Chapter Text
The sky was clear; his mind really was not.
Baden stood next to him, in his hands a cigarette that looked like it would burn his fingers if the man remained still. "I'm going insane here," his companion admitted then, words clear even through the chatter surrounding them. "I wish they'd let us off."
The conversations around them sounded more like static noise to him, a chirping radio in the field that simply would not shut up.
"We will be, in due time," he soothed, even though his heart wasn't in it. Anyone not on the front was one person whose shared position wasn't critical. Or so he told himself. Wisconsin and all the others he had convinced after her had reasons to lie, that he knew; after all, he had lied too. In no small amount. But then again, it was understandable for both of them to have dreams above their station.
His throat was too dry to answer anything else to Baden. There was no easygoing quip he could think of.
What else could he say? He didn't know. So many stood around them. His mental shields were second nature by now. But what would happen if they failed? If every wall was breached and every decoy recognised for what it was? If someone wormed their way through tight spaces in his defence regardless and witnessed what he thought?
There is no use.
Not a single person would notice something was wrong. Still, he was afraid. So many eyes. So many ears.
Floating around them, like a fishing net waiting to catch something, like a frozen flytrap waiting for something to trigger it.
Watching, like portraits mounted on a wall.
Listening in, like he was on them.
He can't go.
He'll die.
The words did not make it out of his throat. He could not save Baden if he went; whatever he had begged Wisconsin for would not come to pass. After all, what was he? Nothing but a grain of sand and tradition in the wake of a warring tsunami, nothing but a stain on the stage of history, nothing but weak where others held leverage, held might, held power and-
He wanted it, he abruptly realised.
So many lives in the palm of his hand and he could only watch as they sunk away through his fingers. Was this how Charon felt? Bringing people to their end? Chiselling their fates in stone? Was he envious of the Reaper who dictated when the souls of the dead crossed over the Styx on Charon's ferry, did he resent him? Or did he welcome him like a brother?
No. He couldn't be Charon — after all, he had choices.
He'd have to make sure that he made them.
"All in due time," he repeated, more to himself than to Baden now.
There was not much else. He evaded the questioning gaze of his friend, did not even stomach the thought of meeting it.
So many listeners. So many spectators. The crowd around them whispered; he burnt and froze and thawed at the thought of them hearing, seeing, witnessing what the rot within him was bound to cause.
He did not answer much except for that. Baden would die if he went and it would be his fault for not being able to save him. The thought made him gag. The advantage they had was collapsing, inevitable and slow. He did not want to scrape up the grains that were his friend. No.
"You won't be drafted anyway, Hubert," Baden snorted, unaware what the other was thinking about. The stump of the cigarette glowed as he drew its smoke in, where surely, it would coil around his insides, wrap around them and press- no. That was reserved for himself. "You're indispensable. There is symbolic value in leaving some of us -well, some of us men- behind." There was a name of a state said after that, screeching in his ears, in his spine and he shivered. It made him boil. A blink passed until he understood it was his designation.
That was not his name. His real name was something nobody bothered to call him anymore.
Baden smiled. Baden actually smiled right then and there, something he only noticed because he tried to pretend the other's face was eyeless as he stared at the bottom half of it. He could not bring himself to look up farther than that. Would he imagine the other's eyes empty, like that of a corpse? Would they still keep that lively spark within them, one Baden carried even now, when he was on the brink of madness in their situation?
He related. But he feared that these eyes would not glint if he were to look at them. "If you say so," he muttered half-heartedly. Indispensability suggested worth. He had sold out his nation, maybe even his friends as well, out — for the steal of the century: the price of the past and the lives of four two people, not counting his. Never counting his. (He wouldn't bother losing it.)
"With how much you do, they'd shoot themselves in the foot by enlisting you." Baden laughed. "They'd lose five workers and gain one soldier."
His own, red, bloodshot eyes snapped to the other. Of course the other had no way to know where his tiredness really came from. "Do not sell yourself short, Marquart," he warned.
Baden's golden eyes did not glint as they meet his.
"Not my name," he corrected. Simple. With that, he had brushed the matter aside already, snipped it off his coat like a mere bug. For him, it probably was.
I am envious. Hearing me clearly, Baden?
I envy you beyond measure.
He couldn't bring himself to be angry. How? Simply, how? How could he act as though the name hadn't bothered him? Why was it, that when Baden chose a new name, he was to respect it, but when he yearned to keep his old one he was passed over and herded to accept?
He had hated his actual name at first as well, before he had grown used to it. He had looked onto people calling him, closed his eyes. He had never grown accustomed to the way it was supposed to set him apart from the other heirs of his family, when he could've been the only one instead one of four. Later, he had cherished the memory that he'd had siblings at all. But that had been afterwards, when most were rotting beneath soil already.
Well. Hubert was suitable alternative, one he had even chosen himself. His original Christian name was too old for people to even reconstruct its meaning. (That was the reason why he loved it more.)
Baden continued, whether unaware or trying to fill the rare silence, Hubert didn't know. Cigarette smoke curled out of the other's mouth, like the snake Hubert was. His own fingers dug into the fabric of his threadbare jacket when Baden returned his empty look with a laugh. "The workload is grating on you. Where's your usual cheeriness?"
"I fear the situation is too dire to befit it." Hubert hummed.
"I wish." Baden kicked the ground with his foot. "Would make it less agonising than waiting here for a stack of papers."
Hubert did not give him the privilege of an answer.
But it did not take any words for Baden to understand what he meant and he scoffed, "You've always thought differently in the past."
And then I froze in Siberia.
Still, he remained silent, ignoring the protest until it died. Even then, Baden rested in motion. Constantly. Pacing the ground until Hubert was unsure how the other Gau was not five and a half feet deep in the ground yet. "Anyhow," he said, flattening a blade of grass under the sole of his shoe. "If I have to sit around and wait one more day until that notice arrives, they'll have to scrape a puddle of boredom off the floor. This has been dragging on for too long."
"They usually rotate, I think. Mecklenburg is coming back soon." Hubert shrugged, pretending he didn't know every little wrinkle on the paper that held the plans for their deployment. They didn't rotate; the notice, once sent, was a one-way ticket to the public stoning of a carved figure (of lies), no matter what it pretended to be. Surprisingly, the Northerner had made it back; Hubert didn't know what to think of it. "Chances are you're on it soon."
Baden was not. That was the only reason why he was so worried about him, he thought. Anything else he would fix. Anything else he simply had to fix. He could beg for him to be treated well, could offer more information for his safety (a never-ending cycle. When would he run out of offerings at the altar of his mistakes?), could relax as long as the other remained out of the military. But he could not postpone the decision once it was made. Baden was one of their last resorts on that list and he simply had to pray fervently he would not have to be used.
"Yeah." Baden sneered, "Rotations nobody comes back from. I want to know why. Nobody predicts that well."
He did not suppress a wince, simply because there wasn't one. Logically, he realised that maybe, there should be one; maybe, he should be wincing. Because they weren't predicting at all. As long as he could access the list holding the real plans, and not the decoys spreading throughout the entire community of Gaue, he would make sure they predicted well.
He was not stupid enough to believe they weren't catching on on it.
That had been the reason he had compared the decoys at all before he had reported. It could have been the very last time he had, had he not payed attention. A smart strategy. Almost, he'd have walked into a shooting range with a blindfold tied over his eyes.
"Maybe they throw darts," he snorted instead. "Go around the front, flip a coin and decide based on that-" whether there is someone there to abduct. He bit his tongue, added a curt laugh to make it seem like the premature ending of his sentence had been intentional.
Baden laughed, as he stumped out his cigarette. "Chances are they do."
"Chances are they do," Hubert repeated, more silent, more thoughtful, before he shrugged, pushed himself away from the wall he was leaning against and said, "Anyhow, let's search for the others. I'm getting cold."
"Aren't you always-" Baden began, only to shrink back at the withering glare he was sent. "Well." He coughed. "I'm sure they have the heating on…" he assured, before trailing off, his eyes fixed on a spot in the distance. Hubert thought that maybe, he was realising how stupid that sounded. It would've been wasteful.
Still, the other didn't move. Following Baden's eyes, he found himself gaping at the sight.
They exchanged a look. "Is that…?" Baden asked, seemingly in a stupor.
Hubert nodded, feeling as surprised as the other looked. Of all the people to see today, of course it just had to be…
"Bavaria? I think so," he answered.
"HEY!" Baden suddenly hollered, waving his arm around in the air, successfully pulling the attention of the entire yard to them. Hubert would have liked to freely flinch, but as such, he laughed at the subtlety. It came surprisingly easy, as Baden continued shouting: "STEUBER! OVER HERE!"
The man certainly has the voice box for the front, he thought, feeling bad immediately after.
The downside of yelling was that everyone's eyes were on them. The upside was that Bavaria's were as well, blue eyes resting on them now instead of methodically scanning through the crowd. He made his way past the scattered groups of humans and personifications alike. To them. Hubert felt like a wretched soul sentenced to death, waiting for his executioner, even though he had no reason to.
He hid his hands in his pockets as the Scourge approached.
He could opt to beg for mercy, grovel at his feet and confess, clutching fabric when he came apart at the seams and sobbed; his head in the dirt it came from. That course of action would be stupid, but the truth forced its way up his throat like acid. His oesophagus too tight to breathe, he swallowed it down again. He liked the idea. There would be an end. A quick one, at that. Had he not witnessed himself the brutal efficiency of the German Scourge? Had he not enabled him, even?
On the other hand, he was glad to see the man; Bavaria had not been included in any plan he had seen. And his assignments were something he had been explicitly tasked to find out.
What was he doing instead then?
"Karl," Bavaria greeted.
Oh, that was Baden's new name. He'd forgotten. Marquart had had its own ring to it. Less bland, more original. Of course, that was the opposite of what they should aim to be under the yoke of restrictions piling over them until they were neck-deep within. Until they were all the same, mindlessly raising an arm in greeting.
Bavaria nodded in greeting to both of them, shook Hubert's hand briefly (sparks flied up his hand at the touch, a low hum in his tendons he didn't realise was real) before he held out his to Baden. "I've been searching for you." The hand wasn't empty; red skin stood out starkly against the box of cigarettes. Almost entirely hidden behind paint, half-covered blue patches peeked out from scarlet.
Bavaria must've spent more time in his previous flag recently for that happen. Away from us and by extension, officials, then. Conduct wanted them to wear the country's flag now. It made him shiver every time he looked in the mirror, literally being two-flagged(/faced?) with both state and Gau.
Baden did not notice any of that, just laughed in disbelief. "You've taken your time. Disappear for what, three and a half months before you bribe me with the cheapest shit you find."
"I'd fear you start a revolution again if I did not bring some dragon food," Bavaria said drily.
For a moment, both men stared at each other. Then, both broke out in laughter, Baden taking the box with one red hand while Hubert looked at Bavaria's.
Much less calloused since the last time had seen them. Their phantom grip in his palm less excruciating.
His focus was why he missed the way Bavaria's eyes widened briefly in surprise, but not the brief hesitance in his gesture after the touch. The fact Hubert could see his hand slowing down after the touch was telling enough. Bavaria had grown soft, was looking healthy enough for Hubert to realise the man had spent the three months in his own territory.
Good for him. It was terribly draining to be away. He had no strong opinion about Berlin, neither city nor personification, but the distance to his homeland sucked out whatever marrow remained in his brittle bones. Destruction looked the same everywhere.
Of course, the destruction was the same. Maybe he should be glad he wasn't in his home — he was cut-off from the happenings in his territory, cut-off from death whenever he left that particular border behind him. (His first territoryies was were not too affected by airstrikes yet, with the exception of a city not even belonging to him. That would change, he knew, felt it in his bones like a storm brewing on the horizon.)
"And Hubert!" Even after having him greeted initially, Bavaria turned to him again. Now, there was a grin on his face instead of the wary expression he'd worn at first.
"Mahlzeit, Bavaria," he said, not needing to fake the smile. "How I have missed the sound of your hillbilly-dialect."
"How I have missed the sound of your hillbilly-dialect."
"How you both should not be missing dialects at all," Baden corrected.
Hubert and Bavaria exchanged a glance, before the former replied, a teasing smirk on his face, "Says the one with a hillbilly-dialect.
"I've heard that word too often now for it to be real." Hubert laughed and continued, "Anyhow, Karl is right. We really haven't seen each other in ages. What have you been up to?" The question was posed innocently, almost sweetly; an edge was hidden within it, one only Bavaria noticed.
There was no jerk of attention to him, no narrowing eyes or pupils in fear. Who could Bavaria be afraid of? Nobody. As such, he did not react with apprehension. There was no subtle shake of his hands as he wrung them together, no flickering gaze assessing his surroundings, no deep exhale. (His fear showed itself differently; Hubert did not yet know Steuber well enough to find it.) Simply put: There was no fear.
That was when Hubert dropped his hopes of an answer he could make use of.
Unreasonably, he had hoped for a lousy lie. Maybe a injury (he wasn't injured), an inability (he doubted anyone would believe him), another task (Hubert wanted to know which one. What could be so important even he couldn't find its documentation?). Any gap he could expose, he would. He could press onwards for an answer, but only if the lie was obvious.
He had not expected a deflection.
Bavaria sighed. "Dying of boredom," he said simply, slippery.
In the pocket Hubert had haphazardly sewn together recently, his thumb scratched past the nail of his pointer finger. It slipped, drew blood that smeared over his fingertip, under the nail where he might not be able to get it out from again.
Baden plopped against the wall next to Hubert. "Finally someone who gets me," he complained, "We've been stuck in administrative work for ages-"
"I wish," he muttered and shuddered. Of course, recent years had changed his work. Everything changed his work, but especially the war. It made people angry.
Bavaria shot him a pitying glance, not saying anything, all while Baden continued, "-I knew you'd agree."
The Southerner hummed. (Well, theoretically they all were Southerners; it was Bavaria who hummed, his voice melodic enough for Hubert to want to drink it in against his parched throat.) "In all honesty, I prefer the administrative work."
Over what you do now or the front?
Hubert did not get an answer.
"That I'd live to see the day," Baden laughed, "Of all the people here, I'd have bet my right hand on you despising the paperwork the most." Hubert found himself agreeing. Bavaria was more of a hands-on kind of mission type, not a hands-on-paperwork mission type.
Still, the man shrugged. "If you go about it correctly, it's a little reprieve."
Was it earnest? Was it contemplating? It looked much too honest for a man who had self-isolated and then appeared at random.
Hubert could not place the look on the other's face, so he shook his head. "Reprieve of what? Sanity?" Baden barked out a laugh and Bavaria chuckled, all three aware of the irony of it being him saying that. His profession was the one people fled in flocks as though they were pursued by a bear. His profession was the one sucking out any joy of life in people usually; the worry (war at the home front, not that people thought of it as one yet), however, was doing quite a decent job at that as well, so he supposed it didn't matter too much now.
"Well, it's better than-" Bavaria caught himself, shook whatever he'd been about to say off. His eyes widened then, almost comically. For the second time today, someone caught sight of something before Hubert did. Usual frustration ebbing off, he turned around, only to freeze halfway as he felt the weight of eyes on him. He could hear Baden gulp.
Bavaria did not make a sound at all.
The yard had been silenced; standing still in the sight of the predator, most conversations had been cut off as quickly as the string of a life ending prematurely.
And the freezing gaze Hubert felt on his side made him fear just that.
"Give me a moment," Bavaria interrupted (nobody was talking which begged the question whether an interruption could be interrupted, because Hubert didn't know but then again, what really could he be sure of when-), before he went out of Hubert's line of sight. He wanted to follow, he really did, even if it was just with his head.
But he felt a weight pressing down onto him. His limbs were shackled, when he merely attempted to use them as leverage to turn his torso around. His tendons pulverised, his heart erratic, his mind emptied save for the instinct to cower or flee, he did not manage to. Enveloped in what felt like a casting mould of iron and steel…
He could not move.
He wanted nothing more than to move; he wanted to be shaking all over, because he knew who had just called Bavaria away.
The mould fell away, the shackles loosened and he drew in a deep breath. The air brushed against a spot too deep within his lungs. It ended as it had to, back pressing into the cold wall as he hunched over in a coughing fit, like a puppet whose master had cut the strings holding it up on a whim.
Only then did he look to the door Bavaria had left halfway open. Surely…
The knot tethering him to his body was easily tied. Then, he sprinted. Time's a-wasting, after all, and Baden's freeze surely wouldn't last that long. Barrelling through the door, he flew directly through Bavaria in the incorporeal state he was in.
Bavaria was the light he had always been. Unshakable even in the face of everything thrown at him, Hubert thought with no small amount of hope he would muster up the same courage soon.
The issue lied in the person next to him.
Next to Bavaria, there was a sharp, boiling mass of spiking anger and toxic fumes.
Now, Hubert was finally shaking.
Both spoke, silently, seemingly as aware of the ears as he was. He averted his eyes from the figure towering next to Bavaria even with his smaller height and instead became the ears they so tried to avoid.
They talked. Too silent even for him to hear; he gritted his teeth in frustration. Even as he stood directly between them, he only heard Bavaria hurrying to defend… himself? Someone else?
The mere idea repulsed him. That was not someone he knew; never had Bavaria ever felt the need to justify himself in front of a superior.
Now, he almost… cowered in front of the Third Empire, his head bowing down in a show of fear respect Hubert had only seen him put on a handful of times at best. He wanted to assess it, but the incorrectly tied tether unravelled quicker than he had hoped.
"Sir, I've ensured the matter is being taken care of currently," was the last thing Hubert heard as he hurried to return into his vessel before he was shut out.
He shook himself. Baden did the same.
Neither spoke until Bavaria reappeared next to them. He only sighed as he stepped up to then again, looking worn. Understandably so. Hubert would have liked to flee every meeting with the silhouette defined by sharp edges and spikes as well. But then again, he couldn't without raising suspicion.
He would've liked to say he could've seen a change after the death of his daughters. He could've understood that; he, who had felt pain, could understand that too well.
He hadn't. There had been no change in demeanour.
He did not come to the conclusion. Then he suddenly was thrust into the centre of Bavaria's attention again, as the latter turned to him. Hubert, still leaning against the wall, squared his shoulders, braced for impact. It came surprisingly softly. Hubert could not place the look on the other's face as he was asked: "You don't perchance know where Hesse is, do you?"
Oh, this is ironic.
Almost, the man looked as though he didn't want to seek the Gau at all. Hubert couldn't precisely blame him, given his own history with the latter.
He grimaced. "Why should I know? Am I my brother's keeper?"
Baden sharply elbowed him. "Do not be too unforgiving, Nassau."
"Not my-" He began in reflex, only to grow silent. That was indeed his name. It didn't feel much better, even if this was not the first time today that Baden had used it. "I'd live a happier life if I did not know where he was." Hubert sighed, rubbed his side where Baden had almost hit his liver. He already dreaded future meetings he would be summoned to with the other. Already having to see him then — there was no reason to seek him out earlier.
At two insisting gazes, his shoulders raised up defensively as he answered, "Second floor, third door on the left."
Bavaria patted his shoulder. "Now, that wasn't so hard now, was it?" Hubert looked away. Partially in shame, though that wasn't the only thing that made him unable to meet the blue eyes. No. That had been the sparks that had flown through his nerves.
Wait… wait…
…sparks?!
Bavaria was gone before he could question what he had noticed. In his stead, Baden gripped his arm, hoisted him away from the wall. "Let's continue onwards," Baden pressed. "We should hurry." They did, in the end, almost sprinting up the stairs as they realised the break was coming to an end.
Coming in last, almost every pair of eyes turned to them as they barged in through the door. Some amused, some contemplating, others judging. He evaded all, some more than others when blue eyes gazed at him curiously from where the other had chosen to sit down with his brother instead of him.
And only later, when the mind of the Gau of Hesse-Nassau was half numb with boredom and the administrative essentials people insisted on, when he had pulled the thin jacket he wore over his frame more tightly… did it dawn. When the last time had been that he had felt a potential dependency. When he had felt a low, humming vibration crawling up his arm the last.
The girl with the package.
The supposedly dead girl with the package.
How high were the chances…?