Feliciano was not sure what woke him. It may have been the single ray of grey dawn light that drifted across his eyes, or the unfamiliar creaking of wooden beams, or the sudden cold that crept over his skin now that the fire had finally burnt out. All he knew, immediately, was that Ludwig was gone. He rolled over slowly into the empty space beside him and ran his hand over it. Feliciano had known he would wake like this. But he still felt empty, aching, cold, like half of him had been torn away. He rested his head against the hay, closed his eyes, and clutched at the last touch and memory of Ludwig. He was just drifting back to sleep when he heard the barn door creak open.

"Feliciano?"

Half insensible, Feliciano furrowed his brows in confusion. "Ludwig?" he mumbled. He turned slowly, drowsily, at the voice, then blinked the sleep out of his eyes. The cold morning came rushing in. "Grandpa?" Feliciano quickly looked down. Oh, thank goodness... he had his pants on.

"Feli, oh thank God, thank God!" Grandpa Roma ran across the room, dropped to his knees, and pulled Feliciano into a bruising hug. After a few stunned, baffled, rather uncomfortable moments, Feliciano lightly tapped Roma on the shoulder.

"Can't breathe."

Roma pulled back and Feliciano gulped for air. "I looked everywhere," gasped Roma. His eyes were red, his hair wild and uncombed. He looked exhausted. "I searched all night, everywhere, and I thought... I was almost sure... Oh, Feli, I'm so sorry." Roma pulled Feliciano into his arms again. "Are you all right, tell me you're all right!"

Feliciano was not sure what to say. He wasn't sure how he was supposed to react. But he was sad, and he was hurting, and this was his Grandpa, who always made those bad things go away. Feliciano breathed in relief and clung to Grandpa Roma, wanting to believe he could make everything all right again. "I'm all right, Grandpa. I thought you hated me."

"Never, Feli. Forgive me for saying such awful words. Forgive me for my moment of madness. If I hadn't found you... oh, God, if I hadn't found you..." Roma could not finish the sentence. And Feliciano was so tired of crying.

.

The morning sun filtered through the kitchen windows, bathing the small room in a familiar golden light. The storm had passed as though it had never been. Feliciano sat opposite Grandpa Roma, staring at his hands on the table, completely unsure how to act in this strange, unfamiliar situation. Roma did not seem angry, had been nothing but kind and concerned since they had walked home from the barn, but Feliciano knew that he had to be furious. After what Feliciano had done by warning Ludwig, after the night he had spent away and Roma had spent looking for him, after the words Roma had spoken the afternoon before - how could Grandpa Roma be anything but angry?

"What did Antonio tell you?" asked Feliciano tremulously.

"He told me you have made friends with a German pilot. And that you informed him of the Americans landing tomorrow." Roma sounded too calm.

"I'm sorry Grandpa. I never wanted him to tell anyone, I was trying to stop him from going back to the base... I was only trying to save him, that's all, I wasn't trying to betray..."

"I know that, Feliciano." Feliciano looked back down at the table and waited for Roma to continue. He didn't.

"Have I ruined everything?"

"We've had to change plans. Hopefully... things will be all right." Feliciano nodded, realising that Roma was not going to tell him anymore than that. Feliciano wondered just how much he would be allowed to know from now on. "This German is more than a friend, isn't he?"

The question threw Feliciano off guard. His stomach turned cold. He gulped heavily and looked up slowly, wide eyed and scared. But Roma still did not look angry.

"I thought so. He must mean a lot to you to risk so much." Feliciano just nodded uncertainly. A heavy silence fell and again Feliciano waited, unsure what to expect, unsure what to do. Roma finally took a deep breath and smiled wistfully.

"Do you know, Feliciano, your grandmother was the most beautiful woman I have ever known in this world. Olive skin, thick black curls, the loveliest dark eyes I have ever seen. The instant I laid eyes on her, I knew I would never love another. I walked straight up to her, took her hand, and I asked her to marry me."

Feliciano's uneasiness was quickly forgotten. It had been a long time since Grandpa Roma had spoken of the past, and he always told the best stories. Feliciano brightened slightly and sat up eagerly. "Wow. And she said yes?"

"No. No, she punched me." Roma grinned and Feliciano laughed. "But I swore I would never give up. It took me a month. One month, can you believe it? I could have had any woman in Italy in a second. But, these stubborn Greeks. Her... it took a month."

"Did she love you then?"

"Yes. Very much." Roma's eyes unfocused slightly as he looked past Feliciano. "When she died in childbirth, I thought I would die with her. I wanted to." Roma sighed. "But I couldn't. I had the most beautiful baby girl in the world to look after."

Feliciano smiled. "Mama."

"Your grandmother, she was very much like Lovino. Your mother, though, was just like you." Roma's eyes brightened as he spoke. "I always said she was born with a paintbrush in her hand. So brilliant. And she could sing like an angel. And write, and draw, and talk to anyone about anything." Feliciano hung on every word. Grandpa Roma never spoke much of Feliciano's mother. It was always too painful. "She was the sunshine in my life. So happy, so cheerful... everyone who met her loved her instantly." Roma's expression darkened, his eyes hardened. "Including him."

"My father." Feliciano knew almost nothing about his father. Grandpa Roma did not speak of him.

"I begged her not to go away with him. She was so young. But she would not listen. I shouted, I yelled. And it was the last time I saw her." Feliciano could see the pain and regret still so fresh in Roma's eyes. "She was no older than you, Feliciano. No older than you when he left her alone and she could not live with the pain of it. When they brought me the news..." Roma shuddered and closed his eyes. Feliciano looked away for a few moments, his chest heavy. Roma breathed out, and continued. "When they brought me the news, for the second time in my life, I considered death. But once again, I had no choice. Because I was suddenly left with two tiny, perfect baby grandsons who had no one but me in all the world." Roma smiled again, softly, reflectively. "I know I probably didn't always do my best with you boys, but I tried. Maybe I always overprotected you - maybe I still do. But that is because I have always known that my heart can not take being shattered a third time."

Roma suddenly looked old, and tired, and defeated. When Feliciano was a child, Grandpa Roma was so big, so safe. He could chase away monsters and soothe away nightmares and protect Feliciano from anything. He could make everything better. But then the world changed and the monsters became real. Feliciano grew up and now he knew that it just wasn't possible for Grandpa Roma to protect him from everything, and that no one could make everything better. It was a hard thing to realise.

"Grandpa, I'm not Mama. And neither is Lovino. Just because she fell in love and went away doesn't mean we are going to do the same thing." It was obvious now just what Grandpa Roma's real problem with Antonio was. And also just how much Feliciano would hurt him if he ever did just leave everything and run away to Switzerland. Feliciano felt guilty as he wondered whether that would be enough to stop him. But... "There are some things even you can't protect us from, Grandpa. And you can't stop us from falling in love."

"Feli, when did you grow up so much?" Roma sighed then shook his head as he looked up at Feliciano. "I don't understand you boys. When I was your age I had seven girlfriends." He grinned, and for a moment his eyes twinkled again. "One for every night of the week." Feliciano laughed, and Roma stood slowly and headed for the front room. For the first time Feliciano could remember, he almost looked his age. "Go get some sleep, Feliciano."

.

For the second time that day, Feliciano was not sure what woke him. At first he thought it must be the massive explosions that sounded far too close, or the low and steady roar of what sounded like a hundred planes flying overhead. But then he realised someone was screaming. Feliciano jumped out of bed and ran into the front room, his body reacting quicker than his mind. When he got to the end of the hall, he staggered to a halt, fear rising immediately in his chest.

Lovino struggled desperately against Grandpa Roma's hold, his wide, red eyes fixed on the front door. A look of pure terror, of utter panic was etched on his face. It was like nothing Feliciano had seen; it struck him still and turned his blood cold. Roma struggled to hold Lovino against the wall. "Please stop, Lovino, you're going to hurt your..."

"NO! We have to go, we have to go now..." Lovino's voice was desperate, uncontrolled, and he thrashed, hysterical, in Roma's grip. Feliciano watched, too stunned to speak, an unreal dread swimming through his mind. Grandpa spoke calmly, evenly, even as it looked like he was using all his considerable strength to stop Lovino from breaking free.

"Lovi, Lovi, calm down, listen to me, please..."

"We have to help him!" Lovino turned his eyes to Roma, wide and pleading. He clutched, panicking, onto Roma's shirt. "Please, Grandpa, please help him, please..."

"Lovino, I'm sorry, there is nothing we can do, not today..." Roma tried to place a hand soothingly to his cheek, but Lovino let out a strangled cry and pushed it away.

"No, NO! You don't understand, they're torturing him right now, they're... oh my God..." Lovino took great gulps of air, turning white. He looked like he was about to faint. "Oh my God, no..." Then he pounded frantically, manically, screaming, at Roma's chest. "LET ME GO!" Lovino almost managed to slip through Roma's grasp, but Roma managed to hold his arms and slammed him against the wall at the last second.

"What's wrong?"

Lovino and Roma both looked over at the quiet, trembling question, noticing Feliciano for the first time. Lovino's expression turned from terrified to furious in an instant. "You. It's YOUR FAULT!"

Feliciano gasped and took a step backwards. Clenching panic gripped his heart. "What? What's..."

"Your filthy German boyfriend!" Lovino spat the word. "He turned him in, he must have, how else could they know so suddenly?"

Feliciano's heart froze in his chest. The room turned dark and cold. "Is... is Antonio..."

"It seems the Gestapo received a tipoff last night," said Roma flatly. "They captured Antonio early this morning." Feliciano swallowed a wave of nausea. Lovino again fought to free himself from Roma's grip.

"What else did you tell this German, Feliciano?" he shouted angrily. "What did you tell him about Antonio?"

"No!" cried Feliciano, shocked and distressed. "I never mentioned anything about Antonio, never, and it couldn't have been Ludwig anyway, not last night, that's impossible!"

Roma just closed his eyes and turned his head, but Lovino shouted, "Why?"

"Because... because..." Feliciano's eyes darted between his grandpa and his brother. But there was no reason to hide the truth anymore. By now, they knew anyway. "Because Ludwig was with me all night." A massive roar flooded the room as more planes flew overhead. The Americans were attacking; the Germans were prepared. An aerial battle was well underway.

Lovino shook his head, distraught and bewildered. He looked hopelessly from Feliciano to Roma to the door. And then he visibly shattered. His legs collapsed beneath him and Roma gently lowered him to the ground. "I never should have left," Lovino gasped through his wracking sobs. "I never should have made that stupid promise. I never should have... oh God... Antonio..." Lovino shook helplessly, his face white and horrified, his eyes wild and disbelieving. Feliciano never believed he could see his brother like this and he felt like his own heart had been torn out, like his world was ending as well.

"You did the only thing you could do," said Roma softly. "You listened to him when he told you to go. You did the right thing."

"No. No." Lovino finally looked exhausted, drained, and he clung to Roma, who stroked his hair and murmured softly.

"We will do all we can for him, Lovino. Everything we can."

Feliciano stood watching, tears on his cheeks, completely at a loss. He did not know what to say, what to do, what to feel. Antonio had been captured, Lovino destroyed. Grandpa Roma was helpless to do anything. And Feliciano couldn't help but think, as the noise of the battle grew louder, that Ludwig was up there. That Feliciano could not know if he would ever see him again. Everything Feliciano knew, everything he had come to rely on, was suddenly falling apart around him. Feliciano felt lost, frightened, confused. "What does this all mean, Grandpa? What's going to happen now?" The noise from outside overwhelmed the silence of the room: the blasting explosions nearby, the roar of engines overhead, the thunderous and terrifying and sky-shattering clamour of a distant battle that was far too close.

Grandpa Roma shook his head as he rocked Lovino gently. "I don't know."

.

Some months later...

.

"Ground Control to Schwarz Leader. Come in Schwarz Leader. Can you give us your position?"

The voice crackled through Ludwig's speakers and into his ears, very nearly startling him from the relative silence and calm of the flight thus far. He quickly shook out of his serene state, surprised and angry that he had so easily allowed himself to blank out. He scanned the clear skies in his line of vision as he prepared to respond. He hadn't thought he would need to do so anytime soon. They were nearly back at base, returning from a long mission escorting bombers to their new base on the Austrian border. Ludwig was tired, drained, and running low on both fuel and energy. He could only guess his three accompanying squadron members were feeling the same. Ludwig fitted his mask in place to respond. "This is Schwarz Leader to Ground Control. We are currently on vector one-seven-three heading two-four-five, all seems well. Over."

"Thank you Schwarz Leader. We have received reports of enemy fighters patrolling your area. Be on the lookout. Over."

Ludwig carefully searched the sky again, his eyes drifting from the vast expanse of blue above right down to the wide open green fields of the countryside below him. His chest panged at the sight as it always did, memories assaulting him of green grass and oak trees and beautiful, perfect afternoons. Raising his eyes, his gaze rested on the small, tattered red flower he had attached to the front of his cockpit.

Thoughts of Feliciano were constant these days. Thoughts, memories - they were all Ludwig had to get him through. He had not seen Feliciano since the beautiful, stormy, almost dreamlike night they had parted. Gazing down at Feliciano as he slept, dressing quietly and sliding the precious photograph into his wallet, placing one last kiss to Feliciano's soft, warm skin and hearing him sigh in his sleep... leaving Feliciano that night was the hardest thing Ludwig had ever done. And then everything went to hell. The Americans landed and forced Ludwig's unit into retreat. Months of desperate air battles, of constant retreat; of losing aircraft and losing men, always losing men. Twenty-two years old and Ludwig was one of the veterans of the Italian campaign. His country and his duty had always been everything to Ludwig. And yet now, after seeing more of war and feeling more of peace than he had ever dreamt he could bear, it was strange how often those simple, naive, honest words of Feliciano's echoed through Ludwig's head. "Switzerland, Ludwig. I'd leave right now if you asked me. This second."

Ludwig tried to snap his thoughts back into order and spoke into his mask. "We have no sightings currently, Ground Control. If anything changes we will let you know. To repeat, our current heading is two -"

The flare came from nowhere. A blazing red trail shot past the right side of the aircraft and Ludwig unthinkingly pulled into a quick ascent. His eyes shot to his mirrors and this time he saw it. Unmistakable. A plane swooping down behind him, a Mustang, closing in fast. Ludwig swore loudly. He smashed the control and changed the audio channel to broadcast to his fellow pilots. "Attention, attention, Mustang closing in, take evas..." And then there were more. The sky behind him was suddenly filled with enemy aircraft, flying out of the sun, appearing from thin air. Ludwig counted four of them before he braced himself, gripped the plane control, and shouted. "Break and engage!"

Ludwig kicked his rudder to hard left and pulled his plane into a tight turn. The first Mustang gained steadily directly behind him. Around him his three pilots executed his order and the squadron split evenly. "Get up," Ludwig shouted. "Pull up into high formation. Execute immediate evasive action, we are under attack."

"Schwarz Two, copy that," came the voice of his wingman. Ludwig barely knew the man. He barely knew any of these pilots, all of them fairly new recruits... too many pilots had been lost lately. This was supposed to be a simple mission. A break for Ludwig and an easy initiation assignment for the rookies. An ambush by Allied aircraft was the last thing they needed, especially when they were worn out from a previous mission. Their voices sounded alarmed as they spoke over the radio channel, not even using their call signs.

"Where the hell did they come from?"

"Is it the Brits?"

"No, it's the Americans."

"God damn it, I'm too tired for this shit."

Another flare flew between the aircraft and Ludwig's stomach jumped, his nerves slightly frayed from the unexpected nature of the attack and the inexperienced pilots he was leading. "Cut the chatter and focus. We need to gain some height." They had to get higher, get above the Mustangs to come down on their tails. They had to gain the advantage they were so sorely lacking. Ludwig continued his steady climb but the Mustang in his rear vision followed easily, maintaining height on him the entire time. And then he disappeared. Ludwig blinked, astonished at how swiftly the plane had dropped from his field of vision. "Where the hell did he..."

Suddenly the Mustang appeared before him, dropped in from nowhere. In only seconds, Ludwig realised who it was. The words stood out, emblazoned, too obvious, on the side of the P-51 Mustang. 'Lady Beth'. Ludwig swore and drew his plane into a sudden hard dive. His wingman seemed to have noticed at the same time.

"Holy shit, their leader is the Magician," came his panicked voice over the channel.

"What? That guy is impossible, he's..."

"I said to cut the damn chatter!" shouted Ludwig. He had to keep his men calm even as they were fighting. But he understood their alarm. He knew this American. Had fought with him before, often, ever since the Americans had landed. And he lived up to his name, impossible to get a sight on, always too quick and too evasive. But Ludwig gritted his teeth and smiled grimly. This 'Magician' might be the best the Americans had to throw at them. But Ludwig was damn well the best the Germans had to throw back. "I'm dealing with this one. Deal with the planes on your own backs."

Ludwig pulled out of the dive and performed an easy roll into a jinking climb. Just as he thought, the Mustang was not as easy to pull out of a quick descent and Ludwig finally had a height advantage on the American. He intended to keep it. He performed a quick scan of his visible airspace, thankfully not finding more than the four aircraft that had first ambushed them. He spiral climbed swiftly, trying to get into an advantageous position to attack. His speaker crackled once again.

"This is Ground Control to Schwarz Leader. We lost your audio signal. What is your status, over?"

Ludwig cut into the Mustang's tail, breathed, focused, and fired three bursts straight ahead. The Magician dodged upwards easily. Ludwig swore loudly into the channel. "We have been engaged by four enemy Mustangs and are moving to defend. They appear to be forming into an echelon formation and... hold, Ground Control, there seems to be..." Ludwig's eyes widened. In the skies before him two new enemy Mustangs flew into sight. Ludwig checked his mirror to see two more coming up from behind. And suddenly they were surrounded. Ludwig's pulse hammered quickly but steadily in his ears. Sweat rose to his palms. Eight enemy aircraft encircled them. Ludwig's throat went dry and he tried to swallow. There were too many. "Ground Control, we are surrounded. We are preparing to evade." He changed the channel, his hand steady. "Schwarz Leader to Schwarz squadron, stay high, prepare for escape, we are..." Damn it, the Americans were everywhere. "Schwarz Three, Mustang on your tail." There was no response, and no move from the pilot to evade. Frustrated anger and panic rose in Ludwig's chest. "Damn it, Schwarz Three, dive! Hard Dive!"

"I'm hit!"

"Bail out," Ludwig shouted frantically. "Schwarz Three, bail out now!" It was too late. The Messerschmitt burst into an inferno, pieces bursting asunder and falling in trails of black and white and fiery smoke. Ludwig stared blankly, his brain screaming at him to do something, to give an order that could salvage this hopeless situation. He had lost a man. He would not lose another. He tried to keep an eye on the enemy Mustangs even as he dealt with their unshakeable leader spiralling impossibly around him. Behind him Ludwig could see the aircraft forming into a multiple echelon formation. A low squadron flew in from the east, a high squadron coming down from the south. His body thrummed with controlled tension. There was nothing else he could do. They could not win this fight. He gave the order, his breathing steady, his head clear.

"This is Schwarz Leader. Immediately execute a swift hard dive descent and split into a level flight, heading vector two-five-seven, head for home. Try to outrun them. This fight is impossible." The two planes dropped away from his sight as they executed his order. A moment later the voice of his wingman cut through the speakers.

"Schwarz Leader, you did not execute the manoeuvre."

Ludwig responded evenly. "Follow my instructions and head vector two-five-seven."

"But Sir..."

"That is a direct order. Over and out."

"Lieutenant!"

Ludwig cut off the channel, forced himself into full concentration, and took a deep gasping breath. He stared at the control, at the floor, at the precious red flower. Then he caught the American leader, their so called Magician, in his sights. He checked his mirror to see his men flying into the distance, having successfully outmanoeuvred the slower Mustangs, and he moved into position to ensure complete and uninterrupted focus on his own plane. Eight American aircraft now surrounded him. But the Magician was Ludwig's only target. "Come on, Magician," he whispered, excitement, anticipation and steady focus thrumming through his head. "Dazzle me."

It did not take long for Ludwig to lose himself once again in the swirling controlled chaos of an aerial dogfight. He let his mind go still and Greta become an extension of himself. Let her take over, let his instincts take control, until it seemed that Greta was turning and spinning and attacking on her own. The first enemy aircraft fell almost before Ludwig realised he was firing. But even as the Mustang fell in a shower of sparks, another replaced it. And that damn Magician was still gaining on Ludwig's tail, and refused to budge. Another plane closed in above him and Ludwig pulled into a roll to throw him off. And once again, the Magician disappeared, to be replaced by yet another Mustang. This group was well organised, controlled, yet unpredictable. And somewhere in the back of Ludwig's mind he had the strangest feeling that they were either playing with him, or unthinkably, giving him some sort of chance. "Damn Americans," Ludwig growled to himself as he tried to keep the flight of Mustangs before him and in his sights.

Ludwig pulled level, caught a Mustang in his sights, and fired directly. The enemy plane flipped backwards and went down in a trail of black smoke. Turning immediately, Ludwig threw another plane from his tail as he scanned the skies for his target. Then the smoke cleared and he had him. Ludwig's heart beat faster as he fought to gain a sight on the American leader. The Magician. The 'Lady Beth'. Ludwig had him fixed. His hand clenched on the control. He braced himself and smiled grimly as he prepared to fire.

And then his sight was cut off when the Magician's wingman dropped suddenly before him, the red maple leaf adorning his Mustang instantly recognisable. The wingman performed an unexpected weave and got a straight shot off on Ludwig's plane. Ludwig pulled into a snap roll to evade but it was too late. The shot tore through his engine and his plane shuddered as it pulled down. Ludwig had to fight with the control to get the aircraft level. "Up, Greta," he growled. "Get up, get up!" He was furious with himself. He should have expected the leader's wingman, should have been waiting for it. But no one ever seemed to notice him until the last moment. Ludwig shook his head to clear it of the shock. He was not going down like this. Not without taking down that Magician first.

But Ludwig could see smoke billowing from the side of his plane. The engine faltered, stuttering as it struggled to maintain power. Ludwig tried to get higher but it was becoming impossible. His plane was flying far too slow. He reached for his mask and turned on the channel. Again, there was only one thing he could do. "Schwarz Leader to Ground Control. I'm hit. My engine is failing. I am going to attempt a landing."

"Schwarz Leader, you are over allied territory."

"I have no choice." Another hit. His plane jerked to the side and Ludwig wrestled the control to level it once again. It was no good. He was going down. "My left wing has been hit. I need to land immediately."

There was a slight pause before Ground Control responded. "Good luck, Schwarz Leader."

Ludwig tore his mask from his face and focused on breathing, on keeping the plane straight, on surviving. In this condition, he would not land safely. But if he didn't get down now the plane would soon roll into a deadly tailspin. He maintained a jagging descent, the low squadron forming a line behind him. He paid them no notice. All his strength, all his focus, was on keeping control of a damaged aircraft which was quickly becoming uncontrollable. A shower of sparks flew against the side window. White smoke began to fill the cockpit. His speed increased. He gritted his teeth and tried to maintain focus.

But a thousand thoughts and images suddenly ran through his mind. Playing with his grandfather's long white hair as a child. Watching Gilbert wave goodbye as he climbed on a train, neatly dressed in a brand new infantry uniform. And Feliciano: beautiful, strange, wonderful Feliciano. Ludwig's only, his everything. Feliciano running laughing through warm green grass, placing a flower in his jacket, smiling cheerfully for a photograph, gasping beneath him in a hayloft, clutching at his arms and pleading for them to run away together. Ludwig's sight grew dim and blurred from the smoke and he reached across the cockpit for the red flower. "Here you are, Ludwig, you can have this. In Italian flower is 'fiore'!"

The ground approached, the wide green field rising up too fast to meet him. Ludwig pulled the plane into landing position, braced himself, and clutched the battered little flower to his chest. At the last second he closed his eyes. "Feliciano..."

x-x-x-x-x-x

* Yes, Feliciano and Lovino's grandmother is Ancient Greece. Their mother is Renaissance Italy.

* The Magician is Alfred. His wingman is, of course, Matthew. :-)