Ludwig lay beside Feliciano, his scarred, calloused hands entwined with warm, soft fingers, his unwavering gaze locked with shining gold eyes. The morning sun had long since turned to afternoon, streaming through the billowing bedroom curtain and painting lines of light onto the bedcovers beneath them. Feliciano's auburn hair glinted gold on the pillow. Ludwig could not tear his gaze away; could not stop himself from constantly reaching out to touch Feliciano, to bring him closer. Gently twisting that one curl that still refused to lie flat, lightly tracing those lips that still smiled so readily, running his hand carefully, reverently, over Feliciano's shoulder and down his side. Here, finally, was the one thing Ludwig had lived for: the one reason he had survived. The one memory that had kept him alive through four years of pain and horror and utter hopelessness. His bright, precious, timeless Feliciano. Here, lying beside him, sharing his warmth and his breath and listening intently as Ludwig tried brokenly to speak about those four brutal years.

It had been easy enough to tell of the beginning. Being arrested by the military police, charged with treason for aiding the escape of an American prisoner, spared the punishment of death but sentenced to humiliation and disgrace without formality or trial. Being sent to the Eastern Front, to a losing battle which everyone knew was hopeless, with nothing but a barely functioning rifle and an expectation to die. But with the Germans losing ground on all sides, the Russian campaign was already lost. There was no chance of holding the enemy back for long. Ludwig spent mere days in an army unit before its inevitable defeat and his capture by the Russians. And then, as a German prisoner of war, the real hell began.

Ludwig paused and looked down at Feliciano's hands clasped with his. He had never told anyone of those horrific years. Even to his grandfather, he could only manage a few broken sentences at best. And even now, he was determined to spare Feliciano the worst of it.

"It's okay, Ludwig." Feliciano squeezed Ludwig's hand. "You don't need to say anything else, I don't mind, I..."

"No." Ludwig shook his head and took a deep breath. "I need to." Yes, he needed to say this, and there was only one person he could say it to. But when Feliciano smiled like that, and nodded understandingly, and looked at him with such innocent eyes, Ludwig knew he did not need to hear all of it. Feliciano did not need to hear that the marks on Ludwig's wrists were from the chains he wore during the short hours he was not made to work. That he could still see the faces of the frozen corpses, dead men's bodies he was forced to pave over. That the scar on his cheek was from a beating that almost killed him, a beating he received for the crime of reaching a hand to a man who stumbled. Feliciano should never have to know such things. And so, Ludwig spoke carefully.

"We worked. That is it: that is all. Day and night, we worked, building bridges and paving roads through the ice. We starved - there was no food, and the little water we were given was dirty. And we froze. Over time our clothes became nothing but rags." Ludwig shuddered to remember it. The beating, the starvation, the rampant disease - somehow none of it compared to that bitter, tearing, inescapable cold. "Our captors..." Here Ludwig had to stop briefly, unable to describe it. ...beat us, tortured us; laughed as we bled, shot us for sport... Ludwig left the sentence unsaid. "They said we deserved it. They said our army did worse to them. Maybe we did - I do not know. The East was not my war."

Ludwig stopped to breathe, to remind himself the horrors he spoke of were now over. The autumn breeze gusted through the open window, lightly buffeting the old model planes that still hung from the ceiling. In the silence, Feliciano brought Ludwig's hand to his lips, then pressed his smooth cheek to the rough, work-hardened skin. A bright, swelling wave of warmth melted the freezing cold, and Ludwig's hand shook slightly at Feliciano's gentle touch. This was why he had survived - why they had both survived. Feliciano said nothing, but his expression was drawn with pain, and Ludwig understood. It took him a moment to go on.

"Every day I looked for a chance to escape. But there was none. The only escape was death. And so many died. Those not strong enough; those who gave up." Sometimes Ludwig thought they were the smart ones. Sometimes, in that frozen hell, he had envied them. "But I knew I could not give up. There was only one reason I didn't. In the end I lost everything, forgot everything, had nothing left but that one reason to keep going."

"What?" asked Feliciano breathlessly. "What was the reason?"

Ludwig blinked silently, then almost laughed. Only Feliciano would ask when the answer was so obvious. Ludwig tucked a stray lock of hair behind Feliciano's ear. "You, Feliciano."

Feliciano breathed a quiet sigh, his lips turning in a small, sad smile. "Oh."

"I would not let myself die, as long as I knew you were alive. I made that decision early. And I made it again, many times, every single day. For four years, I refused to die. Until the day I was not given a choice." Ludwig lowered his eyes, his hands again starting to shake. He was unsure if he could remember this without falling apart. But when he felt Feliciano's fingers touch his cheek and trail into his hair, Ludwig remembered that he could be strong. "When new prisoners stopped arriving, and there were too few of us to work, we were no longer needed. We were taken into the forest. And we were told to walk. I knew then that I had reached the end. And so I walked - I had no choice. Eleven steps... or was it twelve?" Ludwig furrowed his brow, his eyes drifting. "I counted, but I... I don't..." The ice through his boots, the snow in his eyes; his blood in his ears, his breath misting before him... "I don't remember..."

"It doesn't matter." Feliciano pressed a kiss to Ludwig's shoulder and brought him back to this sunny room. "It doesn't matter how many."

"No." Ludwig tried to focus on this room: on the light from the window, the sound of Feliciano's breathing, the brightness of his eyes. "But with each one, I remembered. I remembered you. Every word you spoke to me. Every smile you gave me. The sound of your laughter... the sound of your tears. I could not pray; I could not hope." Every step in the snow, every blast of gunfire, every man who fell dead to the forest floor... "I could only remember. The smell of your hair." Ludwig breathed in against Feliciano's hair. "The feel of your skin." He ran his fingers down Feliciano's wet cheek. "Every touch. Every moment. Of my entire life, all I could remember were the moments I had spent with you. And I was not afraid to die." Feliciano breathed a shaky gasp. Ludwig's focus again started to drift. "I heard the gunshot, but I was on the ground before I felt it."

This time Feliciano choked on a sob, his hands clinging almost painfully to Ludwig's arms. The tears on his cheeks glistened in the afternoon sunlight. Ludwig's heart wrenched at his chest, and he gently brushed them away.

"I am sorry. I will stop."

"No, don't." Feliciano shook his head determinedly, his eyes wide and insistent. "Tell me, Ludwig. I want to hear. And I know it's important, I know you have to tell me, because you only ever talk when you have something important to say."

Ludwig knew now why he could tell this to no one else. No one had ever understood him quite so easily as this little Italian. Ludwig had to kiss Feliciano's forehead before he could continue. "I knew the shot was too low. I knew it would not kill me - not immediately. But the Russians did not fire again. Instead, they left. And I lay in the snow, alone, waiting to die."

"But you didn't." Feliciano spoke as though to reassure himself. "You didn't die, Ludwig, because you are here with me."

Ludwig felt his lips twitch and his chest ache. "No, Feliciano. I didn't die."

"How, then? How did you come back to me?"

Ludwig looked down at his hands. The memories were so real; so cold. "I do not recall how long I lay there. It was until a layer of snow was upon me and I no longer felt the cold. I was holding your photograph, because I wanted..." Ludwig's voice broke away, his throat going tight. "I wanted the last thing I ever saw to be your smiling face."

Feliciano's eyes darkened, his lips parting in breathless wonder. "My photograph..."

"I kept it hidden in my boot. The flower you gave me, though..." Ludwig felt sick to remember the moment a Russian soldier had torn the dried little daisy from his hand and ripped it to pieces. "I am sorry. I lost it." Ludwig swallowed through his tight throat and continued quickly. "But I kept your photograph. And as I lay there in there in the snow, staring at the picture, at your face, just as the world began to turn white... a gloved hand reached out and touched mine."

Feliciano gasped, his eyes widening further. "Who was it?"

"It was a lady." Ludwig said it incredulously, because even now, it was a hard thing to believe. "A lady dressed in blue, with short blonde hair and tears on her cheeks, who spoke at first in Russian. I barely understood. She spoke no German, but she did speak English, and she told me she would help me. Which she did."

Again, Ludwig did not need to tell all of it. But that was because he did not recall much. He did, however, recall waking in a large fire-lit room, in a wide, soft bed, warm for the first time in years. He recalled trying to move, and the gutting wave of excruciating fear when he realised he could not feel his legs. He recalled shouting, frantic, demanding to know where he was and why any Russian would help a German like him. And he recalled that gentle hand brushing his sweaty hair from his face; the sadness in those kind blue eyes; that soft, calm voice telling him he was safe, that he would be all right, that he reminded her of a brother she once loved, a lifetime ago, before revolution and war turned him into someone she no longer recognised.

Feliciano let Ludwig remember in silence before asking finally, "Where did she come from?"

"She lived on an old farmland estate, near where we were working, in the west close to Ukraine. She liked to walk in the woods, which is where she found me." Ludwig again recalled the older lady's words, spoken by his bedside after yet another visit from the team of well-paid Russian doctors: I have failed many people in my life. My brother, my sister, and the innocent lives destroyed by them both. I have waited many years to redeem myself. He might simply have been her chance for redemption, but as long as he lived, Ludwig would never forget the kind, blue eyes of his saviour. "She contacted my grandfather, and when I was well enough she paid for my transport to Berlin."

"What a nice lady," said Feliciano simply. Ludwig's condensed version of events seemed to be enough for him.

"Yes. An angel."

Feliciano smiled at that, running his thumb in circles over Ludwig's arm. "Your own angel, just like Gilbert was for Roderich, and Roderich for me; and Lovino for Antonio, and like you were for Alfred. If only everyone had an angel like that." Feliciano shook his head, his smile turning to a frown. His cheeks were slightly red, and still a little wet. "How can some people do such wonderfully kind things in this world, but others be so awful? It makes no sense, Ludwig. I don't understand it."

Ludwig glanced up, blinking, and watched the model planes circling in the breeze. He knew, beyond any doubt, that he would never know anyone in the world with such a beautiful view on it as Feliciano. "War is nothing but hate. It makes men animals. But love keeps us human."

A long silence fell, broken only by their quiet breathing and the occasional bird call drifting through the window. Feliciano seemed like he wanted to say something, and eventually his eyes lowered and his hand stilled. "I missed you so much, Ludwig."

"I know." So much... Feliciano would never know how much. But that was over, and this was now, and it was forever.

"I'm sorry." Feliciano sounded suddenly uncertain. "I wish... I mean, I don't..."

Ludwig ran a hand down Feliciano's back and drew him closer. "There is nothing you need to say, Feliciano. Thank you for listening."

"Thank you for coming home." Feliciano nestled against Ludwig's chest, and though he could not feel them, Ludwig knew Feliciano's legs were tangled with his. But he could feel Feliciano's warm breath on his neck as he whispered softly. "Ich liebe dich, Ludwig."

Ludwig touched his lips to Feliciano's ear and whispered back. "Ti amo, Feliciano. Forever."

.

The next morning, Feliciano woke in Ludwig's arms for the very first time. Birds sang outside the window, muted sunlight broke through the curtains, and Ludwig's chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm against Feliciano's cheek. An indescribable, inescapable feeling of warmth and wonder and light, floating joy welled within him. It was like every tear was forgotten, every heartache dissolved. Feliciano reached up and touched Ludwig's cheek, watched as his eyelids fluttered and those blue eyes opened. Ludwig blinked a few times, then his eyes lit up with a gentle smile. "Feliciano."

Feliciano's heart sent fluttering waves across his skin. "Ludwig." His stomach rumbled. "I'm hungry. Do you have pasta in Germany?"

"Germany?" Ludwig stared blankly for a few moments, then looked around as though reminding himself where he was. Finally he breathed out in understanding, smiled again, and ran a thumb across Feliciano's cheek. "Yes. But not for breakfast. Tell me - do you still like chocolate?"

Feliciano gasped loudly and shot upright. "Chocolate for breakfast? Really, Ludwig? Oh my gosh! Germany is wonderful!"

The entire day, Feliciano felt like he was flying. As he and Ludwig had chocolate and coffee in the sunny little kitchen, stealing glances and talking of nothing and occasionally forgetting what they were doing as they just looked at each other. As Ludwig explained how his shiny black chair worked, turning the wheels and moving the armrests and finally giving in and letting Feliciano sit on his lap as he raced down the hallway. As they headed into the garden and wandered through the beautiful, open-air, bird-filled aviary that Gilbert had built years ago. It was wondrous how naturally right and breathtakingly perfect it felt to be with Ludwig again. Feliciano had never felt such easy, natural happiness in his life.

But now, in the wide, green backyard, standing at a distance as Ludwig sat surrounded by three jumping, barking, enormous dogs, Feliciano was starting to feel a little uncertain. Ludwig threw the ball again across the lawn, looking over at Feliciano as the three dogs chased gleefully after it. "They are friendly, Feliciano. Come and say hello."

Feliciano clung to the porch railing and gave a little wave. "Hello, puppies. Can I go inside now?"

Ludwig gave a short laugh. It was the same deep laugh that Feliciano remembered so well, yet it sounded like Ludwig was not used to it. "They will not hurt you."

Feliciano looked uncertainly at the three dogs chasing each other across the grass. One gold, one brown, one black, and all still jumping, barking, and enormous. The gold one reached the ball first, bounding back across the yard to bring it to Ludwig. The others were a little slower behind.

"They are old now," said Ludwig, taking the ball from the gold dog and ruffling its coat. He looked sad suddenly. "I have been gone so long, I have missed most of their lives. But they still have a few years left." Ludwig stroked the dog's long ears, speaking to it in German.

Feliciano felt a flaring glow beneath his skin. His wonderful, kind Ludwig was just as good and gentle as Feliciano always remembered him. Feliciano watched as the dogs crowded around Ludwig, tongues lolling and tails wagging, barely even noticing Feliciano where he stood. Maybe they weren't quite so scary after all. And if they could make Ludwig smile like that... "He looks nice," said Feliciano hesitantly. "The gold one looks nice."

Ludwig smiled over at him, and Feliciano's heart turned in his chest. Anything was worth it to see that smile. "This is Aster. He was only a puppy when I left home. He is very gentle - all he wants to do is play."

Feliciano forced himself to take a single cautious step onto the grass, nervously eyeing the enormous black dog nearby. "All right, I'll pat Aster. Aster doesn't look as mean as the fluffy brown one, or that big black one."

"The fluffy brown one is Blackie." Blackie tried to push Aster out of the way, and Ludwig pushed the dog back playfully. "And she isn't mean. Just a bit jealous, sometimes."

Feliciano took another step closer, biting his lip when Blackie jumped up and placed her huge front paws on Ludwig's chest. "Why is the brown puppy called Blackie?"

"I found her abandoned in an old factory, when I was eighteen or so." Ludwig placed Blackie's legs firmly back on the ground. "She was so tiny, hiding in the fireplace, and completely black with soot. So I called her Blackie, and I brought her home."

Feliciano gasped, horrified, and again walked closer. "In the fireplace? Poor little Blackie! Okay, I'll pat Blackie. But the big black one is still too scary."

"This is Berlitz," said Ludwig when the black dog reached him finally. It had taken him a long time to run back across the grass. "He's not scary at all. Yes, he is big, and has a loud bark, and he is a little shy of strangers - but he is simply caring and loyal, and he would never hurt anyone. He is very old now, and he went deaf in the bombings."

Feliciano put a hand to his chest and felt his lip tremble. No wonder poor Berlitz was so slow... "He's deaf? Oh, puppy! I think I'll pat Berlitz."

Ludwig laughed again, sending Feliciano's heart soaring. He reached out his hand and gave a small tilt of the head. "Come on, then."

Feliciano looked at Ludwig's outstretched hand, at his smiling face, then laughed brightly. How could he possibly be afraid of something so silly? He hurried to Ludwig's side, sat on his lap, and the three dogs immediately jostled for his attention. Feliciano reached his hand out to Berlitz, who carefully nuzzled his palm, furry and wet.

Ludwig put his arms around Feliciano's waist and pulled him close. "They like you." He sounded pleased.

Feliciano nodded happily, his silly fear completely gone. As the three fluffy dogs crowded around them, noses sniffing in curiosity and tails wagging in delight, Feliciano wondered how he had ever thought them scary. He took the ball from Ludwig's hand and threw it across the yard. Aster and Blackie chased after it, but Berlitz just rested his head on Feliciano's knee.

Ludwig's hand joined Feliciano's. "I told you he wasn't scary."

Feliciano sighed with happiness and kissed the top of Ludwig's head. "We should get a kitty."

Ludwig just laughed.

.

Feliciano and Ludwig spent the autumn in Germany. The little forest-bordered village truly was everything Ludwig had once said it was, amongst those hill-top church ruins in Italy. It was warm, and it was friendly, and it really did feel like home. They spent most days outside, whether in the village streets or the surrounding fields, in the brisk air and the filtered sunshine. Ludwig was usually determined in pushing his wheelchair himself, but just sometimes he would let Feliciano push him slowly along the cobblestoned streets, past pretty shops and peaked-roofed houses and neat, well-trimmed gardens. A few times Feliciano thought he might have liked to climb to the big white castle, but it was up all those stairs, and he didn't want to go without Ludwig, and it probably wasn't all that interesting anyway.

And so, the autumn days passed like a dream. But rather than the numb, nightmarish, waking sleep Feliciano had grown accustomed to since the war, this dream was beautiful, and he never wanted to wake up. Feliciano was amazed at how easily he fit into this strange new life in Germany. Ludwig's grandfather was serious, but kind - he was not nearly so scary as he appeared at first. He showed Feliciano his old war medals, sometimes helped him with his German, and even let Feliciano call him Opa Aldrich, though he did seem a bit surprised by that at first. To Feliciano's great delight, Roderich stayed with them over the autumn. In the evenings, after Feliciano and Ludwig's long walks, they would all drink a spicy wine called gluehwein while Roderich played the piano. He taught Feliciano many wonderful songs, about dreams and tomorrows and lamplights, but Feliciano's favourite to sing was his and Ludwig's 'Auf Wiedersehen.' The glorious autumn days passed in unending wonder and happiness until before he knew it, it was almost winter.

The day before Feliciano and Ludwig returned to Italy they spent the afternoon in the local beer hall. Feliciano had been here a few times now, but he was still surprised at how different it was from the cantinas back home. Long, wooden benches ran alongside carved, heavy tables, stained glass windows adorned the old brick walls, and there was even a big elk head mounted above the fireplace, though Ludwig had assured Feliciano it wasn't real. Waitresses with plaited hair and pretty dresses carried dozens of beer glasses between the tables, and a band played on a stage in the corner, the musicians wearing suspenders and funny hats and playing big shiny instruments.

The only thing that bothered Feliciano about the place was that he did not actually like beer. But this was a beer hall, after all, and that was what Ludwig and Roderich and Opa Aldrich always ordered. They were already halfway through theirs, so Feliciano hesitantly took a sip from his mug, and immediately made a face. Ludwig seemed to be fighting back a smile. "You can order something else, Feliciano."

Feliciano peered at him sideways. "But this is a beer hall."

Ludwig's eyes crinkled and he briefly placed a balled-up hand to his lips. "Yes, but as I have told you before, you do not have to drink beer."

"But..." Feliciano glanced furtively around the hall. The four of them sat at the end of a long table by the wall, their usual spot, to make room for Ludwig's chair. From here, it certainly looked like beer was compulsory - every person in sight was drinking the frothy amber liquid from big, heavy beer mugs. "Are you sure?"

Ludwig nodded. "Quite sure. There is cider, or schnapps, or wine..."

"Oh, I don't know if I should drink wine in a beer hall, Ludwig. That wouldn't be very polite. Besides, Lovino says that I get really annoying when I drink wine, and I usually start singing, and I don't think those musicians in the funny hats would like that." Feliciano leant forward and whispered. "Someone should tell them you're supposed to smile when you play music. Ooh!" Feliciano sat back and motioned to a waitress as she passed, carrying a wide tray laden with food. "Bretzels! Danke, Fräulein. I'm going to miss these when we go home to Italy, although I am looking forward to having proper pasta again. You Germans never make the sauce right, and really, you don't have to have cabbage with everything. But I can't wait to tell Lovino about chocolate for breakfast, he probably won't believe me though... ooh, peanuts..."

Roderich shot Ludwig an amused glance, laughing quietly as Feliciano grabbed handfuls of food from the bemused waitress's tray. "It will be very odd without you around, Feli."

Aldrich shook his head with a familiar expression of bewilderment and faint amusement. "It will certainly be... quieter." He nodded at the waitress as she left, and she flashed him a brilliant smile. Opa Aldrich was just as popular with the local girls here as Grandpa Roma always was at home.

"Oh, but we won't be gone forever," said Feliciano earnestly. He and Ludwig had decided to divide their time between Italy and Germany. It was simply growing too cold here at the moment, and Ludwig hated the cold now. "We will come back for the summer, won't we, Ludwig?"

Ludwig did not reply, but he nodded, and his hand reached for Feliciano's under the table. Feliciano took it and offered him a bretzel with his free hand. Ludwig shook his head, refusing silently, though laughter shone from his deep blue eyes. He was often silent these days, but that was okay. Ludwig did not need to speak for Feliciano to know that he shared this same unfading contentment.

"You are like two little birds," said Roderich, smiling softly as he concentrated on cleaning his glasses. "Flying south for the winter."

"Unlike you, Roderich," said Aldrich, leaning forward and filling his mug from the big beer jug on the table. "This German winter won't be nearly as cold as where you're going. I still don't know why you will not wait until spring." Feliciano knew that Aldrich was not looking forward to being alone again. He had already expressed his disappointment at Ludwig leaving for Italy, and it was obvious he looked on both Roderich and Feliciano as his own grandsons. Feliciano only wished that Grandpa Roma could one day feel the same about Ludwig.

Roderich shrugged apologetically. "I have already waited too long to attend to this matter. I should have left months ago."

"Will you visit us in Italy when you are finished?" asked Feliciano eagerly. "And will you bring me a present? What do they have in Finland, anyway?"

"Vodka?" Aldrich suggested lightly.

Feliciano's lip curled in distaste. "Oh, don't bring me vodka, Roderich. I think I'd almost prefer beer."

Roderich smiled as he set his glasses back in place. "I am sure I will find you something, Feli. And I would be happy to visit you. Perhaps you could even join me, Aldrich."

Feliciano turned to Aldrich pleadingly. "Oh, yes! And then you can meet Grandpa Roma, and Lovino, and Antonio..."

"Antonio," Aldrich repeated thoughtfully, tapping his beer mug. "That is Gilbert's Spanish friend, yes? The one who laughs so much. He used to send you model planes, Ludwig."

Ludwig nodded. "Yes. I am looking forward to seeing him again."

Feliciano threw his hand up and laughed. "Of course, I forgot you would know him already. Isn't it funny how everyone seems to know each other? It is a small world, that's what Grandpa Roma says. I think you would be friends with my grandpa, Opa Aldrich. Have you ever been to Italy before?"

Aldrich looked down into his beer, his expression suddenly strangely blank. "Not for many years, Feliciano. I fought in the north-east, on the Isonzo River, during the Great War."

"Isonzo?" Feliciano slammed his hand on the table and leant forward in surprise. He had heard the name many times, both from admiring strangers and Grandpa Roma's own war stories. He was Maggiore Vargas, after all, hero of the Isonzo campaign. "My grandpa fought at Isonzo! He was the youngest Major in the Italian army, you know." Feliciano gasped, his eyes going wide. Grandpa Roma had been in the Italian army; Opa Aldrich in the German. They had been enemies. "Oh my gosh... do you think you might have fought each other?"

Aldrich paused, frozen, his knuckles turning white as he clutched his beer mug. It took him a few moments to stutter disbelievingly, "Major Vargas. Your grandfather isn't... Augustus Vargas?"

Feliciano felt Ludwig's hand grip just a little tighter to his. "So you did know him! Wow! It really is a small world! But no one calls him Augustus anymore, he punched the last person who did that."

Roderich looked almost as shocked as Aldrich. "You must have commanded on opposing sides of the battle," he said incredulously. "How extraordinary!"

Aldrich did not respond, still silent and staring at nothing. The others waited, silently, until eventually Ludwig spoke softly. "Grosvater?"

Aldrich shook his head slightly then took a long sip of beer as though to steady himself. "I knew him only briefly, Feliciano. I suppose it would be more accurate to say I knew of him. He was a fierce enemy, as well as the most honourable I ever fought." Aldrich looked from Ludwig to Feliciano and let out a short bark of laughter. "Major Vargas' grandson. Mein Gott, I need more beer."

.

Feliciano's heart raced and his entire body seemed to soar, thrilled to return to blue, pleasant Italian skies from the deep German cold. The train ride with Ludwig was far more pleasant than the first endless one without him, but Feliciano was still relieved to be outside again: in the still afternoon sunshine, on this well worn village road, among familiar sights and scents and trilling birdcalls. Ludwig took longer than usual to negotiate his chair over the country trail, but it was nice to go slowly. Feliciano couldn't help running into the fields and back, throwing out his arms and laughing in the gentle wind. Germany was wonderful, but it was so good to be home.

Further down the road, at the old broken-down tank, Ludwig stopped for a moment to flex his hands. "Look, Ludwig," Feliciano cried as he ran back towards him. "The lavender is still blooming!"

"That's good," Ludwig replied, a tiny reflective smile on his lips. "I could do with a short winter." He sighed softly, looking around and shaking his head in wonder. "Incredible," he said quietly. "It is exactly as I remember it. This tank is even still here."

The big iron machine was rusted over now, tall grass and long tendrils and colourful weeds all creeping up the sides. It had been on the side of this road for so long Feliciano barely noticed it anymore. "I suppose they must have forgotten it was here - it has been here since the war started, and no one ever came back for it."

"It is an old Panzer 1, a 1937 model."

"Oh. Is it?" Feliciano did not know anything about that. He pointed to the tangle of colourful weeds growing over its surface. "Look - there are flowers in it. It's much prettier now, don't you think? And oh!" In the cluster of weed-encircled flowers Feliciano spotted a single bright, red daisy. He reached up and picked it carefully, dusted it off, and pressed it into Ludwig's hand. "Here, Ludwig, that's for the one you lost in Russia."

Ludwig stared at the flower silently. After a few moments he turned his head and blinked very fast. "Thank you," he said finally, turning his gaze back to Feliciano, his thoughts unfathomable behind eyes as blue as the clear, cloudless sky. Feliciano felt his breath catch in his throat - after all this time, those blue eyes were exactly the same. And this was almost the exact place Feliciano had first lost himself in them.

"Come on, Ludwig." Feliciano forced himself to speak, but felt like he was breaking a spell in doing so. "Just up here."

They both knew their destination: there was no need to speak it. A little further down the road, around a small bend in the path, the familiar field rose like a sea of green and gold. And against the background of the mountains, tall and strong and eternal, stood their oak tree; their somewhere else. Feliciano's heart leapt, his blood fired, and he again raced ahead, the once-wild yellow grass barely brushing his ankles as he ran. All these years he had waited here alone, and now, finally, he was here again with Ludwig. Laughter rose in his chest and his head turned light. It was too perfectly wonderful to be true. When Feliciano reached the tree he spun around to call out, but instead he went still, the words dying on his lips. Ludwig did not move to follow. He just watched, unmoving, his eyes fixed on Feliciano and his lips turned in a small, thoughtful smile.

A sudden breeze shook the leaves overhead and a fleeting memory flashed before Feliciano's eyes. An image of Ludwig in his tailored grey officer's uniform, head high and shoulders straight, striding boldly across the field with the sun setting behind him. Just as quickly, the image was gone. But what was left was so breathtakingly perfect, Feliciano felt his heart turn and his breath stop. It was never Ludwig's fancy uniform, or his handsome face, or his tall, easy strength. It was his kindness, his loyalty; it was the way he made Feliciano feel accepted, and respected, and safe. That was why Feliciano loved him. That was why he barely even noticed the shiny black wheelchair. Because it was never about Ludwig's looks; never about his abilities. Even if he was changed, this was the same Ludwig as that pilot in the officer's uniform, and this was still their somewhere else, and Feliciano had never loved him more. He stood waiting, his breath fast and his skin tingling, as Ludwig moved slowly across the field. When he finally reached him, Ludwig took Feliciano's hand and smiled. "Buon giorno, bello."

The words turned Feliciano's knees weak. The wind whipped his hair and he laughed brightly, joyfully, uncontrollably. "Guten Tag, sweetheart!" Feliciano fell onto Ludwig's lap, threw his arms around his neck, and felt Ludwig's strong, safe arms surround him. Their lips met easily, perfectly; elated laughter rising between them. There would be no more goodbyes here.

Five times Feliciano had kissed Ludwig in this field. He knew, beyond any doubt, that he would kiss him many more. But Feliciano also knew that none would ever be as freeing, as wondrous, as beautifully perfect as this simple hello kiss, on this beautiful Italian winter afternoon, somewhere else underneath their oak tree.

.

It was growing late by the time they headed up the little lane to the farmhouse. He had run up this path thousands of times, with the sun low in the sky and the stars already sparkling. But this time, with the lights on ahead and Ludwig by his side, Feliciano truly felt like he was coming home. And in the fading light, Feliciano could just make out his brother already standing in the doorway.

"Lovino!" Feliciano ran the rest of the way, laughing as he fell into Lovino's waiting arms.

"Slow down, Feli!" Lovino clasped Feliciano close, his embrace warm and familiar and home. "You'll fall and hurt yourself."

"No I won't, don't be silly. Have you been waiting long? Where's Antonio? Where's Grandpa?" Feliciano took a step back, smiling broadly. "Oh, I can't wait to tell you everything, and I hope no one's upset we arrived so late, but it was a lovely afternoon for a walk, and with Ludwig's..." Feliciano immediately broke off. He realised, with a guilty stab to the stomach, that he had forgotten to mention Ludwig's wheelchair in the short letters he had sent home. "I, um..." Lovino just stared straight past him, wide-eyed, and Feliciano turned to see Ludwig approach the doorstep.

"Hello, Lovino."

Lovino bit his lip, folded his arms, and glanced down at his feet. He looked like he did not know what to say: but then, Lovino often did not know what to say. Feliciano wasn't sure whether to reassure his brother or Ludwig, but just before the silence became uncomfortable, it was thankfully broken by a familiar voice.

"Who is that I hear on the doorstep?" Antonio took a few moments to step through the doorway - he walked slowly these days. When he noticed Ludwig's chair he turned his head sharply, a painful expression crossing his face. He took a single deep breath, as though feeling and understanding and accepting. Then the expression was gone, and he grinned instead. "Little Ludwig. It's been a long time."

Ludwig almost flinched when he noticed Antonio's missing arm. Feliciano mentally kicked himself: another thing he had forgotten to mention. But Ludwig recovered as quickly as Antonio, and it was obvious he was glad to see his brother's old friend again. "Ten or so years, I believe. It is good to see you, Antonio."

Antonio leant down and embraced Ludwig warmly. "You Beilschmidts are indestructible."

Ludwig's voice was rough when he responded, his arms around Antonio's shoulders. "I wish that were so."

Antonio squeezed Ludwig's shoulder, stood upright, and for a moment he and Ludwig regarded each other silently. Feliciano could almost see the memories playing behind their eyes. Then Antonio laughed. "But good Lord, little Ludwig, you got so big!" He quickly turned to Feliciano, blinking rapidly. "And Feli! Give me a hug! Uh-oh, I think all that German cuisine has made you fat..."

Feliciano gasped indignantly as Antonio threw an arm over his shoulder. "It's not my fault! They have chocolate for breakfast!"

That got Lovino's attention. "Chocolate for breakfast?"

"But of course!" cried Antonio. "No German breakfast is complete without a block of chocolate, a barrel of beer, and an entire roasted pig!"

"Only on special occasions," said Ludwig, the corner of his lip turned in a tiny smirk.

Antonio placed a hand to his chest and gasped loudly. "Was that a joke, Ludwig Beilschmidt?! Goodness, what has Feli done to you?" Antonio laughed and shook his head in amazement. "But there is so much to ask! How is your grandfather? And Roderich? You have met my Lovino, of course. I apologise if he seemed rude, he doesn't mean it..."

"Don't apologise for me, bastard!"

Antonio giggled. "He doesn't mean that, either."

Feliciano had to choke back the overwhelming emotion rising in his throat. He had never dared to imagine, never even thought to hope that one day he would be standing at this door with Ludwig; that they would be coming home together. Antonio was so happy and accepting, and Lovino would learn to understand. The only thing that worried Feliciano was Grandpa Roma's reaction. What if he was still angry? What if he would not speak to Ludwig? What if he even told him to go away? Feliciano's thoughts started to run away from him. Yes, Grandpa Roma had let him go to Germany, but what if he had changed his mind? What if Feliciano had to choose between Ludwig and his family? He had made that choice once before, and knew he could not handle that pain again. But what if...

"Ah, you've arrived finally."

Feliciano almost jumped, his heart flying to his throat when he realised Grandpa Roma was standing in the doorway. Antonio stepped out of the way and Ludwig nodded politely, though his hands gripped his armrests firmly. "Major Vargas."

"Lieutenant Beilschmidt." Grandpa Roma stood straight and tall, his expression fixed and unfathomable. There was a silent, seemingly endless moment where the two men simply looked at each other. Finally, Roma lowered his eyes and inclined his head. "But let us not use old military titles here." Then, to Feliciano's complete shock, Grandpa Roma leant down and hugged Ludwig. "Welcome home, Ludwig."

Ludwig looked completely stunned. Eventually he patted Roma's shoulder awkwardly. "Uh... Grazie, Signore."

Feliciano promptly burst into tears.

.

The next morning was colder, the breeze carrying a slight chill as Feliciano walked the freshly tilled fields with Ludwig. It was still early morning, the sun barely risen above the mountains and glistening dew still clinging to the grass. But Grandpa Roma had said the lilies were blooming in the northern fields, and daybreak was always the best time to pick flowers, and besides, it was a far too beautiful morning to waste. At first Feliciano worried the long walk would be too rocky for Ludwig's chair, but Ludwig handled it so easily, and his arms were strong enough to push past the rough patches. Feliciano looked up at the sun rising, turning the sky orange along the horizon. "I can't believe Grandpa and Lovino and Antonio would rather sleep than see this pretty sky."

Ludwig snorted softly. "Well, we did only go to bed three hours ago."

Feliciano shrugged. "That is no excuse, Ludwig. You and I are here, aren't we?"

"Yes, but I prefer it with just you and I."

Funny, how such simple words from Ludwig could still stop Feliciano's breath and make his chest flutter. He brushed back his windswept hair and focused on kicking a rock through the grass. "Me too, Ludwig. But it was a lovely night, wasn't it?"

Ludwig nodded, though he looked a bit incredulous. "Surprisingly. Lovely, and... strange."

In fact, it had been a lovely, strange, surreal, and yet perfectly wonderful evening. With the fire burning and the smell of coffee in the air, the five of them spoke of trains, and Ludwig's village, and music, and Shakespeare, and anything but war. Antonio told old stories about Gilbert and Ludwig that made everyone laugh, even Lovino. And Feliciano had fallen asleep on Ludwig's shoulder, blissful and content. He loved Ludwig's village, but it was wonderful to be home with his family - his Italian family. Feliciano supposed he had two families now.

"I think Grandpa Roma was very happy to hear that you are Opa Aldrich's grandson, even if he did spit his drink all over the place. But I laughed when he said you look exactly alike. You don't look alike at all! Your hair is much shorter, after all." Feliciano reached up to a tree branch as they passed, plucking a green leaf and twirling it between his fingers. "And you smile more."

"I do?" Ludwig sounded rather surprised at that.

"Of course. Opa Aldrich never smiles, he always just looks a bit surprised."

Ludwig let out a short, heavy breath. "Only around you."

Feliciano tilted his head inquiringly. "Am I so surprising?"

"Constantly, Feliciano." But Ludwig said it kindly, and Feliciano knew he meant it as a good thing. Feliciano reached up for another leaf as they passed the next tree.

"Well, that's okay, I suppose. Things surprise me all the time. I'm actually surprised right now. I mean, Grandpa Roma said there were lilies blooming on the north side of the field, but I don't see any lilies, I only see these trees and the grass and some daisies and that cottage over there..." Feliciano broke off abruptly, furrowing his brow and putting his hand above his eyes to peer across the grass. There, on the edge of the field, was the old barn that lived, both sweetly and bitterly, in Feliciano's memory. Only it wasn't the same. It was much larger now, with a colourful, fenced garden and wide windows and a bright green front door. It wasn't a barn anymore - it was a little cottage. Feliciano stopped still, the leaves falling forgotten from his fingers. He was completely astonished. "What... what happened?"

"Is that..." Ludwig stopped, turned his head, glanced around, then breathed out in understanding. "When was it turned into a house?"

Feliciano shook his head, staring, stunned and confused. "I don't know. Maybe someone bought it, or... I don't know."

"It was not like this when you left for Germany?"

"No! It was just a barn! Well, not just a barn, I mean... I..." Feliciano again broke off, those sweet and bitter memories flooding his mind. That one night during the war with Ludwig, in a hay loft by a fireplace, under a rain-pelted roof. That blazing night of closeness and bliss and completeness; that one time Feliciano had joined so perfectly with Ludwig. Beyond the shock and confusion of why this place had changed so drastically, Feliciano suddenly realised one thing: how much he wanted that again. "Ludwig, do you remember..."

Ludwig answered before Feliciano could finish. "Yes."

The cold wind gusted strongly, whipping Feliciano's hair against his cheek. He twisted his fingers, took a deep breath, then asked, "Do you think we could ever do that again?"

This time Ludwig took too long to answer. He looked away when he spoke. "I don't know."

Feliciano nodded, breathed, and smiled. "Let's have a closer look." Feliciano ran ahead to the little cottage, Ludwig following behind. When he reached the evergreen trees that bordered the edge of the wide field, Feliciano turned into the little fenced lane that led to the bright green cottage door. His stomach flipped when he saw there was a note attached to it. "Ludwig!" he called, ripping the note from the door. "There's something..."

You're a grown man, Feli. You can't live with your grandpa forever.

Feliciano was sure his heart stopped when he read the note, scrawled in Grandpa Roma's familiar handwriting. At first he did not understand it, and then he thought he read it wrong, and then he was quite certain he was dreaming. The words blurred on the page and he turned slowly, overwhelmed and speechless, to see Ludwig wheeling down the wide garden-bordered lane. "Feliciano?" Ludwig approached slowly, his expression puzzled and concerned. "What is it?"

Feliciano just shook his head, barely able to believe it. "It's ours."

Ludwig stopped, furrowing his brow in bewilderment. "It's what?"

Feliciano laughed. Once he started, he could not stop. "It's ours!" he cried again, waving the small white note and racing down the lane. An overwhelming joy overtook him and he could only laugh, and gasp, and throw his arms around Ludwig as he fell onto his lap. Ludwig took the note from his fingers, read the words, then simply held Feliciano in his arms.

Feliciano never knew such happiness existed. He did not understand how he could deserve all this. He simply did not know how to contain such tremendous joy.

This was where he would live with Ludwig. Here in the golden Italian fields; here with the backdrop of their mountains and close to their oak tree. Here, there would finally be a place for them.

The Italian winter passed as quickly and joyfully as the German autumn. Feliciano spent the mornings working in their little garden, planting white lilies and red daisies and bushels of basil and rosemary. Ludwig usually watched him silently, listening as Feliciano talked or sang in the afternoon sunshine. In the afternoons they would sometimes walk to the village, shopping at the market or meeting Antonio and Lovino for coffee in the cantina - on these afternoons they usually ended up at their oak tree, where they would talk and pick flowers and Feliciano would sometimes sing. It was a perfect, beautiful life, and Feliciano knew they deserved it. True, at first some of the villagers had a hard time with a former German officer living amongst them, but by the spring most of them had accepted it. After all, it was rather embarrassing losing a fight to a man in a wheelchair.

.

The afternoon thunderstorm broke suddenly, unexpectedly, catching Feliciano and Ludwig unawares as they walked home from the market. By the time they fell through the front door, wet and shaking and breathless, they were completely soaked through. Ludwig shook the rain from his hair and immediately headed for the fireplace in the bedroom. "I will never get used to this Italian weather," he muttered, hearing Feliciano laugh in response as he followed down the hallway behind him.

"At least these spring rainstorms aren't as scary as the ones in winter!" A sudden crack of thunder shook the windows and Feliciano shrieked, his footsteps pounding faster until Ludwig felt gripping arms around his neck. Ludwig stopped, let out a resigned sigh, then turned his chair and pulled Feliciano onto his lap. Feliciano's look of fear turned first to surprise, then to beaming contentment as he leant happily against Ludwig's shoulder. Ludwig rolled his eyes as he continued towards the bedroom. It was ridiculous, really. Feliciano spent almost as much time in this chair as Ludwig himself.

"What have I told you about thunder, Feliciano?"

"Thunder is the sound that lightning makes, not the sound of old Gods fighting each other in the mountains," Feliciano recited dutifully.

"Exactly. Nothing to be afraid of." Ludwig manoeuvred through the wide bedroom door, the dull afternoon light filtering through the curtains and casting shadows on the rug-covered floorboards. He briskly rubbed Feliciano's cold arms before nudging him off his lap. "Now get changed, you're freezing. I'll start the fire."

The old barn's fireplace was now the central point of the bedroom, opposite the dresser and the bed, bordered by a varnished mantelpiece covered with colourful flower vases, framed pictures, and a simple little wooden box containing two very precious photographs. Ludwig set about starting the fire as Feliciano continued talking behind him.

"If thunder is the sound that lightning makes, then why do you see the lightning first?"

"Because light travels faster than sound," Ludwig explained patiently, placing the kindling in the fire.

"It all sounds very strange, Ludwig, but I'm sure you know more about it than I do. And I don't find the thunder so scary anymore, except when I'm not expecting it, but I can't help that. We will have to go back to the market tomorrow, by the way, because I dropped the tomatoes in the rain and I have to make that flan while the basil is still fresh - oh no, do you think the storm will ruin my herbs? I only just planted new ones!"

Ludwig closed the grate on the crackling fire and turned his chair, ready to reassure Feliciano that his herbs would most likely be fine. The words died instantly on his lips. Feliciano stood at the window, naked from the waist up, holding aside the curtain and peering into the front garden. His wet hair clung to his neck, soaked flat but for that single unruly curl, dripping glistening rivulets of water down bare skin that glinted gold in the firelight. He was absolutely beautiful. Ludwig swallowed heavily, his throat turning dry and his breath coming faster. A wave of heat shot down his back, tingling at the base of his spine, spreading to areas he was no longer used to feeling sensation. Feliciano twisted a bare foot on the floor, wiped the water from his forehead, and smiled as he turned.

"I think it will be okay, I suppose I can just replant them if... Ludwig?"

"Feliciano." Ludwig simply reached a hand out for Feliciano, needing him to take it; needing him to understand. Feliciano only stared blankly for a second more. His golden eyes darkened, his soft lips parted, and he breathed a quiet, shaky, "Oh." Then he smiled again, beautiful and calm and trusting. Ludwig's heart turned in his chest, swift and full, as Feliciano raced forward into his arms. Of course he understood.

In only minutes the rain outside grew even heavier, pelting loudly against the roof as the flickering firelight painted Feliciano's skin in a soft golden glow. Laying back on the wide, low bed, Ludwig gazed up at Feliciano straddling his waist; ran his calloused hands over smooth, trembling thighs and warm, firm hips. Feliciano's eyes did not move from Ludwig's, his own hands tracing light circles on Ludwig's chest. Ludwig knew they were both, in some way, scared to try this. After all, they had tried a few times since the winter, and had so far achieved limited success. But he also knew that he trusted Feliciano, and loved him desperately, and Ludwig wanted this as much for his beloved little Italian as he did for himself.

"It's all right, Feliciano." Ludwig reached up to touch Feliciano's cheek, letting his hand fall slowly over uncertain lips and fragile shoulders and that white bullet scar on Feliciano's chest that still pierced Ludwig's heart. "We will go slowly."

A long rumble of thunder echoed through the room. Feliciano's hand gripped Ludwig's firmly, but then he smiled. "There was a thunderstorm the first time, remember?"

Ludwig smiled back. Of course he remembered. He nodded in reply, then said simply, "Baciami."

Feliciano's eyes flared at the memory and he leant down into a burning kiss. As he did so, he slowly lifted his hips and lowered himself onto Ludwig. Ludwig breathed a sharp breath of surprise as he felt the dull, tightening pressure, a building shiver, the slow beginnings of sensation. Feliciano moaned softly against his lips and Ludwig kissed him again, his hands resting lightly on those smooth, flexing thighs as Feliciano took his own time adjusting to the position. "Oh," Feliciano whispered breathily, the blissful, almost surprised tone of his voice sending waves of heat down Ludwig's neck. "Oh, Ludwig..."

Ludwig moved his hands from Feliciano's thighs to his waist, lifting him smoothly and moving him easily. It was different, and it was slightly odd, this instinctive desire to thrust without the ability to do so. But it was also about something else. The quickening drive of Feliciano's hips, the close heat of his breathy sighs, the darkened gaze of his heavy eyes: all blazed through Ludwig's veins and coiled below his hips, building to something like pleasure. This was about being with Feliciano, as close as their bodies allowed; it was about darkening those golden eyes and drawing those sighs from Feliciano's lips.

Feliciano spread his knees, pressed closer, and breathed softly, "Can you feel me, Ludwig?"

"Ja, Feliciano." Ludwig tightened his grip, again lifting Feliciano and bringing him down. "I feel you."

The look of pure joy and relief on Feliciano's face melted away any last trace of doubt. Because Ludwig did feel him. It was not the same as that first storm-tossed night by this fireplace, and it might never be the same. Yet it was more pure, more real; every radiant glimpse, every touch of Feliciano's perfection drew deeper sensation from Ludwig's broken body. Ludwig lifted a hand to touch Feliciano's cheek, his neck; ran his fingers down the gentle curve of his back; reached across his side and between his thighs. Feliciano cried out, arching up at the touch, and Ludwig felt his breath catch at the sheer golden beauty of him. Ludwig almost lost himself in the rhythm between them, in the consuming sense of unison, until he barely knew where his body ended and Feliciano's began.

By now, Ludwig was used to Feliciano's noise, to his laughter and singing and constant chatter. Yet for these rare moments, Feliciano was silent except for the swift pace of his breathing and his rising sighs that turned to tiny, shaking moans. Ludwig loved Feliciano's noise, and he loved his silence. He loved his wildness and his joy. And when Feliciano's stomach tightened, his cheeks flushed red and his wide eyes locked with Ludwig's own, Ludwig loved that he was the reason for Feliciano's gasping release.

The moment seemed to last both an instant and an eternity, Ludwig's nerves firing with his own steady, unpeaking bliss, until Feliciano's breathing evened and his shaking hands stilled on Ludwig's chest. Ludwig put his hand to the back of Feliciano's neck and drew him down into a deep kiss, enfolding his warm, drowsy body in a steadying embrace. Feliciano's lips were slow and lazy against his, until he broke the kiss with a short, soft laugh. "Oh, Ludwig, um... I, uh, oh."

Ludwig could not help feeling smugly satisfied at that, still blissful that he could make Feliciano feel like this; that he could be the cause of his heavy breaths and tired limbs. For so long Ludwig had been unsure if this union could be possible, and now pure, clear relief flowed through every part of him. Relief that he could still do this for Feliciano. Relief that they still had this; they had each other, and they had everything.

The sound of the forgotten thunder and rain again filled the bedroom as Feliciano fell to Ludwig's side, threw an arm over his chest, and breathed against his neck. Ludwig reached out for the blankets and tried not to make it obvious as he adjusted his legs beneath the covers. Feliciano just smiled against his skin. "Ludwig?"

"Mm?"

"I'm very happy right now."

Ludwig pulled Feliciano back into his arms and kissed his forehead. "So am I, Feliciano." And he was. Ludwig was quite sure he had never been this happy. Feliciano calmed the dark memories and dulled the sharp pain; he gave life meaning and hope. He was innocence in a world of guilt, a spark of light in what would otherwise be nothing but darkness and confusion. Feliciano was strange, and wild, and Ludwig knew that given fifty years he would never quite understand him. But feeling Feliciano's fingers dance over his chest and hearing his breathing turning to an indistinct humming, Ludwig wondered if that mattered. Because he loved him, and needed him, and he would never stop learning him. And surely that was enough.

Ludwig may have fallen asleep, or he may just have lay drifting, focusing on the perfect feeling of Feliciano in his arms. Either way, he was suddenly startled when Feliciano sat upright and jumped off the bed, pulling a sheet wrapped around his waist with him. Ludwig looked up in bleary confusion. "Where are you going?"

"I have an idea!"

Ludwig decided it was best not to ask any further. He knew by now that there would be no way of talking Feliciano out of it, whatever his sudden mad idea. Instead, Ludwig tried not to laugh as Feliciano stumbled across the room to the fireplace, the sheet twisted awkwardly around his ankles. "You can take the sheet off, Feliciano."

"But then I'll be naked!"

"Exactly."

Feliciano made a sound halfway between a gasp and a guffaw. "Ludwig! Don't be rude. Now, here." Ludwig furrowed his brow when he realised what Feliciano was reaching for. He took the little wooden box from the mantelpiece, clumsily carried it back to the bed, then sat heavily as Ludwig pushed himself up a little against the headboard.

"Feliciano?" Ludwig did not know what else to ask.

Feliciano held the box between them and gazed at Ludwig with earnest eyes. "Ludwig, you said you remembered there was a thunderstorm the first time. Do you also remember how I asked you not to say goodbye?"

Ludwig nodded slowly, his throat suddenly tightening at the memory. He would never forget. "Yes, I remember."

"It always hurt so much to say goodbye to you." Feliciano looked down at the little box, his expression turning sad and uncertain. "Every time I did, I never knew if it would be the last time, and... and even now, I still don't like saying it, because it reminds me..." Feliciano bit his lip and his eyes started to redden. "And these photographs here, we wrote our goodbyes on them, and... and they're still there..."

Ludwig let out a breath of understanding. Before Feliciano could get too upset, Ludwig gently squeezed his hand. "Pass me my shirt."

Feliciano glanced up, and though he looked a little confused, he nodded and reached for Ludwig's shirt from the table beside the bed. Ludwig took a pen from the front pocket and Feliciano immediately laughed. "You still have a pen in your pocket, Ludwig!"

Ludwig smiled. "You never know when you might need one." He reached for the box and opened it, carefully taking out the crumpled, bloodstained photograph of Feliciano smiling brightly at the camera. This precious piece of Feliciano evoked so many emotions within Ludwig he almost found it hard to look at it. He quickly glanced up at Feliciano's real face, his beautiful smile, before turning the picture over. Resting the photograph on his thigh, Ludwig ran a single line through the words written on the back: bella ciao. Then he wrote instead, buon giorno bello.

Feliciano stared at the words for a few moments, tears gathering in his eyes. Ludwig reached into the box for the other photograph, then held it out with the pen in a silent suggestion. Feliciano took them both slowly, running a shaking hand over the image before turning it over. He crossed out the scrawled auf wiedersehen, sweetheart on the back. Then, beside the old familiar phrase, he carefully wrote the words guten tag, sweetheart.

"There," said Ludwig lightly, reaching out and running a thumb under Feliciano's eye. "No more goodbyes."

Feliciano laughed and wiped his eyes. He took a deep breath then let it out slowly, an exhalation of acceptance and relief. Ludwig understood. The last time they had lain under this rain-pelted roof, it had ended in goodbye. Feliciano always remembered so deeply; but Ludwig was determined to always find a way to reassure him.

"Now, here." Ludwig placed the photographs back in the box, placed it on the table beside the bed, and drew Feliciano back into his arms. "Will you do something for me?"

"Yes," Feliciano replied immediately.

Ludwig laughed softly at that. "Promise me you'll wake up beside me, every morning - and never say goodbye."

Ludwig felt Feliciano's lips break into a smile before pressing a warm kiss to his chest. "I promise, Ludwig."

"Good. Now go to sleep."

"Yes, Ludwig."

Ludwig's heart swelled in his chest as Feliciano rested happily, smiling, against his chest. Ludwig still did not know how simply trying to do duty to his country had led him to this strange conclusion. To an odd, startling, beautiful little Italian who had turned the world upside down and changed everything Ludwig ever thought he'd believed in. To a life unlike anything he had ever imagined for himself, and more wonderful than he could have ever dreamt. All Ludwig knew was that despite all the obstacles, despite the years of hell, despite the scars and the pain, he would never change any of it. Ludwig would never regret taking that risk, all those years ago. It had all been worth it.

Ludwig looked over at the photographs sitting beside the bed; those old, painful goodbyes scratched out and replaced with words of greeting. It was time to forget the past - time to live their future. It was time to see where this strange, beautiful, unexpected life would take them. All Ludwig could know for sure, as he held Feliciano close and listened to him drift to sleep, was that it would be together. Because they would never say goodbye again.

The End.

.

(almost...)