Chapter Text
He’s home.
Back to his mother, to his friends. And he brings Anya, and he introduces her to his mother, who immediately approves of her. Nikolai Ivushkin is a happy man. He’s peaceful, now that the war and its’ horrors are over for him.
While Anya and his mother talk, Nikolai drops his bags and looks around the familiar living room. Home. He’s longed for it, dreamed of it, cried for it. He smiles widely, tears already pooling in the corners of his eyes.
And that’s when he sees him. Leaning on the fireplace mantel: cap, uniform, boots, scars, pipe and predatory smile. Nikolai blinks his eyes quickly… but he’s gone.
Gone.
Sunken in a river, trapped under a tank and debris.
Gone, to never come back.
Nikolai looks around again, but there’s just him, his mother, and Anya.
Must be exhaustion – in fact, that’s the only logical explanation, because, throughout the day, as Nikolai’s aunt comes by to see him and meet Anya and help his mother make a special dinner, Nikolai catches more and more glimpses of the German: while his aunt hugs him, Nikolai sees him looking around in disdain; while he introduces Anya to his aunt, Nikolai sees him inspect the books in the shelves; while the three women march into the kitchen and Nikolai takes his bags to his bedroom, he sees him looking around the bedroom with a curious expression; while Nikolai and his family have dinner and he and Anya tell their stories, Nikolai sees him pacing around.
But, every time their eyes meet, he disappears.
Therefore, it can only be a hallucination. Perfectly normal, Nikolai has been through a lot: a battle, imprisonment, the German, escaping, interrogation by Soviet authorities and the long journey home.
That is all past, though. Putting down his fork, he reaches out to hold Anya’s hand, sitting by his side, and announces happily to his mother and aunt he and Anya are going to marry.
Among happy congratulations, Nikolai hears a chocked sound at his left and looks with a frown at where it apparently came from.
And there is he again.
Klaus Jäger.
Coughing like he’s choked on something; then he recomposes himself and looks at Nikolai… but, this time, he does not disappear when their eyes meet:
“You cannot marry that woman, Nikolai!” he exclaims with brotherly patience, his voice loud and clear in Nikolai’s ears. Also understandable, instead of that harsh gibberish that is the German language.
That convinces Nikolai he’s exhaustion-hallucinating, and he smiles at Klaus before turning his face away.
He’s going to marry Anya, and they’ll live in his village, and have children, and be happy forever.
Nikolai’s mother declares that, for the sake of decency, Anya is staying with Nikolai’s aunt, in the house next door. Oh, if only she knew… but Nikolai will leave his mother in blissful ignorance.
Besides, Nikolai’s bed would be too small for the two of them, and it actually feels good to be alone in the familiarity of his old room. Nikolai had had many a dream of sleeping in his bed, and it has finally come true.
A good night of sleep will do wonders to him.
But he can’t fall asleep while his hair is being stirred in such an annoying way, and he opens his eyes to see Klaus bent over him, ruffling his hair like he’s petting the massive head of a dog.
Nikolai clamps his hands over his mouth to muffle an enraged shout, then does the most mature, problem-solving thing: he pulls the blankets over his head and curls up in a ball. Something unpleasantly cold presses against his back.
“Your hair is ridiculous like that!” Klaus exclaims. Nikolai slowly glances over his shoulder, to see Klaus curled behind him, frowning. “You’re going to cut it tomorrow.”
The next second, Nikolai is standing in the middle of his dim room, looking in horror at his bed. His heart is racing and he’s slightly nauseated:
“Who even thought it looked decent on you?”
Nikolai turns around abruptly and there he is: Klaus Jäger, in his uniform, but with no hat or pipe. Despite the dimness in the room, Nikolai sees him perfectly, like the German is standing under the sun.
Nikolai is just having a bad dream, but he’s so tired he doesn’t even bother to pinch himself – he needs to sleep, even if poorly. That’s something he learned when he was imprisoned: better something than nothing at all:
“You’re just a nightmare and you’ll be gone in the morning…” Nikolai grunts as he climbs back to bed and makes himself comfortable under the blankets. Klaus is still standing in the middle of the room and he raises both eyebrows:
“Oh, I know of something that will be gone in the morning!” he chuckles, seemingly very amused. “Good night, Nikolai.”
“Yes, whatever, let me sleep.”
In the blink of an eye, Klaus is gone. Nikolai’s strangest dream so far, but he won’t waste time thinking about it. Almost immediately, Nikolai falls in a deep, dreamless sleep, but wakes up before dawn.
A habit he had caught during his time at the academy, a must during imprisonment.
It’s silent, outside. Nikolai hasn’t had the chance to hear silence, peaceful silence in a long time. War and imprisonment are far away now, and Nikolai sighs contently and pushes himself to a sitting position – since he’s already up, he can go for a walk around the village, he’s missed it so much and-
There are locks of hair all around him: on the pillow, on the blanket, on his shoulders, and now that he’s moving, on the carpet too.
Nikolai is dumbfounded and blinks his eyes stupidly at the hair. Slowly, he raises a hand and runs his fingers over shaved scalp.
“Now, that’s my Nikolai!” a very gleeful voice exclaims, and Nikolai slowly turns his head to look at the window. Klaus is standing next to it, with his arms crossed over his chest, no hat, but with his pipe secured between his teeth. He looks extremely proud of himself.
This time, Nikolai pinches his arm. Hard. And again, and again.
But Klaus keeps looking at him, his expression changing to curious:
“Nikolai, stop pinching yourself.”
Which Nikolai does, with a dismayed look on his face, and he touches his shaved head again while looking at Klaus.
Nikolai somehow must have caught somnambulism and he’s still hallucinating. It’s simply trauma and it will eventually stop, he just needs time. Slowly, he stands up and looks again at Klaus, still watching him curiously:
“I will kill you with tea and sleep!” Nikolai proclaims, then frowns offendedly as Klaus bursts out laughing.
He has an obnoxious, stupid laughter – and he’s laughing so hard he’s starting to snort. Making a disgusted face, Nikolai turns his back at him and leaves the bedroom.
The house was remodelled shortly before he left to the academy and now the bathroom is indoors. He showers quickly with cold water, just to make sure he’s awake, then wraps himself in a towel and goes back to his bedroom to get dressed and sweep all that hair.
Klaus is gone!
He was just… a stupid hallucination, some remnant of dream that, for the rest of the day, is nowhere to be seen: Nikolai walks around the village peacefully, first alone and then arm in arm with Anya, introducing her to his neighbours and friends and showing her the place where he grew up; Nikolai enjoys peaceful meals with his family and Anya, and they even start planning the wedding; Nikolai goes to sleep in an empty bedroom.
As he closes his eyes to sleep, Nikolai hopes somnambulism won’t strike again, lest he do something not as easily explainable as shaving his head…
When he wakes up the next day, there is nothing different about him… and the horrid German is still nowhere to be seen. Nikolai feels extremely well-rested, despite having woken up so early again.
That morning is going to be busy: Nikolai needs to go to the police station and deliver some papers, so that he’ll transition from the army and start working as a police lieutenant within a month; then he and Anya are going to the church to schedule their wedding.
While waiting outside his aunt’s house for Anya to come out, Nikolai feels something unpleasantly cold on his shoulder. He immediately turns around… and there is Klaus, in his uniform and hat, contempt written all over his face while he holds Nikolai’s shoulder:
“This place is extremely primitive. I’ve just seen someone using a bathroom outside their house!” He then looks around. “Though I must admit these little houses are very picturesque.”
Nikolai shakes his head vigorously, blinks and rubs his eyes, even slaps his face… but Klaus is still standing there, looking at him with a predatory smirk and a strange glint in his eyes:
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost, Nikolai…” he teases, and that has Nikolai gaping in shock.
The front door opens and Anya comes out, smiling and beaming in a red polka-dot dress. Nikolai is too horrified, looking at Klaus, and he doesn’t react at all when Anya hugs him and kisses his cheek.
Klaus raises an eyebrow and makes a disgusted face, but in the blink of an eye… he’s gone.
Nikolai looks around like he’s just startled awake, and he finally notices Anya. She’s still smiling, but there’s a slight crease between her brows:
“I was just… I thought I saw something,” Nikolai excuses and smiles, then kisses her forehead. She seems content with the explanation and, arm in arm, they walk leisurely across the village, heading to the police station. Nikolai’s eyes scan their surroundings discreetly, but… there is no hallucination to be found.
Only when they approach the church does Nikolai see Klaus again, wandering the graveyard.
Klaus’ words ring in his mind. You look like you’ve seen a ghost, Nikolai… Nikolai understood it perfectly, even though he doesn’t speak German and Klaus didn’t speak Russian.
A ghost.
Nikolai doesn’t believe in ghosts. He doesn’t think he even believes in god anymore, but his and Anya’s family would like a traditional wedding. Nikolai is a man of reason, of logic, of palpable things. There are no miracles if there is no hard work to achieve it. He’s so distracted looking at the wandering German that they enter the church with Anya leading the way.
And Klaus is standing by the altar.
Nikolai hesitates, until eventually he stops halfway in the nave:
“Kolya?” Anya calls in a soft voice, and Nikolai looks at her, blinks his eyes, then looks at the altar again, to see Klaus pacing back and forth, seemingly interested in all the iconography surrounding the altar.
Right, schedule the wedding. Klaus didn’t stop Nikolai from breaking free, and he certainly won’t stop him from marrying Anya. He smiles at her, apologetic, and starts walking again:
“I thought I forgot to deliver one of the documents, but it’s all taken care of,” he excuses himself:
“Already lying to her?” Klaus asks, walking next to Nikolai. “That is a marriage that won’t last!”
“Shu-“ Then Nikolai clenches his jaw, refusing to talk to a hallucination. He looks around, mindful of Anya’s questioning gaze. “Such a beautiful church!”
Klaus bursts out laughing. Nikolai hates that sound, but is decided not to look at Klaus. Fortunately, a priest emerges from the door behind the altar, and Nikolai sighs in relief - talking about the wedding will certainly keep him distracted from the… hallucination.
In good Klaus fashion, however, the damned hallucination proves to be a pain: it starts by grunting at Nikolai’s ear that he cannot marry Anya, then shouts threats of ruining the wedding. Like this isn’t annoying enough, suddenly all the candles flicker before the small flames die out, and some paintings fall, and the doors slam closed.
What an awful gush of wind – that is what Nikolai thinks to himself as he instinctively looks at where Klaus is standing, behind the altar, face deformed in wrath.
Klaus had never looked particularly handsome, not with those extensive scars and not with such a predatory intensity in his gaze, and in that moment he looked… feral, inhuman. No human face, angry or disgusted, should be able to contort like that.
The priest looks around, frowning, then walks up to one of the fallen paintings and picks it up to hang it on the wall again. Yet, the frame and the icon are broken in half to the middle of the painting. His frown deepens, but he says nothing.
When Nikolai and Anya leave the church, Anya completely undisturbed by the gush of wind and happily towing Nikolai by their linked arms, Nikolai glances behind and sees Klaus following them, stomping his way and with his hands balled into fists:
“You cannot marry her, you’re making a mistake!” he growls.
Nikolai has never heard of aggressive hallucinations, but he quickens up the pace to the point that Anya is trotting next to him. It is not like he’s afraid, because he is not. He just feels… uncomfortable, and he doesn’t want it to show and upset Anya.
Fortunately, when they reach Nikolai’s home, the angry hallucination is gone. Nikolai is certain this is something he can solve with time and rest, and that there is no need to worry Anya with it.
Anya, his beautiful bride. They will marry in the winter: by then, Nikolai will already have enough money from his new position as police lieutenant to buy a house for them. It will also give Anya time to apply for schools in the area to work as a teacher. It suits her wonderfully: patient and bright like she is, Anya will make a perfect teacher.
Nikolai sighs happily and closes his eyes to sleep, hands crossed on the pillow under his head.
“You will not marry that woman, Nikolai.”
Cracking one eye open, Nikolai sees Klaus sitting at the edge of his bed, in full uniform and chewing angrily at his pipe. Seems Nikolai is so stressed from the war that his own hallucination is stressed as well. He opts for ignoring it and closes his eye again.
The next moment, however, he startles as the blankets are pulled back and he changes to a sitting position, looking angrily at Klaus, who’s staring daggers at him, clutching the blankets.
But he can’t be clutching the blankets, because he’s not real. He’s a hallucination. Nikolai is imagining things and he probably just had a muscle spasm and kicked the blankets. So, he grabs the blankets again to pull them back.
They’re… stuck. Nikolai can’t pull them, can’t pry them from Klaus’ grasp.
He looks in shock at Klaus, whose lips curve up in a malicious grin. Nikolai frowns and tries again to retrieve the blankets, but Klaus grabs him by the sleeve of his pyjama – cold seeps through the fabric to reach Nikolai’s skin, flesh, and bone – and yanks Nikolai forwards, until their faces are inches apart. Klaus irradiates cold and Nikolai gapes in mute horror as he fails to pull away:
“Do I have your attention, now?” Klaus asks, sounding visibly pleased with himself. Nikolai wants to believe he’s dreaming, but every sensation – the cold, the strength restraining his arm and blankets – are simply… too vivid.
What kind of monster is this German?
“I won, leave me alone!” Nikolai snarls and tries to pull away again. Yet, his sleeve is caught and well caught in Klaus’ fist. “I’d have pulled you up, you chose to fall!”
Klaus’ expression softens, and so does his grip. Nikolai flops back immediately, pulling the blankets over him like a shield.
“You won, yes,” Klaus agrees. He smirks, clearly pleased with himself. “But I can’t leave you. You’re mine.”
Klaus had seemed strange and creepy in life and now seems to remain so in death. Nikolai lets out a pained sigh and turns his back at Klaus:
“No, I am not. I won. I am free. I escaped from your camp, I defeated you in that duel. I won.”
Yet, Klaus crosses his legs and hunches his back, like Nikolai has just invited him to stay and listen to a long story. Nikolai narrows his eyes and tries to kick Klaus off the bed, but all he does is kicking through chilly air:
“You did all that, but you’re still mine,” Klaus proceeds. Even dead, he’s stubborn. “You won’t marry that woman.”
“Just watch me,” Nikolai grunts. Klaus’ smirk widens:
“Just watch me stop you.”
Maturely, Nikolai turns his face away and closes his eyes. Yet, he feels Klaus’ intense gaze on him – it’s extremely uncomfortable, and Nikolai sighs, sadly, and opens his eyes again. He looks at Klaus, only to see him staring attentively at him with a content expression:
“Go away. Go… go make whatever dead people do,” Which is, to leave the living alone.
“I can’t go anywhere, Nikolai. I’m stuck here…” He stretches a hand and his fingers brush Nikolai’s cheek tentatively. It’s cold, unpleasant, and Nikolai hides the lower half of his face under the blankets. He might not believe… might not have believed?... in ghosts, but older people in the village do. Like his mother. She’ll know what to do, she’ll…
But, in order for her to do something… Nikolai will have to tell her he’s being pestered by the dead man that caused him so much trouble. That will upset his mother, she’ll be worried… and what will Anya think of him?
“Is everything alright, Nikolai?” Klaus asks in a soft, mocking tone.
“Yes. You’re just a bad dream,” Nikolai grunts in reply, then hides under the blankets again.
He always wakes up early… he can go to the church, he can ask the priest…
Nikolai doesn’t believe in ghosts, but he’s certain he has a problem that must be solved as quickly as possible. He’ll start by more… traditional methods. If it works, it works. If it doesn’t…
He sighs, presses his eyes tightly shut. One step at a time.
When he wakes up the next morning, he’s alone in his bedroom. Yet, he no longer feels relieved, which saves him the disappointment of having Klaus walking next to him when he leaves the house hurriedly, heading to the church across the village:
“Such a good soldier, already up this early!” Klaus chirps. His strides match Nikolai’s, his back is straight and his shoulders stiff, making his arms rigid as he walks. Nikolai ignores him for the sake of walking faster.
The small church always has its doors open, and Nikolai walks in decidedly. Klaus keeps walking next to him and looks around, interested:
“My parents were Protestant,” he informs. Nikolai doesn’t know what that means and he doesn’t want to know, either. “The church they attended to was bare, boring.”
The priest is nowhere to be found, so Nikolai walks up to the door behind the altar and knocks. He waits a little as Klaus wanders around the altar, observing the icons with visible interest. Nikolai is about to knock again at the door when the priest peeks out with a sleepy face. He’s old, with a long grey beard, but instead of the customary black garments, he wears a nightgown.
Behind him, Klaus snorts:
“Aren’t you ashamed of bothering this old man, Nikolai?” he teases. Nikolai ignores him and, after a heartfelt apology, explains his problem briefly. The priest goes from sleepy to extremely interested, and after excusing himself for five minutes, he returns in his black garments and carrying a bucket of holy water and a paint brush.
Nikolai is enthusiastically sprinkled with water, incensed, blessed, given a cross and told to go his merry way.
All the time, however, Klaus is watching nearby, laughing so hard that he ends up snorting. When Nikolai leaves the church, Klaus follows him:
“That was… a curious morning shower!” he exclaims cheerfully, walking side by side with Nikolai. “You’ll have to take another shower, though. I hate this scent of incense.”
Nikolai seriously considers incensing himself daily.
Unfortunately for Nikolai, the scent of incense makes his mother hopeful that he’ll reconnect with god, and leaves Anya suspicious that something is wrong with him. He blurts out that he was strolling near the church, tripped and fell on a crate with incense that the priest had ordered for the church.
Next to him, Klaus bursts out laughing. Idiot.
Nikolai cannot let Anya know about Klaus. What will she think of him?? And his mother, and his aunt? And the whole village?
So, he tries to ignore Klaus. He hopes the German ghost will get bored and leave. Yet… Klaus is impossible to ignore: if someone is talking to Nikolai, he will start talking too, preferably at Nikolai’s ear; if Nikolai tries to look away, Klaus will do everything to be in his field of vision; if Nikolai tries to be alone outside, or in a room, or with Anya, Klaus will always materialize in a corner, or next to him… and talk... and do everything to be seen… and make lights flicker, and make wood shutters slam, and make things fly off shelves, and make Nikolai’s towel disappear from the bathroom.
Nikolai loses it on the third day of acknowledging he is being haunted by SS-Standartenführer Klaus Jäger.
It all starts when, after breakfast, Nikolai and Anya leave for a picnic in the woods. Klaus follows them, furious, rambling about how Nikolai is taking too long to get rid of Anya. Flocks of birds take flight from the trees ahead of them, squirrels climb as fast as they can to the top of the trees and even a spooked deer crosses from one side of the path to the other, to disappear in the thick woods. Anya is surprised that the animals are so busy, Nikolai tells her that there’s probably a hunter in the woods.
Nikolai has been under a lot of stress for the last couple of days – namely, the inability of getting away from the German and having to keep him a secret.
So, when he and Anya arrive to the lakeside and set down the picnic basket, Nikolai can’t help but punch Klaus when the picnic towel magically escapes Anya’s hands and flies straight to the middle of the lake. Yet, Nikolai achieves nothing: his fist strikes through cold air, Klaus smirks and raises an eyebrow, and Anya gives him a shocked look:
“I…” Nikolai reddens in the face. “… it was a mosquito!”
“And how will you explain the towel?” Klaus asks, delighted. Nikolai looks at him with a murderous glint in his eyes:
“It was the wind!” he replies. Because the wind would totally do that:
“What?” Anya asks, confused, and smiles nervously at Nikolai. Klaus bursts out laughing and it takes all of Nikolai’s willpower to turn his back at the ghost without attempting to punch him again:
“The wind took the towel and I hit a mosquito!” Nikolai explains, hoping he’s sounding patient and not… exasperated. “We can sit on my jacket, and I’ll go get the towel and hang it on a branch.”
Anya nods, slowly. She doesn’t seem convinced about the wind (maybe because there is no wind blowing), but she smiles when Nikolai undresses his jacket and spreads it on the ground with a flourish. Then, Nikolai walks past Klaus, heading to the lake. He’s not surprised that the German trots after him:
“Are you seriously going in the lake? Then what, will you dry yourself to the towel?” Klaus asks, sounding very amused. The pipe has appeared in the corner of his mouth:
“I’m not expecting you to return the towel, so I’ll have to get it,” Nikolai grunts.
No no no, he doesn’t want to talk to Klaus. He stops near the water and starts unbuttoning his shirt. Out of the corner of his eye, he notices Klaus frowning:
“How deep is this lake? Are you going to undress in front of that woman?” he no longer sounds amused, but concerned. Shocked, even. Nikolai doesn’t bother to answer and removes his shirt.
The next moment, the towel is gliding towards him. He casts Klaus a curious look, feeling oddly satisfied at how the German has pushed his lower lip out in a sulky pout. Nikolai dresses up his shirt again and picks up the soaked towel:
“The fish returned the towel, if she asks…” Klaus grunts, walking next to him.
Nikolai chooses to ignore him, and he stretches the towel under the sun, over the green foliage of a shrub near the tree where Anya is sitting under. Nikolai sits next to her, smiling, and leans in for a kiss:
“When are you getting rid of her?” Klaus asks. Nikolai turns his face to look with narrowed eyes at Klaus, lying on his back and with his head too close to Nikolai’s legs. With a snarl, Nikolai folds his legs under his body and changes to a kneeling position.
“Kolya?” Anya asks, and oh, right, the kiss. Nikolai smiles apologetically and dusts off his legs:
“Ants!” he excuses. Klaus cackles:
“If you love her so much, why do you keep lying to her?” he asks. Nikolai doesn’t want to have that conversation and turns his attention to the picnic basket:
“I’m starving, what did you make for us?” he chirps happily. Anya perks up at that and they start taking out apples, and jam and cheese sandwiches from the basket, laying it out in the tight space between them on the jacket:
“You don’t have an answer for me, Nikolai?” Klaus is propped up on his elbows, his legs stretched forwards and one crossed over the other. Nikolai takes a bite on an apple and chews angrily. “You don’t really love her. You’re just infatuated. It’s understandable, she’s the first woman you’ve seen in years… but that does not suit you, Nikolai.”
Nikolai tosses the apple core at Klaus’ face, but it just flies past him. Klaus narrows his eyes:
“How rude, littering!”
Still giving his best to ignore Klaus, Nikolai starts to eat a jam sandwich:
“Can’t wait to marry you,” he tells Anya. She smiles widely, delighted, and Nikolai spends a moment looking at her.
Anya is beautiful, sweet, intelligent and brave. She helped him and his tank crew escape, she stood by his side. How can Nikolai not love her for the wonderful person she is?
Leaving his sandwich aside, Nikolai pulls Anya to a kiss. That earns him a shocked gasp from Klaus:
“Stop that!” he commands. Nikolai grunts and deepens the kiss and feels Anya thumb at his cheek. He loves Anya, he wants Anya and he’s going to marry her. “Nikolai, stop that! You’re making a huge mistake!”
Suddenly, there’s a loud crack above their heads. Nikolai instinctively scrambles atop of Anya to protect her, but he’s not fast enough to shield her from falling branches and a brief hail of pinecones. In the commotion, the picnic basket and the food are kicked and smashed by Nikolai’s shoes and the remaining apples roll away.
Nikolai and Anya lie pressed together for a second. With a shaky hand, Anya raises a finger to a bleeding cut on her forehead. She looks extremely distressed when she sees the blood.
And that is when Nikolai, in a fury, leaps at Klaus, still lying placidly on his original spot. He growls that Klaus has no right to harm Anya and threatens to kill him in every way imaginable, all the while trying to punch and strangle him.
Yet Klaus simply grins, dark and dangerous, not bothering to move an inch. Nikolai only stops when Anya shrieks a demand to know what the hell is happening.
Nikolai is tired, worn, he’s fighting an enemy he can’t hit and Anya just got hurt. He looks at her with wide eyes and points at Klaus:
“It’s him!!!! He doesn’t go away!!!” he roars for all the woods to hear.
But there is just silence, and Anya frowning in confusion.
Nikolai realises his mistake and he looks, horrified, from Anya to Klaus. He jumps to his feet, strides to Anya and grabs her hand, then tows her to where Klaus is slowly standing up and stretching:
“He’s here!! He’s right here, the reptile!!!” Nikolai hisses angrily, forcing Anya to touch Klaus’ arm. Klaus, who looks so amused with the whole thing. Nikolai tries to punch him again, only to hit the tree behind Klaus.
Klaus frowns:
“Stop that, Nikolai. You’ll hurt yourself…”
“Go away!! Go to hell, where you belong!!!” Nikolai attempts once more to strangle him.
Yet, he stops. He feels Anya’s eyes on him, and he turns his head to see her looking at him with wide, terrified eyes. She had looked exactly liked that in the camp. Nikolai runs a hand over his shaved hair, nervously, momently unaware of his busted knuckles:
“It’s Klaus. It’s Klaus’ ghost. He’s been nagging me since we arrived and…” Nikolai points accusingly at Klaus, who simply stands there like he’s the embodiment of innocence.
Anya looks at where Klaus is standing, then looks back at Nikolai. Besides terrified, she now looks concerned:
“Kolya… there’s nothing there…”
“Stretch your hand! You’ll touch his arms!” Anya does exactly as Nikolai says, and he asks, hopeful. “Did you feel it? The cold?”
“I… I didn’t feel anything…”
They stare at each other in tense silence. Klaus looks at them curiously, chewing gently on his pipe.
Then, Anya sighs and smooths over her dress:
“You’re tired, Kolya. We should go back,” she says softly.
Nikolai blinks his eyes, like he can’t quite understand what is being told to him, then he turns his head abruptly to look at Klaus.
But Klaus is gone, only to reappear in Nikolai’s bedroom after dinner, when Nikolai walks in, closes the door… and sees the German sitting cross-legged on the bed. He’s not wearing his hat and jacket, nor does he have his pipe. Klaus is quiet, looking at Nikolai with the same type of cautious curiosity a misbehaving child watches an angry parent.
Nikolai clenches his jaw:
“I’m going to get rid of you,” he strides to the bed, glowering at that obnoxious ghost. “And you’ll never hurt Anya again.”
“You do realise I could have killed her already,” Klaus asks with the intonation of a statement.
Nikolai has not thought of that. At first, Klaus had been just a hallucination, a trick of his tortured mind. Then, Klaus had become an annoying ghost, like a petty spirit from a folktale. He doesn’t want to give Klaus power over him by believing the veiled threat, and so he opts for remaining defiant.
The German had never chastised him for it, anyway…
“I have no interest in the woman and there is no need for bloodshed,” Klaus proceeds. With a grunt, Nikolai lies down at the edge of the bed, as far as possible from Klaus’ crossed legs. “There never was a need for bloodshed, Nikolai… If you had just-“
In yet another gesture of maturity, Nikolai covers his head with the pillow. He will not listen to Klaus’ gibberish, he will not let Klaus take him to the past. He will sleep, and rest, and tomorrow he will take Anya to a clearing in the woods that is always full of flowers by that time of the year, and he will give Anya his mother’s engagement ring to show her she already belongs to the family.
Nikolai sleeps undisturbed. However, when he wakes up at dawn… he can’t open the window… nor the door.
He leans his forehead on the wood, suddenly exhausted, and considers his options.
Breaking the window or the door open, then have to come up with an excuse for his mother… and for Anya. That wouldn’t be good. Anya was already concerned the day before, if Nikolai does something as… as violent as breaking a window or a door, she might be scared of him. War changes people, but Nikolai doesn’t want Anya to think that of him.
Because it is not true.
Because he has another, more civilized way:
“Klaus…” he groans, sighing in defeat. “Open the door…”
“No.”
Nikolai was already expecting that. He turns around to find Klaus standing in the middle of his bedroom, with his stupid hat and chewing at his pipe:
“Afraid I’ll get rid of you?” Nikolai asks flatly:
“You can’t get rid of me, Nikolai. No, I’m protecting you from that woman,” Klaus replies in an equally flat tone.
For a moment, Nikolai considers tossing caution to the wind, break the window and circle the house to get in by the front door again. There is no possible reasoning with that German.
So, Nikolai strides away from the door, grabs the little stool at the feet of his bed and makes a beeline to the window – trying to shove Klaus aside, but actually crossing through cold air. Once he reaches the window, he lifts the stool and…
And…
And…
And he cannot hurl the stool at the window.
Seething, Nikolai glances over his shoulder, to see Klaus smiling darkly at him.
Could cunning beat a ghost?
“Could… could you please open the door?” Nikolai asks through gritted teeth. Klaus raises an eyebrow and tilts his head, seemingly interested. There must be something he can bargain with Klaus, something…
Then, it dawns on him.
He lets go of the stool, but it keeps floating, rigidly, like invisible hands are still holding it. Nikolai smooths over his pyjama to give himself a more composed look, then he walks up to Klaus and stops in front of him. They’re practically the same height and the German stands there, in colour and looking extremely solid:
“Fine, let’s make a deal. You gave me a chance, remember? A tank and my skills. I’ll give you a chance, too. Whenever Anya isn’t around, you can try and change my mind about marrying her and not getting rid of you,” At that, Klaus narrows his eyes and pulls his lips into a feral smirk. There’s something about his facial features that makes his face different from the majority of people – and different doesn’t mean particularly pleasant to the sight, no, especially with those scars. Nikolai sets his jaw for a moment, then proceeds. “But just like I had ammunition, you have…” ‘Powers’ is too strong and Nikolai doesn’t want to acknowledge it. “… weird abilities. And since this is between you and me, you’ll leave Anya and my family out of this.”
The intensity of Klaus’ gaze is… disturbing, invasive. Klaus puffs his chest and stretches his smirk in a way no human should – yet, he’s not human anymore (if he ever was), he’s… dead. He reaches for Nikolai, who hesitates just a second before accepting to shake hands with Klaus.
Nikolai can’t hold Klaus’ hand, but he sure feels a gelid, strong grip around his hand.
Both the door and the window open, silently.
And Nikolai exits the bedroom with a pile of clothes and Klaus following him, visibly delighted:
“Spying me in the shower won’t help your cause…” Nikolai grunts after closing the bathroom door and turning around to see Klaus sitting on the edge of the bathtub:
“I don’t know why you’re so shy, Nikolai… you had little privacy, during the war,” Klaus states. Nikolai wraps himself around a towel and takes off his pants:
“Maybe that’s why I want my privacy back.”
“You won’t have any privacy if you marry…”
“I still won’t have any privacy with a perverted ghost spying on me!”
“We’re men, which makes it less weird.”
Nikolai casts Klaus a deadpan look – the man (ghost) probably lived in barracks for too long. Nikolai then secures the towel around his waist and undresses his pyjama shirt. It’s five in the morning and he already feels… exhausted. Klaus is grinning like the over-confident fool he is, probably certain Nikolai is now a friend. Nikolai takes in a deep breath, hoping to summon patience, when he notices a thing he hadn’t noticed before, when Klaus was alive:
“Is that a wedding ring on your finger?” he asks curiously. Klaus’ grin drops and he looks down at his ring:
“No. This is my honour ring,” He sounds fond, but all Nikolai cares is that the ridiculous ghost is talking about a subject he clearly doesn’t know first-hand:
“You can’t counsel me on marriage if you’re not married,” Nikolai argues logically.
Klaus seems suddenly upset at that and he frowns. Nikolai walks up to the bathtub (firmly holding the towel in place), gets in as far as possible from Klaus, then closes the curtain.
Only then does he remove the towel and hangs it on the curtain pole.
Nikolai spends the entire shower staring at the curtain and at the towel: unfortunately, that is not the first time Klaus has stayed in the bathroom while Nikolai showers, and the awful ghost is keen on making Nikolai’s towel and clothes change places – namely, going from the bathroom to Nikolai’s bedroom…
Nikolai almost shouts out victoriously when he sees the towel moving and immediately snatches it and wraps it tightly around himself. Across the curtain Klaus laughs, clearly delighted:
“You do realise upsetting me will not help your cause…” Nikolai points out, peeking from behind the curtain. Klaus is pacing back and forth, jacket and hat gone but pipe firmly secured between his teeth. Nikolai steps out of the bathtub and immediately looks at his little pile of folded clothes, checking if something is missing.
“I’m not upsetting you, I’m making you company,” Klaus argues in a condescending tone. Nikolai opts for not replying: instead, he focuses on trying to get dressed with the towel wrapped around him.
When Nikolai heads to the kitchen to prepare himself breakfast, Klaus follows him eagerly. Usually, Klaus is relatively… behaved… in the kitchen, but Nikolai assumes that, since he was spared from ghostly pranks in the bathroom, the scale must be evened with ghostly pranks in the kitchen.
That can be the only reasonable explanation as to why the bread keeps hopping away:
“This isn’t impressive at all!” Nikolai complains when he finally catches the bread. Klaus, sitting at one of the chairs, looks at him like he’s particularly dumb:
“I’m playing with you,” he explains.
Nikolai had always thought Germans were strict and stern. His experience had taught him Germans were cruel. Klaus, however, doesn’t seem to fit properly in the first two categories: smoking his pipe while leaning on a vehicle as he watched Nikolai and his crew remove dead bodies from a tank hadn’t given him a particularly strict look; being so childishly excited about them being namesakes hadn’t made him look that stern. Cruelty fits Klaus like a glove, but making things float out of Nikolai’s reach seems like pettiness and childishness.
“You’re ridiculous…” Nikolai concludes.
Like Nikolai said nothing at all, Klaus stands up and walks to the lonely table in the corner, seemingly curious. Nikolai remembers that, every time they are in the kitchen, no matter the shenanigans that take place, eventually Klaus is drawn to that corner. Nikolai had always thought the German might want to explode the device on the table, but he realises now Klaus is probably just curious about it:
“It’s a samovar. It’s used to heat water to make tea,” Nikolai explains patiently.
Klaus is looking at it like he can’t understand how it works. Nikolai snorts at that, because who doesn’t know how a samovar works?
“Why not using a teapot?” Klaus asks, circling the table:
“The teapot goes on top to heat up. Then we pour the heated water in the samovar into the teapot.”
“That doesn’t make sense. Why not using a kettle?”
“Because we heat water in the samovar.”
“Why heating up the teapot and then pour in the hot water? That doesn’t make sense, it must take an eternity to make tea!”
“If you pour boiling water on the herbs, you’ll ruin the tea!”
And, just like that, Nikolai is discussing tea with a German ghost. If there’s one thing that Russians are superior at, besides tanks, that is tea, and Nikolai takes it personally in demonstrating how his way of making tea is so much better than Klaus’ simplistic ‘boil the water in a kettle, pour it into a teapot with herbs, wait five minutes and drink it’.
It’s six in the morning when Nikolai leaves the house for a walk. Klaus follows him, of course, ranting about the ungodly amount of time it takes to make tea. Nikolai assumes the German never realised it took this long because he was too entertained annoying Nikolai, instead of standing there quietly, staring at the samovar, watching it like it was fancy technology.
Nikolai doubts the samovar will ever capture Klaus’ attention like that again, and that means that his days of eating peacefully are over.
They cross the village towards the nearby woods. Nikolai casts a discreet look at one of the lonely houses nearest to the trees – Uncle Vanya’s house, and if the priest didn’t succeed in getting rid of Klaus, then Uncle Vanya will: the old man knows every folklore tale, all the traditions, and Nikolai remembers very well when he was a child and spent many winter evenings, with his friends, listening to Uncle Vanya’s stories and ancient wisdom in his small, dark house.
The only disadvantage of talking to Uncle Vanya is that the old man might comment Nikolai’s problem with his mother… or with someone else, and Nikolai does not need anyone else to know about Klaus: the priest and Anya are already too many people.
There’s a bright red fence around Uncle Vanya’s house, and the black cat perched atop of it, bathing in the gradually rising sun, widens its eyes at them. Nikolai frowns, because he had never seen such an alarmed look on a cat before, but shrugs it off as they approach the woods.
A dirt road leads the way across the woods. As a child, Nikolai loved to run to the very end of the road, a small clearing that divides the safe part of the woods to wander while picking up mushrooms or berries, and to fish on the lake and streams, and to hunt small game, from the untouched, primordial woods across the clearing where wolves and bears dwell.
Nikolai knows that part of the woods like the palm of his hand. He leaves the road and heads to the lake where, the day before, he attempted to have a peaceful picnic with Anya. Klaus walks next to him, surprisingly quiet.
The broken branch and the scattered pinecones are still on the ground. Nikolai clenches his jaw and side-eyes Klaus, who simply looks around, innocently.
Together, they approach the lake and start walking around it in a quick pace.
And, soon enough, Klaus is shoving at Nikolai with a huge, naughty grin. Nikolai could make the effort to ignore it… but he’s the one walking between the water and Klaus, and he can’t shove back at the damned ghost:
“Throwing me in the water won’t help your cause…” Nikolai grunts:
“I’ll catch you if you fall, Nikolai!” Klaus assures, his grin growing into a huge, playful smile:
“What exactly are you trying to achieve with this?” Nikolai asks with a sigh.
That makes Klaus stop, and Nikolai stops as well and turns to look at him. The hat and the pipe are no longer with Klaus, and he’s simply staring at Nikolai and blinking his eyes slowly, like Nikolai made a question that has such an obvious answer that common sense is all it takes to get there:
“I wanted your allegiance,” he says, slowly. Nikolai rolls his eyes and snorts, baring his teeth. A memory flashes in the back of his mind, of a cold and damp cell flooded in warm light and a dark figure standing there with him, demanding his skill as a tank commander. Shaking his head, Nikolai proceeds to walk around the lake. Klaus trots quickly after him. “But that doesn’t matter, now. I want you. I want your friendship.”
Nikolai barks a dry laugh at that, then looks at Klaus like he’s particularly delusional:
“Good luck with that!” Not that the German will ever have anything from him.
Yet, by the way Klaus smirks and raises an eyebrow, he takes it as an incentive.
Nikolai didn’t expect Klaus to strictly follow the deal Nikolai had no intention to stick to. So, Nikolai wasn’t surprised at all that, when he went to lunch with Anya and his aunt, Klaus followed him. The German, however, seemed content in staying in the background instead of demanding Nikolai’s attention.
It somehow makes Nikolai feel extremely uneasy, because Klaus, pacing back and forth in the dining room and looking curiously at the carpets on the walls, can only be plotting something. Instead of enjoying his aunt’s and Anya’s company (and the meal they made), Nikolai spends the entire time glancing furtively around the room and over his shoulder, gaze fixed on the wandering German and paying little attention to what is being told to him.
When he and Anya leave for a walk, Klaus follows at a distance… and Nikolai realises he does not like to have Klaus Jäger behind him – or anywhere he can’t see him:
“Klaus again?” Anya eventually asks, when Nikolai keeps looking behind, to see Klaus strolling around a few meters behind them, hands behind his back and looking at everything like it’s the first time he sees the village. He has his full uniform and his pipe.
Nikolai looks at Anya, embarrassed. Yet, she gives him a small smile, understanding, and squeezes his hand affectionally:
“He’ll leave, don’t worry,” she assures him. “He’s simply a ghost.”
And Nikolai just knows Anya thinks he’s hallucinating, and that the day before she got hit by a pinecone because pinecones do fall off trees and she probably just had bad luck.
For the time being, Nikolai won’t explain further.
He feels Klaus’ eyes on his back, can even imagine him smiling in that ominous way of his, with his head tilted to the side and his scars stretched and wrinkled – ugly, unpleasant.
For the next couple of weeks, Nikolai’s routine consists of putting up with Klaus in the morning, stress about his quietude in the evening, then put up with him again at night.
Sometimes, Klaus just sits on the edge of the bathtub and lets Nikolai shower in peace; most times, he plays with Nikolai, as he likes to call it: he makes Nikolai’s clothes or towel disappear (once, Nikolai yelled at him and both clothes and towels were gone – and Nikolai had an extremely embarrassing encounter with his mother while he tried to sneak back into his bedroom, naked and hopefully unnoticed at ungodly hours in the morning); he opens and closes the curtain like a child discovering a door for the first time; he makes Nikolai chase around the soap if Nikolai tries to ignore him.
Sometimes, Klaus just sits at the table and lets Nikolai prepare breakfast in peace; most times, he helps Nikolai, as he calls low quality culinary shenanigans: if Nikolai ignores him, he puts salt in Nikolai’s tea; he puts the bread on top of a cabinet and when Nikolai climbs a stool to retrieve it, he makes the bread float back to the table; he makes the jam fall from the knife to the table, and no matter how close to the jar Nikolai holds his slice of bread… if Klaus doesn’t want him to have jam, Nikolai will not have jam (Nikolai once made the mistake of calling Klaus a nasty name, and all the jam in the jar went straight up to the ceiling).
Sometimes, Klaus just walks quietly next to Nikolai; most times, he is friendly, as he proudly calls incessant chatting (monologues, actually) and overall being a pain in the arse: he chats, and if Nikolai replies just through monosyllables, Klaus makes dogs in the village bark, flocks of birds fly away in a panic, and wolves in the woods howl; he shoves at Nikolai and touches his shoulders and arms (once, Nikolai told him to shut up because he wanted to pick up mushrooms and liked to do so in silence… but Klaus made the mushrooms disappear).
Sometimes, Klaus just sits quietly on Nikolai’s bed and lets him sleep; most times, he wants to share comfort, as he calls appearing under the blankets: he snuggles up on Nikolai; he chats some more; he shoves at Nikolai; he steals the pillow and plays with the blankets (once Nikolai explained to him that the only person he wanted to share a bed with was Anya, and the next moment he was on the floor, wrapped tightly on the carpet and unable to move); he makes Nikolai’s pyjama disappear; he opens the window because he wants to see the stars.
And every time that Nikolai and Anya are together, Klaus is always in the background, always quiet… and nothing is more unsettling than Klaus Jäger staying quietly around him and Anya.
Nikolai discovers that Klaus has moments of utter dumbness and can’t identify sarcasm: most times, Klaus beams and acts like Nikolai is playing with him. When the silly ghost figures out Nikolai was just being sarcastic, he pouts and makes things fly off shelves or branches fall from trees. But Nikolai also discovers that Klaus can be a content and relatively quiet company if he simply talks back to him – subject isn’t really a problem, Klaus can speech about anything and Nikolai can contradict anything he says. The problem is… patience. Usually a patient and careful man, Nikolai has very little patience for Klaus - he explained it once to the ghost, but Klaus replied that patience came with age, which had annoyed, and confused, and worried Nikolai.
It wasn’t Klaus being haunted by the ghost of his worst enemy!
How old was Klaus anyway to talk like that?
Was Klaus going to stay… forever???
Nikolai looks himself in the mirror, admiring his new uniform. Anya is waiting in the living room with his mother and aunt, and Nikolai wants them to be the first to see him as a police lieutenant.
Unfortunately, they will be second… thanks to the German ghost sitting on Nikolai’s bed and looking at him with a stupid smile. He’s silent, though – and after those last weeks, Nikolai now knows better than disturbing Klaus when he’s quiet.
Klaus always ends up disturbing himself, anyway…
Nikolai puts on his officer cap:
“That’s ridiculously big,” There, Klaus can’t be quiet for long. Nikolai sighs:
“Your mouth is ridiculously big, too,” he replies, and it earns him a snort. Nikolai then turns around and walks to the door:
“Still, you’d be better in the army. Such a waste…” Klaus comments and stands up to follow Nikolai, who refrains right on time to tell Klaus he’d be better in the place where dead people go to. He opts for ignoring the German and exits the bedroom.
Or tries to, because he can’t open the door. He sighs again and pinches his nose bridge:
“I could make a general out of you, Nikolai…” Klaus whispers behind him, a cold breath tickling the back of Nikolai’s neck. It sends a shiver down his spine, but he moistens his lips and his hand remains on the door handle:
“Open the door and we’ll go out for a walk after dinner…” he grunts. He can imagine Klaus narrowing his eyes:
“With the woman?”
“No.”
The door opens and Nikolai stumbles out of his bedroom after an enthusiastic push.
Of course, Anya is delighted to see Nikolai in his new uniform. She’s supportive of his new career, and Nikolai is thankful for that. She’s also incredibly patient and understanding when Nikolai tells her quietly that, later, he’ll go out for a walk with Klaus.
And it’s a shame that Anya isn’t there, because the twilight is beautiful: the sun is setting in the horizon, painting a strip of warm pink above the trees and mountains that contrasts starkly with the dark blue sky dotted with stars above the village; the air is hot but a fresh breeze blows gently and the village is quiet.
Even Klaus is quiet, strolling leisurely next to Nikolai. They walk towards the woods, but before they reach the first trees, Nikolai sees Uncle Vanya approaching, carrying a stack of wood.
Nikolai is a man who seizes an opportunity when he sees it:
“I’ll just help Uncle Vanya,” he explains innocently. Klaus, naïvely magnanimous in death as he had been in life, nods and watches Nikolai as he trots to meet the old man and relieve him from his burden. Nikolai makes small talk with Uncle Vanya as they go to his house, and only when they are standing on the porch and the old man is opening the front door, does Nikolai ask the question he’s been ashamed to ask whenever Anya was with him. “Uncle Vanya, why do you have salt by the doorway?”
The old man, bent by the weight of the years, wearing traditional clothes and a long white beard, looks up at him like he asked something particularly ridiculous:
“To keep bad spirits away,” he explains patiently and tries to take the stack of wood from Nikolai’s arms. “Thank you for your help, Kolya.”
“Yes, Kolya… very helpful…” Klaus sneers at Nikolai’s ear, startling him slightly. “I thought we were past this…”
“And that’s why I escaped your stupid training!” Nikolai hisses lowly and smiles at Uncle Vanya. “I’ll take this inside!”
Pleased for another bit of help, Uncle Vanya bows his head and signals Nikolai to walk in. With one big stride, Nikolai is inside the house.
Much to his annoyance, so is Klaus.
When Nikolai proceeds the walk towards the woods, Klaus walks next to him, silent, but all the dogs in the village are barking and wolves howl from afar:
“Why are you upset? It didn’t stop you, did it?” Nikolai grumbles as he walks into the woods. He loves the woods at night: loves the darkness and quietude, the mysterious fog around the trees when it’s colder, the moonlight seeping through the branches. However, with Klaus throwing a tantrum, the woods aren’t exactly quiet – an owl takes flight nearby and crosses their path, startling Nikolai.
Klaus goes to stand in front of him. Nikolai can see him clearly, like he’s under daylight: he’s not wearing his officer cap, he doesn’t have his pipe and gloves, and his lower lip is pushed forwards in a sulky pout. He looks ridiculous and Nikolai finds it difficult to take him seriously:
“You’re always betraying me, Nikolai. Every time I loosen the reins, you take the bit between your teeth,” Klaus grunts, stepping into Nikolai’s personal space. He then tilts his head and raises his eyebrows for emphasis. “I mean no harm. How am I supposed to stick to my end of the deal if I can’t trust you?”
“It’s not betrayal… I’m just testing your capacities…” Nikolai replies, shrugging innocently. Klaus narrows his eyes, looking suddenly extremely interested in what he’s being told. “You survived an Orthodox priest and a handful of salt, so let us see how you’ll do with… two handfuls of salt.”
“I thought we already had a deal…?” Klaus purrs. Nikolai can’t hold it anymore and chuckles:
“We do, but you’re doing so poorly…” And there it is, the sulky pout. Chuckle turns to laughter and, eventually, even Klaus starts laughing too.
The German probably thinks that Nikolai is joking about ‘testing his capacities’, because the next morning he announces he’ll stay outside to give Nikolai time to prepare the miraculous salt.
But Nikolai isn’t joking. He is still very serious about getting rid of Klaus, and because it’s six in the morning, no one is watching and Klaus is outside, Nikolai grabs the salt jar and leaves not a handful, but a generous line of salt in every window sill (thankfully, Nikolai’s mother is a heavy sleeper), and under the chimney, and on the doorway.
“Did you know that ‘salary’ comes from ‘salt’, because Roman legionnaires were paid with salt?” Klaus chirps happily, and Nikolai nearly jumps out of his skin. He turns around abruptly and the bloody ghost is sitting in the rocking chair, Nikolai’s mother’s favourite, chewing at his pipe. “Who’s going to clean up the mess, Nikolai?”
Nikolai clenches his jaw and looks at the nearly empty jar in his hands. Well, that was a glorious waste of time… and of salt… What would Anya say, if she saw this? What will his mother say, if she wakes up before Nikolai can sweep away all the salt?? He leaves the jar on the floor and goes to the kitchen to get the broom – yet, when he returns, there’s no salt on the doorway and the jar is full. Frowning, Nikolai looks at the fireplace – no salt under it, either. Just to be sure, Nikolai goes to inspect all the window sills… and the salt is gone. He returns to the living room quickly, and the jar is still where he left it, full of salt, and Klaus is rocking himself in the chair, visibly amused and chewing expectantly at his pipe. For a moment, Nikolai just blinks his eyes, until he finally finds words:
“Thank you,” he says, honestly, and Klaus’ smug smirk grows into a huge smile that reaches his eyes.