Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Dietrich lets his last birthday book fall to his lap and sighs.

Karla looks up from connecting her markers together by their caps.

„Want to switch?“ he whispers.

„Mm!“ Karla slides the marker-stick and pad of paper across the rug to him.

Dietrich passes over the book, then separates the blue marker and carefully outlines Alpspitze on a clean sheet of paper.

Father's footsteps thump down the stairs and down the hall towards the sitting room.

Dietrich works harder on his drawing.

„„Karla, Dietrich. Come with me. Quietly.“”

They exchange looks, getting to their feet, and tiptoe after him, through the hall, up the stairs, and finally to the company room.

Mother's inside—and angry—sitting on the edge of the bed with a bunch of cloth in one arm and a bottle in her other hand.

The bundle makes small nursing sounds.

Father says, „Children, this is—“ He wrinkles his nose. „This is your brother.“ Sort of sighs, then, „We will call him 'Hermann'.“

Karla's eyes get huge. She whispers, „A little brother? For us?“

Father presses his hands open and flat to his trousers. „Yes. He's your little brother.“

„May I hold him?“ asks Dietrich, going—

Father steps between him and Mother and Hermann. „You may not.“

Dietrich looks at his toes.

Father takes a shaky breath, continues softly, „Hermann is not well and shouldn't be touched any more than absolutely necessary. Do you understand?“

„Yes, Father.“

„Yes, Father,“ says Karla.

Hermann grunts and wiggles and Mother slowly moves the bottle away and sets it on the duvet.

„He needs rest,“ Father says. „You may go, but be quiet.“

Dietrich and Karla nod to Father and creep across the hallway to Dietrich's room, to the rug next to his bed, and settle down.

„Deedee?“

„Yes?“

„Mother wasn't—“ Karla holds her hands waaay out in front of her tummy. „—fat?“

„No, she wasn't.“ Dietrich worries the carpet. „Not like she was before you or like Gilbert's mother. She didn't go to hospital, either.“ Chews his lip. „It's weird, but Father never lies, so Hermann's our brother.“ Shrugs. „We must've missed something.“

Karla's forehead goes wrinkly. „But, Private Talk?“

„There's no baby furniture, so maybe it was about that.“

Karla frowns, picks at her buttons.

Dietrich sighs, then, „Do you want to play Engineers?“

„I guess.“

Dietrich forces a smile, scoots over to his toy box, and digs out his robots.