with determination, despite the darkness outside. Emily gathered her yarn and, after wishing them good night, she went to bed. Exhausted, Klaus made sure she left before lying down on the sofa and resting his head in Nikolay's lap.
"Come on, let's go to bed," Klaus pleaded, unable to bear the boredom any longer.
"Wait a damned minute, I'm almost finished," Nikolay complained, putting the final touches on his project. "Here," he said, slapping the finished product onto Klaus's face. Curious, Klaus picked it up and examined the small white sweater, which was no bigger than his hand. He turned to Nikolay, confused, searching for an explanation. "It's for your bear," Nikolay rolled his eyes. "It didn't look good with those ripped seams," he complained, turning away. Klaus looked back at the sweater at a loss for words. He instinctively reached out and hugged Nikolay, mumbling a barely audible,
"Thank you" and hiding his red face in the crook of Nikolay's neck. In response, Nikolay simply hugged him back, unsure why his gesture meant so much to Klaus.

Chapter Text

     Zürich. 19 July 1944

"Why don't you play the piano anymore?" Nikolay asked, pointing at the instrument in the living room and placing Emily's yarn back.
"What?" Klaus muttered, both he and Emily at a loss for words.
"Nothing," Nikolay chuckled, seeing their shocked faces. "I've just never seen you play the piano since we got here," he explained.
"You used to enjoy it when I played?" Klaus asked with hopeful eyes.
"Yeah," Nikolay admitted, turning his head. "It was nice," he added, facing away from Klaus. "I think you should continue playing; you're talented."
"I don't think that's a good idea," Emily began to say, but was immediately interrupted.
"That's a wonderful idea," Klaus corrected with a smile. "I'll make sure to tune it and start playing again," he reassured, bringing a smile to Nikolay's face as they exited the house.

At the stalls, Nikolay immediately paid the mare her taxes—a big red apple, in hopes she wouldn't start searching his pockets. However, the mare was not easily bought; she quickly devoured the apple and began rummaging through Nikolay's clothes.
"Goddammit!" he protested, pulling out his empty pockets. "Look, I'm not hiding nothing," Nikolay said in frustration, causing her to give up. Klaus laughed as he watched the two argue, and when Nikolay threw him a murderous glare, he laughed even harder. As usual, they made their way to the hill, where Nikolay listened to Klaus's serenades. Under the soft light of the setting sun, Nikolay leaned against a tree, hugging Klaus as he pointed out different landmarks in the suburbs.
"There's the church," Klaus said, gesturing with one hand as Nikolay played with his other one. "And that's Mom's childhood home," he added, pointing to a distant house at the edge of the suburbs. As the sun set and darkness fell, Klaus couldn't distinguish between the houses anymore, but they stayed there, gazing up at the starry sky.
"Why aren't you wearing your ring anymore?" Nikolay asked, still playing with Klaus's hand. "Did we get a divorce?" he chuckled, causing Klaus's blood to run cold.
"Of course not!" Klaus protested, upset, turning to face Nikolay in the darkness. "I just didn't want to lose it by wearing it every day," he explained, but Nikolay interrupted him, patting his head.
"C'mon, I was just joking," he reassured with amusement, gently guiding Klaus's head to nestle against his chest. "Why are you panicking?" Nikolay asked, amused, running his fingers through Klaus's soft hair. Instead of responding, Klaus smiled, hugging Nikolay back and burying his face in his chest.

     Zürich. 20 July 1944

"Am I looking good?" Emily asked anxiously in front of the train station.
"You've been married for twelve years!" Klaus exclaimed, tightening his grip on the packaged painting. "Honestly, I don't understand why you're worrying," he sighed. When Emily continued to look unconvinced, Klaus rolled his eyes. "You look great. Stop stressing so much," he reassured her.
"Wait, aren't you coming with me?" Emily asked, watching as Klaus walked past her.
"I have to drop this off at the post office," he explained, showing her the painting.
"Couldn't you do it later?" Emily pleaded.
"I could," Klaus chuckled. "But I have other things to take care of too," he added.
"You and your secrets," Emily sighed, heading into the train station as Klaus walked away.

In the kitchen, Nikolay was frantically rushing around, struggling to keep up with all the boiling pots. As he glanced out the open window, he noticed both horses in the paddock on their hind legs, trying to reach some fruits from the apple tree. Amused, Nikolay went outside and climbed the tree, throwing some apples to the ground for the horses to eat. While watching the horses peacefully enjoy their snack, he suddenly remembered that he had left the pots on the stove. In a hurry, Nikolay jumped out of the tree and ran inside. Fortunately, nothing was burned, but when he turned his head, he saw the mare sticking her head through the open window and licking the dirty dishes on the counter.
"You greedy bastard!" Nikolay exclaimed in frustration, realizing he had forgotten to close the gate. The mare immediately pulled her head back when she noticed she had been seen. Nikolay grabbed some sugar cubes and went outside. He attempted to approach the mare to catch her, but she started playfully running away from him. Despite this, Nikolay didn't give up and pulled out some sugar cubes. As soon as the mare saw the bribe, she forgot about her playtime and started following Nikolay back to the paddock. Only after she was safely inside and Nikolay had closed the gate did she receive her reward. "Why couldn't you stay put like he did?" Nikolay asked, offering one sugar cube to Klaus's black horse, who, despite the open gate, didn't attempt to leave. However, the mare pushed her muzzle against the black horse's, stealing his sweet treat. "Hey! I'm not giving you nothing anymore if you're going to be mean," Nikolay protested as the mare chewed in his face.

After the train arrived, Emily scanned the platform, eagerly searching for Ferdinand. She observed countless people boarding and disembarking the train, roaming around her, but her husband was nowhere in sight. Suddenly, Emily spotted him, holding a briefcase and searching the crowd for her. With a mischievous grin, she sprinted towards him and leapt onto his back.
"Oh God, you scared me!" Ferdinand chuckled, embracing her instead.
"I missed you," she whispered in his ear.
"I missed you too," Ferdinand replied, holding Emily tightly. "I have a surprise for you," he announced with a smile, watching her face light up with curiosity.
"What is it?" Emily asked eagerly as they walked away from the platform.
"I'll cook dinner," Ferdinand declared proudly, causing Emily to furrow her brow in confusion.
"Why?" she questioned, getting into the car.
"Well, I realized it wasn't fair for you to always do the cooking," Ferdinand admitted sheepishly.
"But I don't mind it," Emily reassured him as she drove away.

After picking up Klaus, Ferdinand informed them,
"Today is the day of the attentat," he muttered quietly, surprising both Emily and Klaus.
"Wait, what?" Klaus asked, turning to Ferdinand.
"Yesterday was the final secret meeting," he began to explain. "Today, they're planning to go to Hitler's bunker for the conference."
"They're going to kill Hitler today?" Emily asked, shocked, her eyes fixed on the road.
"They're going to try," Ferdinand corrected her.
"Don't bring us down with your negativity, cuzz," Klaus complained. "Today, they'll kill Hitler and the war will end—that's all I needed to hear," he whined.
"But that's not a guarantee; we don't know how the assassination will end," Ferdinand said, wiping the smiles off their faces. "Let's wait for the news and celebrate only after we know for sure that he's dead," he advised as Emily parked the car.

During lunch, no one spoke as they all listened to German broadcasts on the radio. The evening was filled with good news from one channel and bad news from the other, until Ferdinand could no longer bear it. He decided to go fishing with Klaus. Sitting by the lake, Ferdinand finally broke the silence,
"The OSS wants to send you to France," he whispered, careful not to startle the fish.
"Why me?" Klaus responded uninterestedly.
"They need officers to assist the resistance groups, and I told them about your previous experience and how well-known you are among the partisans," Ferdinand explained, chuckling. He was hopeful that Klaus would agree.
"I don't want to go. Hitler will die, and the war will end anyway," he replied gasing into nothingness.
"But what if he survives? What if the war continues?" Ferdinand interrupted.
"There's no way I can be of any help. I don't have access to any information, and I don't have a rank to authorize anything. The factory workers don't need me anymore, and the party has no issue with you owning my assets now. I am no longer needed," Klaus said, without any hint of sadness.
"But there is a need for you in France. I just told you," Ferdinand persisted.
"I don't want anything to do with this war anymore," Klaus pleaded desperately, gazing at the setting sun.
"Even if the assassination attempt is successful, you'll still be punished for collaborating with the Nazis, even if it was only on paper." He paused, letting his words sink in. "I don't want you to end up dead or, worse, in a gulag in Siberia, cutting wood," he confessed worriedly. "If you continue to work with the States, I'll have more alibis and evidence to save you." Seeing Klaus's amused face, Ferdinand added, "I spoke with them, and they are willing to let you keep your equivalent rank in the US army. They even offered to send another officer to assist you." Klaus laughed and grabbed his fishing rod.
"To assist me or to make sure I won't betray them?" he asked, frustrated, and walked away, leaving Ferdinand with no response.

Inside the house, they all gathered around the radio, anxiously hoping for a conclusive broadcast that would confirm what had happened rather than just speculations. They waited until a familiar and unsettling voice filled the room: Hitler's. As they listened to his speech, it became clear to everyone that the assassination attempt had failed miserably.
"I'm going to Mom's place," Klaus muttered, pausing as Nikolay patted his shoulder in an attempt to comfort him. His eyes were wide open, gazing at the floor. No one spoke as Klaus took the car keys and quietly left the house, closing the door behind him.

Chapter Text

     Zürich. 21 July 1944

All night, Nikolay either tossed in his bed or watched out his window if Klaus returned. Looking at the pouring rain, Nikolay was wondering if Klaus ate anything, if he was warm, if he managed to fall asleep without his bedtime song. He continued watching even as the rain stopped falling, even as the sun already began to rise; yet Klaus still hadn't returned. Nikolay couldn't bear it any longer, so he dressed and went to the barn.
"Don't get too happy, cuz I'm not playing with you now, Goldie," he told the mare, giving her and everyone else their breakfast. After ensuring that all Klaus's companions were fed, he went in the kitchen to make sure a certain person was fed too. Quietly, without waking anyone, he cooked breakfast, packing some, hoping it would stay warm, leaving the rest for the couple. He wrote a note, dressed himself warmly, and with the packaged meal, headed towards the hill to check the location of the house once more. Nikolay squinted his eyes, using his palm to block the sun's rays, and spotted the home. It was far—at the edge of the suburbs, but Nikolay began his journey anyway.

    Berlin. 12 November 1912 

"Klaus!" his Mother whispered, gently opening his door. Curious, he approached her. "Mein Schatz," she mumbled, pulling him into a warm embrace. "Father has left, so let's go bake a cake together," she said excitedly, taking his small hand in hers. "Didn't you say you wanted cake?" his Mother asked, kneeling down to his level with a worried expression.
"Wouldn't Mrs. cook tell father?" Klaus muttered eagerly.
"She would if she were home, but she's gone to buy groceries," his Mother explained in a hushed tone. "So, shall we make a delicious cake?" she asked, smiling at Klaus's enthusiastic nod. Chuckling, she scooped him up in her arms and headed to the kitchen.

"Klaus," Nikolay murmured, gently shaking his drenched body. As he woke up on the cold stone frame, he started shivering. "Why didn't you sleep inside?" Nikolay asked, placing his warm jacket over Klaus's shoulders as Klaus's coat rested upon a headstone.
"I couldn't leave my Mother alone in the storm," he muttered, taking a bite from the still warm breakfast. "Do you have a lighter?" Klaus asked hopefully.
"Yeah, sure; I brought your pipe too," Nikolay replied, rummaging through his pockets and handing them to Klaus. To his surprise, Klaus took only the lighter, leaving the pipe in Nikolay's hand. He began burning a crumpled piece of paper. "What are you doing?" Nikolay asked, sitting beside Klaus and making sure he was getting warm.
"I've been writing her letters ever since I was 13," he explained with a smile. "In my childish mind, I liked to think that somehow she was reading them, but I've continued doing it ever since," Klaus confessed, continuing his meal after nothing was left of the paper. "Oh, God, you must think I'm losing my sanity," Klaus muttered, rubbing his forehead with a palm and looking at the ground in shame.
"Not at all; it's a sweet habit to have," Nikolay reassured him, placing an arm around Klaus's shoulder and bringing him closer.
"It's just," Klaus whispered, his voice starting to crack. "She died so young, so fucking young," he cried, leaning his head on Nikolay's shoulder. "She was so much younger than I am now when she passed," Klaus whispered, frustrated. "And I want her to be proud of me; I want her to feel like she didn't die in vain," he confessed, hiding his teary face against Nikolay's chest.
"Don't worry; she's proud of you," Nikolay reassured Klaus, hugging him closer as he patted his drenched, cold hair.

"Let's go home," Nikolay suggested once Klaus had stopped sobbing. "You need to warm up," he added, helping Klaus to his feet. Nikolay opened the car door for Klaus, but before he got in, he took one last look at the gravestone, nestled in his drenched coat. He handed his car keys to Nikolay, realizing he wasn't in good enough shape to drive. Nikolay wrapped his jacket tightly around Klaus before starting the car and driving them back home. Upon arrival, he noticed that Klaus had fallen asleep. Worriedly, he placed his palm on Klaus's forehead and felt the heat of a fever. He carefully lifted Klaus from his seat and carried him to his room, gently laying him on the bed.
"Oh my, what's wrong with him?" Emily asked worriedly, holding the doors open for them.
"We can't call a doctor for him," Ferdinand confessed, frustrated, as Nikolay removed all of Klaus's drenched clothes. Taking a deep breath to calm his thoughts, Nikolay reassured the couple,
"It's just a cold; I don't think he'll need a doctor," he said, despite his own concerns. Nikolay knew his worries wouldn't be of any help for Klaus, so he started doing what he could instead. He dressed Klaus in warm clothes, wrapped him up in thick blankets, and placed cold towels on his forehead to ease his fever.

    Berlin. 12 November 1912 

Hearing yelling from outside his room, Klaus quickly stood on his toes to reach the door handle. He snuck out and followed the noise, crouching down behind the railing of the staircase.
"How many times do I have to tell you to stop cooking like a fucking servant?" father yelled. "What would your Father say if he saw you cooking like this?" he asked, his voice filled with disappointment.
"What would your Father say if he saw the way you treat our child?" his Mother retorted without hesitation. Klaus winced as he heard a loud slap, even though he couldn't see it.
"That's all I'm going to say; if I catch you doing chores like an impoverished peasant," father paused. "Look at me when I'm talking to you!" he shouted, causing Klaus to cover his ears with his little hands. "If I catch you cooking one more time, I swear to God," he muttered through gritted teeth. "Don't cry!" he ordered, slamming his palm on the table. "You're horrendous when you cry," he complained, disgusted.
"I'm a Mother," she muttered, her voice cracking with tears. "My duty is to take care of my child," his Mother started pleading but was interrupted.
"Your duty is whatever the hell I say it is!" father's voice thundered, causing Klaus's ears to hurt. Scared, he quickly got up and sneaked back to his room, struggling to close the door behind him.

Klaus woke up in his bed, tears streaming down his cheeks. Turning his head, he had the horror of noticing Nikolay, sitting next to him. He was terrified of being made fun of, being laughed at. But Nikolay didn't laugh. Instead, he inched closer, nestling Klaus's head on his chest. Nikolay's warm hand brushed against Klaus's face, wiping away the salty tears.
"I made some soup for dinner," Nikolay said softly as Klaus's sobs subsided. He playfully ran his fingers through Klaus's hair, checking his fever.
"Oh God, is it already dinner time?" Klaus asked with concern. "I need to feed the pets," he said frantically, attempting to get up. But Nikolay held him back, wrapping his arms around him.
"Just stay put, damn it!" he protested. When Klaus gave up trying to escape, Nikolay released him. "Don't worry, I already fed them all," he reassured, getting up from the bed.
"Did you feed Teddy too?" Klaus asked before Nikolay could leave the room.
"The fox? Yes," he replied.
"And the cats?" Klaus added, concerned.
"Yes, they've all been fed," Nikolay muttered.
"Did the birds eat?" Klaus continued.
"Yes! Everyone ate except for you," Nikolay retorted, frustrated.
"Did you eat?" Klaus asked. When Nikolay didn't answer and the room fell silent, Klaus repeated his question.
"Goddammit! No, I didn't eat," Nikolay finally admitted. "I'll eat with you, okay?" After Klaus nodded, Nikolay hurried out of the room to bring the food to Klaus's bedside.

Left alone, Klaus immediately realized he forgot to ask about the squirrel. He leapt out of bed and frantically searched through his drawers until he stumbled upon some peanuts. Hurriedly, he opened the window, and soon enough, the rotund squirrel hopped inside, sitting on the sill. Klaus handed him the peanuts and hurried him to jump out, closing the window as Nikolay opened the door.
"Get back in bed!" Nikolay said firmly, placing their dinner on the night table. Klaus obediently complied with a satisfied smile, relieved that everyone would now be able to eat. "And don't open the damn window; it's cold outside," Nikolay protested.
"It's the middle of July," Klaus pointed out, raising a brow.
"Yeah, but it's night and you're sick," Nikolay complained, handing a spoon to Klaus. They ate their dinner together, and afterwards, Nikolay went back to his usual knitting. However, this time, he brought the yarn and needles to knit next to Klaus on the bed, keeping him company. Under Klaus's sleepy and curious gaze, Nikolay finished his second project just in time. "Ta-da," he chuckled, pulling the crafted ushanka onto Klaus's head. He made sure it fit perfectly before placing Herr Kuchen with a sweater of his own in Klaus's arms. Before leaving Klaus's room, Nikolay checked his temperature several times, gave him his medicine, and sang him to sleep. All that was left for Nikolay to do was peacefully fall asleep and rest in his own room.

But he couldn't sleep. When he tried, his mind was flooded with thoughts: what if Klaus's fever went up? What if he was feeling worse? What if he couldn't sleep well? So every time Nikolay woke up in the middle of the night, he snuck into Klaus's room to check his temperature as he slept. However, to Nikolay's misfortune, the floorboards creaked every time he passed by the couple's room.
"What are you doing?" Emily asked sleepily from Klaus's doorframe as Nikolay checked his fever. He couldn't remember how many times he had already checked it, but he could never be safe.
"I'm making sure he's alright," Nikolay whispered, watching Klaus open his eyes.
"What happened?" Klaus muttered.
"He keeps coming to your room every ten minutes as if you're melting, and the floorboards are making noise," she complained, frustrated.
"But he is melting," Nikolay retorted, patting Klaus's head as he faced Emily. In response, she rubbed her face with her palms and sighed.
"You know what?" Emily said. "Why don't you come sleep in his room?" she suggested, watching Klaus's face fall and Nikolay's curious expression. "This way, you can check his vitals every five seconds without waking the whole house," Emily clarified.
"That's an awesome idea," Nikolay nodded, exiting the room to retrieve his pillow.
"Are you out of your mind?" Klaus whispered to Emily once they were alone. She shot him a murderous glare before returning to her room. When Nikolay returned, he tucked Klaus in again, made sure his fever wasn't too high, and wished him good night before peacefully falling asleep next to him.

    Zürich. 23 July 1923 

"Uncle, I really don't want to go home," Klaus pleaded, his gaze fixed on the floor.
"Please, Pops, don't make him leave," Ferdinand cried, his little hands raised in front of his Father. He was scooped up into his Father's arms, hiding his teary face in the crook of his neck. "Don't let Klaus go!" Ferdinand shouted, his voice muffled by his Father's clothes.
"Please, dear, can't he stay a few more days?" Ferdinand's Mother pleaded, her heart breaking.
"I'll try to talk to him," Ferdinand's Father replied. After taking a deep breath, he picked up the phone, still holding Ferdinand in his arms. His wife and Klaus stood next to him, watching hopefully.

     Zürich. 22 July 1944

Ferdinand woke up next to his wife, who was hugging him from behind. It didn't take him long to realize the reason for his awakening. Gently, he removed Emily's arm from himself and left the room. From the hallway, Ferdinand could see that the lights on the first floor were on.
"What are you doing?" Ferdinand asked, watching Klaus wearing only pants and an ushanka, tuning the old piano.
"What does it look like I'm doing?" Klaus chuckled, pressing some keys to make sure they sounded right.
"In the middle of the night, really?" Ferdinand complained, sitting on the staircase. "I don't understand; why are you doing this to yourself?" he confessed, worried.
"I have to, cuzz; I can't run away from objects my whole life," Klaus chuckled, wide awake.
"If you wake Emily up, I swear to God," Ferdinand mumbled, barely awake.
"You dummkopf!" Nikolay hissed. "Go back to bed!" he ordered, sleepy and frustrated as he pointed towards the staircase. "Why did you come here naked?"
"You're even more naked than me," Klaus laughed, continuing to work.
"But I'm not sick," Nikolay complained in a whisper. "Why am I even arguing with you?" he asked, rubbing his forehead. In the next moment, Nikolay lifted Klaus up and apologized to Ferdinand before carrying him to his room. "You're such a moron," Nikolay grumbled as he laid Klaus on his bed and tucked him in tightly, placing Herr Kuchen on his chest. He checked Klaus's temperature, adjusted his ushanka, and then went to sleep on top of Klaus, making sure he couldn't move. "Do you want a song?" Nikolay asked, yawning.
"What's the point? I'll suffocate anyway," Klaus complained from under Nikolay and three different blankets.
"You did this to yourself; now suffer the consequences," Nikolay giggled, making himself more comfortable before singing to Klaus.

Nikolay opened his eyes slowly, revealing Klaus's curious eyes watching him. He buried his face in Klaus's chest, shielding himself from the harsh sunlight.
"What time is it?" Nikolay mumbled, hugging Klaus to get more comfortable.
"Ten," Klaus barely opened his mouth as Nikolay jolted out of bed.
"Why didn't you wake me up?" Nikolay asked frantically.
"Why would I?" Klaus replied, sounding guilty.
"To give you your medicine," Nikolay said, rummaging through the medical kit.
"I'm feeling fine; don't worry," Klaus rolled his eyes. Nikolay raised an eyebrow.
"You don't look fine to me; your nose is still red," he complained, handing Klaus his pills. "Oh fuck! The animals," Nikolay remembered, rushing to get dressed. Noticing Klaus's lack of concern when his pets were mentioned, Nikolay frowned. "Tell me that you didn't go outside and feed your animals," he demanded, frustrated.
"Alright, I won't tell you," Klaus chuckled, looking away.
"You dummkopf!" Nikolay shouted into his hands, lying with his back on the floor, angry. Feeling guilty but also amused, Klaus moved to the edge of his bed to get a better look at Nikolay's meltdown.

"Why didn't you wake me up to make breakfast?" Nikolay asked from the ground once he had calmed down.
"Emily and Ferdinand left anyway," Klaus shrugged.
"But I still have to feed you, don't I?" Nikolay sighed, taking the time to properly dress himself this time.
"Yes, you do," Klaus muttered, happy. "Wait! Are you going to leave me here alone?" he asked with a puppy face before Nikolay could leave the room.
"Fine," he rolled his eyes, tossing a pair of socks to Klaus. "Put these on too," Nikolay added, handing him a second pair. When he handed Klaus a third pair, he raised an eyebrow.
"You're exaggerating," Klaus complained, but still put on the third pair. Nikolay made sure the ushanka was sitting properly, barely leaving Klaus's eyes visible. Then he placed Herr Kuchen in Klaus's arms and wrapped him in multiple blankets. Nikolay gave him a pair of slippers, which Klaus struggled to put on with so many socks.
"I think you're good to go," Nikolay said thoughtfully.
"You think?" Klaus mumbled from under his blankets, with only his red nose and eyes barely visible.

After breakfast, Klaus went back to bed while Nikolay sat on the floor, trying to identify the faulty board. Once he located it, he removed it to identify the issue. However, Nikolay wasn't the only one inspecting; Klaus was also investigating from his bed with a pair of binoculars. Despite finding it amusing, Nikolay didn't comment on Klaus's 'sneaky' behavior as long as it kept him entertained. It didn't take long to finish the task, placing the wooden board back in place. When Nikolay stepped once more on it, the floor was silent. Satisfied with his work, Nikolay retrieved his books and started solving some problems on the ground, next to Klaus's bed, doing push-ups. It helped him concentrate better as he finished the book, solving the most complex problems from it. While Nikolay was compensating for his lost morning exercises, Klaus focused his attention to the window, watching the wild birds with his binoculars.

When the couple returned in the evening, Nikolay and Klaus were playing board games on the bed. Ferdinand had kept his promise and finally cooked dinner for everyone.
"You burned it a little," Nikolay declared.
"No, he didn't," Emily retorted, offended.
"Yes, he did," Nikolay chuckled in amusement.
"Well, I'd like to see Klaus do a better job," Emily challenged Nikolay with a grin.
"What did I do?" Klaus protested from under all his covers, barely able to sit on his chair because of his blankets.
"He could do a thousand times better job," Nikolay said, offended by Emily's challenge. Ferdinand and Klaus exchanged confused looks, unsure of where they had gone wrong.

Chapter Text

     Zürich. 25 July 1944

After their morning training, Klaus locked himself in the kitchen. Emily and Ferdinand shrugged it off and went into town. But Nikolay couldn't leave Klaus by himself; he barely learned how to wash dishes, let alone cook them. What if he burned himself? What if he cut himself? What if Klaus's pride prevented him from asking for help?
"Why can't I just come in?" Nikolay pleaded, sitting on the ground with his back against the locked door.
"Because I want to do it by myself," Klaus muttered from the other side.
"Do what by yourself? Burn the house?" Nikolay teased, though he was worried. After failing to enter, Nikolay retrieved Klaus's binoculars and climbed the apple tree to peek through the open kitchen window. However, as if sensing his presence, Klaus crossed his arms, shook his head disapprovingly, and closed the curtains. He did leave the window open, though. Curious, Nikolay crept closer and attempted to pull the curtains slightly to get a better look. But Klaus caught him and gently slapped his hands before closing the window.

With no other way left of watching Klaus, Nikolay returned to his original practice: nagging him from behind the closed door, asking if he was injured once in two minutes. He did so until the evening, when Emily and Ferdinand returned with packages.
"He still hasn't finished?" Emily chuckled.
"Don't get too happy; that doesn't mean you win the bet," Nikolay retorted, still sitting with his back against the door. But to his surprise, immediately after, he fell on the floor. Noticing Klaus's smiling face looking down at him, he smiled back before jumping up. "Are you injured?" Nikolay asked with concern, taking hold of Klaus's hands and checking for any wounds.
"I'm fine," Klaus laughed. With his biggest worry alleviated, Nikolay finally looked inside the kitchen and was surprised to see that it was spotless. "C'mon, go sit at the table," Klaus suggested, gently pushing Nikolay from behind. He pulled out a chair for Nikolay and adjusted it after he sat down. To his surprise, Emily was setting the table, placing food on the plates from packages.
"If they brought takeout, what did you cook this whole time?" Nikolay asked, confused, turning to look at Klaus as he returned to the kitchen.
"You'll see," Klaus replied with a smile.

When Emily finished setting the table, denying Nikolay's and Ferdinand's offers of help, Klaus entered the room with a cake.
"No way," Nikolay chuckled, eyeing the modest dessert. "Did you make it?" he asked excitedly. "Can we try it?" Nikolay pleaded, noticing Klaus's disappointed expression.
"Of course," Klaus replied, looking confused but not upset. After everyone had a slice, they took a bite with curiosity. "So, do you like it?" Klaus asked hopeful.
"It's wonderful!" Nikolay exclaimed, smiling. "And it sure ain't burned," he giggled, turning to Emily, who rolled her eyes. "The one you bought at the office doesn't even compare to this," Nikolay confessed with joy. Seeing the happiness his cake brought to Nikolay, Klaus smiled, forgetting his dissatisfaction with how it ended up being served. After dinner, they made their way back to the cozy living room to continue their evening. Only this time, noticing Klaus sitting at the piano, Nikolay forgot about his usual knitting, going next to him instead. He spent the rest of the evening patiently watching Klaus's fingers run across the keyboard, mesmerized by their fluid movements.

"Oh, I almost forgot, Kolya," Emily said, handing him a package. "It's a gift from Collin," she giggled, watching Nikolay's excited face and Klaus's terrified expression.
"A what?" Klaus muttered, noting by the shape of the package that it was likely a painting.
"You know, a gift for Kolya," Emily repeated, amused. As Nikolay removed the wrapping, smiling, Klaus immediately grabbed the torn paper, reading its inscription. Upon finding out the approximate date of the work, Klaus froze, realizing it was his painting of the 'Soviet soldier'. He felt a wave of hundreds of different emotions, dying inside several times as he heard Nikolay burst into laughter.
"That's so cool!" Nikolay exclaimed in Klaus's ear, hugging him.
"It is?" Klaus asked, distrusting, watching Emily chuckle quietly.
"I told you I'd figure it out," she reminded Klaus before leaving the room. However, she sat quietly behind the second-floor railing, gesturing for Ferdinand to be quieter as he sat next to her, eager to listen as well.

"Thank you for the gift," Nikolay said, stepping back from the embrace to face Klaus. Embarrassed, Klaus scratched the back of his head.
"I wanted to give you something else," he confessed, quickly returning to the kitchen. Nikolay watched, confused, as Klaus came back with a box. Handing it to Nikolay, he said, "Happy birthday!"
"You remembered from the testimony?" Nikolay asked, touched by the gesture, watching Klaus nod enthusiastically. "That's why you made the cake?" he asked, noticing Klaus's red cheeks. "You're so sweet," Nikolay muttered before Klaus could answer, hugging him once more. They sat on the couch for Nikolay to open his gift. As he did so, the first thing he saw was a small pouch. Turning to Klaus for an explanation, all he saw was Klaus smiling with even redder cheeks. Removing the little cloth, Nikolay found a ring inside. It was Klaus's ring, but this time it had an inscription too. "No way," Nikolay mumbled in his palm, reading his own name engraved on the jewel in Cyrillic alphabet.
"Do you like it?" Klaus asked, barely audible, with hopeful eyes.
"No, I don't fucking like it; I love it!" Nikolay replied excitedly, hugging Klaus again before gently taking hold of his hand and placing the ring on his finger.
"Now we're definitely engaged," Klaus chuckled, making Nikolay laugh too. Overjoyed, he leaned his head on Klaus's shoulder and took out the last item from the box—a large envelope. Carefully opening it, Nikolay found a MIT diploma and a US passport, both in his name. "How?" was the only thing he could ask with his shaky voice.
"Turns out it isn't that hard to renew a diploma if you actually studied there. And for the citizenship, I had some connections; we got your information from the testimony," Klaus explained. "With the right amount of money and acting, anything is possible," he chuckled, patting Nikolay on the shoulder to comfort him. Holding the documents in his hands, Nikolay's heart raced faster and faster; he felt as if he was about to cry—tears of joy. But his happiness quickly faded when he heard Klaus say, "Congratulations! Now you're a US citizen, a member of the free world. You can go to the States, and with your diploma, you can surely get a safe job and avoid being drafted."

"What about you?" Nikolay asked hopeful, turning to Klaus with a smile that was on the verge of crumbling.
"I received an offer to continue working for the OSS and be sent to France. I'm considering accepting it," he explained calmly.
"Fine, then I'm going with you," Nikolay replied, frustrated.
"Kol," Klaus muttered worriedly. "I don't want to put you in danger," he confessed, looking into Nikolay's eyes, hoping to be understood.
"Then I'll go to the States, enlist in the army, and have myself sent to the Pacific to fight the fucking Japanese if the Germans aren't good enough for you!" Nikolay raised his voice, boiling with anger.
"This is blackmail," Klaus accused quietly, trying to calm Nikolay down.
"I don't give a damn!" Nikolay yelled in response, standing up from the couch. "I don't give a damn as long as it convinces you to take me with you," he muttered, lowering his voice and desperately looking into Klaus's eyes. "I can't let you go by yourself. I can't leave you alone. You're afraid of being alone," Nikolay pleaded worriedly.
"But I won't be alone. I have family members in Paris too. I'll work with other resistance fighters," Klaus reassured him.
"If you want to leave me, then what's the point of that fucking ring?" Nikolay hissed through gritted teeth. "What's the point of these fucking rings if you want to get rid of me anyway?" he shouted, feeling his entire world being torn apart piece by piece. And what was worse was that of all the people on the entire planet, Klaus was the one tearing it apart, right in front of him.
"I'm not getting rid of you!" Klaus retorted, horrified by the accusation. "I just want you to go somewhere safe. Why can't you understand that I couldn't sleep at night knowing that you're in danger?" he asked desperately, getting up from the couch and pacing around the room to ease his thoughts.
"Why can't you understand that I feel the exact same way about you, dummkopf?" Nikolay retorted, catching Klaus's attention. "How do you think I'm going to feel staying warm and comfortable on a continent away from a war in which you're caught?" he asked, poking Klaus in the chest with his finger and looking directly into his worried eyes. "Or you think I could sleep at night knowing that you're in danger?" Nikolay accused, noticing Klaus's eyes widening in shock. Klaus opened and closed his mouth several times, sitting on the couch with shaky legs. He felt as if his knees were melting and his cheeks were burning. Embarrassed, he hid his face between his palms. "Klaus, are you feeling alright?" Nikolay asked with a worried voice, immediately sitting next to him, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder, and turning to look at his face to see if he was dizzy.
"I'm fine," Klaus muttered, ashamed because he didn't take Nikolay's wishes into consideration. "Do you really feel that way about me?" he asked hopeful, taking hold of Nikolay's hand that was resting on his shoulder. Hearing the question, Nikolay retrieved his hand from Klaus's palms as if it were burned and slapped the back of Klaus's head with it before turning away from him.
"You dummkopf," Nikolay mumbled, offended, feeling his ears burn. "Of course I do," he admitted, quieter, still facing away. Klaus chuckled, amused, and hugged Nikolay from behind, to which he didn't protest, despite looking away and still being upset.
"They offered to send another officer with me anyway, Lieutenant," Klaus admitted in Nikolay's ear. Hearing the offer, Nikolay turned to Klaus, eyes wide open in disbelief. Seeing Klaus's genuine smile, he hid his face in the crook of his neck.
"I won't let you down, Colonel," he chuckled, hugging Klaus.

     Zürich. 30 July 1944

"Did you take all your documents?" Emily asked for the hundredth time, standing on the platform.
"Yes, Em; stop worrying," Klaus reassured her.
"Here are your train tickets, and here are the train tickets for the horses," Ferdinand explained, handing them to Klaus after they embarked the pets.
"Take care of yourselves," Emily said, hugging both of them. As the train departed and the two waved their hands from the window, Emily leaned in closer to Ferdinand, "Do you think they hold hands when they walk?" she asked, unable to contain her curiosity.
"Oh yeah, most definitely," Ferdinand replied, not even chuckling. "I bet they even hold hands when they sleep," he added quietly, making Emily laugh as she waved behind the moving train.

In their compartment, Klaus immediately sat at the table and began drawing, giggling quietly as he did so. With his problem book finished, Nikolay turned his attention to the German dictionary, starting to read it. However, he also pretended to work on his problems from time to time, not wanting Klaus to discover his interest in the dog language. To Nikolay's surprise, their journey was much shorter than expected. They disembarked at the last station before the Swiss-French border, planning to cross the Risoud Forest into France on horseback. At the edge of the forest, they dressed in military camouflage, hoping it would make them less noticeable. Klaus slung his guitar over his shoulder while Nikolay did the same with a rifle. They mounted their horses and slowly made their way through the forested terrain, taking their time and not rushing the animals.

"How beautiful the forest is," Klaus muttered as he fed the horses during their break.
"It is," Nikolay agreed as they continued towards the border. "Everyone is fleeing France to get into Switzerland, and we're doing the opposite," he chuckled quietly. "I wonder how surprised the border patrol would be."
"Well, we're about to find out," Klaus replied, taking in the sight of the beautiful flowers around them. Soon enough, they could see the tall wired fence, but luckily there were no soldiers around. Nikolay turned to Klaus, who was already grinning at him, both of them having the same idea in mind, the only possible idea: to jump the fence. Before doing so, Nikolay took a deep breath, trying to calm his thoughts. He wasn't sure if the mare would trust him, be obedient, and follow his instructions. He also didn't know what awaited them on the other side. But Nikolay was about to find out. When both horses easily cleared the fence, they let out a sigh of relief and continued to gallop away, determined to put as much distance between themselves and the border as possible.

However, their blood ran cold when they heard the words,
"You two, stop or I'll shoot!" shouted in German. Nikolay turned his head to see a German soldier pointing a rifle at them. Realizing the danger they were in, Nikolay made the quick decision to trust Goldie and spun around on her saddle, aiming his own rifle at the soldier who was already doing the same.
"Are you out of your mind?" Klaus exclaimed, grabbing the mare's reins.
"I'm not risking your life," Nikolay replied calmly as two gunshots rang out, startling the wild birds who scattered in all directions. The soldier fell lifeless to the ground, having missed his shot. Upon reaching deeper into French soil, as the sun began setting, they took another break next to a lake.
"Are you alright?" Klaus asked, cupping Nikolay's face and caressing his cheeks with his thumbs, gazing worriedly into his eyes. Nikolay raised an eyebrow.
"Klaus, a Nazi soldier who had his gun aimed at you is the last person on this planet for whom I'd feel bad about killing," he reassured him. "I'm going to gather some wood to heat our food," Nikolay announced, walking away as Klaus released his horses to rest and drink some water.

When Nikolay couldn't fit another dry branch in his arms, he returned to the camping place, carefully looking at the ground to avoid tripping over something. He dropped the wood next to their belongings, raising his gaze to see where Klaus was, only to find him naked in the lake, splashing in the water with his horses. Feeling his face burn, Nikolay turned his back to Klaus, hearing him laugh.
"So the princess isn't shying away anymore, or what?" Nikolay retorted, offended, turning back to Klaus. He burst into another wave of laughter when he noticed Nikolay facing him with his eyes closed.
"The water is warm enough. Why don't you come in?" Klaus chuckled, patting the horses. Without hesitation, Nikolay took Klaus's invitation as a challenge and quickly took off his clothes. Making his way to the lake, he kept his eyes fixed on Klaus's face, which was as red as his own. He didn't dare to look anywhere lower. But just as Nikolay was about to step into the water, Klaus let out a laugh and playfully submerged himself, much to the amusement of the horses.
"Goddammit," Nikolay sighed, continuing into the lake despite being vulnerable. He slowly spun around, checking his surroundings, fully aware that Klaus could 'attack' him at any moment. So Nikolay decided to follow suit and submerge himself as well. But before he could even take a breath, he felt a pair of arms wrap around him.
"You lost," Klaus mumbled, burying his nose in the back of Nikolay's head.

Feeling Klaus's cold skin against his back, Nikolay grasped Klaus's wrists, removing them off his chest. When he turned around, he was met by a pair of beautiful, blue eyes looking guiltily at him.
"I'm sorry," Klaus muttered, realizing that his nakedness may have made Nikolay uncomfortable. Amused by Klaus's sudden embarrassment, Nikolay gently took hold of his hand, slowly inching it closer to his lips and placing soft kisses on his scared skin, running his thumb over Klaus's ring. He gazed at Klaus's face as it turned redder and redder, analyzing Nikolay's each move with wide, curious eyes, with a month falling slightly open, shocked, revealing a childish, endearing gap, which always made his grins look less threatening. Nikolay could hear the heart—the heart that always lulled him to sleep, beating faster—Klaus's heart. With a smile, Nikolay leaned in closer to Klaus's face, noticing his pupils dilating and overtaking the beautiful blue of his eyes. He was now close enough to see all the different shades of blue in Klaus's kind gaze. Gently, he placed a peck on the scar on Klaus's forehead, then slowly made his way down, showing affection for each healed cut on his face.
"I like your scars," Nikolay murmured, running his thumb over Klaus's damaged cheek.
"What?" Klaus asked in disbelief, turning his eyes to look at Nikolay without moving his head. He had to be joking, poking fun at him for all his disgusting imperfections; he had to—Klaus was sure of it.
"I think they make you look even cooler," Nikolay admitted, gently removing Klaus's hands, which had instinctively covered his pinkish scars upon being mentioned. "They show that you've been through a lot but still kept fighting," he explained, tracing some scars on Klaus's shoulders that had previously been hidden in shame. "I wish I had more scars," Nikolay chuckled. "But I only have these dumb stretch marks," he complained, sounding upset.
"You have a lot of scars on your back," Klaus pointed out, watching amused as Nikolay struggled to see his back on the surface of the water. "And your stretch marks are beautiful," he added, capturing Nikolay's attention as he turned back to face him. "They're proof of how quickly you recovered," Klaus informed him, watching as Nikolay's face and even his ears turned pink.

Klaus couldn't believe what he just heard; he couldn't accept that someone found beauty in his horrendous looks. But how could he comprehend it when those words were strange to him—new, unheard ever before? If anything, Klaus was always shamed for his damaged skin, even though it was never his fault he looked that way. Klaus was pulled out of his thoughts by Nikolay's thumb, brushing over the scar above his upper lip. He admired Nikolay's long, pretty eyelashes of wheat color, which hid his gaze. However, when Nikolay looked directly into Klaus's eyes, he sheepishly looked away, making Nikolay chuckle as he cupped his face. Mustering enough courage to turn back at Nikolay, Klaus could see only a kind, reassuring smile, inching closer and closer to his face, his eyelids slowly falling shut while his palm continued caressing Klaus's lip. So, in a wave of unexpected bravery, Klaus closed the gap between them, shyly pressing his lips against Nikolay's. Letting out a muffled chuckle, Nikolay did so much more than not stop Klaus, push him away, and call him a disgusting pervert; he kissed him back as his hand made its way from Klaus's cheek to his hair, gently patting it. Klaus knew he was breaking one of the fundamental 'rules of kissing', but he couldn't possibly close his eyes; he simply couldn't. Intertwining his fingers with Nikolay's, feeling the warmth of his skin and the softness of his chapped lips against his own, Klaus had to make sure he wasn't dreaming, that he wasn't hallucinating. He had to see the moment when someone noticed him, especially because he knew it was unlikely to happen ever again. And Klaus was glad he did, because it didn't take long for Nikolay to pull away and remove his hand from Klaus's grasp.
"You're shivering," he said worriedly, placing a pair of warm palms on Klaus's burning cheeks. He frowned, concerned, letting out heavy, uneven breaths.
"I'm cold," Klaus mumbled sheepishly. His head was hanging low, playing with Nikolay's ring hanging at his chest, attempting to distract himself from his crushing embarrassment.
"Then let's get out," Nikolay requested, taking hold of Klaus's hand and dragging him out of the lake, where the two horses were already sleeping.

On the shore, Nikolay retrieved a blanket, wrapping Klaus snuggly with it.
"You're feeling warmer?" Nikolay asked as he dried Klaus's drenched hair.
"Mhm," he mumbled, swinging his feet and looking down.
"Wait here," Nikolay instructed with a mischievous grin, walking away without bothering to dress himself first. He returned shortly after with a bunch of flowers.
"Are those for me?" Klaus asked with puppy eyes, smoking his pipe and leaning against a tree.
"No, they're for a girl from another school," Nikolay chuckled, rolling his eyes. He sat comfortably, resting his back against Klaus's chest, and covered them both with the blanket. As Klaus moved his pipe to Nikolay's mouth, offering him a smoke as well, he watched curiously how Nikolay spooned around the flowers, not quite understanding what he was doing. "Ask me one of your questions," Nikolay requested, attentive to his task. Without hesitation, Klaus teased him,
"What if I jerked off with that hand?" he repeated Nikolay's words. Nikolay turned to face Klaus, furrowing his brows. Smiling, he took hold of Klaus's hand and placed another gentle kiss on it.
"Any other questions?" he asked, amused by Klaus's red face, even though his own was just as red. "Ta-da," Nikolay chuckled, breaking the silence as he placed something on Klaus's head. "The princess has her own proper crown," he laughed, watching Klaus gently remove it from his head.
"Thank you," Klaus muttered, taking a good look at the beautiful flower crown before placing it back with trembling hands.

After their shared dinner, the fire was extinguished.
"Show me what you drew," Nikolay pleaded when Klaus retrieved his diary to preserve the flower crown between its pages. Without saying a word, Klaus handed over his precious diary. "No way," Nikolay muttered, bringing a hand to his mouth in surprise. "You drew the princess and the little monkey!" he exclaimed, hugging Klaus. After receiving his diary back, Klaus pulled out a pencil from his backpack and carefully erased the princess's shiny crown. As Nikolay watched closely, Klaus then drew a delicate flower crown on her head instead.

Chapter Text

     Somewhere in Risoud Forest. 31 July 1944

Klaus watched the sun rise above the forest, painting the sky with warm hues; he knew they couldn't waste any more time. The dawn was their signal to keep moving.
"Kol," Klaus whispered, gently shielding Nikolay's eyes from the harsh sun rays with one hand while patting his head with the other. "We need to leave." Nikolay slowly opened his eyes, but upon realizing how early it was, he buried his face in Klaus's chest.
"Let me sleep, princess," he protested, wrapping his arms around Klaus and snuggling closer to him.
"We have to catch the train in Besançon," Klaus reminded him, but his words fell on deaf ears. In one swift motion, Klaus scooped Nikolay up in his arms and headed towards the lake.
"Please don't throw me in the water," Nikolay mumbled innocently, still keeping his eyes closed. To ensure his plea was heard, he placed a soft kiss on Klaus's chest, trying to bribe him. Nikolay chuckled, leaning his ear against Klaus's ribcage and listening to his heart skip several beats. To Nikolay's surprise, Klaus accepted his offer, gently setting him down at the edge of the lake. "Goddammit!" Nikolay sighed, pushing the mare's muzzle away. He hadn't even noticed when she approached him and started chewing his hair again.
"So, you're awake now, aren't you?" Klaus grinned, amused, further frustrating Nikolay.

The two gave each other a clean shave before continuing on their way. Upon arriving in Besançon, they purchased tickets for the first train to Paris and set off. Playing cards on the road, the journey seemed to end much faster than expected. As they mounted their horses in the French capital, they rode towards the suburbs, passing by policemen and German soldiers, who luckily didn't pay them much attention.
"And this is where Emily and her sister grew up, and also where I lived when I went to college," Klaus announced with a smile when they stopped in front of a modest yet elegant house. "That's strange; I told them we're coming," he muttered as he tried to open the gate, only to find it locked.
"Maybe they weren't sure when we'd arrive," Nikolay suggested, watching as Klaus rose to his feet on the saddle and the black horse stood still next to the fence. Without a word, Klaus jumped off and unlocked the gate from inside the yard. 

Once they were in, a large, intimidating dog began barking. However, upon inspecting Klaus closer, it started jumping on its hind legs, wagging its short tail, whining.
"Come here, Marmelade," Klaus chuckled, picking up the dog despite its size. After the dog excitedly licked Klaus's cheeks, much to his happiness and Nikolay's amusement, it was released and given some pats on the head. As Klaus knocked on the front door, the dog sniffed at Nikolay's hand. When the dog's nose touched Nikolay's fingers, they both quickly pulled away, startled and looking at each other in surprise.
"Who's there?" A child's voice called from inside.
"It's me, Élise," Klaus replied in French, amused by her attempt to sound threatening. Opening the door, the little girl jumped into Klaus's arms.
"Uncle Nicolas!" she exclaimed, swinging her legs. "I missed you!" Élise said as she was put down on her feet.
"I missed you too, kiddo," Klaus chuckled, pretending to steal her nose, but she frowned.
"I'm not four years old anymore," Élise announced, frustrated.
"Yeah, my mistake. You're eight now," Klaus said, trying to keep a straight face.
"Exactly!" the girl agreed. "I'm practically an adult, and I'll soon start paying taxes," she said seriously.
"What do you know about taxes?" Klaus laughed, surprised. Élise shrugged and fidgeted with her foot.
"I've read about them in the newspaper," she confessed, before her attention was drawn to the horses. "They're so pretty, may I pet them?" Élise requested, jumping excitedly and pointing at the majestic animals. Amused, Klaus held the horses' bridles, allowing the girl to gently pat their foreheads. They then led the horses to the barn for some well-deserved rest.

As they sat at the kitchen table, Élise served tea to her guests. However, she had to stand on a chair to reach their cups. After serving them, she sat elegantly on her chair and frowned disapprovingly at Nikolay.
"Who are you?" she asked, crossing her arms. "When entering a stranger's house, it's polite to introduce yourself first," she pointed out, offended by Nikolay's lack of manners.
"He's a friend of mine," Klaus chuckled, attempting to explain, but Élise turned her upset face towards him.
"It's also not nice to interrupt," she scolded Klaus before turning her attention back to Nikolay.
"I'm Kolya," he said, extending his hand to her. After a suspicious inspection, Élise shook his hand and introduced herself. Suddenly, the door burst open, and a woman entered the house. Upon seeing Klaus, her smile fell.
"You!" she shouted, dropping her grocery bags and marching towards Klaus, who let out a sigh and stared at his mug. "What are you doing in this house?" she demanded as Élise struggled to pick up her bags. Nikolay furrowed his brow, feeling his anger rise as he watched the woman poke her finger into Klaus's chest.
"And it's certainly not polite to shout at guests!" Élise raised her voice, stomping her feet to get their attention. "Auntie, we were having a tea party, and you interrupted us. How rude," the girl explained, returning to her chair.
"A tea party?" the woman asked, offended. "What kind of tea party could you have with a stranger?" she asked, looking worriedly at Nikolay. "And a," her expression turned to one of disgust. "A Nazi."
"Auntie," Élise chuckled through her teeth, feeling embarrassed. "You're making me look bad in front of our guest," she complained, forcing a smile. "Besides, Uncle Nicolas isn't a Nazi," the girl said proudly, standing up on her chair to pat Klaus's head. 
"You don't even know what Nazi means," the woman sighed, her tone calmer now.
"Then why are you talking about Nazis if I don't know what it means?" the little girl pointed out before adding, "Nazis are very bad people with ill intentions," Élise explained proudly to her Aunt.
"Them bloody Germans are Nazis!" The woman raised her voice in frustration.
"But Uncle Nicolas is German, and he ain't no Nazi," Élise protested, standing up again to hug Klaus's neck. "Therefore, you're wrong, Auntie," she chuckled.

"Why am I even arguing?" the woman asked, rubbing her forehead in frustration. "Just get out of the house!" she yelled at Klaus, her voice filled with anger.
"Sylvie, I already talked to Pierre," Klaus said, barely audible, as he hung his head low while the woman towered above him. Nikolay opened and closed his fists repeatedly, trying to understand who the woman was, or more accurately, who she thought she was. It broke his heart to see Klaus sitting calmly in his chair, allowing himself to be yelled at.
"I refuse to listen to a Nazi SS torturer!" Sylvie shouted, her words piercing Nikolay's heart.
"Auntie!" Élise exclaimed, gritting her teeth as she stood on her chair to cover Klaus's ears with her small hands. "I'm sorry, she didn't wear a hat while going to the market, and the sun hit her head," the girl apologized with a smile, looking upset at her Aunt.
"Élise, please go to your room," Sylvie instructed calmly before turning her attention back to Klaus. "And you, get out of the house, you low-life drug addict," she demanded, trying to maintain her composure in front of the girl.
"We're leaving; there's no need for this," Klaus said, getting up from the table, but he was interrupted.
"There's no need for what? Or do you suddenly have a problem with the truth?" Sylvie growled, poking Klaus in the chest. Nikolay couldn't bear it any longer; he couldn't stay silent and watch her treat Klaus like that.
"Just shut up, you-" Nikolay stopped himself, remembering that the child was also present. "You disrespectful woman! He already told you we're leaving, so close your mouth," he told her, watching her offended face.
"I can cover my own ears too," Élise suggested, grabbing onto Klaus's shirt to stop him from leaving.

"What's going on here?" The door opened, and an elegant woman entered, closing it behind her.
"Mom!" Élise whined, running to her. "Auntie is being mean and won't leave Uncle Nicolas alone!" she complained, hugging her.
"Because he won't leave the house when I tell him to, Fleur," Sylvie told the woman, looking disgustedly at their guests.
"Oh, but he's staying," Fleur replied, hugging Klaus.
"What?" Sylvie asked, her face falling as Nikolay watched with satisfaction.
"You heard me loud and clear; they're staying," Fleur added, checking the kitchen.
"These filthy Nazis conquered our country, and now you're letting them take over our house?" Sylvie asked, her palm trembling as she raised it to her mouth. Nikolay turned to argue, but Fleur placed a hand on his shoulder to stop him. 
"You're damn right, I do!" she chuckled. "In my house, I do whatever the hell I want," Fleur told her, watching Sylvie run upstairs upset. "And you were supposed to cook dinner, dammit!" she added, frustrated.

"I apologize if she upset the two of you," Fleur said as she began to peel potatoes.
"It's okay; I understand why she's mad at me," Klaus replied sheepishly.
"She has no logical reason to be angry with you. And she's a grown woman who should understand that," Fleur argued, rolling her eyes. Despite disagreeing, Klaus didn't try to argue further.
"Let me help you," Nikolay suggested, breaking the silence, unable to sit still. Fleur frowned at him.
"The States didn't send you here to peel potatoes, did they, officer?" she asked, amused, as she handed Nikolay a knife.
"No, ma'am, but if I'm here anyway," he chuckled, joining Fleur in her task.
"Can I have a knife too?" Klaus asked, feeling embarrassed to sit while they were working.
"You don't even know how to peel potatoes," Fleur pointed out, making Nikolay laugh.
"I'll teach him," Nikolay reassured her, handing Klaus a knife.
"Me too! Me too!" Élise exclaimed excitedly, jumping in her chair.
"No, you're not," Fleur laughed, amused.
"That's not fair; Uncle Nicolas gets to learn and I don't," the girl protested, crossing her arms.
"How about you cut them into fourths?" her Mother suggested with a smile, setting up a cutting board and giving her a smaller knife. The girl started her assigned task, mumbling quietly, still upset that she didn't get a more exciting chore.

After cooking, the four of them and the dog ate peacefully, but Sylvie refused to join.
"Pierre said to meet him at the church tomorrow before dawn," Fleur whispered during dinner.
"But where is he now?" Klaus asked, his voice filled with worry.
"He's hiding in the tunnels with the other resistance fighters," Fleur informed them.
"Shouldn't we hide too?" Nikolay questioned, concerned.
"Nonsense," Fleur chuckled.
"Mom!" Élise protested from her chair, tugging on Fleur's dress. "Why can Uncle Nicolas stay home but Papa can't?" She frowned, upset.
"Because the Nazis don't know Uncle Nicolas is here," Fleur explained calmly. "But they do know that your Father should be here, because he can't keep his mouth shut," she said, her frustration evident.
"But what did he do?" Nikolay asked, causing Klaus to giggle.
"He's a journalist, and when the Germans came, he started writing articles and investigations against the Nazis, publishing them in the newspaper," Fleur explained, feeling both proud and frustrated with her husband. "When the Nazis caught wind of it, they stopped any of his publications, and the Gestapo started searching for him. Even so, he continued writing mocking articles but sent them to London to be published," she continued, starting to do the dishes.
"He's not the first one I've heard of writing funny articles," Nikolay grinned, looking at Klaus, who was already heading out with the girl and the pet.

When Nikolay stepped outside after helping Fleur with the dishes, he noticed Klaus, the child, and the dog lying on their stomachs on the ground. In the darkness, he quietly approached them and saw that they were studying some hedgehogs. He settled into a hammock and continued to watch the three of them, feeling amused. It warmed Nikolay's heart to see Klaus so entranced by the little animals, as if he were a child himself. Suddenly, Fleur's voice called out from the second-floor window, interrupting the peaceful scene.
"Élise, come on, it's time for your bath!" she exclaimed. Startled, the hedgehogs scurried away.
"Mom!" Élise protested, standing up to face her Mother. "You scared them away!" she complained. Fleur chuckled, amused by her daughter's reaction.
"Don't worry, they'll come back tomorrow," she reassured Élise. "Now come inside before the water gets cold," she instructed, pulling her head back in.
"Mom!" Élise shouted, catching Fleur's attention once again. "Can Marmelade get a bath too?" she pleaded, hugging the dog, who was as tall as her when sitting. Tired and giving in, Fleur replied,
"Fine, he can get a bath too. Just come inside already!" With a happy smile, Élise wished Klaus a good night before heading inside with the dog.

Left alone, Klaus headed to the hammock too, only to be startled when he saw it wasn't empty.
"Am I really that scary?" Nikolay chuckled, amused as Klaus calmed himself and laid on top of him. "Who was that bitch that kept bothering you?" he asked once Klaus had settled comfortably on top of him.
"Please don't call her that; it's not nice," Klaus pleaded, fidgeting with the ring at Nikolay's chest.
"She was mean to you; I'll be mean to her," Nikolay replied, frustrated with the woman.
"She's Pierre's sister," Klaus sighed. "And you shouldn't be mean to her; she doesn't deserve it," he explained calmly, his patience only making Nikolay more angry.
"But you deserve to be belittled by her?" Nikolay retorted, gently kissing Klaus's forehead.
"I don't know," Klaus replied honestly, his voice barely audible. "I can understand why she's angry with me; I was a Wehrmacht soldier participating in the invasion of her country," Klaus muttered, ashamed of himself.
"But you had no other choice," Nikolay protested, running his fingers through Klaus's hair.
"That doesn't matter," Klaus retorted.
"Yes, it does!" Nikolay insisted, hugging Klaus tightly, wanting to shield him from all the things and people upsetting him in this world.

"Oh crap," Nikolay sighed, fed up. He placed a protective hand on Klaus's head, as if he were a baby. "She's watching us," he informed, frustrated, engaging in a stare down with Sylvie.
"Does she know you're looking?" Klaus asked worriedly, hiding his face against Nikolay's chest.
"I think she does," Nikolay replied through gritted teeth, a small grin forming as he glanced at the woman watching them from the window. "You know what?" he said with a giggle, looking into Klaus's curious eyes and gently cupping his face. "Let's give her something to watch," Nikolay suggested, amused and happy to see Klaus smile. He slowly leaned in, sealing their lips together and pulling Klaus closer to him. Nothing was close enough for Nikolay. He wasn't doing it to spite Sylvie; her feelings couldn't matter less for him. He kissed Klaus to show her that he wasn't alone; Klaus would never be alone, and that Nikolay wouldn't allow her to treat Klaus miserably. But most importantly, Nikolay needed to show Klaus himself that he wasn't alone; he never would be.

     Paris. 1 August 1944

"Cross yourself!" Klaus instructed Nikolay as they stood in front of the church.
"But I'm an atheist," Nikolay complained, too tired to fully comprehend his surroundings.
"You're making us look suspicious," Klaus scolded, elbowing Nikolay to wake him up. After humbly crossing himself in the wrong way, they entered the church and sat behind a small group of people. Klaus leaned in closer, clasping his hands together, pretending to pray. When he noticed that Nikolay wasn't following suit, he shot him an annoyed look, making Nikolay realize his mistake. "We're here," Klaus whispered, causing Pierre to turn his head slightly and see who was speaking.
"What do you know? Are the Americans coming to Paris?" Pierre whispered back, turning his head away from Klaus.
"Unlikely; the high command wants to bypass Paris and head straight to the Rhine," Klaus informed him.
"Dammit!" Pierre sighed under his breath. After some contemplation, he suggested, "We should continue working on the uprising anyway; a shipment of German weapons and ammunition will be arriving in Paris to supply the Nazis." Pierre explained. "Only it won't supply the Nazis; it'll supply us," he clarified.
"Hijacking?" Nikolay chuckled, fully awake at the thought of mischief.
"Yes," Pierre confirmed. "It's already done; we just need to transport the weapons from the forest through the tunnels," he murmured. "I'll be waiting for you tonight; we can discuss further then," Pierre said, crossing himself before leaving the church.

At home, after ensuring that the pets were well-fed, Klaus relaxed in the hammock. Meanwhile, Nikolay was chopping wood while Élise collected and neatly stacked the pieces in the barn. If Pierre was unable to be home and Fleur had to go to work, Nikolay was more than happy to help with household tasks. However, he wasn't pleased that one certain person wasn't contributing to the work while everyone else was. With a mischievous giggle, Nikolay grabbed his mug of water and poured it over Klaus's head.
"You looked thirsty from all the hard work you were doing," he laughed as Klaus wiped the water from his eyes.
"And what do you want me to do?" Klaus asked, chuckling at the prank.
"For starters, you could boil some water for me to do our laundry," Nikolay suggested, smiling as he wiped Klaus's drenched face.
"Could you cut me a piece of wood?" Klaus requested, noticing Nikolay's task. Nikolay raised a curious eyebrow but complied, chopping a small wooden cube for him without question. With the cube in his pocket, Klaus thanked Nikolay before going inside. To his misfortune, though, he was met by Sylvie in the kitchen.
"I didn't know you could be even more disgusting than I already thought you were," she said angrily.
"What have I done this time?" Klaus sighed, looking at her clueless.
"Don't act dumb, you homosexual," she protested, making Klaus's blood run cold. 
"I'm not," he attempted to argue, but Sylvie interrupted him. 
"Of course, I'm not even surprised; I knew you liked ruining other people's lives," she said, rolling her eyes. "Like any other Nazi does. But I wonder what your Nazi friends would say if they knew about your inclinations," Sylvie suggested, raising a brow.
"I don't care what the Nazis or you or anyone else thinks," Klaus chuckled calmly. 
"Yeah, I know you don't," Sylvie laughed. "I wonder what that young man will think when his life is ruined because of you," she told Klaus, watching his eyes widen in shock. "You see, Nicolas, I don't care, but society does. And society wouldn't welcome either him or you very well if they knew about your inclinations," she added, returning to her cooking, not paying any more attention to him. Klaus sat on a chair, finishing the already open bottle of wine from the table. With her words and his thoughts a little blurred, Klaus placed the water on to boil before heading back outside, clutching another bottle of wine. As he sat back in the hammock, Nikolay smiled at him. In response, Klaus frowned and looked away.

In the evening, Nikolay attempted convincing Klaus to join them for dinner, but he refused, appearing angry and upset. Every time Nikolay tried to talk to him, Klaus either pushed him away, remained silent while looking away, or left Nikolay altogether. Worried about him, Nikolay brought a plate of food to their room, hoping to eat together, but Klaus refused and even kicked Nikolay out before locking himself in. Feeling upset, Nikolay ended up having dinner with Fleur and her daughter. Later, Sylvie joined them, but her smile only further irritated Nikolay. When the sun set and darkness fell, Nikolay had to leave and meet with the resistance fighters alone; Klaus was already too drunk to join him.

Chapter Text

     Paris. 6 August 1944

Five days. Five days in a row, Nikolay attempted to talk with Klaus, only to be kicked out of their room every single time. He went alone on their missions, coming home before dawn exhausted. Despite this, Nikolay still tried to understand what upset him. If only Klaus simply talked; he didn't; he refused to even look at Nikolay; he stopped wearing his ring. Nikolay had to do something, though. Klaus's refusal to talk wasn't Nikolay's sign to let him go; let him drink himself to sleep, to death. When Nikolay started noticing Klaus's hands getting more and more severe cuts, he knew he couldn't remain silent, doing nothing for him. What kind of friend was Nikolay for Klaus if he waited so long to help him? What kind of... anything was Nikolay for Klaus if he had to wait until injuries appeared on his body to intervene? But if only Klaus simply talked...

When Klaus went outside to feed his pets, Nikolay snuck into their room. He knew it was wrong; it was so very wrong to read Klaus's diary, but he had to. Realizing it was already an invasion of Klaus's privacy, Nikolay started reading only from the date of their arrival. He hoped to find the reason for Klaus's sudden change of behavior. And Nikolay did; it was enough to run his eyes between lines to find out Sylvie's words. Nikolay's palms turned into fists as he struggled to take deep breaths, trying to calm himself. If until that day, Nikolay disliked Sylvie, from that second he despised her more than anything.
"Kol?" Klaus mumbled, leaning on the doorframe with wobbly legs and a bottle of wine in hand. Nikolay immediately rushed to him, putting aside his anger. He helped Klaus lean on him for support, relieved to finally hear him speak without aggression. "I don't feel too well, Kol," Klaus whined as Nikolay helped him sit down.
"What's wrong?" Nikolay asked, concerned, cupping Klaus's face. But when Klaus opened his eyes, Nikolay could see everything he needed to know. "Did you take something?" he added worriedly, noticing Klaus's red eyes. Klaus barely shook his head in disapproval, and despite his condition, Nikolay believed him.

He turned his attention to the almost full wine bottle and furrowed his brows in anger and despair as he smelled its contents. With his vision almost blackened by rage and his lungs burning from pumping air faster and faster, Nikolay rushed downstairs.
"Look at me!" he shouted at Sylvie. "I'm asking you only one time," Nikolay growled, his fists trembling as they struggled to curl tighter. "What did you put in his drink?" He knew that Sylvie would do anything to get rid of Klaus, but he never thought she would go this far.
"Nothing," Sylvie replied with a smug face, testing Nikolay's already thin patience.
"Nothing?" Nikolay yelled. "Then drink it yourself!" he demanded, extending the wine to her with a trembling hand.
"I think I'll pass, thank you," Sylvie giggled, pushing Nikolay's patience to its breaking point. He felt like the weight of the world was on his shoulders, and he was about to snap. After so much time of torture, grimness, and helplessness, Nikolay was finally free because of Klaus. He was finally happy because of Klaus. Nikolay couldn't; he simply couldn't; he promised to not let Klaus down for a third time.
"Tell me what you put in his drink!" he yelled, smashing the bottle on the counter, sending glass shards and red liquid flying everywhere. Terrified, Sylvie tried to run upstairs, but Nikolay stopped her. He didn't know what she was planning to do—hide in her room or hurt Klaus even more. In one swift motion, Nikolay grabbed her by the waist, lifted her off the ground, and released her out of the yard, locking the gate behind her. She screamed and kicked at the fence, but it was no use. When she noticed Élise watching from an open window, she called out to her.
"Élise, please let me in," Sylvie pleaded.
"No, Auntie," the girl shouted through tears. "You've been very mean, so you deserve a timeout!" Élise shouted, slamming the window shut and pulling the blinds.

Returning to their room, Nikolay was horrified to see Klaus's limp body passed out on the chair. He gently laid him on the bed and instructed Élise to bring the medical kit. However, without knowing what Sylvie had put in his wine, there was little Nikolay could do. Still, he was willing to try anything and everything, hopeful because Klaus had barely touched the poisoned alcohol.
"Will he be alright?" Élise asked, wiping her tears and hugging Marmelade for comfort.
"I don't know," Nikolay murmured as he prepared an IV for Klaus. His sincerity caused Élise to burst into another round of tears. With Klaus unable to push him away anymore, Nikolay properly bandaged his injured hands, feeling guilty as he did so. He wondered why he hadn't been able to help Klaus earlier and why he hadn't persisted in trying to talk to him despite being pushed away. But Nikolay had tried, and there wasn't much he could have done if Klaus had continuously rejected him. He hated Sylvie for what she had done, but he hated himself even more. Nikolay felt as if he deserved to see Klaus die—for taking care of Klaus so poorly and for failing to be by his side. However, he knew that Klaus's family; Klaus himself didn't deserve it. With his head hanging low in shame, Nikolay took hold of Klaus's bandaged hand and placed it between his own warm palms. Sitting on a chair next to the bed, with Élise sobbing, holding onto her dog, they could only wait and hope for Klaus's recovery.

     Berlin. 29 Februar 1912

Klaus used a chair to be able to climb on the sill, dragging Herr Kuchen next to him. Hugging his bear, Klaus looked out the window, waiting impatiently for his Grandpa to arrive.
"Get down from the window!" father shouted. Instantly, Klaus jumped down without even using the chair and ran off, dragging Herr Kuchen behind him. "Where are you running, you bloody bastard?" father yelled behind him, but Klaus was too excited to care. He ran to the front door, struggling to open it, and burst outside.
"Gramps!" Klaus yelled excitedly, jumping onto his lap as a nurse pushed his wheelchair through the snow. His parents followed, his Mother bringing him a warm jacket and father attempting to discipline him. However, upon seeing the guest, father's face fell, and he remained silent.
"Happy Birthday!" Grandpa greeted Klaus with a smile as the nurse handed him a large box. The box was almost as big as Klaus, causing him to drop it in the snow.
"Pathetic," father mumbled under his breath as Klaus attempted to lift the gift.
"Oh, shut up," Grandpa dismissed him with a wave of his hand. As Klaus's Mother helped him carry the gift inside, Grandpa frowned in frustration. "You would've melted if you helped him out; let a woman do your job," he scolded father as the nurse pushed his wheelchair inside.

"Gramps, look!" Klaus exclaimed excitedly, jumping as he handed him Herr Kuchen. "Mutti gifted him to me; do you like it?" he asked, looking at him with hopeful eyes.
"It's very lovely," Grandpa replied, letting the bear rest in his lap. "What did your father give you?" he asked, noticing his daughter-in-law's frown.
"He allowed Mutti to bake me a cake," Klaus replied without hesitation. Grandpa furrowed his brow but didn't comment.
"Why don't you open my present?" he suggested thoughtfully. His Mother sat on the floor as Klaus jumped around the large box excitedly. She helped him open it as Grandpa watched, amused.
"What's that?" Klaus asked as his Mother started emptying the box, handing Klaus the toys one by one.
"It's a ball," his Mother chuckled.
"No, it's not," Klaus frowned, turning to his Grandpa for confirmation. "Balls are round," he complained.
"You need to fill it with air to make it round," Grandpa chuckled, watching the confusion on Klaus's face.
"Like a balloon?" Klaus asked in disbelief.
"Yes," his Mother laughed, amused by her son's reaction. Digging further between all the toys his Grandpa had gifted him, they stumbled upon a beautifully illustrated encyclopedia about nature.
"That's so pretty!" Klaus said, mesmerized, carefully flipping through the pages. "They took photos of all these places?" he asked, looking at the paintings of wildlife he had never seen before, showing them to Herr Kuchen.
"No, mein Schatz," his Mother chuckled, taking a closer look at the painted illustrations. "They drew them," she explained. Watching Klaus's confused face, she pulled out a pack of crayons from the present. "They made those pictures with these," she explained, handing the crayons to Klaus, hoping he would understand. Curiously opening the pack, Klaus's eyes lit up with an idea.
"So I can make photos too with these?" he asked, jumping excitedly.
"Yes, you can," Grandpa cheered him, watching his eyes light up.

Élise patiently sat with Marmelade, shifting her attention between Klaus and Nikolay. She couldn't help but notice that Nikolay seemed just as still as Klaus, and she wondered if he had even blinked during their wait. The only indication that he wasn't a statue, were the tears streaming down his cheeks, which he made no effort to wipe away. Élise used her dress to dry her own tears and listened to the noise coming from outside. With one last glance at Klaus, she quietly left the room with Marmelade to investigate. As she approached the locked yard, she could hear people talking loudly. Curious, she summoned her strength and climbed on top of Marmelade, using the fence to support herself as she stood on her tiptoes on the dog.
"Papa," Élise cried, barely peering her eyes over the fence. Hearing their daughter, Pierre and Fleur made their way to her through the neighbors.
"Open the gate, dear," Pierre instructed her, worried. After doing as told, Élise jumped into her father's arms, hiding her teary face at his chest.
"What happened, dear?" Fleur asked concerned, taking hold of her and checking her body for any injuries.
"He's dead," Élise burst into another wave of tears as Marmelade barked at all the gathered people.
"Who's dead?" Fleur asked, turning pale.
"Uncle Nicolas," Élise cried, lifted up by Pierre. "She poisoned him," the girl accused, pointing her little finger at her Aunt.
"What did you do, Sylvie?" Pierre asked, turning paler than his wife. Seeing that his sister was silent, he added, "Sylvie, tell me that you didn't do it," he pleaded. Noticing that her head was hung low, Pierre held his daughter with one hand and led his sister inside with the other. "Pack your things; you're going back home," Pierre ordered as Élise continued to sob.
"What?" Sylvie retorted, offended. But her protests didn't persuade her brother.

     Berlin. 29 Februar 1912  

Klaus sat in his Mother's lap as she helped him learn to use the crayons.
"Why are your hands bruised?" his Grandpa asked worriedly, aware that he could've hurt himself while playing. Klaus remained silent, gazing down at his paper.
"His father disciplines him too harshly sometimes," his Mother explained sheepishly, attempting to put her husband in a better light.
"He did this to him?" his Grandpa made sure he understood everything right. Seeing that the two were silent, he drew his needed conclusion.
"Gramps," Klaus mumbled, with his head hung low. "Why's father so mean?" he asked, hopeful.
"It's because he's old and spiteful," his Grandpa replied frustrated, without hesitation, giving Klaus an answer that wouldn't upset him further.
"How come you're not spiteful?" Klaus asked curiously.
"Klaus!" his Mother exclaimed, embarrassed as his Grandpa burst into laughter.
"I'm too old to be spiteful, little guy," he replied amused, patting Klaus on the head.

After leaving his sister at the train station with her luggage and some money, Pierre hurried to bring a doctor for Klaus. Left alone, Sylvie purchased her ticket and scanned the area, hoping to find a policeman. When she couldn't spot one, she shifted her focus to a German soldier. Feeling desperate, she began to approach him, ready to turn Klaus in. However, as she patted him on the shoulder, the realization hit her: was she really willing to put her brother in trouble; ruin his life, her niece's? 
"How may I help you, Ms.?" the young man asked in French. She brought a trembling hand to her mouth, terrified by her own deeds and intentions.
"I apologize for troubling you, sir," Sylvie told him, her head hanging low as she wiped away her tears in shame. 
"Ms.!" the soldier called after her as she struggled to carry her luggage. "There must be something I can do to cheer you up," the German offered.
"Yes, there is," Sylvie exclaimed as the soldier helped her with her bags. "Could you send a message for me?" she pleaded, frantically searching for a pen and paper. Before she could find any, the soldier handed her a small notebook and a pencil. With trembling hands, she scribbled down a letter, apologizing to everyone she had wronged—her brother, sister-in-law, Klaus, and even Nikolay. Sylvie didn't expect to be forgiven, but she hoped they'd understand she regretted her actions. Hurriedly, she folded the note, writing down the address.
"Consider it done, Ms.," the soldier told her, bringing a glimpse of hope to Sylvie. "You didn't tell me your name, Ms.," he pointed out. His sincere smile disturbed Sylvie; it was so frustrating to see the invader happy. However, she forced a smile too, showing him that despite her disliking of Germans, she could appreciate the offered help. With the soldier's notebook still in hand, she wrote down her name and her parents' address, knowing full well that he'd write to her. Sylvie didn't intend on responding, but she had to act friendly. Handing him back the notebook, she embarked on the train with his help to lift her luggage. Sylvie looked confused as the German soldier waved at her, smiling in return. She was grateful, though, that Pierre had given her enough money to buy herself a book to pass the time. But she knew she didn't deserve even that much.

Berlin. 29 Februar 1912

After his Mother left him alone, Klaus snuck out of his room, wanting to say goodbye to his Grandpa. However, upon hearing voices, he stopped, crouching down behind the railing to listen.
"I can't understand why you're treating them like that," his Grandpa's voice was upset, mad even. "You grew up without struggles, without ever being hit, in a loving family," his Grandpa added, disappointed. "I worked my ass off all my life to offer you the conditions I never had, and this is how you repay me?" After a long silence, his Grandpa finally added, "I pray to God that you could be a proper father if you can't be a proper son!" Before Klaus could hear the end of the conversation, his blood ran cold as he was scooped up by someone. Scared, he shut his eyes as tight as possible. But when he mustered the courage to open one of them, he was relieved to find himself in his room, held by his Mother.
"It's not nice to listen at doors," she reminded him calmly.
"I just wanted to say goodbye to Gramps," Klaus explained, ashamed of his mistake. 
"Now it's not the best time," his Mother told him, hugging Klaus for reassurance.

"Kolya," Fleur called out to him as she entered the dark room. "Why don't you come and eat something?" she pleaded, noticing that the plates of food she had brought him were still full.
"No," Nikolay replied firmly, not even bothering to look at her.
"Kolya, you're not helping Collin by starving yourself," Fleur explained, wiping away her tears quietly.
"How can I eat when he can't?" Nikolay retorted, his gaze fixed on Klaus for hours as he sat in the same chair.
"If you need anything, just let me know," Fleur mumbled, leaving the room with a heavy heart. Nikolay remained motionless, his eyes never leaving Klaus's face, searching for any signs of pain or discomfort. When he felt the patched hand between his palms becoming damp, Nikolay checked it and discovered that the white bandages were now stained with blood. Struggling to hold back his tears, Nikolay retrieved the medical kit and carefully re-bandaged Klaus's hands.

Berlin. 29 February 1912  

"It doesn't look right," Klaus complained, gazing upset at his finished 'photo'.
"Oh, I'm sure Grandpa will love it," his Mother reassured him. "We need to hurry and give it to him; he's leaving," she informed, looking out the window at the old man being accompanied to his car. Seeing Klaus's face of disbelief, she instructed him, amused, "Run!" Understanding the urgency of the situation, Klaus took off, running as fast as he could with the drawing in hand. His Mother soon caught up to him and scooped him off the ground, running even faster. She grabbed their coats and let Klaus go outside to not waste any more time.
"Gramps!" Klaus shouted, running through the snow. "Gramps, look," he handed him his work as his Mother wrapped him warmly in his jacket.
"It's so beautiful; you drew this?" Grandpa asked, mesmerized. Flattered, Klaus looked away, nodding his head. "Thank you," he muttered, hugging the little child.
"Gramps," Klaus called out as the nurse was pushing away his wheelchair. "We haven't made a snowman," he pointed out once his Grandpa turned to face him. In response, father rolled his eyes and returned inside without saying a word.
"Klaus, I'm sure Grandpa is in a rush," his Mother tried to convince him.
"It's alright; we can build a snowman," his Grandpa reassured them with a smile. Overjoyed, Klaus jumped in his Grandpa's lap, hugging him.

     Paris. 7 August 1944

"Oh my, you haven't slept all night?" Fleur asked with concern as she entered their room.
"It's already morning?" Nikolay asked, not raising his eyes to look at her. He soon received his answer when Fleur pulled open the curtains, allowing the harsh sunlight to flood the room. Despite this, Nikolay remained fixated on Klaus's face, not even flinching.
"The doctor said he'll wake up anyway, so why don't you go to sleep?" Fleur reassured him, noticing that Nikolay was starting to wobble in his chair. But as she pleaded for him to do anything other than sit motionless, Nikolay noticed Klaus's eyelids moving. He jumped from his chair as if he had been burned, patting Klaus's head and gazing at him closely. When Klaus fluttered his eyelids open, Nikolay's body didn't know whether to cry, scream, or even collapse. His mouth struggled to form a smile, his face overwhelmed with thousands of emotions. Nikolay fought to control himself, not wanting to cause Klaus any pain by squeezing his injured hands in excitement. With his eyes wide open, Klaus looked in the opposite direction, avoiding Nikolay's gaze.
"How are you feeling?" Nikolay asked worriedly, gently stroking Klaus's hair.
"I'm alright," Klaus replied quietly, barely audible. Nikolay let out a sigh of relief, smiling.
"I'll get you some food; you must be starving," he informed Klaus, getting up from the bed. However, as he stood up, his vision blurred, and he struggled to walk straight on his wobbly legs.
"Are you alright?" Klaus asked, peering up at him with concern.
"I'm fine," Nikolay replied before exiting the room.
"What happened?" Fleur asked Klaus, taking a seat beside him.
"I don't know; I fed the horses, I opened a bottle of wine, and the next thing I knew, it was pitch black," Klaus explained before suddenly jolting out of bed. "The horses!" he exclaimed worriedly.
"Get back in bed!" Fleur told him firmly. "Don't worry; I fed them," she added, noticing the relief on Klaus's face.

Shortly after, Nikolay entered the room with a plate of warm food and a cup of tea. However, after setting them on the night table, he suddenly remembered.
"Sorry, I put sugar in your tea. I'll bring you another cup," Nikolay reassured him with a smile, rushing out.
"I hope you realize he didn't eat or sleep while you were passed out," Fleur told him, upset before leaving the room.
"I'm not eating," Klaus informed Nikolay once he returned, staring down at his food.
"If you don't like it, I can cook you something else. What would you like?" Nikolay asked with concern.
"No," Klaus replied, feeling ashamed. "I'm not eating unless you eat too," he finished his intended sentence.
"Nikusya, please," Nikolay tried to persuade Klaus.
"I'm not negotiating," Klaus responded firmly. Realizing he had no other choice, Nikolay sighed and took a bite of the food before handing the spoon to Klaus. They continued to pass the spoon back and forth until the plate was clean.

"I'm sorry I mistreated you," Klaus said, looking into Nikolay's eyes as he apologized.
"It's alright," Nikolay reassured him calmly.
"No, it's not; I treated you like crap for no reason," Klaus protested, angry with himself. 
"I know it wasn't for no reason," Nikolay retorted, catching Klaus's attention. "I'm sorry; I read your diary," he apologized, noticing Klaus's confused expression. "I didn't know what else to do because you weren't talking, and I promise I didn't read anything before the date of our arrival," Nikolay reassured him, thinking that Klaus's face of disbelief would turn into one of anger. "Just say something," he pleaded, unable to take the silence any longer.
"Actually, I'm more surprised you cared enough to look it up," Klaus reassured him, flattered.
"What?" Nikolay replied, unsure if he was hearing things due to his exhaustion; he didn't consider his actions to be heroic.
"Honestly, you can keep reading if you want; I don't mind," Klaus told him, watching Nikolay's face of disbelief. He blinked several times, happy and confused by Klaus's calmness. When he was pulled out of his thoughts by Klaus's palms touching his cheeks, Nikolay realized he didn't have time to waste; Klaus's bandages needed to be changed.
"What happened to your hands?" he asked, gently wrapping them in clean patches. Amused, Klaus opened a drawer next to the bed and took out something, placing it in Nikolay's palm. Looking at the object, Nikolay struggled to keep his eyes from watering. In his palm rested a painted wooden sculpture of a little golden monkey wearing a Soviet uniform with a beautiful red star on its hat.
"I guess it isn't easy chopping wood while drunk," Klaus chuckled before finding himself in Nikolay's warm embrace.
"Thank you," Nikolay mumbled, hiding his face in the crook of Klaus's neck.

When he was released, Klaus felt the back of his head being grasped by Nikolay's hand.
"Next time," Nikolay said, raising a finger as he spoke. "If something happens, just say it. We're adults; we can talk. I'm not joking, dammit!" he warned, trying to hide his amusement as he watched Klaus nod with a puppy face.
"I'm sorry," Klaus said once again. In response, Nikolay placed a gentle kiss on Klaus's forehead, reassuring him that he wasn't angry. However, when he noticed Klaus taking his knife out of his pocket, his blood ran cold.
"You're not playing anytime soon with these," Nikolay protested, snatching it from Klaus's hand. "Or you want to lose some fingers too?" he added, frustrated, as he watched Klaus chuckle amused. Without saying a word, Klaus reached under his shirt and pulled out a string tied around his neck. When Nikolay noticed the ring hanging from the string, he let out a sigh of relief. "You were wearing it the whole time?" he asked, taken aback, a soft smile appearing on his face. Klaus nodded slightly, turning red as Nikolay cut the string and placed the ring back where it belonged.

After being continuously pestered by Klaus, Nikolay finally gave in and went to bed. He laid down next to Klaus and handed him a book to read while he fell asleep. Resting his head on Klaus's chest, he quickly drifted off, undisturbed by the morning light. In his sleep, he clung tightly to Klaus, afraid that he might disappear in his dreams. When he felt well-rested, Nikolay jolted awake upon hearing voices around him. Clinging tightly to Klaus, he looked around the room for any potential threats. He was relieved to see Pierre, Fleur, and the doctor sitting by their bedside.
"You're awake," Klaus chuckled, patting Nikolay on the head.
"Well, Colonel, we're expecting you on duty tomorrow," Pierre teased, causing everyone to laugh except for Nikolay, who was still disoriented after his peaceful sleep.

Chapter Text

     Paris. 8 August 1944

"You lost," Élise said thoughtfully to Klaus and Nikolay. "So I want five dollars from each of you," she demanded after beating the two at cards.
"Five bucks?" Nikolay chuckled in disbelief.
"What, are the Americans paying you so poorly?" Élise asked, raising a brow.
"You're not getting any money," Fleur scolded her, entering the room with a bag. "I'm not teaching you gambling," she pointed out.
"But Mom," Élise protested, crossing her arms. "Just imagine how many sweets I'd get for me and Marmelade with ten dollars!" she pleaded, sitting upset in her chair.
"Marmelade can't even eat sweets," Fleur told her, confused.
"Isn't he kind? He'll give me his sweets," Élise proudly told her Mom, making Klaus chuckle. Fleur sighed defeated.
"C'mon, Grandma must be waiting for you at the train station," Fleur said, checking the time.
"But Mom, I don't want to miss all the fun," Élise pleaded, getting down from the chair.
"It's gonna be a whole lot of fun if them Nazis blow up the whole city," Nikolay told the girl as she exited the room with her Mother. In the yard, Élise hugged her dog and whispered,
"Take care of Papa, Marmelade," she pleaded. "Don't let the Nazis get to him," she instructed before leaving, holding Fleur's hand.

Left by themselves, Nikolay was helped by Klaus at laundry. Unfortunately, that ended up being a counterproductive move because it didn't take long for them to start teasing each other, throwing water and clothes all over the yard. However, their banter ended immediately when they heard a knock at the gate. They exchanged a glance and fell silent, choosing to ignore the stranger.
"I know you're in there; I heard you," the person persisted, causing Nikolay to roll his eyes in annoyance. "I have a message for you," the stranger continued with an overly cheerful tone. Seeing that Nikolay was already pissed, Klaus decided to open the gate. His blood ran cold at the sight of a smiling German soldier. "Standartenführer Jäger?" the young man asked excitedly, making Klaus regret that Fleur wasn't home. He reluctantly gestured for the soldier to come inside, not wanting to draw attention from the neighbors. "Is this your residence, sir?" the curious soldier added, taking a seat at the table.
"Yes," Klaus replied, struggling to clear his throat.
"And isn't that the soldier from your article, the one about 'the perfect Aryan soldier'?" he chuckled, pointing at Nikolay with excitement. In response, Nikolay threw a murderous glare at Klaus, unhappy about being dragged into the situation.
"He's actually my subordinate," Klaus muttered.
"That's very noble of you, sir; writing a discourse in honor of your subordinate," the soldier confessed, impressed.
"You mentioned having a message to deliver," Klaus reminded him, hoping to end the encounter quickly.
"Oh, yes, sorry, sir," the young man replied. "It's from Ms. Sylvie Dupont; do you know her?" he asked, handing Klaus a folded paper.
"She's my friend's sister; why?" Klaus replied curiously, wanting to find out how the soldier knew her.
"Nothing, sir," he replied, flustered. "I met her at the train station where she asked me to deliver that; she seemed upset," the soldier added.
"I'd be upset too if I had attempted murder," Nikolay interjected in French, their conversation in German.
"Don't listen to him; he's just joking," Klaus chuckled, hitting Nikolay's leg. "Thank you very much for delivering the message; I'm sure her family will appreciate it," Klaus reassured the soldier, accompanying him outside.
"For fuck's sake, Sylvie keeps dragging you into shit even when she's gone," Nikolay complained, hugging Klaus when he returned alone. "What if he knew you were supposed to be dead?" he mumbled in the embrace.
"No, I doubt it," Klaus replied thoughtfully. "The Nazis would do anything to keep that 'failed' mission a secret; to avoid being mocked," he explained, reassuring Nikolay. "Let's just hope he won't talk to the wrong people about our encounter," Klaus added hopeful, hiding his face in the crook of Nikolay's neck for comfort.

In the evening, they needed to arrive on time for the meeting, but Klaus didn't seem to be in a rush.
"We can't leave him alone; let's take him with us," Klaus pleaded, noticing Marmelade's upset expression.
"Why don't you bring the horses too?" Nikolay asked, not too keen on the idea.
"The horses have each other, but he's all alone," Klaus added, hugging the dog to make his point.
"And where will he stay during the meeting?" Nikolay sighed.
"Next to us, under the table," Klaus suggested hopeful.
"Fine, whatever," Nikolay gave in, watching Klaus's face light up with joy. "Let's just go; we'll be late," he added. Happy that he got his way, Klaus placed a grateful kiss on Nikolay's cheek, causing his ears to turn red.
"I'm sure Marmelade appreciates and loves you very much," Klaus chuckled, feeling his own cheeks burn at the sight of Nikolay's reaction.
"Mhm," he replied, closing the gate behind the three of them, and off they went.

At the secret location, Pierre embraced his dog, overjoyed to see him after such a long time in hiding. Marmelade patiently slept by Pierre's side as they discussed their current situation. With reassurance that the arms promised by General de Gaulle would soon arrive in Paris, the resistance leaders turned their attention to securing Allied support. All eyes turned to Klaus, hoping for answers, but he was just as clueless as the rest of them.
"What if the Allies decide to bypass the city?" someone voiced their concern.
"We'll have to wait if they do," Klaus replied thoughtfully.
"Tell that to our men!" another leader interjected.
"No one will listen after so many have been arrested," Pierre added with a sense of hopelessness.
"We must be patient and wait for Allied support," Klaus pleaded with concern. As the meeting was approaching its end, Pierre suggested seeking assistance from a student gathering in their rebellion. "Absolutely not," Klaus retorted, with the other leaders nodding in agreement.
"You said we needed support, and I offered a solution," Pierre protested angrily.
"Yes, I said we needed Allied support with tanks, soldiers, and proper supplies, not a group of uncoordinated kids," Klaus explained, once again receiving the approval of the other leaders.
"And what's wrong with allowing these 'kids' to help free their country?" Nikolay challenged, glaring at Klaus.
"I'm not saying we shouldn't involve them; I'm saying that a group of students is not the solution to our shortage of everything," Klaus calmly clarified. "And after all the recent arrests, do you really want to involve yourselves with them? It's too risky; they are easy prey for the Gestapo," he added, watching as Pierre and Nikolay's faces fell. "Where are you going?" Klaus asked as the two stood up from their seats.
"As a 'kid'," Nikolay retorted, causing Klaus to sigh. "I'm going to the playground and play with the other 'kids'," he informed Klaus, leaving the meeting early with Pierre and taking Marmelade with them.

During the college gathering, Pierre tied his dog outside before heading in. The two were impressed by the level of management and coordination displayed by the students, who seemed to have their own little organization. At the end of the meeting, the head of the students pleaded for everyone to wait because someone important was still expected to arrive.
"Do you know that guy?" Nikolay asked, recognizing the name of the special guest.
"He's another leader," Pierre explained. "I don't know why he didn't show up at our meeting, though," he voiced his concerns. But they didn't have to wait long for their answer as the person in question arrived, accompanied by Nazi soldiers who immediately began shouting for everyone to get on the ground.
"What are you two doing here?" the leader asked Pierre and Nikolay, crouching down mockingly.
"You fucking rat!" Nikolay shouted, while Pierre was too stunned to speak.
"Who are those?" an SS officer asked, pointing to Pierre and Nikolay.
"Another leader of the resistance and an American officer," he explained, but before he could say more, a student shot him in the head, shouting,
"Death to the snitches!" before being shot himself by the Nazis.
"Pierre Dupont," the SS officer chuckled, recognizing him from his articles. "Didn't expect to see you here," he laughed. "And with US company," he added, glaring at Nikolay before being spat on by him, causing Pierre and the students to chuckle. Frustrated, the SS officer ordered, "Handcuff these two and get all the students in a separate truck!" Nikolay and Pierre were handcuffed to opposite walls of a truck, unable to help each other. The students were crammed into two different trucks before they drove off. Meanwhile, Marmelade remained outside, barking and wondering why his owner had left him behind. Upset, he started squirming and struggling to break free.

When Fleur returned home, Klaus immediately began complaining to her about the meeting. Amused, Fleur served him dinner and tea, reassuring him that everything would be alright.
"Mrs. Dupont, Mrs. Dupont!" a child shouted. Worried, Fleur headed outside, with Klaus following curiously. Opening the gate, the son of another resistance fighter popped in. "Mrs. Dupont, father told me to come to your house and tell you that the Nazis raided the student meeting," the kid muttered through short breaths. "He told me to tell you that your husband and an American soldier were arrested," he informed, leaving no room for hopeful doubt for either Fleur nor Klaus. With a heavy heart and tears in her eyes, Fleur thanked the kid, and after he offered his condolences, the two returned inside. Wiping away his tears and hiding his face between his palms at the table, Klaus murmured,
"Tomorrow the train with political prisoners leaves for Germany," he informed, heartbroken, realizing that both Pierre and Nikolay will be on that train.
"Oh God!" Fleur shouted, bursting into another wave of tears. "What I'll tell his daughter?" she cried, the thought of never seeing her husband being too overwhelming.
"I don't know," Klaus murmured through tears, blaming himself, realizing that if he hadn't upset Nikolay, maybe neither of them would've left for that damned gathering.

"What's another three years in a concentration camp for me?" Nikolay wondered aloud. "The war is ending soon anyway," he pointed out, watching Pierre's defeated expression.
"I left family behind—my wife, my daughter," Pierre complained, visibly upset.
"Wife?" Nikolay asked himself, his eyes widening in shock as he realized he too had left Klaus behind. "Dammit!" Nikolay shouted, squirming in his seat. He struggled to lift his tied arms behind his back, managing to reach his necklace. Determined not to give it away to the Nazis when they'd eventually search their clothes, Nikolay removed it, along with Klaus's DAK ring that he was wearing. "Pierre, give me your wedding ring," he instructed, realizing that Pierre also had significant belongings. He complied, and both men shifted in their seats as much as their tied hands allowed before Pierre threw his engagement ring. Almost dropping it, Nikolay caught it between his palms. With the jewelry in hand, another struggle began. Nikolay maneuvered until he could reach his foot, sliding the small objects into a cut-out pocket in the sole of his shoe.

When the truck stopped in the dark forest and the Nazis took them out, Pierre and Nikolay watched hopelessly as the soldiers shot dead all the students.
"Why did you do it?" Nikolay shouted, blood splattered on his and Pierre's clothes.
"They didn't know any useful information, did they, officer?" the SS commander chuckled carelessly, making Nikolay's blood boil in anger. The two were searched through their clothes, but Nikolay was right, and they didn't think to check his soles. Locked in a cell, Nikolay didn't wait to see what the Nazis' plans were for them—whether they would be interrogated or taken to another location. He retrieved a small piece of wire from his sole and proceeded to do what he had done for the last years of his life—escape from the Nazis. To do so, Nikolay first had to unlock the cell door and then somehow remove the barred window. He managed to unlock their door quickly and moved on to the window. As he and Pierre struggled to remove the screws, they noticed Marmelade sniffing at them through the bars.
"Sit down," Pierre ordered the pet, overjoyed to see him. Suddenly, the door of the cells' room opened. With his blood running cold, Nikolay turned his head as Marmelade growled and saw the same soldier who had brought Sylvie's message. The soldier frowned, but instead of calling for reinforcements, he told them,
"Be more quiet," before closing the door. Pierre turned to Nikolay, grateful but at a loss for words.
"Do you know that guy?" Pierre whispered, barely audible.
"I don't know; ask your sister," Nikolay replied, frustrated. Before Pierre could ask for an explanation, Nikolay removed the third screw from the window. They didn't bother removing the fourth, simply rotating the heavy window out of their way. After they helped each other out, they crouched down as close as possible to the wall, hoping there was no one patrolling around the building.
"How are we going to get over the fence?" Pierre sighed, holding onto his dog, who had managed to rip his leash in half and break free. Nikolay thought for a moment, eyeing the tall wall made of barbed wire and wood.
"He must've gotten in here somehow," he realized excitedly, grateful that he had accepted Klaus's shenanigans. In a hopeful whisper, Pierre gave his dog the command to go home. Marmelade led them to a hole he had dug underneath the wall, slipping to the other side to freedom. Pierre and Nikolay did the same, one by one, without getting stuck, thanks to Marmelade's large size. And after all three of them were safely on the other side, they had to trust Marmelade to lead them home through the dark, nightly forest from their unknown location.

At the kitchen table, Fleur and Klaus were struggling to come to terms with their new reality. They were trying to accept the harsh truth that their lives were now filled with dismal. It was difficult for them to accept that their significant other would die in a concentration camp in Germany. Klaus was horrified by the thought, unable to believe that after all of Nikolay's hard work for his freedom, he would end up again in the clutches of the Nazis. When the front door suddenly burst open, neither of them bothered to check who came into their home. They were both too consumed by their own thoughts and emotions.
"Who died here?" Pierre asked, concerned, as he entered with Nikolay. Fleur immediately jumped into Pierre's arms, while Klaus watched in disbelief with trembling hands.
"We thought you were captured by the Nazis," Fleur cried, her face buried in her husband's chest.
"Well, we were, but we managed to escape," Pierre chuckled as Nikolay opened his arms for Klaus to come and hug him.
"I told you! I fucking told you not to go!" Klaus shouted repeatedly through tears.
"Shut up!" Nikolay chuckled, jumping himself into Klaus's embrace and wrapping his legs and arms tightly around him. Still upset, Klaus buried his face in Nikolay's chest, letting his tears soak into his clothes as Nikolay stroked his hair to soothe him.

As Fleur served them a warm dinner, the two runaways shared their courageous story of betrayal, grief, and escape. They made sure to give Marmelade his own spotlight, the dog eating peacefully in the kitchen, not caring about his heroic actions as long as he got food and his owners' love. Klaus was especially proud of Marmelade and couldn't wait to rub it in Nikolay's face for the rest of their lives. After dinner, Nikolay returned Pierre's wedding ring and asked Klaus for help putting his own back in its place. Exhausted, they returned to their rooms with the intention of getting some well-deserved rest while the sky was still dark. Nikolay sang Klaus to sleep and soon drifted off himself. 

    Somewhere near the Volga River. 12 September 1928

"Whose dog is that?" his Mother shouted angrily, pointing at the animal. "You little devil, with that damned Mother of yours who raised you!"
"Ma, that's ironic," Nikolay chuckled from the tree. "Don't cuss at yourself," he added, amused.
"Answer my question, you damned child!" his Mother demanded, her anger growing as the dog wagged its tail.
"How could I answer if I don't know?" Nikolay laughed. "I have no idea whose dog that is," he added, watching his Mother take a seat under the tree and cover her face with her palm. "Are you okay, Ma?" Nikolay asked, concerned.
"How do you not know whose dog you stole?" his Mother asked, frustrated.
"Look at him, Ma!" Nikolay pleaded, pointing at the bony animal from his hiding place. "Whoever's pet that was, they clearly didn't take care of him!" he added. "Or should I've left him there to perish of hunger?" Nikolay asked his Mother angrily.
"Just get down, you little savior," she pleaded, returning to the kitchen with the dog following her. Nikolay watched happily as his Mother filled a plate and placed it on the ground for the hungry little dog to eat.

     Paris. 9 August 1944

However, his peaceful dreams were interrupted by Klaus's squirming and howls. Concerned, Nikolay checked on him and found that Klaus was asleep and likely having a nightmare. Unsure of what to do, Nikolay couldn't bear to see Klaus suffer, even if it was just in his imagination.
"Nikusya," he called out, gently shaking him. Klaus woke up, confused and sweating, but as soon as he saw Nikolay's face in the darkness, he embraced him tightly.
"Sorry for waking you," Klaus muttered sheepishly.
"It's alright," Nikolay reassured him, hugging Klaus back. "What did you dream about?" he asked, knowing that Klaus didn't exactly have a dream.
"That you were sent back to Germany and I couldn't do anything," Klaus replied truthfully with a shaky voice.
"I was gone for less than three hours, and it left you traumatized?" Nikolay chuckled out of frustration, patting Klaus's hair. With the sky still pitch dark, Klaus got out of bed and started getting dressed. "Where are you going?" Nikolay asked, concerned.
"I'm going for a walk to clear my head," Klaus replied in a whisper. Immediately, Nikolay jumped out of bed and started getting dressed too.
"I'm coming with you," he told Klaus, watching him frown.
"You should've slept," Klaus retorted, feeling guilty for not only waking Nikolay but also making him get out of bed instead of sleeping.

They strolled through the neighborhood and settled under a tree to watch the sunrise. Nikolay couldn't remember what happened next; all he knew was that he eventually dozed off while gazing at the sky. When he woke up, he was back in bed. He smiled at the thought of Klaus carrying him home after he fell asleep. He headed downstairs, searching for him. In the kitchen, Klaus was sipping his morning tea while Fleur hurried to get to work, and Pierre was likely already gone. The peaceful morning was interrupted by a knock outside. Fleur opened the gate to find the same German soldier.
"I apologize for the disturbance, Ms., but I have something important to discuss with Standartenführer Jäger," he said, leaving Fleur speechless.
"It's alright, Fleur, let him in," Klaus reassured her. Confused, Fleur allowed the soldier into their home and took a seat at the table next to Klaus, forgetting about her rush.
"I know the truth, Standartenführer Jäger," the soldier said nervously. "Or should I rather say Colonel Jäger?" he accused, his hands trembling. Klaus smiled and poured him a cup of tea to help him calm down.
"Well, you got me," Klaus chuckled, certain that if the soldier hadn't reported him to the Nazis yet, he wouldn't do it at all.
"I looked up at you, sir, and you're a traitor!" the soldier complained with concern.
"Ah, don't call me sir; it makes me feel old, and I'm not even wearing a uniform," Klaus laughed.
"It's not amusing, Herr Jäger," the soldier protested nervously. Nikolay and Fleur moved their eyes between Klaus and the soldier, their gazes shifting back and forth like a tennis match, curious to see who would come out on top. "I didn't know your discourse was about an American!" the soldier added, upset.
"A Slav," Klaus corrected him, attentively igniting his pipe.
"That's even worse, Herr Jäger; it's a disgrace to our nation," the soldier protested as Nikolay rolled his eyes.
"And yet you liked it," Klaus chuckled. "If I hadn't told you the truth, you wouldn't even know it; that just proves how stupid that ideology is," he added, watching the soldier struggle to keep his crumbling world together. "What's your name?" Klaus asked curiously.
"Alwin," he murmured, gazing at his empty cup in disbelief.
"Look at me, Alwin," Klaus pleaded with a smile. "Because you did a good thing for me, I want to do a good thing for you in return," he explained, causing confusion among everyone present. "I know that the Nazis intend to burn down Paris," Klaus continued, watching Alwin's shocked expression. "And I also know that the Allies are close to Paris," he added, watching Alwin's face of disbelief. "And I hope you know what will happen to you when the Allies get to this city. Even though you may be among the lucky ones to be sent back to Germany, you will eventually face a fate that neither you nor I want for yourself," Klaus told him, watching him frown. "Germany is losing the war; the Nazis are going to lose, and both you and I are going to pay for our 'sins'. I'll pay a much heftier price than you, but okay," Klaus laughed as Nikolay slapped him on the back of his head, disturbed.
"What are you implying?" Alwin asked, upset and well aware of Klaus's words.
"I'm telling you to run away, Alwin; that's your best option. You could go to Sylvie's village; it's a remote place in France. I'm sure she'll be more than happy to take you in," Klaus chuckled, amused.
"Remaining silent about your treason is one thing, Herr Jäger," Alwin protested. "But I'm not going to take part in it!" he explained, getting up from his seat. "Thank you very much for your hospitality," he added angrily before exiting the house.
"Alwin!" Klaus shouted as the soldier walked away, upset. "I want the best for you," he pleaded worriedly.
"Have a nice day!" Alwin replied quietly at the gate, turning to face Klaus before walking away.

Chapter Text

     Paris. 18 August 1944

As Klaus ate his breakfast, he heard a knock on the gate. Fleur rushed outside without a word, accompanying their guest inside. She entered the house confused, with Alwin by her side. Klaus looked curiously at the German soldier, now without uniform, hanging his head low and clutching a briefcase in his hands.
"I want to apologize, Herr Jäger," Alwin murmured, causing Klaus to chuckle.
"Please, take a seat," Klaus suggested, as Fleur offered him a plate of food. "So, you've decided to listen to me?" Klaus laughed, watching as Alwin shook his head sheepishly. "Good decision," he chuckled, before realizing something even more amusing. "Sylvie convinced you, didn't she?" Klaus asked, his face lighting up with childish joy.
"Mhm," Alwin murmured with a soft smile, causing Nikolay to roll his eyes in disgust at the thought of Sylvie. After Fleur made sure that Alwin had enough food for his journey, they said their goodbyes and parted ways.
"Why are you so upset at other people's happiness?" Klaus asked, arranging Nikolay's rebellious, short strands of hair with his fingers. "Everyone deserves some joy in their lives," he added with a smile, making it harder for Nikolay to remain frowning.
"Even those who attempted murder?" Nikolay retorted, causing Klaus to chuckle at the allusion.
"Are you still bitter about it?" Klaus replied with a kind smile, taking hold of Nikolay's hands.
"I'm not bitter; you're too forgiving," Nikolay complained, leaning his head on Klaus's shoulder and closing his eyes peacefully.

In the evening, Nikolay and Klaus met with the other leaders at a secret location to discuss the current situation. Klaus was once again asked about the Allied support, and he once again shrugged, as clueless as they were. Suddenly, the door opened, and Pierre finally arrived.
"You're late," Klaus complained, checking his wristwatch.
"I'm sorry," Pierre replied through short breaths, slamming a paper onto the table. "These are all over the city," he informed them as all the people in the room gathered to see what he was talking about. The poster "Paris fights back" was calling all the men in town to rebellion.
"Apparently the liberation has begun," Nikolay chuckled, amused.
"We should've acted first!" a leader complained, taking his seat after reading the announcement.
"What should we do now?" Pierre asked de Gaulle's representative in Paris, all eyes turning to him for guidance
"We don't have much choice, do we?" the man in question replied thoughtfully.
"How about the police?" Klaus asked curious.
"The Germans disarmed several police stations, so now they're protesting in response," Pierre explained.
"We must take the prefecture of the police!" someone proposed, everyone around agreeing. The gathering ended when de Gaulle's representative had to leave for a meeting with British officials.

     Paris. 19 August 1944

In the morning, Pierre called home from a telephone booth, telling Nikolay and Klaus to come urgently into town without specifying the reason. But it was enough to enter the center of the city for Nikolay and Klaus to notice the French flag waving proudly over the prefecture of the police, symbolizing the end of a dark era and the beginning of a fight. Rushing there, they were allowed in before the large gates were closed behind them, guarded by armed rebels.
"Now is not the time for journalism," Klaus chuckled, watching as Pierre hurriedly took notes with a pencil. He laughed it off and continued to document the event. Klaus was helped onto a platform where he congratulated the men for their success. At the end of the speech, he advised, "There are far too many of us here. All of you, except for three hundred, should head back to your assigned districts for further orders. But remember, we need to spread out all around the city. What's important is that the Germans see us in every corner of Paris," he advised before rushing to see how he and Nikolay could be of use.

They first headed to the wine cellar to make some Molotov cocktails to arm themselves.
"That's such a waste of good wine," Nikolay complained, draining the champagne and wine bottles empty. Instantly, he flinched as a palm grasped the back of his head.
"Don't even think of saving them," Klaus advised him with a threatening grin.
"What if I just want a taste?" Nikolay pleaded with a puppy face.
"You're not tasting two hundred bottles," Klaus complained, helping Nikolay pour the wine faster. After supplying themselves with several Molotov cocktails and a gun with a few bullets, they hid in a central building in the hopes of finding more weapons. Taking deep breaths and pointing his rifle out of the open window, Klaus patiently waited for a German truck to approach. When it was close enough, he shot his few bullets directly into the tires and then at the German soldiers. Klaus was relieved as he watched from the window how Nikolay and the other resistance fighters armed themselves with German supplies. He was thankful that none of the dead or arrested soldiers were Alwin; he was relieved to know he was safe after what he had done for Nikolay.

In the evening, after a ceasefire was announced, an urgent meeting was arranged at the prefecture. The building was heavily damaged by German tank fire, causing rubble to fall from the ceiling. As they discussed the benefits of the ceasefire, the lights suddenly went out. Undeterred, they lit candles and continued their conversation. However, when some leaders suggested waiting for support from the Allies, Nikolay frowned.
"So we're just going to sit on our asses until the Allies arrive?" he protested.
"And what do you propose, Lieutenant?" Klaus asked, trying to diffuse the tension.
"I suggest we put it to a vote," he replied. After a vote was taken, it was announced that the ceasefire was rejected by one vote, with Nikolay smirking at Klaus, knowing his vote had made the final decision.
"I will respect the majority's decision," Klaus calmly stated, unfazed by Nikolay's excitement. "However, for tactical reasons, I propose we announce our decision to resume fighting tomorrow," he pleaded, with everyone in agreement. The meeting concluded with the decision to send a delegation to meet with the German general the following day.

     Paris. 20 August 1944

After their delegation was taken into custody by the Germans, they met again the next night, feeling hopeless. They discussed their shortage of ammunition and weighed their options. Some suggested sending someone to contact the Allies and request arms to be airdropped into Paris.
"That's insane," Klaus dismissed. "Anyone could get their hands on those," he pointed out. The group frowned, realizing the problem. "It will be better if we ask them to come directly to the city," Klaus offered a better option.
"We already lost seven men attempting to reach the frontlines," Pierre said desperately, informing Klaus that his idea had been tried before.
"Now we'll have to send the eighth," Nikolay replied carelessly.
"And who should do it?" Pierre asked, their reliable opinions being limited.
"Who other than our American soldiers?" someone laughed.
"Yes, why don't we send lieutenant if he's that eager to send someone? Let him have the honor," another person suggested, causing Klaus's face to turn pail. Before Klaus could object, Nikolay shouted with a smile,
"I agree, let's send lieutenant," Nikolay chuckled, patting Klaus on the shoulder to ease his nerves. Despite Klaus's disagreement, the group decided to send Nikolay the next day, accompanied by a doctor, to attempt speaking with the Allies under the guise of checking the French military hospitals on the frontlines.

     Paris. 21 August 1944

The next morning, Nikolay was whistling carelessly as he prepared a meal for the road. He bounced joyously around the kitchen, happy to receive another mission. In the corner of the same kitchen, Klaus sat at the table with his head hung low, after a night of horrible sleep despite being sung to bed. Klaus watched Nikolay's excitement with a sense of hopelessness, not wanting to ruin his mood but also not wanting to let him go. However, Klaus knew he had to.
"It's alright," Nikolay reassured him as Klaus hugged him tightly, barely letting him breathe. "I'll be back in less than a week," he told him for the thousandth time.
"I know," Klaus replied, concerned as he let Nikolay go and adjusted his clothes, brushing away nonexistent dirt. Nikolay looked into Klaus's curious, beautiful blue eyes, which were no longer so curious but rather upset. His long, dark lashes fluttered away some tears that started to appear. He knew that Klaus was proud of him, but despite his certainty that Nikolay would succeed, Klaus couldn't bear to let him go. How could he let his little soldier go off alone among strangers and enemies? Klaus wanted to kiss him goodbye; the gruesome thought that it could be the last time seeing him lingered in the back of his mind. But he shied away in front of Fleur, who was also home to say her goodbyes. However, while Klaus was shy, Nikolay wasn't. He couldn't care less about anyone's thoughts—anyone's except for Klaus's. So he leaned in, pressing their lips together and grasping both of Klaus's hands with his own. He pulled away as soon as he felt tears on his cheeks—Klaus's tears. Nikolay smiled, wiping them away one by one until there were none left. With Klaus regaining his composure, Nikolay took hold of one of his hands and waved at Fleur with the other. The two of them walked through the suburbs hand in hand, their fingers intertwined. When they reached the middle of the city, where the doctor and some leaders were already waiting, they said their final goodbyes. This time, it wasn't the little monkey and the princess, Kol and Nikusya, or even Nikolay and Klaus saying goodbye. It was Colonel Jäger and Lieutenant Ivushkin saying a professional goodbye to each other, counting down the moments until they would be reunited again.

Arriving at his destination the next evening, without any problems, the doctor handed Nikolay a blanket to sleep on the hospital floor. No beds were available, but Nikolay wasn't about to complain. The people passing by in the darkness, with candles in hand, wished him a good night. As Nikolay laid on the cold floor, his mind drifted to thoughts of Klaus, wondering what he was doing at that very moment when Nikolay was missing him. The thought of Klaus sleeping comfortably in their bed back in Paris lulled Nikolay into a peaceful slumber, holding his wooden little monkey soldier close to his chest, next to his heart.

     Paris. 23 August 1944

"You haven't slept all night, have you?" Fleur asked, yawning as she came downstairs.
"What if they call me to come into town?" Klaus lied, wide awake, guarding the home phone.
"You do realize that it's unlikely he'd call you during the mission, right?" Fleur told him, knowing that it broke his heart, but he needed to face the truth.
"I know," Klaus replied, feeling desperate as he crouched next to the phone, resting his head in his hands. 

Nikolay was at a loss for what to do after a wasted morning, as he had been unable to get around the Germans. Feeling stuck, he met the leader of the local resistance fighters with the help of the doctor.
"The Americans are on the edge of the woods," the leader informed Nikolay, bringing a sense of relief. After explaining his mission to him, Nikolay was grateful when the leader agreed to help him pass the German patrols.
"Is he the one?" a policeman asked.
"Yes," the leader replied, gesturing towards Nikolay. "He wants to see the Americans," he informed the two policemen.
"That can be arranged," one of the policemen replied with a hint of amusement. Seeing Nikolay's confusion, the leader explained,
"It's safer to go with them; the Germans have a disturbing respect for uniforms—conditioned reflex," he chuckled as they climbed into the car. The two policemen hopped onto the car, holding onto the rooftop, their uniforms acting as a shield.

To Nikolay's surprise, despite passing by multiple German checkpoints, they were never stopped or suspected. The car drove by peacefully without anyone raising a brow. When the car stopped, the leader told Nikolay that the Americans were across the field, but he had to be careful because all the haystacks were lurking with armed Germans. Nikolay thanked them before starting to cross the field. In his run, he could hear the clicking of loading guns, but he couldn't stop, not when he was so close. Nikolay slowed his pace and pulled out his military ID, raising his hands up to show that he was unarmed.
"Hey, where did you come from?" an American soldier chuckled, finally easing Nikolay's worries. Taking a deep breath and lowering his hands, Nikolay handed over his ID. 
"I come from Paris," he replied, still catching his breath. The soldiers surrounding him were shocked when he added, "With a message for General Eisenhower." After receiving his papers back, Nikolay was given some rations to eat. He then spoke with the commander of the division, and a car was arranged for him to attend a meeting with the local high American command, where he had to convince them of his point.

     Allied occupied France. 24 August 1944

In the morning, upon his arrival, Nikolay exchanged some words with a French general before being directed to a room. The last thing Nikolay expected to see after the door was more than half of the high American command available in France. His blood ran cold as he quickly scanned the room, realizing that he was the lowest-ranking officer among them. This was his first time meeting such important commanders, aside from Klaus. He knew he had to succeed in his mission. Taking several steps forward, Nikolay addressed the room, feeling the weight of all eyes on him.
"We wanted to welcome you to a liberated Paris," he began. "The resistance has taken control of all official buildings and most of the city. However, we cannot hold on indefinitely." Nikolay shook his head, his voice filled with hopelessness. "The Germans have no organized lines between your units and Paris," he stated the obvious. "It would be a crime to refuse to take action—a crime against the free world!" he raised his voice. "It's not a matter of if, but when the Germans will counterattack. And they have orders to destroy the city—burn Paris to the ground!" he added, capturing the attention of everyone in the room. "Tens of thousands of people—children, women, elderly, civilians—will perish in vain if we choose to do nothing," he pleaded, pacing around the meeting room. After a long silence, Nikolay concluded, "The French people will never forgive us—their allies—if we fail to come to their aid." He repeated angrily, "Never!" before storming out of the room without waiting for a response.

To calm his nerves, Nikolay paced around the villa where the meeting had just taken place, absentmindedly playing with the wooden little monkey in his pocket. As the American officials left one by one, they shook Nikolay's hand and congratulated him. Eventually, the French general returned with a smile, while Nikolay stood there feeling exhausted, hungry, and unsure if his mission had been successful. However, the French general reassured him that everything was going well. He allowed Nikolay to have a proper meal before they rushed to a field for a final meeting. There, the decisive order of heading directly to Paris was finally given. An American general congratulated Nikolay, offering him a uniform and placing him under the command of another officer during the journey. Following their arrival, Nikolay was to continue working under his superior, Klaus. Before leaving, Nikolay pleaded for the American general to give him a uniform for Klaus too. With a kind smile, he allowed him to have it, lighting Nikolay's face with joy.

In the evening, when the American division halted, Nikolay rushed to a telephone booth. As he dialed the number with trembling hands, he wondered what Klaus was doing. The phone at home didn't even have time to ring before Klaus answered, much to Fleur's amusement.
"Princess, I'm coming home!" Nikolay announced excitedly, causing Klaus's legs to almost give out. He sat on the floor for stability, overjoyed that Nikolay's mission was successful.
"How are you? Are you injured?" Klaus asked with a shaky voice.
"I'm fine; don't worry about me!" Nikolay chuckled happily. "How are you?" he whispered with a smile, even though he knew Klaus couldn't see him. 
"I'm good now," Klaus replied. After Nikolay assured Klaus that he would arrive in Paris tomorrow, they hung up. Fleur smiled and continued eating her dinner. She didn't bother to ask who had called; she already knew, as Klaus's reaction had given it away.

     Paris. 29 August 1944

After the liberation of Paris, even though there wasn't much left to liberate when the Americans arrived, the French soldiers organized a parade. In the following days, the Americans also held a parade. Klaus was surprised when he was asked to participate in the parade, and even more surprised when Nikolay gave him a brand new uniform to wear. Everyone came to see them march proudly, even Emily and Ferdinand, and of course, Élise, who couldn't miss seeing her Father and her Uncle's big day. Klaus didn't dare to wear his medals on that uniform, but he did, however, attach all his ribbons, not wanting a colonel uniform to look so empty. But it wouldn't remain empty for long; Klaus's third surprise came when he received two French medals for his courageous acts. He wasn't the only one to receive recognition; Pierre and Nikolay were also honored with medals for their service and brave escape, along with several other American officers. Klaus was especially proud of Nikolay. His little soldier, finally receiving his first medals; his contribution for the greater cause was finally recognized. Klaus was so proud.

Following the parade, the entire city began to party, with music echoing through the streets. Soldiers and citizens danced together, and happy couples could be seen everywhere. However, Nikolay noticed that while all of Klaus's friends and family were enjoying themselves, Klaus himself wasn't. So Nikolay decided, instead of letting Klaus watch his friends having fun while he wasn't, to ask him to dance.
"You said you didn't know how to dance," Klaus replied with a smile.
"I said I didn't know any aristocratic dances," Nikolay chuckled, amused. To Klaus's surprise, Nikolay was a skilled dancer. They spent the rest of the night dancing together, surrounded by friends and strangers who were all celebrating and having a good time. No one paid any attention to Klaus and Nikolay dancing together, except for Fleur and Emily, who were giggling and nudging each other.

Chapter Text

     Paris. 30 August 1944

"Oh, Kolya, your eyes are so dreamy, I'm getting lost in them so easily," Emily teased Klaus, causing him to roll his eyes while Fleur chuckled.
"Wait, I have a better one!" Fleur laughed, nudging her sister. Klaus let out a sigh and took a sip of his tea. "You're so handsome in your uniform, my little monkey. You make me blush," she giggled.
"I didn't say that!" Klaus protested, his face turning red.
"Of course you didn't," Emily chuckled, both women struggling to contain their laughter when Nikolay entered the kitchen.
"Are you alright?" Nikolay asked with concern, noticing Klaus's flushed cheeks. As he checked Klaus's forehead for a fever, the two sisters struggled to hold back their laughter. "Are you hungry?" Nikolay asked excitedly, fixing Klaus's hair.
"No," Klaus muttered, certain that the sisters would continue to make fun of him.
"Good," Nikolay replied with a smile before heading outside. As soon as Nikolay left the house, the sisters burst into laughter. Frustrated, Klaus got up from the table, wanting to find some peace.
"Please don't snitch us to Kolya; he'll kill us," Fleur laughed.
"Sit down; we need to talk," Ferdinand said firmly, pushing Klaus back into his chair. "A serious discussion," Ferdinand added, looking at the two women who needed to either calm down or leave.

"Tomorrow, we have a meeting with US officials. So, get yourself ready and write a discourse from home if you need to," Ferdinand explained calmly, sipping his tea as if the matter were mundane.
"What?" Klaus asked, struggling to understand the words as a complete sentence. He furrowed his brows and let his hands fall onto the table.
"You heard me," Ferdinand replied. "We need to convince them to let you join the frontlines," he added, causing the two sisters to gasp in horror.
"I don't want any more war, fighting, or dying!" Klaus exclaimed, his eyes desperately searching for any sign of understanding on Ferdinand's face. "I want a peaceful home, and..." Before Klaus could finish his sentence, he was interrupted.
"Kolya has the privilege to settle," Ferdinand raised his voice. "You don't," he added in a lower tone, watching as Klaus got up from his chair and then sat back down. "And if he chooses to settle, you won't," Ferdinand told him as Klaus hid his face between his palms. "After the war, you're going to pay for that Standartenführer uniform, even though you didn't shed any innocent blood while wearing it," he reminded Klaus, hoping to pierce the gruesome idea through his skull. "All I'm trying to do is make that price lower," Ferdinand pleaded with a voice filled with despair. The room fell silent as Nikolay returned.
"What?" Klaus asked, still gazing down. Nikolay rushed to his side and took a seat beside him. "What are your plans?" he asked with a trembling voice as Nikolay began stroking Klaus's shoulder. "Plans for the future," Klaus clarified after a prolonged silence in which he avoided Nikolay's gaze at all costs.
"I wanted to continue fighting for the Americans if that's my only option to kick Nazi asses," he chuckled, trying to lift Klaus's mood. "How about you?" Nikolay continued, seeing that Klaus was still hanging his head low.
"Yes, yes, me too," Klaus let out a nervous laugh. Concerned, Nikolay turned in his seat to face Klaus.
"Are you sure?" he asked, giving Klaus no way to avoid his gaze.
"I have no other choice," Klaus replied, taking quick breaths. He hugged Nikolay in search of comfort and solace, feeling as if his future was now trapped. Klaus felt as if there was no freedom left for him in this world.

     Paris. 31 August 1944

"You can do this; everything will be fine," Nikolay reassured Klaus, straightening his hair and suit. With a deep breath, Klaus entered the meeting room alongside Ferdinand. They took their seats under the disapproving or indifferent gazes of the officials. After a lengthy discussion, one general offered,
"We'll get you five M4 Shermans, twenty-five tankers, including you and your lieutenant, four infantrymen for each tank, and a medical cart with a doctor. We'll also give you insignia for a colonel," he said proudly, as if it were a generous offer. Klaus blinked several times, perplexed.
"So, you're giving me a platoon when I should be assigned a battalion?" Klaus asked, his eyes widening in shock.
"You heard me right, kid," the American chuckled, testing Klaus's patience.
"But that's fifty times less than what I should have!" Klaus protested. "Why give me colonel insignia if you're not providing the appropriate number of soldiers?" he pleaded, much to the dissatisfaction of another senior official.
"It's one thing to lose a few clothes if you decide to play smart, but it's a completely different matter to lose thousands of American soldiers!" the elder shouted at Klaus, frustrated.
"You're not even giving me the appropriate number of infantry soldiers per tank," Klaus pointed out, concerned about the significant cuts in staff.
"Ah, you'll make it work," the first general chuckled.
"What convinced you to give me any men at all?" Klaus raised his voice, starting to get angry. Worried, Ferdinand nudged him to calm down.
"Right, we forgot to mention," the general chuckled. "The soldiers assigned to you are all convicts, so if you decide to do something, it's not a big loss," he explained carelessly.
"I thought the US doesn't have penal platoons," Klaus pointed out angrily.
"Well, you're so special to us, kid, that we made an exception for you," the general chuckled. Before Klaus could respond, Ferdinand interrupted,
"He's very grateful for your time and decision," he said, hitting Klaus's leg to silence him.
"Thank you very much, sir," Klaus added through gritted teeth.
"You're welcome, kid," the general laughed. As they were leaving the room, he added, "You'll also have a staff sergeant to go with the infantry; a British man volunteered to work with you when he heard your story." Klaus slammed the door shut, too enraged in that moment to even care about the volunteer's identity.

     Paris. 1 September 1944

On the next day, when they met their platoon, Klaus discovered the identity of his volunteer. As the older man introduced himself, Klaus narrowed his eyes, trying to recall where he had heard that name before.
"I've read your work, professor!" Klaus exclaimed with joy, realizing that he was the author of the unpublished war strategies book given to him by Ferdinand. However, the author did not share his excitement. "What's the matter, sir?" Klaus asked, confused.
"Ferdinand told me I would be working with a German spy, a proper colonel, not a kid," the professor complained. Upon hearing this, Klaus was taken aback but chose not to comment. Instead, he paced in front of his platoon, with all the soldiers standing in formation. He was displeased to see that they all appeared upset, frustrated, and disappointed.

"Perhaps you already know why you're here," Klaus began, but was quickly interrupted. 
"To kick some Nazi ass!" Nikolay exclaimed joyously. Klaus calmly disciplined him,
"Lieutenant, if you have enough energy to interrupt me, why not put it to good use and do twenty pushups?" As Nikolay began his exercises, Klaus continued, "You're all here because you have sinned, and the high command has decided to make you repent by cutting as many corners as possible in our little platoon," he raised his voice, addressing the group.
"Finished, sir!" Nikolay interrupted again.
"Those twenty pushups look lonely, don't they, Lieutenant? Let's make it another twenty," Klaus ordered without even turning to look at Nikolay. "We all have one thing in common: being viewed as expendable by our superiors. To them, we're nothing more than numbers to be thrown at the enemy, making it easier for their men to advance and be hailed as heroes by the people," he lamented, gazing into the eyes of his fellow soldiers who were deemed inferior.
"Alright, I'm finished, sir," Nikolay chuckled.
"Lieutenant, keep your goddamn mouth shut; I'm not talking to you right now," Klaus snapped, waving his hand in irritation. "But we refuse to be treated as mere statistics. We'll prove our worth and show that we're more than just numbers. We'll survive, push forward, and become the true heroes who'll put an end to the Nazi tyranny!" he declared, his pacing back and forth capturing the attention of all those present. When Klaus looked at his comrades once more, he was glad to see hopeful faces, as they realized their lives were significant for the greater cause.

     Somewhere in France. 12 September 1944

Exhausted, the platoon took a much-needed break in a small, abandoned village. After ensuring the area was safe, Klaus jumped from his tank and led his two horses to a nearby barn. He wanted to give them a chance to rest and eat after a long day of pulling the medical cart. However, upon opening the wooden door, a putrid stench hit him. Coughing uncontrollably, Klaus tied his horses outside and covered his nose with a napkin before entering the barn. With only the light from the open door, he was horrified to see the carcasses of several farm animals and a malnourished donkey struggling to breathe and stay alive at the end of the barn. Quickly, Klaus ran outside and called for help from his comrades. Together, they managed to remove the donkey from the unbearable smell and locked the barn after ensuring there were no other survivors. Klaus then offered the hungry animal some apples while Nikolay washed him, and the doctor did her best to treat his injuries. Fortunately, she concluded that the donkey's wounds were not too severe and he could recover from his infections. She carefully bandaged him and left to rest.

"How could you leave them behind?" Klaus asked, his voice trembling upset as he watched his horses peacefully eating. He hugged and patted the exhausted donkey beside him.
"If they couldn't take care of them, they should've set them free," Nikolay complained, placing his arm around Klaus's shoulders. Nikolay opened his rations and took out a waffle, but as he heard approaching footsteps—or rather, hoofsteps—he quickly put on his helmet. "Not today, you greedy little girl," Nikolay said excitedly as the golden mare failed to chew on his hair. Klaus laughed as the mare then attempted to steal Nikolay's waffle, but he pushed her muzzle away and held his treat out of her reach. Unfortunately for Nikolay, his hand was just close enough for the donkey to snatch his waffle. He became frustrated, but when he saw Klaus's amusement, he forgot his annoyance, happy that Klaus was no longer upset.

     Somewhere in France. 19 September 1944

After a week of recovery and snatching waffles from the soldiers, especially from Nikolay, as if his were the most delicious, the donkey had regained his strength. Finally, their platoon received a new mission, and they harnessed the horses, playfully doing military salutes to the donkey before setting him free. Klaus gave the donkey a hug before he excitedly ran off, kicking his legs behind.
"Don't worry, he'll survive on grass like the elks do," Nikolay reassured Klaus when the village was far behind.
"I know," Klaus sighed sadly, his head hung low. However, as Klaus looked out of his tank, he heard whining that didn't come from any of the horses. The soldiers all laughed as they peered out and saw the donkey struggling to keep up with them, screaming and running after the platoon. "Looks like you're one of us now, soldier," Klaus laughed as the donkey caught up to them.
"Whatchu want to name him?" Nikolay asked, amused. Klaus grinned mischievously and exclaimed,
"Mr. Waffles!" The whole platoon burst into laughter, except for Nikolay, who rolled his eyes and returned to his tank. They continued on their way, with the donkey quietly following them and occasionally stopping to sniff at things catching his attention.

     Ardennes Forest. 20 January 1945

Klaus trudged through the dense, snowy forest, with Nikolay, Pierre, and the infantry following closely behind, along with the medical cart being pulled by Klaus's horses. The only four remaining tanks moved slowly behind them.
"Why don't you hop into the medical cart, kid?" the professor chuckled, snuggled under a warm blanket next to the doctor who was driving the carriage. Klaus took a deep, freezing breath and rubbed his eyes to remove the ice from his lashes.
"We lost the tank; we suffer the consequences," Klaus replied with a shivering voice.
"Besides, if the infantrymen can do it, we can do it too," Nikolay added with high spirits, undeterred by the cold. However, his mood quickly changed when he looked behind and saw the infantrymen climbing onto the tanks one by one. "Really?" Nikolay asked, frustrated.
"We haven't lost no tank, Lieutenant," a soldier replied as he was helped onto a tank by his comrades, causing the professor to chuckle.
"He's right," Klaus added, struggling to stay awake in the freezing weather.
"Are you alright, Colonel?" Nikolay asked with concern, retrieving a blanket from Klaus's backpack and draping it over his shoulders.
"I'm fine," Klaus shivered, clutching the blanket with one hand and holding the compass with the other. Slowly, they continued advancing through the thick snow, with Klaus and his tank men being the only ones marching on foot.

When they finally reached the top of the hill and looked down into the glade, their eyes widened in horror. Klaus took a shaky breath as he surveyed the scene before him: red snow covering the ground, bodies strewn everywhere, and tanks emitting smoke. Despite searching every inch of the battlefield, they found no survivors. Klaus sank to his knees, head bowed and hands clasped together in prayer. He prayed for the lost souls of his allies and even for his own countrymen. The rest of the platoon followed Klaus's lead, except for Nikolay. He helped Klaus to his feet, and they checked the tanks once more. Klaus retrieved letters from fallen comrades, intending to write to their families and inform them of their loss. Meanwhile, Nikolay searched for anything salvageable from the vehicles.
"This tank is abandoned!" Nikolay whispered, making sure not to be too loud in case enemies were still nearby. Klaus's heart lifted with hope as he approached, only to find Nikolay and Pierre inspecting a German Tiger tank.
"Absolutely not," Klaus stated firmly.
"Why not?" Nikolay protested, trying to convince Klaus. "It's almost as good as new; them stupid Nazis left it behind because they had no fuel left," he added, hoping to persuade Klaus. 
"We could be at risk of friendly fire; our supplies are not compatible with this tank, and it breaks down easily due to its weight," Klaus listed some of the many reasons, causing Nikolay to roll his eyes. 
"But guess what, Colonel? The high command won't give us another Sherman, and I'm not sitting on my ass while everyone else fights," Nikolay argued. He retrieved a toolbox from the Tiger and his own tools, throwing several canisters at Pierre and the other tank men. "Get some fuel from Fritz's tanks," he instructed, ignoring Klaus's frozen and upset expression. 
"Lieutenant, are you disobeying my orders?" Klaus asked angrily, his voice shivering from the weather. 
"I'm doing what's best for us, Colonel; that's what I'm doing," Nikolay defended himself. Slowly, Nikolay checked that the engine and other key components were in good condition before starting to remove pieces from the radio station. As his tank men filled the reservoir with fuel and the other soldiers took a break to eat, Nikolay retrieved some intact pieces from a broken-down Sherman nearby. After struggling to connect them and make them compatible, Nikolay took a deep breath and attempted to make contact with one of their tanks through the Tiger's modified radio station. When one of his comrades replied, with his mouth full from an interrupted break, Nikolay shouted happily and kicked his feet in excitement, hearing his comrade's chewing loud and clear.

"You shouldn't be so butthurt, kid," the professor chuckled as Klaus fed the horses and donkey.
"I'm not butthurt; I just don't want anyone to get injured," Klaus replied, watching the mare and donkey greedily devour their food.
"It's a war; injuries are inevitable. The goal is to survive and keep moving forward," the professor explained, enjoying the plain, warm meal. Klaus returned to the Tiger only to find it covered in large white stars and a haphazardly written message: "Berlin, we're coming for you!" Nikolay had even taken a machine gun from another Sherman and placed it on top of the Tiger. Klaus quietly apologized to Nikolay, making sure no one saw. Nikolay grinned, pleased with Klaus's cooperation, and gave him a warm hug.
"You think you could do this?" Klaus asked his tank crew, uncertain of their ability to operate a German vehicle.
"How hard could it be?" Nikolay laughed, putting on his headphones as Pierre climbed into the driver's seat. After a few initial struggles, Pierre managed to start the engine and guide them cautiously through the snow. Klaus was pleasantly surprised to discover that they were able to communicate with the other tanks, as the German radio station wasn't compatible with the American one. He felt a sense of pride for Nikolay, who had successfully made it function.

Eventually, as the sun began to set, they found themselves still deep in the forest. Despite this, Klaus remained calm because they only needed to continue heading east.
"Maybe we should stop for the night," a soldier suggested over the radio from another tank.
"Negative," Klaus responded firmly. He took a deep breath and gathered his blanket and portable radio station before jumping out of the tank, ignoring Nikolay's protests. He quickly trudged through the thick snow and harnessed the donkey to the medical cart instead of his horse. After ensuring that the belts were securely fastened around the smaller, confused animal, Klaus mounted his horse and covered himself with the blanket. He knew that with the powerful storm, the Germans wouldn't attempt any attacks. "Follow my lead," Klaus commanded through the radio as his black horse pushed forward with large steps. The infantry soldiers all climbed onto the tanks and wrapped themselves in blankets. With a clear view from the front, Klaus led the way, ready to stop his platoon if they encountered any hidden threats under the thick layer of snow.

Klaus squinted his eyes, the icy wind biting his face. He clutched the compass, ensuring they were going straight. As the storm grew harsher and the snow became more immense, the horse suddenly stopped. Worried and uncertain, Klaus quickly ordered all the tanks to stop. He jumped down, the freezing snow reaching his stomach, and went in front of the horse. With his heart skipping several beats, he carefully brushed away the snow with his hands, worried about the possibility of a hidden mine. He let out a relieved sigh when one of his gloves got stuck in barbed wire without cutting his palm. Klaus then rushed to check the horse's feet, making sure the animal hadn't injured himself on the sharp metal. After confirming that the horse was unharmed, Klaus announced to his platoon that there was no threat. They cut through the small barricade and continued marching forward. Klaus was certain that the small town should be close enough; it had to be. What other reason did the Germans have to leave barbed wire there if they didn't want to prevent them from reaching a strategic point? Sure enough, after a short period of time, Klaus's thoughts were proven right, and they entered the small evacuated town. The Germans hadn't expected them to arrive in the middle of the night during such a heavy storm, so their clumsy and uncoordinated fight was quickly lost.

With another victory on his agenda, Klaus sat peacefully in a little pub, next to Nikolay, Pierre, and the professor. They ate once again their tasteless rations, but only this time they had a much warmer and more welcoming atmosphere.
"Are you engaged, kid?" the professor asked, his nose still red from the cold.
"Obviously," Klaus replied, proudly showing his ring to the older man.
"Why don't you tell us about your wife, Colonel?" Pierre asked carelessly, documenting their encounters.
"What should I tell you?" Klaus stuttered, feeling his cheeks burn. Nikolay grinned, enjoying the spectacle.
"I don't know, kid. How does she look? What do you like about her?" the professor suggested. "Are you suddenly feeling shy?" he chuckled, watching Klaus's red face.
"I think he loves his wife that much," Pierre poked at Klaus, not even raising his eyes from his notes.
"She has pretty blonde hair, the most beautiful blue eyes, and a mischievous smile," Klaus started thoughtfully, gazing down at his plate. "But her breathtaking beauty is overshadowed by her courage and intelligence. I admire her will to try something even though the whole world would be against her. I have never felt lonely or hopeless since I met her," he explained with a wistful smile. However, if Nikolay shook his head during Klaus's speech, pretending to be very interested, Klaus's last statement made him frown, open his eyes worried, and stop to daydream. "I appreciate that even though she has much better options out there, she chose me," Klaus added humbly. But before Nikolay could comment, the professor asked,
"Why don't you show us a photo of that lovely young lady?"
"I don't have any," Klaus replied, realizing that was the truth. "But I don't even need any pictures; she always lives rent-free in my head anyway," he chuckled.
"Doesn't she occupy too much space in your mind that could be used to lead us, Colonel?" Pierre persisted, wanting to watch Klaus get flustered once again.
"Actually, no," Klaus replied, amused. "I think she helps me concentrate in battle," he confessed with a wistful smile.

Their moment of sharing laughs and memories was cut short by the donkey's whinnying. Klaus rushed outside to see what had upset Mr. Waffles but quickly gave orders for everyone to get into position as some German soldiers attempted to escape their captivity. As the runaways were once again arrested, the others laughed at the courageous soldier who gave away their almost successful escape. Everyone was amused, but Klaus couldn't have been more proud of Mr. Waffles's success. After ensuring that such attempts couldn't be committed again, all the American soldiers, except for those on guard duty, retreated to different houses or apartments in the little town. Klaus lied to Pierre and the professor, saying that he and Nikolay would sleep in separate beds, only to push the two beds together after closing the door to their room.
"I help you concentrate in battle, don't I?" Nikolay chuckled, pouring warm water over Klaus to help him wash himself.
"But you do," Klaus complained, struggling to wipe the shampoo from his eyes. Nikolay handed him a towel, and when Klaus had dried his face and turned to face Nikolay, he asked,
"What do you mean I have better options than you?" Nikolay protested quietly. Klaus's smile quickly faded as he muttered,
"You know, perhaps you could've had a wife and a family." Klaus suggested thoughtfully. Nikolay embraced Klaus's naked, drenched frame, saying,
"But you're my family." His voice was muffled by Klaus's skin. "What other option could be better for me than my pretty princess?" Nikolay asked with a puppy face, bringing a childish joy to Klaus. They nestled in their makeshift double bed, hiding in each other's embrace and covering themselves with both of their thick blankets, shielding themselves from the biting cold in the building. Nikolay sang Klaus to sleep quietly before resting his head on the soft, dry pillow and drifting off himself. It had been a long time since Nikolay had such a peaceful slumber.

Chapter Text

     Somewhere near the Rhine River. 13 March 1945

"I still think it's not a good idea," Klaus muttered, upset.
"No, because it's the best idea," Nikolay argued proudly. "We need ammunition," he reminded him, brushing some curly hair strands from Klaus's forehead. Nikolay couldn't help but smile, gazing into Klaus's curious blue eyes. He watched as those eyes widened in shock when he suddenly pressed their lips together, taking Klaus by surprise. They shared a warm embrace before heading outside, where the doctor was already waiting. Both she and Nikolay were dressed in plain uniforms, not revealing their side in the war. On top of their modest clothes, they wore white garments with large red crosses. As they parted ways from the rest of the platoon and climbed into the medical cart, Klaus smiled one last time at Nikolay, who turned to look at him and waved before rushing off to complete their new mission.

It took them several hours to get around the forest, avoiding the Nazi-occupied areas at Klaus's insistence. Eventually, they safely reached the American division, where they were offered warm tea to rest. Nikolay and the other soldiers then began loading the carriage with ammunition. To their luck, they weren't only given shells for the Shermans but also captured supplies and fuel for the Tiger. After exchanging friendly embraces and military salutes, they went their separate ways in the afternoon. Pressed for time, Nikolay decided to ignore Klaus's orders and took a shortcut through the forest to reach the platoon before sunset. However, this decision proved to be unfortunate, as they were stopped by a group of Nazis. Cursing under his breath, Nikolay pulled over while the doctor turned pale.
"What are you doing here?" the Nazis asked.
"The fuck it seems like we're doing?" Nikolay retorted in his bits of German. He sighed in frustration as the soldiers inspected their supplies.
"What's with the ammunition?" the Nazis inquired, seemingly unaware of the American shells. Nikolay grinned, focusing on Klaus's soft, lulling German, his authentic accent; Nikolay had to steal that accent.
"We have a secret mission to deliver these supplies to our division without the Americans noticing," he lied.
"But what's with your accent?" the Nazi pressed, catching Nikolay off guard, making his prideful smile instantly fade at the realization that his channeling of his inner German, which Nikolay hoped to have taken somehow from Klaus, failed.
"I'm Swiss," Nikolay began, using Klaus's lie, but was quickly interrupted by an approaching officer.
"Are you out of your mind? Let them go," the Nazi commander ordered. "Don't you see that he's the soldier from Standartenführer Jäger's painting?" he scolded his subordinates. Nikolay's proud grin returned as the soldier's face turned red, and he apologized before allowing them to go without further questioning.

On their way back, they continued to check behind to make sure they weren't followed. As the darkness settled, they finally reached the platoon.
"We may or may not have given away our location," Nikolay admitted guiltily to Klaus, without paying attention as his pockets were searched by both the donkey and the golden mare. After explaining the situation to Klaus, Nikolay received a slap on the back of his head, and the decision to leave first thing in the morning was taken.

"Are you mad at me?" Nikolay asked, his mouth still foamy as he brushed his teeth.
"Are you disobeying my orders because of, you know?" Klaus said curiously, from their bed, his cheeks turning red. 
"No, I don't know!" Nikolay retorted, wiping his face with a towel. Seeing Klaus's flustered loss of words, Nikolay chuckled amused. "I don't think it's because of you," he said sincerely.
"You were a rebellious little monkey in the Red Army before, talking back to superiors?" Klaus teased, smiling playfully from under the blanket.
"I didn't really talk to any superiors then; I was my own superior," Nikolay replied amused, realizing that by delivering food back on the frontlines, he didn't have much to disobey.
"No, I'm not mad at you," Klaus chuckled, childishly peeking out from under the covers and swinging his legs. After pulling Nikolay out of his thoughts and noticing his mischievous grin, Klaus hid himself under the blanket. But his shield failed to protect him as Nikolay snatched him from behind and started tickling his stomach.

     Next to the Rhine River. 30 March 1945

"Tanks, stop!" Klaus commanded, a smile spreading across his face as he watched the river.
"What's the problem, Colonel?" a soldier complained over the radio.
"It's bath time," Klaus chuckled, climbing down from his tank. "We should also wash our clothes," he suggested, grimacing as he caught a whiff of himself. The soldiers in the platoon groaned and dragged their tired feet towards the water. They reluctantly took off their clothes, already exhausted from their busy day. Amused, the professor laughed at them while Klaus looked on with concern. He couldn't understand why a bath wouldn't be seen as a relaxing break. "How do you expect us to fight the Nazis if they can smell us all the way from Berlin?" Klaus argued, trying to lighten the mood.
"Learn how to wash your own underwear before talking so big," Nikolay retorted, slapping Klaus in the face with his dirty laundry.

He watched peacefully as Nikolay did their laundry from the shore while the soldiers were washing themselves naked in the river. Klaus too wanted to take a bath, but he shied away in front of all the soldiers. He couldn't even remember the last time he had taken a communal bath. Klaus gazed longingly at the water, frustrated by his own self-imposed limitations that prevented him from taking a much-needed bath.
"It's getting late," Nikolay said, his uniform slightly damp from doing laundry. "Colonel and I are going to check the area. We should spend the night here," he ordered carelessly as he hung his and Klaus's clothes to dry. After retrieving his backpack from the tank, Nikolay began walking away, with Klaus following closely behind. "This seems good enough," Nikolay muttered thoughtfully, eyeing a remote part of the river surrounded by thickets. Confused, Klaus raised a brow and followed Nikolay into the woods. "Didn't you say you wanted to take a bath?" Nikolay asked, almost naked, as he retrieved a bar of soap from their backpack. Klaus opened and closed his mouth several times, feeling his heart skip a beat before finally taking off his dirty clothes. He wasn't sure if Nikolay noticed his previous discomfort, but he didn't care. Nikolay's offer was the most important thing to him. After they washed each other, scrubbing off the thick layer of sweat and dirt, Klaus hugged Nikolay, feeling his warm skin as he shivered in the embrace.
"Thank you," Klaus mumbled, resting his forehead on Nikolay's shoulder. Unsure of what Klaus was thanking him for, Nikolay placed a gentle kiss on top of Klaus's head and stroked his wet hair gently. As they slept outside by the river with the rest of the platoon, Klaus and Nikolay laid on the ground, hidden behind blankets and holding hands under the covers, away from the eyes of their fellow soldiers.

     Berlin. 4 July 1945

"C'mon, don't be upset," Klaus pleaded with a puppy face.
"I'm not upset; I wanna go home; them Nazis lost," Nikolay protested. Klaus smiled, amused.
"We can't just leave whenever we want; we have to complete some paperwork first," he explained calmly to Nikolay. "Besides, we're also getting a party," Klaus chuckled, bumping his hips into Nikolay's in an attempt to lift his spirits. However, it didn't seem to work too well, as Nikolay rolled his eyes. They finished the necessary documents before heading to the pub for the promised celebration. There, after a glass of beer, Nikolay realized that his bitterness shouldn't affect Klaus; it wasn't Klaus's fault they had to waste more time before returning home. So he asked him to dance. Nikolay smiled, happy that his previous displeasure didn't upset Klaus. He sighed, relieved that his own bad mood didn't ruin Klaus's.

After a few beers, Klaus was hit with a harsh realization: what if after that dance, what if after that night he'd never see Nikolay again? Their time together seemed to be coming to an end; their service was over, and Nikolay was now a free man, no longer needing Klaus in his life. But Klaus didn't want him to leave; he hoped that Nikolay would choose to stay of his own will—such immense dreams he had. After much consideration, Klaus drank another glass of beer for courage. Still sober, he leaned in close to Nikolay's ear as they danced, to be heard over the loud music.
"I love you," Klaus confessed in Russian, hoping that his feelings wouldn't be mocked.
"I love you too," Nikolay replied in German, his ears turning red. Amused, Klaus laughed in disbelief and moved even closer, resting his head on Nikolay's shoulder. Nikolay patted Klaus's hair as they slowly spun around the pub. Filled with renewed hope and overjoyed by Nikolay's reciprocation, Klaus took a deep breath and closed his eyes.
"Would you, perhaps, by any chance, want to live with me?" he whispered into Nikolay's ear, too afraid to open his eyes. His heart skipped several beats as the hand stroking his head remained motionless.
"I'd love to," Nikolay finally replied, his breath catching as he leaned his head on Klaus's, the two of them continuing to spin slowly through the dancing room.

When Klaus fluttered his lashes open, he noticed something in the corner of his vision. He quickly removed his wedding ring and jacket, decorated with all his medals and ribbons, as if anticipating what was about to happen. He tossed them to Nikolay in a rush, and before the confused man could react, a Russian officer announced,
"Standartenführer Nikolaus Jäger, you are under arrest for severe crimes against the Soviet nation." Two soldiers immediately handcuffed Klaus, while the professor, Pierre, and the American soldiers surrounding them began to protest. Nikolay even punched a Soviet soldier before being pinned to the ground.
"Calm down, Kol!" Klaus pleaded calmly, seemingly accepting his fate. Nikolay ran after them once he was released but was met with rifles pointed at him. "Just call Ferdinand and tell him what happened!" Klaus instructed Nikolay, who was being held back by Pierre and some Americans trying to prevent him from getting shot. Helpless and immobilized, Nikolay was forced to watch as the truck drove away, with Klaus giving him a bitter smile. He continued to stay there until the truck disappeared into the distance, and then he was released by his comrades. They tried to reassure him while he sank to his knees in defeat. He had let Klaus down for the third time.

As the truck continued further into Soviet-occupied territory, Klaus gazed down at his boots. He was still thrilled to discover that his feelings were reciprocated. Despite the reality of his situation, Klaus smiled, grateful that he had fought against the Nazis with all his might and that in his final moments, he would love someone who loved him in return. However, even though Nikolay's love was everything Klaus could've dreamed of, he hoped from the bottom of his heart that Nikolay would move on, forget him, and find a proper family for himself.

Nikolay rose from his knees and hurried to the nearest telephone booth, the concerned soldiers calling out to him. His hands trembled as he inserted the coins and dialed the number. When Ferdinand answered, Nikolay frantically told him what had happened in detail. He then collapsed onto the ground, burying his face in his arms as Ferdinand informed him that he was on his way to Berlin. Nikolay couldn't accept that Klaus was gone—not after everything they've been through together, not after what they just told each other, not after their plan. He punched the phone booth repeatedly, enraged that there was nothing he could do for Klaus. Tears streamed down his cheeks, but he didn't bother to wipe them away as he continued to hit the booth, frustrated, desperate, with his perfect, peaceful, lovely future slipping right through his fingers. He grimaced, feeling his heart ache at the realization that his own hopelessness would end up hurting Klaus.

With no clothes on, Klaus felt stripped of his dignity. However, he was grateful that he had given his jacket and wedding ring to Nikolay. Klaus couldn't bear the thought of them falling into the claws of the Soviets.
"Take that off!" an officer shouted in Russian. Confused, completely naked, Klaus frantically checked his body, realizing that the Soviet was referring to the small cross hanging from his neck. Despite the officer's continued shouting, Klaus refused to give up the religious symbol. In a fit of anger, the officer forcefully ripped the silver necklace from Klaus's neck. "Spit on it!" he demanded, throwing the cross to the ground and grabbing Klaus's head, forcing him to bend down. Remaining calm, Klaus replied in Russian,
"I refuse to mock any religion." In response, the officer delivered a hard blow to Klaus's stomach, causing him to wobble on his legs.
"But you didn't refuse to torture and mock our men, you Nazi prick!" the Soviet shouted, striking Klaus again and causing him to collapse. As the officer continued to kick Klaus's chest and stomach with all his might, his vision began to blur. Klaus wondered if this was what the Jews had endured at the hands of the merciless Nazis.

     Berlin. 6 July 1945

Nikolay was crouching down, swinging back and forth, frustrated at Ferdinand for refusing to take him along in his attempt to search for Klaus. How could he have taken Emily and not him? With his gaze fixed on the ground, Nikolay pulled Klaus's warm jacket tighter around his shoulders. While studying in Moscow, he had heard gruesome stories about the fate of those arrested by the NKVD. At the time, he didn't believe them, but now they haunted him. Horrific images of brutal torture flooded his mind, but this time, it wasn't the faces of nameless victims that appeared; it was Klaus's. Wishing for himself to bear at least some of what Klaus was going through, Nikolay removed the jacket and held it tightly to his chest. As he wiped away his tears and runny nose, careful not to stain the precious cloth that had only recently belonged to Klaus, he caught a whiff of his cologne on it. He buried his face in the fabric, cherishing this last little piece of Klaus that he had with him.

Slowly, Klaus opened his eyes. However, the room remained pitch dark. Despite it being the middle of July, Klaus started shivering uncontrollably. He winced in agony as every inch of his body hurt from only trembling. Confused and with excruciating aches, Klaus patted his surroundings, realizing soon that he was laying on a damp concrete floor. As Klaus stroked his body to warm himself, he found out he was still naked, his skin burning in pain. The room, devoid of windows, felt even colder than the Russian winter. Curling into a ball, Klaus hugged his knees as he wistfully remembered the warmth of Nikolay's gentle hands and loving embraces. He rubbed his eyes to wipe away some tears and hoped that the darkness was just a result of his imagination. Klaus wondered what Nikolay was doing at that moment.

     Berlin. 8 July 1945

"Someone from the SS high command gave him in, hoping the Soviets would release him in exchange for Klaus," Emily explained upon her return, gently patting Nikolay's head as he swung back and forth while crouching in a corner.
"Have you seen him?" Nikolay asked hopefully, his hands trembling as he clutched Herr Kuchen to his chest. Emily shook her head, causing Nikolay to reluctantly sit on the floor.
"They told us he was taken somewhere in Poland, so Ferdinand went there to pressure them into releasing him," Emily continued, trying to reassure Nikolay, but he was no longer listening. He looked at Herr Kuchen, feeling unworthy of holding him after allowing Klaus's worst fear to come true. He reached into Klaus's jacket, which Nikolay had not taken off since receiving it, and pulled out his lighter. In a trance-like state, he walked outside, ignoring Emily's worried calls. Filled with rage, Nikolay returned inside with wood, placed it in the fireplace, and threw his Soviet pin, taken from the dead tanker in Ohrdurf, on top before setting it all on fire. He settled down with Herr Kuchen in his lap and Klaus's jacket on his shoulders, watching the insignia blacken and waiting impatiently for it to melt into nothingness. Nikolay had held onto that damned pin since retrieving it from the concentration camp; despite Klaus's beliefs about his home country, Nikolay had chosen to keep it, hoping that Klaus was unmaliciously wrong and that his motherland was truly how he was taught it was—the best. But after what happened at the American lparty, since that horrible day, Nikolay didn't even want to think about that damned place, those damned people, and their brainwashing. As he watched the insignia slowly bend in the smoldering fire, Nikolay placed Herr Kuchen next to him and pulled out his wooden little monkey from his pocket.

Suddenly, the door opened with a loud creak, startling Klaus. Still curled up in a corner, he used his hand to block the dim light, too harsh for his eyes, that flooded in. Klaus hadn't eaten, slept, or drank anything since being thrown into the cramped cell. He had no idea how much time had passed—was it ten minutes or ten days? As he lifted his head, Klaus saw that he was trapped in a concrete cube with no opening except for the open door, blocked by another Soviet soldier.
"You're just sitting here like you're in a damn sanatorium, Schwein, sleeping all day," he complained in Russian, tossing some white rags before slamming the door shut. Klaus stumbled through the darkness until he found the clothes on the ground. His fingertips became his eyes, the only sense that could provide him with any information. As he thoroughly felt the material, he realized it was a robe, likely some kind of inmate uniform. At that moment, Klaus didn't care what it was as long as it covered his exposed body. He didn't want his bare skin to be paraded around like a freak show. 

By the fireplace, Nikolay held Klaus's knife in one hand and the small wooden monkey in the other. Looking at the monkey's red star-adorned hat, Nikolay hated it. Carefully, he used the knife to remove the symbol without damaging the rest of the sculpture. Without any hesitation, he tossed the pieces into the fire and hid the monkey in his pocket. Turning his attention back to Herr Kuchen, Nikolay couldn't shake the thought of how lonely, terrified, and injured Klaus must be, despite being innocent. It broke his heart to know that Klaus was surrounded by enemies who despised him and wished to harm him, while Nikolay wasn't able to help. He couldn't even soothe Klaus's loneliness.

     ?. ? ? should be 1945

Klaus was abruptly awoken by a bucket of icy water being poured over him. Then he was dragged to an interrogation room, where a single bulb illuminated the entire space. Everything was too bright after the concrete cube.
"You're going to talk with us, Schwein, and see what will happen if you take your eyes off the bulb!" the Soviet officer shouted, while another soldier forcefully turned Klaus's head to face the lighthouse. The officer presented Klaus with a distorted, fabricated version of himself, one that the Soviets wanted to believe, not the real Klaus. He sat in a rotten wooden chair, hopeless, as he listened to their delusional stories about countless innocent Soviet soldiers being killed by torture. They were convinced that it was Klaus's torture. Every time he denied their horrific accusations, they repeatedly whipped his hands. Klaus's eyes began to burn, and his vision slowly turned white. But the blows to his wrists kept coming—hit, after hit, after hit.

    Berlin. 31 December 1917

After hit. Klaus saw the weapon—the bloodied metal ruler. It was his blood. As the strikes continued to come, Klaus's eyes started watering, but he was too terrified to scream or to utter a word.
"Are you out of your mind?" his Mother yelled, bursting into the room. She gently turned Klaus to face her, examining the damage done to his little hands. "You monster!" she shouted, while father rolled his eyes. "He needs stitches, you criminal!" his Mother demanded through tears.
"Watch your mouth!" father shouted, turning threateningly to her.
"You idiot, he'll get an infection or bleed out," she replied desperately, bringing Klaus closer to her chest. "Or do you want to kill him?" his Mother asked, horrified. Enraged, father left the room; a maid and chauffeur came to their aid at his orders. They rushed Klaus to the hospital as he allowed himself to cry and scream in pain while his Mother held him close.

     ?. ? ? should be 1945

Klaus was jolted awake by the light rays shining through the small window in the heavy door of his little concrete cube—his only safe haven.
"Enough resting; it's time for exercise," a Soviet soldier laughed, pointing his rifle through the small opening. "Start with some laps around the room and don't stop until I tell you to," he ordered. Klaus struggled to get up, his stomach aching from hunger and beatings. The last time he had eaten was with Nikolay before they completed the documents. As he paced around his small cube, Klaus couldn't help but think about his pets. He wondered how they were doing—the horses, Mr. Waffles, Marmelade, Teddy, his chubby squirrel, and even Emily's birds. He wished for them to be well fed and loved. Klaus hoped that if Nikolay had already forgotten about him, he would at least take care of his pets—the pets had no fault, they didn't deserve to suffer.

    Berlin. 13 August 1912

Klaus wandered around the yard, his assistant—his Mother following him closely behind, carrying all his 'tools'.
"Do you want to 'take a picture'?" she asked, amused as Klaus studied a tree. He quietly took the encyclopedia from her and flipped through it until he found what interested him—drawings of squirrels. His Mother watched as Klaus eagerly tried to satisfy his curiosity on his own, but then he remembered that he couldn't read yet.
"Mutti," he pleaded, approaching her, dragging his bear behind. "Herr Kuchen doesn't know what those rats are. Could you please tell him?" Klaus asked, handing her the book open to the page in question. His Mother chuckled.
"Those aren't rats; they are squirrels," she explained, crouching down to his level.
"Oh," Klaus sighed. "You see, Herr Kuchen, those aren't rats," he repeated, sheepishly gazing at the ground and fidgeting with his foot. "Do you think they're upset because I called them rats?" Klaus asked his Mother worriedly.
"I don't believe they are," she reassured him, caressing his cheeks. But Klaus didn't care; he approached the tree instead.
"I'm sorry I called you rats, you squirrels!" Klaus exclaimed. "And Herr Kuchen is sorry too!"
"They surely aren't upset now," his Mother chuckled, embracing Klaus from behind.
"Can I have one?" he asked, pointing to the top of the tree and jumping up and down excitedly.
"You can't, mein Schatz," she replied, heartbroken to refuse him anything. "They are living creatures just like you; they have their own lives," his Mother explained.
"They have their Mutti too?" Klaus asked in disbelief. As she shook her head, Klaus sat in front of the tree and extended his hands to his Mother. She handed him all his utensils and took a seat next to him on the grass, watching as Klaus made a 'picture' of the newly discovered animals.

     ?. ? ? should be 1945

After refusing to confess to the false accusations made against him, Klaus was once again used as a punching bag. He sought solace in his moldy, damp, and pitch-dark little concrete cube. Klaus tore strips from his bloodied robe and used them to tend to his wounds as best he could. Instinctively, he retreated to a corner when he heard the door unlock.
"What are we going to do with you?" an officer sighed in frustration, standing in the doorway.
"Let's use him as an example to teach the others a lesson, since we won't get any information out of him anyway," suggested the Soviet, who had beaten him upon his arrival. They slammed the door, leaving Klaus alone in his corner, curled up in a ball.

After some time, they returned and dragged Klaus outside, where the warm sun ached his skin. He longed to return to his concrete cube. With his vision blurred, Klaus could make out many people watching him from behind a barbed fence. The officer hung a placard around Klaus's neck and pushed him forward. Squinting and struggling to see, Klaus realized he was being shown a wooden cross resting on the ground.
"C'mon, you innocent Christ; you're about to repent for their sins," a Soviet officer giggled as another ordered Klaus to lift the cross. He could barely hold it on his shoulder, his skin burning at its touch.
"This is blasphemy! This is blasphemy!" Klaus whispered repeatedly, his legs shaking as he was paraded around the other prisoners. The Soviets initially hit him and ordered him to be quiet, but when they realized he may have gone mad, they started laughing and enjoying the gruesome spectacle they orchestrated.

Muttering under his breath, Klaus struggled to climb the hill, feeling as though his lungs would collapse. It was like climbing Everest, or rather, his own Golgotha. He couldn't help but feel like he was mocking something sacred. Though he wasn't particularly religious, Klaus couldn't bear to disrespect beliefs for which others had died protecting. Having realized it many times before, his protests and words wouldn't stop the suffering—it never had and never will. Fighting back would only make things worse. So, like a sacrificial lamb, Klaus remained silent as nails were driven through his palms and tight ropes bound him in place. Despite his blurred vision, he could hear the laughter of his tormentors as he shed tears. He wanted to cry out, but fear kept his mouth shut. The rain began to pour heavily, the cross planted firmly in the ground, forcing Klaus to stand in agony. As his ears rang and his vision faded, Klaus thought of his pets, his family, and his dear Nikolay, wishing for them to live long and happy lives. Lastly, he begged the Lord to forgive him for the profanity he had just committed.

    Berlin. 31 December 1917

"Klaus, Klaus!" his Mother whispered in the dark, gently shaking him awake. As he opened his eyes, she motioned for him to be quiet. She helped him change out of his hospital uniform, being careful of his stitched wrists. Without Klaus asking any questions, she quickly threw her own coat over her shoulders and helped him into his winter jacket. She then put on his boots, guiding him by his armpits instead of his bandaged hands. Quietly and carefully, she led him out of the hospital without encountering anyone. Klaus was shocked as he opened his eyes and took in the sights he had only seen in paintings: wide boulevards lit up by charming streetlights. The bustling crowds surrounding them were a bit overwhelming for him. His Mother extended her hands and spun around, letting the snowflakes fall onto her face.

"Are we going home by ourselves?" Klaus asked, clinging to his Mother's dress as the people and cars made him shiver.
"No, mein Schatz," she chuckled, excitedly cupping his face. "We're going to explore the big, beautiful free world together!" she explained, giving Klaus a comforting hug.

Chapter Text

   Berlin. 13 July 1945

After receiving the news that Ferdinand had successfully pressured the Soviets into arranging a trial for Klaus, Nikolay spent the entire night writing a ten-page letter detailing his testimony and advocating for Klaus's innocence.
"If anyone asks, you were a Polish prisoner," Ferdinand instructed Nikolay. "If they find out where you're really from," he added. Nikolay shook his head impatiently. The room was filled with Klaus's supporters, including the now-free factory workers, soldiers from his platoon, the professor, Emily, Pierre, and Fleur. "Everyone, please be careful with your words," Ferdinand reminded them, emphasizing the gravity of the situation. A single mistake could ruin Klaus's life. After they entered the courtroom, Nikolay nervously fidgeted with his foot, waiting for the proceedings to begin. Thankfully, representatives from all of the Allies were present, not just the Soviets. Once everyone, including the judges, had taken their seats, two Soviet soldiers assisted Klaus in walking to his seat, although more accurately they dragged him there.

Nikolay couldn't believe what he saw; Klaus was a mere shadow of his former self, barely recognizable. He trembled and struggled to sit up straight, his head hanging low, as low as possible, a long-sleeved shirt trying to hide away the brutality he had endured. But the cloth he wore, hanging as if Klaus were a skeleton, couldn't conceal the large red stains that were rapidly growing, eating the white of the fabric. His unkempt beard and hair likely hid even more injuries to his head. His curious blue eyes were now barely open, filled with shame and avoiding any eye contact, even when his name was called by his friends and relatives—they were no longer curious, and Nikolay doubted they would ever be again. What horrified him the most was that it had only been nine days since he last saw Klaus, and yet he had already been brutalized to such an extent. In less than two weeks, Klaus's life had been ruined and stained forever by those monsters.

Desperate, Nikolay wanted to get up, run to Klaus, embrace him, tend to his wounds, and plead for forgiveness. However, Emily and Pierre stopped him, preventing him from acting on his emotions. Some people were so horrified by the gruesome image that they exited the room; even Fleur left after Élise burst into tears. Enraged, Nikolay watched the court refuse to allow any medical care to be given to Klaus. There was nothing they could do for him except win the trial. Ferdinand presented the court with irrefutable evidence that not only was Klaus innocent, but the Soviets had also illegally arrested him on US-occupied territory and gruesomely violated his rights. However, Nikolay couldn't bear to listen to any of it. As he sat for excruciatingly long hours, so close yet so far away from Klaus, Nikolay imagined how satisfying it would be to get locked in a cell with his 'countrymen' who had hurt Klaus—no weapons, no interference, just them and Nikolay—to see who'd come out on top, who'd remain high and mighty unarmed. It became Nikolay's biggest wish, second only to embracing Klaus and tending to his wounds.

    Lower Silesian Forest. 11 July 1945

He didn't have time to return to his warm, cozy office and escape the rain when the phone rang. The commander answered, listening intently.
"I understood, sir," he replied, visibly frustrated. After slamming down the headset and settling into his soft sofa at his desk, the commander barked out an order. "Go and bring that damned Fritz back down; he's going back to Berlin," he commanded, not even considering going out himself in the rain. "Don't hit him in the head too hard; he has a trial coming up," he chuckled, sipping his tea and turning on the radio as his subordinates braved the harsh weather outside. Amidst the confused and horrified stares of the other prisoners, the two Soviets struggled to tear down the cross.
"He looks dead to me," one of them muttered, terrified.
"Well, if we don't want to end up like him, he better not be," his comrade replied calmly, checking Klaus's vitals as they were all drenched.

When the court finally declared Klaus innocent, Nikolay leapt from his seat and rushed to his side. Up close, he was even more horrified by Klaus's state, but there was no time to waste. Instead of the celebration they had expected with Klaus finally being freed by any ties with the Nazis, they were now rushing to the nearest hospital. Klaus remained silent, his eyes closed or staring into nothingness. While Nikolay checked Klaus's injuries through his filthy clothes, he couldn't hold back his tears. When he removed the darkened bandages from Klaus's hands, he was devastated to see his purple wrists and pierced palms. Overwhelmed, he buried his face in Klaus's dirty, matted hair. As he gently embraced Klaus, careful not to cause him more pain, he felt his racing heartbeat. Realizing how terrified Klaus must have been, Nikolay spoke to him slowly, reassuring him that everything would be alright. He showered Klaus with kisses on his head, not caring that they were not alone in the car.

"Excuse me, Ms. How long will we have to wait before we can transfer him to another hospital?" Ferdinand asked, watching rubble fall from the ceiling of the building that not long ago had been bombarded.
"He just underwent his first operations. You'll have to wait until his condition stabilizes," the nurse explained. She then went on to detail Klaus's injuries: broken ribs, organ damage, infections, malnutrition, severe dehydration, concussions, and more. Nikolay listened intently, and when his fears were confirmed by the nurse's statement that Klaus had indeed been crucified, he leaned on the floor for support as his legs began to give out. He eventually collapsed into a sitting position. "His first surgeries were successful, so he can have a visitor for five minutes," the nurse added. Seeing Ferdinand's determined expression, Emily nudged him and gestured towards Nikolay.
"He'll go," Ferdinand sighed, taking a seat instead.
"But be careful; we're not sure how much his eyesight has been damaged. He hasn't been seen by an oculist yet, but we're certain enough that his eyes have been affected," the nurse warned as she accompanied Nikolay. She closed the door softly after he entered the hospital lounge.

"It's me," Nikolay muttered, the nurse's words echoing in his head. Upon hearing him, Klaus slowly turned his head in the opposite direction. "I'm so sorry," he apologized. "We should've just returned home after signing off; I shouldn't have let you go to the party." Nikolay moved his chair closer to Klaus's bed and slowly lifted his palm to caress Klaus's head. He was horrified to see Klaus flinch. "What have they done to you?" Nikolay mumbled, quickly retrieving his hand to avoid making Klaus uncomfortable. After taking several deep breaths, he decided to keep his worries to himself; Klaus was already going through enough, so Nikolay had to stay strong and recollected for him. He repeatedly reassured Klaus that he'd remain by his side no matter what and that he didn't have to worry about anything anymore. "I made sure to feed your pets. You know Mr. Waffles and the horses miss you; they have no one to read their stories anymore," Nikolay chuckled, a hopeful smile spreading across his face as Klaus raised his gaze. "I'll make sure to bring you Herr Kuchen next time," he added, watching overjoyed as Klaus slowly turned his head, still not fully facing him. With a renewed sense of hope, Nikolay left the room when he was told to, aware that the doctors knew what was best for Klaus. But he wasn't going to leave any further than that door, though.

A bit ashamed, the nurse approached and sheepishly informed them that they would need to provide Klaus with his special food as the hospital was unable to offer anything other than standard meals.
"That's why I hate state hospitals," Ferdinand complained after she left.
"It's not their fault they were bombed," Emily calmly reminded him, sipping tea to ease her worries. Meanwhile, Nikolay repeated the nurse's instructions in his head, determined to memorize Klaus's dietary needs. After confirming that he wouldn't be able to see Klaus until the next day, Nikolay left the hospital, leaving Emily and Ferdinand clueless behind. As much as he wanted to stay, he knew he could be more helpful to Klaus by ensuring he was well fed rather than guarding his door all night. On his way home, Nikolay moved his fingers as if counting, determined not to forget Klaus's meal restrictions.

     Berlin. 14 July 1945

"C'mon, you need to eat something," Nikolay pleaded worriedly, still holding the spoon. He attempted once again to feed Klaus, but once again he turned his head in the opposite direction. "How are you going to heal if you're not eating, princess?" he asked, gently taking hold of Klaus's bandaged palm and caressing it with soft kisses. "Let's eat something, will ya?" Nikolay chuckled, trying to lift Klaus's mood, but he remained silent. Klaus looked out the window, the blurry trees, the burning sun shining, birds singing, and the rubble of Berlin crowning the whole view—he hated it, he hated it all. How much Klaus longed to pull the blinds, make everything pitch dark, get out of bed, hide in the corner, make it quiet, make it cold, make it safe. But he couldn't. All that was now left of him was almost nothing, at the mercy of those who either were paid to care or pitied him. Nothing was left of him except a burden. If only he could return to his safe concrete cube, where he wouldn't be seen or touched by anyone, won't be laughed at, or be a burden.
"Get out," Klaus muttered hoarsely, his throat hurting as he spoke. He knew that his pleas were never heard, but Klaus tried. And surely enough, without uttering a word, Nikolay let go of his hand and left the room.
"If you need me, just call; I'm outside," Nikolay informed him with a shaky voice, quietly closing the door behind.

"What happened?" Emily asked as Nikolay took a seat in the hallroom.
"He told me to leave," he replied, Klaus's first words since the party echoing in his head: a quiet, hurt but firm "Get out!" Ferdinand rolled his eyes and entered Klaus's lounge with a grin, while Emily took a deep breath and rubbed her forehead.
"I don't know if I should tell you this," she confessed while her husband was away. "But Klaus had been left many times before while he was in the hospital, even when being hospitalized directly from the frontlines," Emily revealed, knowing it wasn't her place but wanting to shed light on Klaus's doubts. Nikolay's hands instinctively curled into fists, his anger rising at the thought of Klaus being abandoned. He wanted to burst back into Klaus's room and tie himself onto his bed just to show him that he wouldn't go anywhere without Klaus. But before he could get up, Ferdinand returned happily from Klaus's lounge.
"Sign this," he demanded, handing Nikolay a pen and a paper that already had Klaus's signature. Reading the document, Nikolay's eyes opened in disbelief, signing his agreement for a certificate that officially made him Klaus's emotional and physical support partner until recovery.
"How did you convince him to approve it?" Emily asked, impressed as she read the document herself.
"I didn't convince him; he doesn't know what he sighed," Ferdinand chuckled, proud of his deeds.
"That's illegal," Emily scolded him, upset.
"No, it's not; it's his fault he didn't read it," Ferdinand replied frustrated.
"It's wrong!" Nikolay raised his voice.
"Then rip it; both of you," Ferdinand offered, raising a brow. Emily turned her gaze at the floor while Nikolay bit his fist, punching the wall before sitting down next to them angrily, leaving the paper in Ferdinand's hold untouched.

     Berlin. 15 July 1945

With a packed, delicious meal, Nikolay rushed to the hospital. He could feel his cheeks burn as he entered the lounge and saw Klaus graciously watching out the window. Nikolay couldn't explain the sudden butterflies; it certainly wasn't his first time seeing Klaus. Like the previous day, he asked repeated questions, wanting to know how he was feeling, only to be completely ignored again.
"Do you want to be tube fed?" Nikolay asked calmly, gently caressing Klaus's tormented hand. "Trust me, princess, it's not a pleasant feeling," he chuckled, hoping to convince Klaus to eat.
"Just leave already," Klaus whispered, looking away.
"No, I'm not leaving you," Nikolay replied in a whisper, continuing to kiss Klaus's hand. "I'll never leave you alone," he chuckled, speaking to Klaus as if he were a baby.
"Just go, like they always do. Don't waste your time," Klaus instructed with a trembling, raspy voice, his gaze turning to the ground. Nikolay took a deep breath; he wasn't angered by Klaus's doubts—he knew where they came from—but after hearing him, Nikolay was at a loss for words.
"I don't care how them bitches treated you before, but I'm not leaving," Nikolay replied firmly. "Nikusya, I won't leave you alone when you need someone the most," he pleaded, watching Klaus's emotionless face.
"Make it dark, please," Klaus muttered, defeated. Confused and overjoyed that Klaus didn't mention anything about leaving, Nikolay leaped out of his chair and pulled the blinds, making the room almost pitch dark.
"Do you like it this way?" Nikolay chuckled, struggling to make his way back to Klaus's bed. He received no response, but Nikolay didn't mind as long as he was allowed to stay. Taking hold of Klaus's hand once more and covering it in kisses, he decided to remain silent and not disturb Klaus's quietness anymore. Nikolay wasn't a patient person, but for Klaus, he could be.

    ?. ¿ ? ¿

Klaus was naked, his damaged and repulsive skin being watched by shadowy figures surrounding him. Laughter echoed from all directions; they were all laughing at him.
"Kill the Nazi freak! Kill the Nazi freak!" chanted the crowd, causing the earth to tremble and swallow Klaus. As he fell, he could see the shadows pointing at him in amusement. He landed in a chair and, horrified, realized he was in the interrogation room.
"You killed them!" shouted the Soviet officer, repeatedly stepping on Klaus's necklace cross with his boots.
"No, I didn't," Klaus pleaded with a shaky voice. Suddenly, the Soviet officer spun his chair around, revealing a deserted field instead of a wall. Klaus got up and slowly walked towards it, seeing immense hills and mountains made of money and dead bodies. As he wandered through the bloodied piles of money, covered in corpses and organs, Klaus felt a sudden palm on his shoulder.
"I'm so proud of you, my son," said father with a smile, shaking Klaus's hand. Terrified, Klaus pulled away and started running towards the gruesome hills, hearing father calling after him. On top of the biggest mountain, with body parts and golden coins under his feet, a wooden cross suddenly appeared behind Klaus, lifting him off the ground.
"You're unworthy; you're mocking my name," Jesus told him, facing Klaus. Lightning struck Klaus's cross, causing him to fall into darkness as the wooden sculpture disappeared. Instinctively, Klaus reached out for help, afraid of falling into the abyss. With his eyes closed, he felt his hand being grasped. When he looked up, he saw Nikolay smiling, holding onto him, and not letting him go.

     Berlin. 16 July 1945

Klaus suddenly snapped out of coma, his cheeks wet as Nikolay gently patted his head.
"Please make it dark," Klaus whispered with a shaky voice. Nikolay complied, turning off the lights and even pulling the blinds. Returning to his chair, he felt his hand being held by Klaus. Concerned for him but at the same time relieved that he wasn't rejected, Nikolay cupped Klaus's face, wiping away his tears. As Klaus broke down into hysteric sobs, Nikolay sat closer on Klaus's bed, reassuring him quietly that he wasn't alone and that what upset him was nothing more than a bad dream. Nikolay kissed his forehead, heartbroken, and continued to soothe Klaus until he fell silent. At that moment, Nikolay longed to embrace Klaus, hug him tightly without ever letting go, and listen to his now calmed heart. But he didn't; he knew such affection would cause Klaus pain in his injured state. Instead, Klaus struggled until he moved slightly to the edge of his bed, making room for Nikolay to lay down next to him. He was once again surprised when Klaus weakly grasped his hand. In response, Nikolay leaned in closer, making himself more comfortable, caressing Klaus's bandaged head. Hopeful because of the shy affection, Nikolay asked,
"Are you hungry?" he whispered in Klaus's ear.
"Have you eaten anything?" Klaus accused tiredly after the surgery.
"I mean, we could eat together," Nikolay suggested. He chuckled, already accustomed to Klaus's silence symbolizing a sheepish yes.

Nikolay pulled the blinds slightly, just enough for them to see, then he took a bite of the meal before feeding Klaus a bite, continuing to take turns. It was disturbing to see Klaus in such pain, with injuries all over his body, but after so much turmoil, it brought Nikolay a sense of peace—standing next to Klaus, holding hands, making sure he was recovering.
"Are you not sleeping with me?" Klaus asked curiously as Nikolay fumbled around in the dark room.
"I can't sleep with you right now," Nikolay replied, pushing an empty bed next to Klaus's. "You're like a fragile princess now, made of porcelain. I might accidentally hurt you while tossing in bed," he chuckled calmly, kissing Klaus's forehead before laying down and holding onto his hand. Until Klaus's broken ribs and other severe injuries healed, hand-holding would be their only form of embrace. But suddenly, Nikolay jolted up and placed Herr Kuchen closer to Klaus, covering him with the blanket up to his neck. "Or you'll be too hot?" he asked, realizing it was the middle of July. Tucking the covers lower, Nikolay planted another kiss on Klaus's forehead before returning to his original position. "Would you like a song?" he offered, brushing his thumb over Klaus's hand. After Klaus's silence, Nikolay sang Klaus's lullaby before settling in and drifting off himself, still holding onto Klaus's hand.

     Berlin. 17 July 1945

Klaus opened his eyes sluggishly, a smile forming on his face. However, his joy quickly turned to horror as he realized the room was empty. He began to breathe quickly and unevenly, his blurry gaze darting around the lounge in search of Nikolay. Klaus started shivering, his heart aching at the realization that once again he had been left behind. Why did he even expect it to be different this time? It never was. He raised his trembling, pierced palms to his face, desperately seeking solace. Suddenly, the door opened, and Nikolay entered, carrying several bags. Seeing Klaus's distressed state, he slammed the door shut and rushed to his side, taking hold of his hands.
"I thought you left," Klaus stuttered, horrified, seeking comfort in Nikolay's arms.
"I'm sorry I left you alone; I just went home to make you some food," Nikolay explained calmly. "I would never abandon you, princess," he mumbled, resting his head in the crook of Klaus's neck, reassured by his slowing heartbeat.

Nikolay fed Klaus again, eating his own portion at Klaus's insistence. He administered Klaus's pills, applied his creams, and dripped medicine into his eyes.
"Ferdinand talked with the staff, and they'll start transferring you to Switzerland tomorrow," Nikolay informed Klaus as he packed his few belongings. "We're finally going home," he exclaimed with excitement, relieved that Klaus's health was improving and they no longer had to worry about anything.
"But what if the court decides to strip me of all my money?" Klaus asked with his eyes closed. Nikolay frowned, feeling offended.
"Be grateful that you're already injured; I would've smacked the shit out of you," he replied, watching Klaus remain motionless. He couldn't believe that Klaus thought he was only staying by his side for the money. Instead of arguing further, Nikolay took a deep breath to calm his nerves and sat on Klaus's bed. "I'll get a job once you've recovered. You yourself said that I could get a good position with my diploma. I can take care of both of us and your little pets," Nikolay said with a hint of amusement, moving closer to Klaus's face as he laid with his eyes closed. "I'll learn more of your dog language, or I'll use French if it's spoken in Switzerland anyway. I'll go to work while you stay home by the lake, painting, learning how to cook," Nikolay whispered wistfully in Klaus's ear, smiling as he noticed Klaus's cheeks turning pink.
"Why?" Klaus muttered as Nikolay slowly kissed his burning face.
"Why what?" Nikolay replied, confused.
"Why would you willingly get stuck with a man who's older and disabled?" Klaus sighed, not daring to open his eyes.
"Are you questioning my taste, or what?" Nikolay chuckled, continuing to kiss Klaus's face. "You're not disabled; you're temporarily immobilized. You'll be able to run around again in no time," he reassured him, amused. "And what if you’re older? I'm not nine, unlike you," Nikolay laughed.
"I'm still a man, and society," Klaus began to argue, but was immediately interrupted.
"Oh, shut up," Nikolay protested, pulling away frustrated. "I'll wipe my whole ass with your society," he rolled his eyes, unsatisfied. "I'm not doing anything illegal," Nikolay complained. "At least not in Switzerland," he chuckled, placing a hurried kiss on Klaus's lips, silencing him, before quickly returning to packing their things.

     Zürich. 20 July 1945

Hospitalized, Klaus's condition improved significantly while staying at a private institution of Ferdinand's choosing. Nikolay was overjoyed to see Klaus reunited with his beloved pets. In order to make Klaus happy, Nikolay allowed his pockets to be searched and carefully inspected. Fortunately, he was also permitted to stay with Klaus in the hospital, soothing each other's nights when they had nightmares. In a relatively short amount of time, Klaus was given permission by the doctors to sit up, much to Nikolay's delight. This meant that Nikolay could now take Klaus with him wherever he went. It warmed Nikolay's heart to see the childlike joy on Klaus's face as he was pushed in a swing. Every day, Nikolay would take Klaus on long walks around the hospital's yard, enjoying the sunrise and sunset together. Even during his morning training, Nikolay would bring Klaus outside with him, either receiving instructions from Klaus or watching him draw. It would pass a long time before they could train together again, but Nikolay would be patient for Klaus.

Chapter Text

     Zürich. 16 May 1946

In the shower, Klaus frowned as he soaped Nikolay's body, taking a good look at his own in comparison.
"C'mon, turn around," Nikolay said, pulling Klaus out of his thoughts. Reluctantly, Klaus faced the other way and sheepishly allowed Nikolay to wash his damaged skin. With the image of Nikolay's trained physique in mind, Klaus felt dissatisfied, disgusted by his own. He didn't even notice when Nikolay turned off the water and tossed a towel onto his head. But seeing Nikolay's smile, he couldn't help but smile in return, despite his insecurities. They dried each other off and settled into bed, embraced. "Isn't it hurting?" Nikolay asked, resting his head on Klaus's chest to listen to his heart. Klaus shook his head, amused that Nikolay still asked that question even though his ribs had healed long ago. "What are you thinking?" Nikolay mumbled, kissing Klaus's chest.
"Don't you think something has changed about me?" Klaus asked thoughtfully, gazing into the distance.
"What do you mean?" Nikolay replied, confused, playing with one of Klaus's hands.
"My body," Klaus replied, turning his gaze away in shame.
"What about it?" Nikolay sat up, looking suspiciously at Klaus's avoiding eyes.
"I'm fat," Klaus gave a quiet, simple answer, causing Nikolay to roll his eyes.
"No, you're not," Nikolay argued, laying his head on Klaus's stomach, knowing that it must be his biggest insecurity. "You're nice, soft, and lovely, my pretty princess," he chuckled playfully, kissing Klaus's belly. Frustrated, Klaus turned and faced away, causing Nikolay's head to fall onto the bed. "If you're so upset," Nikolay whispered, embracing Klaus, his own ears turning pink as he refused to give up. "I wouldn't mind a training partner," he offered, brushing away some curly strands of hair. "Get to spend more time with you," Nikolay added, their faces almost touching. As Klaus listened to Nikolay's words, he couldn't help but smile and turn around, catching Nikolay in his arms and kissing the top of his head. "I knew I was romantic like that, but damn," Nikolay chuckled, amused by Klaus's reaction.

    Somewhere near the Volga River. 7 July 1927

Nikolay was peacefully eating his breakfast when he heard the gate open. He was surprised, not expecting his Mother to come home from work so early. Without thinking, he immediately resorted to his old strategy.
"I hope you had a good week at work," Nikolay said quietly as he took her bags and set them down on the porch of their house. He then quickly ran and climbed up the tree. In all his years, Nikolay had never had to meet his Mother at the bus station—the entire village would already do it for him, complaining to her as soon as she returned. "Okay, I'm ready, Ma!" Nikolay shouted from the tree as his Mother looked at him with frustration.
"Why did you steal from Mr. Volkov?" she yelled from below, grabbing the broom from outside. As she approached the tree, she poked at Nikolay from the ground, but the kid climbed higher, whining.
"Did he really get butthurt over a handful of cherries?" Nikolay replied, amused. "I thought he was smarter than that," he muttered under his breath.
"Boy, watch your mouth!" his Mother scolded him, annoyed. "Why did you burn Mrs. Federov's haystack?" she continued, crossing her arms in defeat.
"I dunno," Nikolay shrugged. "I wanted to see if it'll burn," he explained curiously.
"It's a haystack; if you set it on fire, it's obviously going to burn," she replied, flabbergasted.
"Yeah, but I wanted to see it," Nikolay repeated more firmly, causing his Mother to shake her head.
"And why were you stealing eggs from Mrs. Lebedev?" she asked, taking a seat tired after the long road.
"When did that old hag even have time to snitch me? I took them this morning," Nikolay wondered aloud, making his Mother sigh. "But look how good of a breakfast I made myself with them," he said joyously, pointing to his unfinished meal.
"Now tell me, you little devil, with that damned Mother who raised you, don't we have eggs at home?" she asked, gesturing to the chickens roaming around the yard.
"It seems like we do, Ma," Nikolay chuckled. "But I wanted to see if hers tasted better," he replied truthfully as his Mother shook her head, listening.
"What am I going to do with you?" she complained tiredly. Nikolay quietly climbed down from the tree.
"You'll love me very much because you're my Ma," he replied sheepishly, fidgeting with his foot. Frustrated, his Mother slapped him on the back of the head before hugging him.
"Did they taste better?" she asked, still holding her son in her embrace.
"They were bigger too," Nikolay answered excitedly as his Mother kissed his head, allowing him to resume his meal made out of stolen eggs.

     Zürich. 17 May 1946

After their training session, Klaus laid on the ground, gasping for air.
"How are you feeling?" Nikolay asked, concerned. He wiped Klaus's drenched forehead, barely affected by the exercises.
"Awesome!" Klaus laughed, joyful to be working on improving himself again. "C'mon, or you'll be late for work," he added, still struggling to catch his breath. They showered before Nikolay left for work, exchanging a goodbye kiss. Nikolay hurried through the suburbs, hoping not to miss his bus. Back at home, Klaus made sure all his pets were fed and played with before he began ironing and folding the laundry that Nikolay had washed. Occasionally, he had to shoo away Mr. Waffles from the window as the donkey was eager to chew on the curtains. While he worked, Klaus listened to the radio. His attention was caught by an article about tourism in remote places, captivated by the picturesque beauty being described. He was so lost in the radio show that he didn't notice when Mr. Waffles began taking a taste of the curtains again. It wasn't until the weather forecast came on that Klaus snapped back to reality, realizing he had almost burned one of his shirts. He frowned when he heard that it would rain in the afternoon.

With several bandaids on, a warm meal in hand, and almost having burned the house down several times, Klaus brushed away some flour from his cheeks before leaving. He made sure his pets were safely sheltered from the storm before driving away.
"Excuse me, Barbra," Klaus said upon arriving at Nikolay's workplace. "Could you please call Nikolay?" he asked, already familiar with the receptionist.
"He left half an hour ago," she replied, sounding bored as she continued to do paperwork. Confused, Klaus took a seat in the hallway, certain that Nikolay's shift still had several hours left. He waited until it started raining heavily outside, and eventually Nikolay entered the building, drenched and holding a package. Frustrated by the cold shower he received, Nikolay's mood changed when he saw Klaus, and a smile spread across his face.
"I left to grab some food," Nikolay explained as Klaus wrapped his dry jacket over his shoulders. "What's with your hands?" Nikolay asked, taking hold of Klaus's palms and gently caressing them.
"I cooked something for you," Klaus replied amused. Touched by the gesture, Nikolay hugged Klaus.
"Thank you," he whispered, letting go to avoid getting Klaus wet. They held hands under the counter, away from the receptionist's gaze. "Barbra, take this. I hope you're hungry," Nikolay chuckled, placing his takeout on her desk and quickly sneaking in.

Inside his office, Nikolay lazily settled at his desk, with Klaus sitting in the chair opposite him. He eagerly dug into the meal, famished after a long day of work.
"Be honest; how is it?" Klaus asked, clasping his hands together in anticipation, gazing at Nikolay with a puppy expression.
"Perfect," Nikolay chuckled, continuing to eat quickly.
"Really?" Klaus replied in disbelief. As Nikolay shook his head excitedly, Klaus leaped out of his chair, catching the key that was tossed at him. He locked the door to the office before settling comfortably in Nikolay's lap.
"You'll get cold," Nikolay complained, wiping his hands clean.
"Or I'll warm you up," Klaus argued, adjusting his jacket over Nikolay's shoulder. Amused, Nikolay embraced Klaus, holding him close as he finished his work. Curiously following Nikolay's fast hand, Klaus struggled to understand all the symbols scribbled by him. He leaned his forehead against Nikolay's temple, patiently waiting for the clock to reach the fifth hour.

"You know what I've been thinking?" Klaus began as Nikolay leaned on the back of the chair, his shift finally over. "Why don't we visit your Mom?" he pleaded. After the radio show about rustic locations, Klaus longed to see Nikolay's village and stay there, even if only for a short while, to experience the place where the most important person in his life grew up.
"Absolutely not," Nikolay replied firmly, resting his palms under the back of his head.
"Why not?" Klaus mumbled, snuggling closer. "Don't you miss your Mom?" he added, concerned.
"I do, but I'm not going back there," Nikolay argued wistfully at the thought of his Mother.
"You don't want to see your home, Kol?" he pleaded, kissing Nikolay's cheek in an attempt to persuade him. Klaus glanced over the disorganized desk and noticed a picture of himself from his childhood, the only photo on Nikolay's desk. "You don't even have any meaningful things from before the war," he complained, taking the photo depicting little Klaus.
"It's too risky to return," Nikolay said, rubbing his eyes lazily.
"How? We could go as two Swiss tourists discovering the rustic Russian lands," Klaus suggested, setting the frame back in its place.
"After what happened at the party, I'm not going there, and I'm not negotiating or arguing with you about it," Nikolay gave his final reply, turning his chair and gazing at the harsh weather outside. "For fuck's sake, how are we getting back home?" he complained, still drenched and not wanting to run through the rain to the bus station.
"I'll drive us home," Klaus reassured him, causing Nikolay to sigh in relief. However, Klaus was still disappointed that he couldn't convince Nikolay. But he wasn't about to give up either.

    Moscow. 14 May 1935

"You better tell me now what you did and not let me find out from the principal," his Mother advised.
"What could he have done?" the professor reassured her, chuckling amusedly.
"See, Ma, Prof knows me better!" Nikolay protested, smiling mischievously. His Mother rolled her eyes, and they entered the office.
"Mrs. Ivushkin, if we didn't know how far away you work, we would honestly change our monthly meeting to weekly ones," the principal sighed, not even greeting them, causing Nikolay to roll his eyes.
"What did he do?" she asked, taking a seat.
"Well, for starters, Nikolay," the principal began, turning to him. "Why did you call your literature teacher illiterate?" he asked, causing his Mother to turn pale as the professor chuckled.
"I called her illiterate because she is indeed illiterate," Nikolay muttered, gazing away. "It's not my fault she writes a sentence with four different mistakes," he complained.
"Mhm," the principal said skeptically, looking over the list of mischief. "Why did you come to history class drunk?" he added, causing his Mother to face him, frowning in anger.
"C'mon, principal, it's not fair; you know it was Petrov's birthday; everyone drank, and you're only blaming me?" Nikolay pleaded, frustrated. "At least I didn't start throwing things around the class," he complained quietly as the professor wiped away some tears from laughing.
"But the meeting is about you, isn't it?" the principal pointed out, causing Nikolay to roll his eyes. "Would you mind showing us your math copybook?" he requested. Reluctantly, Nikolay retrieved an almost paper-thin, rumpled, stained notebook from his backpack and placed it on the desk. "What about your chemistry one?" the principal suggested. Instead of taking out another notebook, Nikolay simply turned to a different page in the same one. "And for literature?" he added, Nikolay once again showing them another page. "And physics?"
"I don't have one," Nikolay replied. "The board is my notebook!" he protested, seeing his Mother's angry face. "Why didn't you just say, 'Kolya, show us your grades in math, chemistry, literature, and physics' instead?" Nikolay protested, crossing his arms.
"Please tell me that's all," his Mother sighed, shaking her head.
"Yes, it is—for this week," the principal replied with a straight face.
"This week?!" she repeated, concerned. "But it's only Tuesday!" his Mother pointed out. In response, the principal shrugged understandingly.
"Why aren't you coming to music class?" he continued.
"Why do I even need them? I can't sing for shit," Nikolay retorted.
"Well, you'd better learn because if you fail music, you'll have to repeat the whole tenth grade," the principal announced, making the professor and his Mother look at Nikolay, their faces pale.
"Don't worry, principal, I'll get him music tutoring," the professor reassured, patting Nikolay's worried Mother on the shoulder.
"No, you won't; I'm not singing nothing," Nikolay protested.
"Yes, you will; you'll not repeat tenth grade because of music class!" his Mother demanded, making Nikolay sigh in annoyance.

     Zürich. 2 June 1946

After implementing some strategic tactics, Klaus successfully convinced Nikolay to visit his home. When Nikolay was on vacation, they carefully packed their car, with Nikolay bringing two shirts and Klaus almost his entire wardrobe. Before leaving, Klaus made sure his pets would be well taken care of by his trusted Emily. Equipped with a camera, pen, and diary, Klaus was eager to begin their journey. He couldn't contain his excitement, grinning like a child as he looked out the window. Even in the Swiss countryside, he was captivated by the charming rustic houses, lush green trees, and colorful flowers, but most of all, the animals. Klaus would sigh every time they passed a dog, cow, or anything moving, disappointed that he couldn't stop to pet them.

     Somewhere near the Bug River. 4 June 1946

Near the Soviet Union border, Nikolay stopped the car and began rearranging their bags before reaching the checkpoint.
"I'll talk; just play along if anything," Nikolay advised, placing a bottle of French wine gifted by Pierre on top of their luggage. Klaus shook his head and double-checked their documents. As they stopped, Nikolay muttered a greeting and handed over their papers. Klaus stepped out of the car to stretch his legs.
"It says here you were born in the Ivanov region," the officer said skeptically, causing Klaus to feel uneasy.
"Yes, but my Mother immigrated after my Father died fighting for the Red Army during the revolution. She believed the tsar would return," Nikolay explained with feigned sadness. "I actually came to visit my home after fighting in the war," he added, trying to sound nostalgic. The officer seemed to be fully invested in the story, nodding sympathetically. If Klaus didn't know the truth, he would have believed Nikolay's tale.
"You served in the war?" the officer asked, impressed.
"Yes, I enlisted in the US army; they paid better," Nikolay joked, making the officer laugh. "We actually fought together," he added, pointing to Klaus. "He's my commander; he saved my ass from the Krauts," Nikolay said proudly, causing the officer to turn to Klaus in disbelief. "I thought it would be a shame not to see our country at least once. I wanted to show him some culture," Nikolay lied, and the officer handed back their passports with a smile. After a superficial check of their car in the dark, the officer frowned when he opened the trunk.
"What's this?" he asked, holding up the bottle of wine. Nikolay grinned, knowing that they weren't allowed to bring it across the border.
"Sir, it's a small attention from France," he replied charmingly.
"For me?" the officer asked in disbelief. After Nikolay nodded, the officer grinned and allowed them to go, taking the gift with him as he returned to his office.

If Klaus believed Nikolay was a reckless driver before, after passing the border, there were no rules for him anymore.
"Why are you driving like this? We're not in a hurry," Klaus pleaded as Nikolay sped through the dark, empty, old roads like an off-road champion.
"I want to get there faster. And I don't care; there are no polices," Nikolay laughed. "Well, there are, but we're too poor to give them any cars to chase around," he added, amused.
"How did you even get your driver's license?" Klaus asked, not even bothering to look at the speedometer as a cloud of dust trailed behind them.
"My exam was like that: 'Do you know the acceleration?', 'Do you know the breaks?' 'Passed!'," Nikolay explained proudly. "Jokes on them, I didn't even have time to say no," he laughed, noticing Klaus's horrified expression and slowing down a bit to ease his anxiety. Eventually, when Nikolay grew too tired to continue driving, they parked by a forest and turned the car seats into a makeshift bed. They laid down comfortably, holding each other close. Nikolay sang Klaus to sleep, and soon after, he drifted off himself, exhausted.

    Moscow. 14 May 1935

"Why can't you just stay put in your seat like a normal child?" his Mother scolded him outside of the school. Nikolay looked away, annoyed.
"I think it's fine as long as he gets good grades," the professor chuckled as they walked away.
"No, it's not!" his Mother protested. "How will he live in society if he can't follow basic rules?" Nikolay slowed down, walking closely behind to give them some space.
"That's where I disagree," the professor dismissed. "I don't want him to blindly follow orders like a dog; he needs to be creative," he pointed out, laughing.
"Coming to school drunk isn't creativity," his Mother sighed tiredly.
"Maybe not, but it shows he's not afraid to challenge authority; those are the kind of people who succeed in life," the professor said, taking hold of her arm and walking together.
"But what if he fails tenth grade because of his bravado?" his Mother worriedly tightened her grip on his arm.
"He won't; I'll get him music lessons; he'll learn to sing, maybe play an instrument too," the professor reassured her without a hint of worry.
"No way," Nikolay protested from behind them, startling his Mother, who had forgotten he was following them. "I'm not a soprano, and I'm not gonna be!" he exclaimed, running in front to face them. Before his Mother could argue, the professor patted her hand to calm her anger.
"If they offer music lessons in school, there must be a reason for you to learn it; you just don't know it yet," he said calmly, causing Nikolay to roll his eyes.
"Gimme one of those so great reasons," Nikolay challenged, making the professor pause in thought.
"It'll help you impress girls," he suggested, causing Nikolay to make a face of disgust.
"I see you doing it just fine without any music, Prof, so I'll manage it too!" Nikolay declared, causing his Mother to turn red. However, he took off running, laughing before he could face any consequences.

     Byelorussian S.S.R.. 4 June 1946

After their workout near the forest, Nikolay checked the car to make sure everything was in order. When they were ready to go, he turned around to look for Klaus and found him already standing behind him with a mischievous grin, hiding something in his hands.
"I have something for you," Klaus said excitedly, squinting his eyes in anticipation.
"What?" Nikolay asked, curious.
"Surprise!" Klaus exclaimed, revealing a frog that jumped onto Nikolay's shoulder, startling him. Entertained, Klaus laughed heartily at Nikolay's initial confusion.
"Dang it," Nikolay chuckled once he realized what had happened. However, Klaus quickly forgot his amusement, spooning Nikolay in the opposite direction.
"Look there," he instructed quietly, resting his arm on Nikolay's shoulder as he pointed at a field. "There are cows," Klaus chuckled happily. Uncertain, Nikolay turned his head at him, furrowing his brows, searching for an explanation. "I have to pet them," Klaus pleaded, making a sad face and taking advantage of Nikolay's attention to persuade him. In response, Nikolay burst into laughter before approaching the animals, with Klaus rushing behind, jumping on his back. Surprised, Nikolay struggled to maintain his balance before carrying Klaus and fulfilling his child-like curiosity.

     Moscow. 6 June 1946

Upon arriving in Moscow, their first task was to purchase theater tickets.
"You can't go to the theater dressed like that," Klaus chuckled at Nikolay's casual attire. Frustrated, Nikolay had to change into one of Klaus's suits before they left. The ballet, opera, or whatever it was, proved to be quite interesting, or at least that's what Klaus told Nikolay after it ended. However, Nikolay ended up falling asleep before it was even halfway through. Despite this, he didn't complain as long as Klaus was entertained and he could rest comfortably, leaning his head on Klaus's shoulder and holding pinkies. Nikolay found it much more exciting to listen to Klaus enthusiastically recount the story in great detail as they wandered through the central park. He was surprised that he was so easily swayed into attending such a 'cultural' event at least once in his lifetime.

    Boston. 17 August 1936

Sitting at his desk, surrounded by students from all around the globe, Nikolay took a deep breath to calm himself. Never before had he studied so much for an exam. The professor's words echoed in his mind, continuously reminding him that the MIT admission test would be much harder than the one he had taken to be admitted into the foreign student program, more challenging than what the professor had prepared him for. As the lady distributing the test papers passed by, leaving several sheets on his desk, Nikolay couldn't bring himself to look at them. The sight of other students getting up and leaving only added to his anxiety. Eventually, he mustered the courage to turn over the papers and see the exercises. To his surprise, he burst into laughter, struggling to contain himself.
"Please remain quiet," one of the observers instructed, circling around the classroom.

Nikolay completed the exercises without using any practice sheets, writing directly onto the exam paper. He couldn't help but laugh at himself for believing the professor's stories. After finishing, he checked his work multiple times to make sure he hadn't missed any exercises. As he proofread, he noticed that no one else had turned in their exams yet. Bored, Nikolay rested his head on the desk, not wanting to be the first one to leave. 
"Excuse me, young man, the time is up," an observer announced. Nikolay rubbed his eyes sleepily and handed over his papers before rushing outside, where many candidates were still discussing with their mentors.
"You lied to me!" Nikolay exclaimed, rushing to the professor.
"What took you so long? I thought you fell asleep there," the professor laughed, amused, as he handed Nikolay something to eat.
"I did," Nikolay replied between rushed bites, hungry after so much thinking.
"Wasn't it better to be properly prepared and sleep during the exam rather than struggling?" the professor chuckled, adjusting some of Nikolay's unkempt hair. In response, Nikolay nodded in agreement, munching on his meal and ruffling his hair back to its original state.

     Moscow. 7 June 1946

Before heading to his village, Nikolay had to see the professor. He brought a present, and they rang the bell at his home, waiting for him to answer.
"That's weird," Nikolay complained after a long silence. Klaus suggested they go to the university to see if he was there.
"Are you looking for the professor?" an older lady asked as she unlocked the door to her apartment.
"Yes," Nikolay replied eagerly, turning to her.
"He moved out; he retired," she informed them.
"Retired?" Nikolay repeated in disbelief. "But he wasn't old," he argued. The woman shrugged, saying she didn't know why he retired or where he moved. Disappointed, Nikolay left, with Klaus trying to reassure him that everything would be fine. With a heavy heart, the two continued on their long journey.

    Moscow. 1 September 1932

During their first high school lesson, the class teacher asked the students to introduce themselves. Out of all his classmates, Nikolay stood out as the youngest and shortest. He was last in line to present along with his desk mate.
"I'm Petrov, and I don't smoke or drink," he declared with feigned sincerity, even placing his palm on his heart, making Nikolay roll his eyes.
"Really, you don't drink?" the teacher asked in disbelief, as the other students chuckled.
"I don'ts!" the student repeated, shaking his head.
"It's 'I don't', you illiterate!" Nikolay corrected, unable to remain silent.
"It seems we have a professor here; why don't you introduce yourself?" their teacher suggested.
"Firstly, excuse our dog's language," Nikolay said to the teacher, pointing at Petrov. "He doesn't have any respect for us cultured people," he added, shaking his head in mock disappointment.
"Are you in fourth grade?" a classmate interrupted, poking fun at Nikolay's height, causing another round of laughter.
"No, I'm in fifth," Nikolay replied quickly. "I'm sorry, teach; the fans were calling me," he added, remembering that the teacher was present too. Before Nikolay could introduce himself, Petrov started pinching him. "I'm fucking talking now!" Nikolay shouted in frustration, hitting Petrov and causing him to stop, grunting in pain. "So, I'm Ivushkin. I drink and I smoke," he declared nonchalantly, making his classmates laugh and the teacher's jaw drop. "And I'm honoring you with my presence only because I was too smart for Harvard," Nikolay complained, causing the teacher to blink in confusion and not even attempt to silence the class. "But don't worry, in ten years, my name will be on the director's office door at Harvard," he finished, taking his seat as the teacher opened and closed her mouth several times.

     Somewhere near the Klyazma River. 8 June 1946

Nikolay parked their car in front of a wooden fence. Noticing Klaus's excitement, he told him amused,
"We're visiting a friend first," he chuckled, Klaus's smile not dropping in the slightest. Shortly after, Petrov came outside as the dogs barked to see what happened. "It's me, you alcoholic!" Nikolay exclaimed as Petrov squinted angrily from the porch of his house.
"Ivushkin? Is that you?" he laughed, approaching them. "Come in, why are you standing there?" Petrov offered happily. He told his wife to set the table as they entered the guest room. Taking a closer look, Nikolay noticed that Petrov was missing half of his left arm. When he asked about it, he explained how he lost it on the frontlines. As Petrov's wife set the food and drinks, Nikolay took his turn to share his wartime story. Petrov laughed heartily as he listened to how many times Nikolay had deceived the Nazis. "Did you end up in Harvard with your professor?" Petrov chuckled as he took a shot.
"No," Nikolay sighed. "I was still too smart for them," he complained, causing laughter around him.
"But what's the professor doing?" Petrov asked, fidgeting with his fork as he looked at his guests.
"I don't know," Nikolay muttered worriedly. "I was told he retired; I couldn't find him in Moscow," he explained as Petrov shook his head in understanding.
"How are you doing now? You had such big dreams," Petrov asked. He then turned to Klaus and added, "He was the smallest and at the same time the most mischievous of us all," he laughed together with Klaus as Nikolay grinned proudly. "But he had the biggest dreams too," Petrov muttered wistfully. Nikolay reassured him that he had over-achieved his goals and was happily settled with a family of his own. With a big embrace and an exchange of beverage bottles between Nikolay and Petrov, they parted ways.

Even as the sun started to set, Nikolay continued driving, taking shortcuts through multiple forests. Eventually, as darkness slowly started to settle, he pulled into a small village.
"We're here," Nikolay muttered anxiously, his mind overwhelmed with thousands of emotions. Klaus took hold of his hands, kissing them and reassuring him that there was nothing to worry about. While the villagers from neighboring houses came to investigate the loud noise, Nikolay climbed over the fence, opened the gate, and parked their car in his yard.
"Oh my goodness!" his Mother exclaimed in disbelief. "Kolya?" she mumbled, rushing towards him and bursting into tears.
"Damn, you're so sad that I came; you're crying?" Nikolay chuckled, the villagers looking at them nosily. His Mother slapped him on the back of his head before showering him with kisses.
"I fucking told you not to join the army!" she yelled, hitting him on his back.
"Wait, wait!" Nikolay shouted as he climbed his tree in the dim light. Klaus watched, confused by the spectacle.
"Get down, you devil; the whole village is looking at you!" his Mother demanded, embarrassed.
"Fuck your village and fuck your villagers too!" Nikolay shouted, making Klaus chuckle from underneath.
"They can hear you!" his Mother said through gritted teeth.
"Really? How long I've waited to say this!" Nikolay exclaimed excitedly. "Fuck you and fuck your village too!" he shouted as loud as he could, making several old ladies shake their heads and mumble in disappointment, crossing themselves. His Mother wanted to scold him further when the professor emerged from their house, looking sleepy, confused, and wearing a night robe. At the sight of him, Nikolay burst into laughter. "We found our professor too!" Nikolay exclaimed to Klaus, who was watching him attentively, concerned that he might fall. "Or should I call you Pops?" he asked, feeling as though his belly might burst from all the laughter.

"What are you all looking at?" Nikolay shouted at the villagers, interrupting their gaze. "Don't you have cows to feed and kids to take care of? It's late; go to sleep!" His Mother shook her head disapprovingly.
"You cursed devil, with that damned Mother who raised you!" she scolded.
"Ma, that's not how you treat a war hero!" Nikolay complied, getting down to hug his 'Pops'. After his Mother took countless deep breaths to ease her anger, she set the table for them and turned on the gas lamps in the dark room. Klaus smiled, taking in the rustic atmosphere. Despite being in a foreign place, he felt at home, as if he too had grown up there with Nikolay. Proudly, Nikolay introduced Klaus, telling his Mother and the professor their courageous stories from the frontlines, how they saved each other, and how they both ensured the other survived. He recounted Klaus's brave acts, their hard-to-believe reunion in the concentration camp, and their courageous escape. Klaus's heart warmed as he listened intently, feeling his cheeks flush as Nikolay spoke so proudly of him.

After Nikolay's Mother thanked Klaus repeatedly and he assured her that she had nothing to thank him for, they said their goodnights.
"Is this your childhood room?" Klaus asked as Nikolay brought in some of their luggage.
"Mhm," he mumbled, tossing himself lazily onto the bed, his muscles sore.
"I have to see everything!" Klaus pleaded, crouching down next to the bed, their faces almost touching. Turning his head slightly, Nikolay could only see Klaus's beautiful blue, curious eyes watching him attentively. Without asking if he was willing to wait until tomorrow, Nikolay got up with a smile, wanting to make Klaus happy as soon as possible. He grabbed one of the gas lamps and took him on a tour of the small room. Klaus watched everything attentively, memorizing every detail of the space where his little monkey grew up.

To fit both of them in the small bed, Nikolay laid on top of Klaus, carefully resting his head on Klaus's scarred ribcage, listening to his heart carefully.
"Does your chest hurt?" Nikolay mumbled, brushing his fingers gently over his healed scars. Klaus shook his head, wrapping his arms around Nikolay's body, bringing him closer, and caressing his head gently. "Do you want your song?" Nikolay chuckled, feeling snuggled warmly and comfortably. After Klaus sheepishly nodded, Nikolay sang their lullaby, making sure to keep his voice quiet, only for Klaus to hear; he didn't want to prove the professor right.

Chapter Text

     Somewhere near the Volga River. 9 June 1946

In the morning, Klaus washed his face outside as the sun was rising. The professor and Nikolay's Mother exited the house quietly, both nicely dressed.
"Tell Kolya when he'll wake up that we left for the market and not to burn the village until we return," she pleaded while Klaus wiped his face dry. After receiving reassurances from the professor that Nikolay would never do such a thing, the two left.

Suddenly, Klaus was startled by a child's voice,
"Who are you, Mr.?" Checking his surroundings, he noticed several kids peering through the fence, curious. Klaus quickly threw a t-shirt over his head before opening the gate.
"You look weird," a younger child pointed out, but the others shushed him, even placing a palm over his mouth.
"What do you mean?" Klaus asked sheepishly, afraid that the sincere children were talking about his scarred skin.
"You don't look Russian," the same child mumbled through the hand covering his mouth. Klaus chuckled, relieved.
"Well, I'm not Russian," he confirmed, amused, crouching down to seem less threatening. All the children opened their mouths in shock.
"Where are you from then?" another whispered.
"He has dark, curly hair; maybe he's African," someone else suggested.
"You're stupid; in Africa they have dark skin," another corrected. Klaus struggled to keep a straight face, not wanting to offend the little scientists trying to label their new discovery.
"What if he's a Nazi that's going to eat us!" a child gasped, making Klaus's blood run cold.
"No way; my Father said them Nazis have blond hair," another protested, and Klaus sighed with relief.
"What language do you speak besides Russian?" one of the children asked thoughtfully, the others nodding in agreement.
"Well, many," Klaus chuckled, disappointing the kids and ruining their good lead.
"What if he's from many places at once, and that's why he speaks more languages?" a little one asked.
"His Mother didn't birth him several times, you idiot; it's obvious he learned to speak afterwards," a girl pointed out. "Just tell us where you're from," she added, fed up with trying to guess. Smiling, amused to be the center of attention, Klaus revealed,
"I'm from..." but he suddenly stopped, realizing it was a bad idea to say Germany. "From Switzerland," he stuttered thoughtfully.
"Sweater land?" the children murmured, confused. "A land with sweaters?" they questioned, making Klaus burst into laughter.
"No, no," an older kid complained. "That's the country where chocolate and watches come from; we learned in geography," he explained.
"So, he lives in a chocolate house with lots of clocks on every wall?" another asked, and the others nodded in agreement, thinking they had solved the mystery. Klaus chuckled, wiping his tears, happy to be seen as a quirky human living in a chocolate house rather than a terrifying Nazi eating children.

He noticed a group of animals behind—cows, horses, goats, geese—and smiled curiously.
"What are you doing with all of them?" Klaus questioned, pointing at the diverse herd.
"We're taking them to the field," they explained.
"Alone? Without your parents?" Klaus replied, concerned.
"It's Sunday; our parents go to the market," the group clarified. "Isn't it how it's done in the land of sweaters?" one of them asked, confused. Klaus shook his head, causing the children to gasp in surprise. "You never went to the field with the cows while playing with other children?" they asked, saddened as Klaus shook his head again.
"If we show him how it's done, do you think he'll teach us how to make watches?" the girl asked thoughtfully.
"Why watches and not chocolate?" a younger boy complained as Klaus observed the discussion.
"Watches are more expensive," she explained.
"Don't be greedy; what will he tell the sweater kids—that the Russians are profiteers? Let's teach him anyway!" the 'elders' of the group suggested, starting to walk away with their little zoo. "Aren't you coming?" they asked, seeing that Klaus wasn't joining them. A smile formed on his face as Klaus got up and rushed after them, closing the gate behind.

When Nikolay woke up, he was confused to find the entire yard empty except for the chickens. If he knew his parents probably were at the market, he had no clue where Klaus could be. Despite his worries, Nikolay tried to reassure himself that Klaus was old enough to explore on his own. He absentmindedly took his Mother's horse and cow and headed to the field, his mind filled with thoughts of where Klaus was. However, when he reached the green hill, Nikolay burst into laughter at the heartwarming sight of Klaus playing football with the children. Relieved, he approached them.
"We have pets too?" Klaus asked excitedly.
"They're not pets; they're our version of Volkswagen," Nikolay chuckled, patting the horse's neck before lying down on the soft grass to continue his nap. Klaus spent the rest of the day babysitting pets, children, and a little monkey. He didn't let the animals run away, carved small toys for the kids out of dried wood, and made sure his little monkey wouldn't turn the whole village upside down.

As the villagers returned from the market, Nikolay was annoyed by the young women who greeted and giggled at him, waking him up each time.
"Don't you want to come with us; eat some pie?" a group of them suggested.
"Don't you want to go meow somewhere else and let me rest; I can bake my own pies," he replied, pissed. "Goddammit, they're so annoying," Nikolay complained after they left.
"I think they're just trying to be nice," Klaus suggested, patting his shoulder in an attempt to calm him down.
"I think they like you," the little girl corrected absentmindedly, playing with the wooden toys alongside the other children who nodded in agreement.
"I think they should go f-" Nikolay stopped himself before saying, 'fuck themselves'. "Go find someone else to annoy," he corrected, smiling sheepishly as Klaus frowned at him.
"Why are you judging them? They're young and naive," Klaus pleaded.
"I'm young and naive too. Maybe in twenty years, I'll regret talking to them like that. But for now, it's the best decision ever," Nikolay protested, rolling his eyes.
"Stop getting butthurt," the little girl complained. "You're mean," she added, causing the other kids and Klaus to shake their heads.
"I'm not mean; I'm loyal," Nikolay corrected, moving closer to Klaus. Amused, he wrapped his arms around Nikolay, smiling and patting his head to lift his mood.

After enjoying a delicious dinner prepared by his Mother, Nikolay took Klaus to the river.
"Are you sure you want to swim naked?" Klaus asked, his voice filled with concern as he watched Nikolay undress.
"Yes, why?" Nikolay replied, confused. Klaus hesitated before reluctantly taking off his own clothes.
"I don't know; what if someone sees us?" he suggested.
"It's nighttime; who'll come?" Nikolay pointed out, a hint of amusement in his voice. Klaus chuckled, approaching Nikolay in the river.
"I don't know, perhaps your fans?" he teased.
"I don't get it; how can't you be mad at them?" Nikolay protested, frustrated. Klaus hugged him, smiling. As Nikolay felt Klaus's cold skin, he caressed his back, trying to keep him warm.
"Why would I be angry?" Klaus mumbled, kissing Nikolay's forehead. "If everyone tries to get the lovely war hero's attention, but he gives it all to me instead, and I have him all by myself?" he continued proudly, smiling wistfully and closing his eyes, expecting to be kissed. Instead, Nikolay pulled away, with his ears bright red, shouting,
"Only if you can catch me!" he laughed, running through the river and splashing water at Klaus to slow him down. Despite his efforts, Klaus easily caught him. They both laughed as Nikolay struggled to break free but eventually gave up and turned back to Klaus. Their faces inched closer as they embraced each other.

Impatiently, Nikolay finally pressed his mouth against Klaus's. In that moment, all of his worries, every frustration melted away as he felt the softness of Klaus's lips against his own chapped ones. The coldness of Klaus's skin brought an overwhelming rush of warmth to Nikolay's heart, and for a second, it was just the two of them in the world. However, their moment was interrupted by a sudden gasp. Startled, they both instinctively wrapped their arms around each other, ready to protect the other from any potential threat. Squinting through the darkness, Nikolay witnessed one of the women who had been annoying him watching them. Feeling relieved to be caught kissing, Nikolay shielded Klaus's body from her gaze, knowing that Klaus was uncomfortable with others seeing his revealed skin. He playfully stuck his tongue out at her as she ran away.
"What if she tells someone?" Klaus chuckled, reassured by Nikolay's hearty laughter.
"They'll think she's crazy," Nikolay replied nonchalantly, taking Klaus's hand and leading him back to the shore as he noticed him shivering.

Without much effort, Klaus convinced Nikolay to spend the night together in the barn, lying on the soft hay.
"We could've done this at home too," Nikolay chuckled, spreading a blanket over the hay to prevent it from poking their skin.
"But we are at home," Klaus argued with a smile, throwing himself onto the makeshift mattress. "It just feels more special here," he confessed as Nikolay settled in next to him.
"If you say so," Nikolay yawned, while Klaus gazed at the sleeping animals and starry sky, listening to the soothing sound of the crickets.

     Somewhere near the Volga River. 10 June 1946

When the roosters started to chirp, Nikolay slowly opened his eyes.
"Don't move," Klaus instructed, confusing the sleepy man. With a quick, swift movement, Klaus managed to clasp something in his palms from Nikolay's body. "Look how cute he is," he said, his voice warm, revealing a little mouse in his hands, startling Nikolay.
"You'd call an alligator cute too, wouldn't you?" Nikolay laughed, laying back on the hay. Turning his attention to Klaus, he saw him nodding excitedly as he freed the little catch. Nikolay made himself comfortable, closing his eyes in the hopes of continuing his sleep. However, he jolted awake, drenched by a mug of water being poured over him by his Mother. "What the hell?" Nikolay protested, frustrated, as Klaus chuckled amusedly, not being targeted by the cold shower.
"We have fields to hoe," she instructed. Mumbling under his breath, Nikolay dressed himself slowly. Everyone was carrying tools: Nikolay and his parents had hoes, and Klaus had an easel and a canvas.

They stopped at a neighboring house, entering its yard.
"Shouldn't we knock?" Klaus whispered in Nikolay's ear.
"We're not entering a stranger's home," Nikolay reassured him quietly.
"Kolya!" an older woman exclaimed happily, making Nikolay smile as she kissed his cheeks. "I thought you'd never come to see me," she complained, saddened.
"How could I pass by your house, auntie?" Nikolay chuckled.
"You're already going to work?" she asked his Mother. "Did you even have breakfast?" the woman added worriedly. Nikolay shook his head with feigned sadness, causing his Mother to roll her eyes. "Well, I can't let you leave with an empty stomach!" she declared, inviting them inside.

At the entrance, a modest portrait of the woman and her husband in their younger years decorated the wall.
"I want one of those too," Nikolay pleaded. "Maybe not so serious," he added, feeling a bit unsettled by the stern expressions on the couple's faces from the painting. Klaus nodded with a smile, his mind filled with ideas and inspiration.
"Are you an artist?" the woman chuckled as they sat down for breakfast.
"More or less," Klaus replied sheepishly.
"More!" Nikolay protested heartily. They all laughed, and Klaus blushed with joy at Nikolay's compliment. Suddenly, their laughter was interrupted by the sound of a cat jumping onto the windowsill. Despite it being smaller than Klaus's palm, the little guy meowed loudly, filling the entire kitchen with its roar.
"Is it yours?" Klaus asked the woman, scooping up the noisy kitten.
"No, those heartless people throw them away when they don't want them anymore. It must have smelled the food," she explained, looking upset.
"Then it's mine," Klaus chuckled happily, causing Nikolay to smile. After the woman made sure the kitten was fed too, Klaus tucked him into his shirt pocket, and they continued on their way. In the field, Klaus settled under a treeline with his new friend, while Nikolay helped his parents with the corn plantation. Never in his wildest dreams did Klaus imagine he’d have the opportunity to paint a wedding portrait for himself too.

     Somewhere near the Volga River. 11 June 1946

At dawn, Nikolay was awakened by Klaus. Still sleepy, he got dressed to drive to the nearest town and pick up some supplies for Klaus's new friend.
"Kolya," his Mother pleaded as his eyes struggled to open. "If you're going downtown, could you please buy me a present?" She extended some money towards him, hoping he would agree. Nikolay jolted awake, feeling confused and disoriented. "For the wedding this weekend, I have no clue what you youngsters like these days," she explained.
"What wedding?" Nikolay asked, too sleepy to understand any words.
"Are you kidding me?" she complained, disappointed. "How many times do I have to remind you that we're invited to your cousin's wedding? It's your own cousin, Kolya!" his Mother protested. "Do you ever listen to me?" she added, causing Nikolay to roll his eyes in annoyance.
"We'll just give them a bottle of French wine," he mumbled, handing the money back to his Mother.
"A wine bottle?" she asked suspiciously.
"That bottle will be more expensive than all the other gifts combined," he replied proudly before opening the gate for Klaus to drive out.

In town, Klaus stopped to drink a coffee and read the Russian newspaper. Meanwhile, Nikolay slept next to him, leaning on the table. Klaus even bought a cup of milk to give to the little guy, hoping to bribe his silence. Surely enough, after probably doubling his weight with his round, full of milk stomach, the little guy fell quiet back in Klaus's shirt pocket.
"Aren't you hungry?" Klaus asked, watching Nikolay sleep. When he heard about food, Nikolay jolted up and frowned sleepily. Klaus smiled and ordered him something to eat while they waited for the pet shops to open. Once opened, they spent the entire day shopping around the whole city. Klaus bought enough supplies for the little guy to last him for the next ten years, as well as gifts for his other pets and Nikolay's Mother's animals. He also bought new clothes for Nikolay, complaining that they didn't have anything appropriate for the event.
"What's his name?" Nikolay asked, tired from carrying bags all day. He wanted to know the name of the one they had been shopping for.
"Mouse," Klaus chuckled. Seeing Klaus's cheerful mood, Nikolay couldn't help but smile too before closing his eyes exhausted.

     Somewhere near the Volga River. 16 June 1946 

Because the groom was a relative of Nikolay, they had arrived early to help with the preparations.
"They'll think we're getting married," Nikolay complained, eyeing the suit Klaus had chosen for him.
"Nonsense; just stop whining," his Mother scolded him. With Maus in his pocket, Klaus meticulously surveyed every inch of the wedding location. He didn't know what he expected, but certainly not for it to take place in the backyard of the couple's home. This only added to the charm for Klaus, making him feel like the children trying to understand a foreign culture. However, Klaus was not very familiar with his own culture, and he couldn't be sure if these traditions weren't the same in rural Germany or Switzerland. Everyone at the house was busy setting the table, arranging flowers or decorations, and preparing food. Even the bride was working tirelessly alongside her family, but the groom was nowhere to be seen.

Eventually, with only several hours before the party was supposed to start, the musicians arrived, carrying all sorts of instruments with them. However, to the disappointment of the bride, they announced that they couldn't find a singer. Feeling let down and worried that her event would be laughed at, the bride retreated quietly into the house, tears streaming down her cheeks. The atmosphere changed completely, with the family falling into a somber mood. Feeling sorry for the bride, Klaus approached a window and knocked gently.
"I could sing," he muttered shyly. "If you want me to," he added, watching as a smile appeared on the bride's teary face. Proud of him, the family started cheering and offering words of encouragement, while Nikolay joyously hugged him. So Klaus sang, and even Nikolay, after drinking a couple of glasses, joined in. It brought him great happiness to lift the mood of the newly-wedded couple. Or at least the bride's, as the groom was barely present. For Klaus, it was disappointing and upsetting to spend more time with the bride than her husband.

He was amused to see Nikolay give up on singing in favor of drinking more alcohol than Klaus believed he could drink water. It brought pity to his heart to see all the invited couples partying together; even Nikolay, who kept on drinking with his friends, returned to Klaus every time to drunkenly embrace him, dance together, or mumble in his ear how much he loved him. The only person who seemed to be left out was the bride, who sat alone at the table. She eventually left the party unnoticed and returned to her house. However, her absence was noticed when she suddenly rushed outside crying, with the groom following her. The family present gave the groom angry glances, threatening him, saying that he embarrassed his entire family. Through the hubbub, Klaus managed to find out that the poor woman caught him cheating during their own wedding, inside their own house. With Nikolay asleep and clinging tightly as if he were Klaus's backpack, Klaus rushed after the bride, holding onto the bottle of French wine they had intended to gift.

She was sitting on a bench under a willow tree by the river. Klaus carefully removed Nikolay off of his back, laying him next to them, leaning his drunken frame onto his own body for support. He handed a napkin to the woman, patting her on the back and making sure Nikolay wouldn't fall.
"It's going to be okay," Klaus reassured the bride, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "He doesn't deserve your tears," he added, regretting his own pathetic cries from the past. "Just think of it as God's way of protecting you from a lifetime of misery with him," Klaus paused. "Or, if you're not religious, think of it as a blessing in disguise," he corrected himself as the woman shook her head disapprovingly. "Either way, it's better to find out now rather than later," Klaus chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. "He would've cheated eventually, but at least now you can move on and find someone who truly deserves you," he added. "I understand how you feel; I've been through this too many times," Klaus reassured her, letting her know that she was not alone.
"Why would someone do something so horrible to such a kind man like you?" she mumbled with a wistful smile. Suddenly, she leaned in, attempting to kiss him. Klaus backed away, holding onto Nikolay to prevent him from falling due to his abrupt movement. "Oh, God, I'm so sorry," the woman burst into hysterical tears again, hiding her face in her hands.
"It's alright, don't worry," Klaus reassured her, knowing that the poor, drunk, and distressed woman was not in her right mind. He was grateful that it was him and Nikolay there, and not someone who'd take advantage of her suffering. "Here," Klaus offered her the wine bottle. "You can sell it and rebuild your life. It's worth a lot, and it's much older than your Soviet empire—in case someone asks how you managed to smuggle it in. But I don't think collectors would care about that," he explained, handing her the nicely wrapped bottle. The grateful woman hugged him tightly, expressing her gratitude.

However, the movement woke Maus and Nikolay. The little guy started meowing, and Nikolay complained that he wanted to return home. Amused, Klaus lifted Nikolay up, holding him in his arms as the drunk man hugged him, kissing his cheeks repeatedly.
"Nikolaus!" the bride called after him. He turned to her as Nikolay continued his affection, not even understanding where they were; he understood, however, who he was with, and that was enough for him. "Thank you for everything," she said with a smile as Klaus nodded. "And I hope you two will be happy," the woman added, amused. Turning red, realizing the bride likely understood the nature of his relationship with Nikolay, he thanked her quietly.
"I hope you'll be happy too, with whoever that special one will be," Klaus reassured her, quickly leaving when Maus started signaling loudly that he was there too.

The ride home was eerily silent, with everyone disturbed by the outcome of what was supposed to be a happy event. Upon arriving home, Nikolay was the first to break the silence, angrily shouting outside their yard.
"Get in, you alcoholic!" his Mother demanded as Klaus struggled to calm him down.
"Do you think I'm afraid of you?" Nikolay shouted back at them. His Mother rolled her eyes and wearily went inside, while the professor took a seat on the bench by the fence, eager to watch the spectacle. Eventually, Klaus managed to take him in, but another round of complaints flooded him. "Take your hands off of me!" Nikolay yelled when Klaus attempted to undress him and go to bed. "I'm fucking married, you pervert," he hiccupped more calmly.
"And to whom are you married?" Klaus chuckled, sitting next to him.
"To the most beautiful princess ever!" Nikolay exclaimed proudly with a smile.
"And where's she?" Klaus continued, trying to understand Nikolay's drunken thoughts.
"I don't know and I don't fucking need him!" Nikolay replied angrily. "I do need him," he corrected shyly, turning red.
"I'm here, my little monkey," Klaus laughed quietly, leaning closer. Nikolay squinted through the dark, struggling to see. Suddenly, he caught Klaus between his arms, embracing him tightly and hiding his face in Klaus's hair. They had to sleep in their suits as Klaus wasn't able to break free anymore. He smiled quietly when Nikolay proceeded to sing their lullaby but fell asleep mid-performance. Heart warmed, Klaus snuggled comfortably on top of Nikolay before drifting off himself.

     Somewhere near the Volga River. 17 June 1946

Nikolay was splitting logs for his Mother. He was annoyed to be greeted by giggling women but enjoyed seeing the ones who turned red looking at him, quickly averting his gaze. It brought him a sense of peace to assume those women knew the truth. Inside the house, Klaus watched the whole scene amused through the open window, admiring his muse as he finished the painting. His blood ran cold as he struggled to hide the wedding portrait when Nikolay's Mother entered the room.
"Don't hide it; I know the truth," she demanded, closing the window and pulling the blinds. Terrified, Klaus turned his face to the ground and placed the painting back on the easel. "I always believed Kolya needed someone calm, patient, someone kind who would keep him grounded," she explained, sitting next to Klaus with her head hung low. "And I think you're the right person," his Mother added, causing him to raise his eyes, his heart racing. With a kind smile, she extended a white cloth to Klaus and whispered, "I wanted to give it to Kolya's bride," she confessed as Klaus revealed a beautifully embroidered veil. "Well, you're not exactly a bride, but I still want you to have it," she offered, gazing at the almost finished painting.
"May I hug you?" Klaus asked, feeling as if his heart would explode. In response, the woman hugged him first, bursting into tears in his embrace.
"I just want him to be happy, to reach his full potential, and to go as far as possible from here," she mumbled against Klaus's chest. "I know you can ensure that for him," she added as Klaus started crying himself out of happiness and disbelief.

     Somewhere near the Volga River. 26 July 1946

Next to the gate, Nikolay hugged his professor while Klaus was embraced by Nikolay's Mother.
"Take care of my Mom," Nikolay pleaded quietly, making sure only the professor could hear. His Mother also whispered in Klaus's ear,
"Take care of my son," and kissed his forehead. She also showered her son with kisses one last time as Klaus shook the professor's hand, and they parted ways. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she watched the car drive away until it was no longer visible. She couldn't contain her excitement; she was overjoyed to see her son happy, starting his own family, and going to a place that could offer him so much more.

     Zürich. 28 July 1946

At the entrance of their home, Nikolay removed the painting of 'The Soviet soldier', replacing it with the wedding portrait: his wedding portrait. He still found pride looking at the painting drawn from Klaus's memory, but the warmth and joy it brought to see the wedding picture were incomparable. Nikolay liked it better that way; if all the couples he ever met during his and Klaus's long journey, and even back in his Mother's village, could have something so beautiful, why couldn't he and Klaus?