An Olive Grove Facing the Sea
by Terri Botta ã2010

Klaus Heinz von dem Eberbach walked along the beach, letting the coastal breeze play with his hair. It was a beautiful day – perfect even – and he breathed in the smells of the salt water tinged with the scent of lemons and olive trees. The Earl’s blue ball cap was in his left hand, and he was gripping it tightly lest it fly away again as it had earlier in the day. Dorian had given it up for lost, but Klaus had spied the flash of blue on the sand, and he had headed down the narrow track to the beach to retrieve it. Once he was down on the shore, however, he’d stayed there to enjoy the feel of the sand between his toes as the waves licked at his bare feet.

He was content. It was an odd feeling, not one he was used to or one he experienced often, but he did have moments of peace from time to time. It made them all the more precious because they were so rare, and he welcomed them, holding on to them as long as he could before he had to let them go.

‘I could stay here forever. It’s so peaceful, I could cry,’ he thought, looking out at the blue waters of the Mediterranean.

He closed his eyes and breathed in the fresh air as he felt the warmth of the sun seeping into the pores of his skin. It was getting hot. Soon he would have to seek the shaded terrace of the villa where he and Dorian were staying to escape the worst of the mid-day sun.

Dorian. He always called the Earl “Dorian” in his mind now, although he had never called him that to his face. After the last eight weeks, he thought he owed the man that much. No, he owed him much, much more, but what it was between them, and what it was to be, was still very much a murky muddle in his head, and he’d been putting off examining it for weeks. With everything else that had happened to him, he just hadn’t felt up to dealing with it; opting instead to live in the moment and not think about the future. He had enough to handle coming to terms with his recent past.

He didn’t need to look down to see the scars left behind by multiple cigarettes being put out on the soles and bridge of his feet to know they were there. The wounds had healed nicely, but the circular marks remained, and probably always would. Scars on a young man had time to fade, but he was entering the autumn of his life – Middle Age where a man looked back and asked himself what he’d been doing the last five decades or so.

Some men answered those kinds of questions by leaving job, home, and family, buying an expensive sports car – usually red or electric blue or, god forbid, bright yellow – and running off to spend money he didn’t really have. Midlife crisis the “experts” called it. When a man turned a certain age and suddenly went insane. He’d seen it happen to more than one agent, and even a couple of accountants – though, to his dismay not Mr. James whom he thought would do just nicely if the Stingy Bug suddenly decided to take up Bungee Jumping in Australia or Jamaica or Timbuktu or anywhere but here where he and Dorian were staying, but alas his secret wishes to be rid of the annoying skinflint were left unfulfilled.

He, of course, had no intention of resigning his post from NATO, abandoning Schloss Eberbach or buying anything but a staid, reliable Benz (preferably black,) but self-examining thoughts were occupying much of his time these days, especially since he knew his little enforced respite was coming to an end. He was thinking that perhaps a little more downtime and a little less stress might be a good thing. After spending the first fifty years of his life living up to the expectations of others, maybe he had earned the right to live for himself – at least a little bit.

Duty and honor, and the need to occasionally flatten, shoot or otherwise destroy something just for the adrenaline rush, were sewn into the fabric of his soul, so he could never fully separate himself from them (nor would he want to, if he was being honest,) but if he wanted to walk along the beach and feel the sand between his toes, he should be allowed. He should be able to hang up his three-piece suit and dress in cool, white linen if he wanted. He could even unbutton the top three buttons of his shirt and forgo the tie and – gasp! – undershirt! He could don a thin, army green jacket and roll up his sleeves and just be.

‘Just let me be here. I won’t tell anyone. Just let me stay here.’

No one should be able to deny him the brief moments of happiness he wanted to steal from the power hungry politicians, bloodthirsty terrorists, enemy spies, and other sundry scum of the earth that he encountered on a regular basis. He’d earned the right to them after all he had done, and seen… and suffered.

He turned into the wind and let it blow across his face, his right hand coming up to finger through his hair. The cast had come off two days ago and the wrist was still weak, but the Earl was shoving different sized things into his hands five times a day for him to squeeze as “physical therapy.” This morning at breakfast, he’d been handed two oranges and a pink grapefruit.

“Roll those around a bit for me, my dear Major, will you please? It’ll help release the juice so they’ll squeeze better. Oh, I do so love fresh orange juice, don’t you?” the Earl had said brightly as they sat on the terrace that overlooked the sea.

He’d grumbled, mostly because he thought it was expected of him, but obeyed. He knew what Dorian was doing, surreptitiously sneaking in exercises that disguised themselves as simple tasks. It seemed that the Earl was as determined as Klaus to regain the ability to fire his Magnum one-handed again (the Magnum he hadn’t seen since… don’t go there…), perhaps even moreso, although exactly why had so far escaped him. He was too busy focusing on his own motivations to figure out the Earl’s. He’d worry about Dorian once he’d sorted out himself.

He didn’t remember much of the last three months. He remembered his capture and the early tortures. He remembered them breaking his right wrist and him trying to chew through his left thumb to escape the shackles they’d clasped him in. When they’d discovered him, they’d just tied his arms above his head so he couldn’t reach anymore and didn’t treat the wound. He remembered them yanking the tooth with its precious cyanide capsule out of his mouth so he couldn’t kill himself. He was surprised that they hadn’t cut off his hair, but they seemed to enjoy using it as a… handhold. He remembered the beatings, the humiliations, the gang rapes.

But much of that was a blur once starvation, dehydration and infection had set in. His moments of lucidity found him chained in a dank cellar, naked, filthy, and quietly waiting for death. His mission had been top secret, and no one – not even his Chief – knew where he’d been sent, and he was alone with very little hope for rescue, until one day the door opened and a blond thief had stolen in. How the Earl had found him, he still didn’t know, but he knew without a doubt that Eroica had saved his life.

Memories came back to him in flashes. A head of blond hair, a beam of light in the darkness, a gentle touch.

“Major. Major, I need you to open your eyes and look at me.”

The left eye had been swollen shut, but he’d cracked open the right, the blurry face of the thief coming slowly into focus.

“Do you know who I am?”

He’d been unable to speak – the left side of his face battered, his throat sore and his tongue parched – but he’d nodded even though the movement hurt.

“I’m going to get you out of here. I need to touch you. Don’t fight me. I don’t want to hurt you.”

The shackles had come loose, but it mattered little. Both of his hands were useless – the right wrist broken – half healed and crooked, the left swollen with infection from his own teeth. Clothes, soft athletic pants and sweatshirt, were gently pulled over his bruised and bloody body; shoes were slipped onto his ravaged feet – covered with weeping, infected sores and burns.

“Oh, your poor feet. Can you stand, my brave Major? Can you walk for me?”

He didn’t know how he did it, but he’d made his legs obey and rose to his feet, unsteady, dizzy, weak as a kitten, but upright. The Earl’s arm braced him, providing the support he’d needed to stagger from his cell, and they’d shuffled their way out to freedom.

“Yes, you an do this. You are Iron Klaus. Not much farther now. Just a few more steps. Oh, you are the still the strongest man I know!”

Once out of the compound and inside the underground garage, the Earl had bundled him into the backseat of a car and covered him up under blankets and shopping bags to conceal him, but not before a wet cloth had been placed across his nose and mouth.

“You are in excruciating pain, and the road ahead of us is long. It’s best for you to sleep through this, my dear Major. Breathe deep, Klaus, and leave your pain behind.”

The soporific had been a kindness, and when he woke he was in Switzerland, being gently called back to life by Dorian’s voice. Into a house. Into a bath. Tenderly cleaned by careful hands that gently scrubbed away a month of accumulated dirt, blood and other bodily fluids. Held in a tub full of hot water with the Earl behind him so he wouldn’t drown to soak away the worst of the muscle knots, then clothed in pajamas that suited his tastes (undershirt included.)

“I know I am pathetic, Major, but I always have a complete set of clothes and night things for you at all of my houses, just in case, you know…” the Earl had explained as nimble fingers buttoned up the conservative, striped pajama top.

Then into bed to sleep… and sleep and sleep… broken only by the doctor the Earl had called or the attempts to feed him liquids to soothe his parched throat. Dorian slept beside him, guarding him with an arsenal of knives at the ready, snarling like a territorial Doberman if they were unexpectedly disturbed. He didn’t question the presence of the thief in his bed. The other man had not touched him in any way that could be considered sexual, and he had made Klaus feel safe. Unable to speak or use his hands, all he had to do was nudge the body next to him, and the Earl would instantly wake to see what was needed.

At some point he was taken to a private medical clinic where his wrist was re-broken and properly set, his broken ribs wrapped, and stitches were sewn into… down there to repair the damage done by the rapes. His feet and hand were bandaged, and an IV port was put in for his medications and fluids. He’d lost over 34kg, he was told. He was emaciated, dangerously dehydrated and wracked with infection. He’d been perilously close to death.

The Earl would not let anyone but himself tend him. No nurses. No strangers. No prying eyes or loose lips to spread the word of Iron Klaus’s capture and violation, so he was taken back to the house in Zurich after the surgeries to recover hidden from view, from scrutiny.

Days passed, with him fading in and out of consciousness as the infections coursed through his body and the fevers made him delirious. The pain was dulled by medicine that muddled his mind, but he knew he was safe, and Dorian was always there, no further away than a nudge or a moan. Dorian became the rock that supported him and shielded him from the world.

Agent A had found them a few days after his rescue, capable man that he was. A might not have been able to find his superior, but he knew enough to watch the thief and track his movements. When Eroica had stopped looking for Iron Klaus, A knew the Earl had found him, and he had come calling. Klaus had been asleep when the agent knocked on the door, but he’d been told about it afterwards. The Major had still looked a fright, but from all reports A had taken it well. Except…. Except A had wanted to alert NATO. A had wanted to follow protocol and have Klaus moved to a military hospital. A had wanted Dorian to surrender him over to NATO’s care. A had severely underestimated a protective and territorial English thief.

Had he been conscious, Klaus didn’t know who he would have sided with. A was a good man, a good agent, and he’d wanted to protect Klaus as much as Dorian did. But Dorian knew Klaus wouldn’t want anyone touching him, wouldn’t want anyone knowing what had happened to him, wouldn’t want anyone to see him when he was so weak and wounded, wouldn’t want any of his enemies knowing of his… injuries.

So the same man who had once stolen a photograph of Klaus dancing – a photograph that would have severely damaged his reputation if it were to be made public – had then drugged his agent with sleeping gas and whisked his patient away to a tiny village along the Amalfi coast, to a rented villa under an assumed name where no one but Bonham, Mr. James and the villa staff (who had no idea of their true identities) knew they were there.

He had no memory of the trip south, having been drugged himself because Dorian thought it would be better to move him while he was unconscious, and he had now spent the last six weeks convalescing in the villa, healing, resting, and coming to terms with what had happened to him. Slowly, the infections ran their course and his wounds healed. The bandages came off his hand and feet, his broken ribs ceased to cause him pain, and he could see, and talk and eat again. The stitches were removed from… down there and the internal damage healed as well as could be expected, although he was warned that there was some… scarring. Future surgeries could, possibly, correct the problem should he experience any negative effects; thankfully, he couldn’t say that he was having any particular difficulties.

He’d gained back about half of the weight he’d lost, and he was slowly returning to the physical condition he’d been in before he was captured. Dorian provided him with all the free weights and exercise equipment he wanted, he took long runs on the beach, and he had even played a bit of soccer with the younger members of the villa’s staff. He was feeling himself again by increments, and the cast coming off his broken wrist had been the last publically displayed evidence of his “accident.”

The Earl had told the villa staff that Klaus had been badly injured in a motorcycle crash, which had earned him many clucking lectures from the villa matrons on the dangers of driving too fast on a two-wheeled death trap. Thankfully, his Italian wasn’t that great – or at least he could pretend his Italian wasn’t that great – and the women would just tsk at him and give him an extra helping of pasta to “put some meat on his thin bones.”

Physically, he was doing well, scars notwithstanding, and he even thought that he was handling the psychological effects of his ordeal within acceptable parameters. He wasn’t having any panic attacks or flashbacks, nor was he afraid of the dark like the Earl had become when he was traumatized by a stupid statue that had “supposedly” come to life.

NATO and military officers were trained in the possibility of what could happen to them should they be captured by an enemy. Tortures were described and illustrated, types of pain were discussed, and, yes, rape was covered for both men and women. He knew when he was taken what was likely to happen to him, and he knew there had been nothing he could do to prevent them from brutalizing him once they had assured that he could not escape or kill himself.

He’d always been exceptionally good at compartmentalizing the bad things that had happened to him in the line of duty, and he’d been able to block out or selectively forget any number of unpleasant situations he’d had to endure. He was treating this latest ordeal the same way: there was nothing he could have done to prevent them from hurting him, and he’d done everything he could do to escape and not give them what they had wanted.

He didn’t think he had talked, but there were significant gaps in his memory so he couldn’t be sure. Dorian had assured him, however, that anything they had gotten out of him had been destroyed when Eroica had sent in a crew of his men to “clean up.” The Earl told him that he should not worry about such things, only that he should concentrate on the fact that he had survived intact and whole, and that he would soon be able to go back to work. He wasn’t so sure how he felt about that.

After he’d almost been killed by a grenade in Turkey, he’d been itching to return to work. His leg had taken a very long time to heal, and the period of rehabilitation had seemed to stretch on forever. Three members of his house staff had quit over his short temper and his pacing around the Schloss like a caged tiger. When he’d finally been cleared for duty, the whole household had cheered, glad to be rid of him.

But now… after this…

It had been different… before. Back then he had almost died to retrieve a black box that supposedly held the secrets to disabling Soviet computer systems, but in the end it turned out to be all for naught because the damn thing would have shut itself off in a few months anyway. He’d risked his life for nothing, but he hadn’t known that. He’d done his duty the best he could, and even took out the ship he’d thought the black box was on with a rocket launcher. The Earl had been beside him then, too, and he’d seen to it that Klaus got to a military hospital after Klaus had collapsed.

This time he’d almost died trying to get back a flash drive with sensitive intelligence information that someone had been careless enough to allow to be stolen by an extreme anti-government militia group. Or so he’d been told. Eroica was the one who had informed him that the “sensitive intelligence information” on the flash drive he’d found was actually a “little black book” for a well-known, high-class Madam, and it listed the names of all of her clientele, including a number of married men in powerful and influential positions – a prominent NATO General being among the regular customers.

So he’d been imprisoned, tortured, and gang raped so a bunch of rich bastards could keep their wives from finding out that they were fucking prostitutes. Expensive prostitutes no less. And then his superiors wondered why he was becoming disillusioned with his job. He never thought there would be a day when he missed the KGB, but he was coming to it.

He stopped walking and looked down the beach, then up the hill where the villa was perched like a tan and red feathered bird with its stucco walls and tiled roof. White curtains billowed out of the room he shared with Dorian on the second floor, the glass doors open to the private balcony that overlooked the ocean. The villa had been his sanctuary, the place where the Earl had hidden him so he could heal, and he’d felt safe amid its solid walls and olive grove facing the sea. It pained him to know it would all be ending soon.

He flexed his right hand, feeling the sinews bend and pop in the stiff fingers. It was paler than the left, having been encased in the cast and shielded from the sun, but it was already losing its fish-belly white tone. There were scars where the surgeon had cut into him in order to reset the bone properly, but no other outward signs of his injury. He itched to clench it into a fist and punch out the ones who had hurt him, to break their bones and debase them as he had been debased. He owed them pain for pain, and he vowed to mete it out the same way he had met out retribution on anyone who had dared to raise a hand to Iron Klaus. He would make it his first mission to hunt them down and bring them to justice.

Except… Except he wasn’t so certain justice hadn’t already been served.

He paused in his imaginings of tying the one bastard up and breaking his jaw just to wipe the smug look off his face, because a memory was coming into focus. It had begun creeping into his vision whenever he thought of revenge on his captors, as if his subconscious mind was trying to make him recall what had happened now that he was well enough to face it.

His vision was blurred, and he felt as if he would fall over at any moment from the pain and weakness, so he knew it was the day that Dorian had rescued him; only instead of taking him directly to the car, the Earl had brought him to a mid-size room set up with a small kitchen and a couple of tables. In the room were six unconscious men – knocked out cold by Eroica’s soporifics.

“Sit here, Major. I need you to do something for me. I know you are tired, but this is vitally important,” the Earl had said to him, lowering him into a cheap, plastic chair.

He’d been too weak to protest so he’d obeyed and sat down, uncertain if he’d ever muster the strength to stand again, then he’d watched, feeling very detached, as the Earl took the one man by the hair and lifted his head so Klaus could see his face.

“Now Major, I want you to take a good look at this man. Tell me, is he one of the ones who violated you?” Eroica had asked, a very disturbing expression on his face.

Still feeling out of body, he’d managed a small nod and watched as the Earl released the man and did the same with the next one, asking the same question. Four nods and two shakes of his head later, he’d indicated four of the six men who had gang raped him repeatedly over the course of many agonizing days, weeks?

“Now you’re sure these are the men who raped you?” the Earl had pressed. “You’re absolutely certain?”

He’d glared at the man as much as his swollen face would allow, and he saw the thief back off.

“Yes, well, of course you are. Forget I asked. Thank you, Major.”

He was left wondering what the hell the man was doing playing twenty-questions instead of getting them out of there, when he saw the Earl take out a long knife and slit the throat of each of the men he’d identified as his rapist. He did it so fast, and with such a cold expression on his face, that Klaus couldn’t be certain it wasn’t a hallucination and not a real memory. In all the years he’d known Dorian, the thief had never killed, and he certainly had never killed in cold blood.

But it didn’t seem like a false memory. If anything, recalling the Earl killing his assailants brought him a sense of peace. The ones responsible were dead, therefore they could not hurt him again, and there was no need for him to waste his energy on planning his revenge. He knew the Earl would know for sure, and he’d been gathering the courage to ask the thief about it when he’d spied the ball cap on the beach. Going down to get it had given him a chance to order his thoughts, but now he was ready to go back. Besides, it was almost lunchtime, and he was hungry. No doubt the villa’s staff was waiting on his return to serve the noon meal, and Dorian was probably fretting about where he’d wandered off to. The Earl was being very good about giving a healing Klaus his freedom, but the Major knew he got nervous the moment his “patient” was out of his sight.

He sighed and began his climb back up to the house. His body ached. It felt like it was wearing him instead of the other way around. After lunch, he might have a nap in the shade of the olive trees. He liked to sleep there under the fragrant boughs, listening to the rush of the sea. Dorian would no doubt lie down with him, and he would lie in the thief’s arms until he fell asleep.

The Earl was waiting for him when he crested the top of the bluff, and Klaus saw him quickly erase the anxious, worried expression from his face in lieu of a brilliant smile when Klaus raised his left hand to show the hat.

“Oh! Major, you found it!” Dorian exclaimed as Klaus presented the cap to him on the main terrace off the first level of the house. “And here I thought it was lost forever.”

Bright blue eyes sparkled merrily from a pale face, but the expression held a hint of sadness. It had been that way since Klaus had awakened from his fevers. Dorian smiled, but the smile hardly ever reached his eyes, and Klaus did not know why. At first he thought it was because of his hair – Dorian had sheared off his long locks for the flight to Italy, explaining that his curls were too distinctive and he did not want to have to constantly wear a wig in the hot Italian sun – but then he remembered that the expression had been on the Earl’s face before they’d had to leave Switzerland.

From his point of view, the thief ought to be ecstatic, not borderline morose. After so many years of chasing him, the Earl had finally managed to get Klaus all to himself – regardless of how horrible the circumstances had been, but the other man didn’t seem to appreciate the significance of Klaus’s capitulation. Or maybe, Dorian simply didn’t recognize Klaus’s surrender for what it was. Lord knew the Earl was being almost piously chaste and careful around him. He hadn’t even tried to kiss him even once, although Klaus didn’t know what he would do if he had. He was willing to accept the man as a good friend, but anything beyond that…

He pushed the thought away. Soon they would be leaving this place, this cocoon of peace and safety, and he had no idea what it would mean for either of them. He had to return to Bonn and face NATO, no doubt to suffer an examination and psychological review. He’d probably be put on medical leave pending the results of his evaluation, where he would go home to Schloss Eberbach, and be hovered over by his butler and nagged by his aging father, and he’d be ready to go on a killing spree within four days.

God knew where Dorian would go or what he would do…

No, he didn’t want to think about leaving this place.

Dorian laughed, bringing him out of his dour thoughts, and put the cap on. Klaus wasn’t sure if he’d ever get used to the short, tight curls that clung to the thief’s head.

“My Major. My ball cap saving hero,” the Earl said with a wide grin. “But look! Marie Terese has made fresh lemonade, and there is some very nice wine that Benino brought up from the cellar. Come, sit down and we will have lunch. I am sure you are hungry after your great hat rescuing adventure.”

The thief waved his hand towards the wrought iron table with its matching chairs, set with a complete service for lunch. The entire terrace was shaded by a high sail awning that blocked the sunlight but not the view of the sea.

“Heh, no worse than having a statue lobbed at me,” he commented dryly, going to the table and sitting down opposite the other man. He was referring to a mission where Eroica had stolen a statue that had looked like Klaus, and he had thrown the statue at the Major after dropping it into the sea.

The smile widened and this time it did reach the Earl’s eyes. “Oh, but that is my prize! My own Major carved in stone. I still have it, you know. It holds a… place of honor at my home in North Downs. I’ve been known to stare at it for hours when I’ve been denied a glimpse of the real thing.”

“Idiot,” he growled, but he felt the corners of his lips turning up anyway. He took a sip of his lemonade to hide his amusement and watched the Earl fumble trying to uncork a bottle of wine.

“Oh, Major, be a dear and open this for me? I’ve no idea what’s gotten into me that I can’t open a simple wine bottle. Maybe I’ve gotten too much sun,” Eroica complained, handing him the bottle of white wine and a corkscrew.

He smirked, just about to call “bullshit,” but decided to humor the man. There was no way the Earl couldn’t open a stupid bottle of wine, he was just trying to get Klaus to do it so he could practice his grip and work his right hand. He had it open in short order and soon two glasses were poured as one of the waitstaff brought lunch out to their table.

“I thought, since it is such a gorgeous day, that we might take our luncheon out here on the terrace,” Dorian explained. “Perhaps I’ll even fancy a swim later. I saw you walking in the surf. Was the water warm?”

“Ja,” he replied, sipping the wine. It was fresh and light, perfect for the bright day and the offerings of mushroom risotto and roasted eggplant on garlic bread.

No sooner had he finished the first course when a steaming plate of braised beef with tortellini in a cream sauce was placed in front of him. It was accompanied by a selection of grilled vegetables drizzled with olive oil. The Earl got a much smaller portion of the same, but the cook delighted in stuffing Klaus silly. He’d have to take a long run on the beach later to make sure it went to muscle and not fat.

“If you want to solve world hunger, put an Italian in charge,” the Earl had told him breezily when he’d complained that he was eating too much.

“I’m afraid I do have some rather bad news, Major,” Dorian began.

Klaus had noticed the Earl picking at his food, a clear sign that the man was agitated, so he put down his fork and waited.

“Agent A was spotted in Maiori. It’s only a matter of time before he finds us.”

Klaus took another sip of his wine to wash down the lump of pasta that had lodged in his throat. “Herr A is a good intelligence agent. I trained him myself,” he managed to say.

“Well… yes, he is. I’ve always thought well of him, and you know Bonham and he are quite good friends – not that Bonham would ever give our location away to anyone…”

“I know that,” he assured him.

“But the fact remains that he’s been spotted. Frankly, I wouldn’t put it past him to have delayed searching for you in order to give you time to heal. He wasn’t completely against my keeping you, and I did so hate to gas him, but I do think he understood.”

Understood more than the Earl realized. By gassing Agent A and forcibly taking Klaus out of Switzerland, Dorian had protected both the agent and Klaus’s careers. Since Eroica had apparently acted against A and the Major’s wills, neither man could be held responsible, and therefore Klaus was not considered to be AWOL. It was a brilliant move, even if it severely jeopardized the Earl’s future relationship with NATO.

Klaus intended to fix that, though. He already knew what he was going to tell his superiors and the NATO psychologists about his abduction, and it would go a long way to smoothing ruffled feathers – especially if Iron Klaus returned to duty in nearly top condition after his ordeal.

“Regardless, what would you like to do? We could disappear again, if you like. If beaches are your preferred locale, we could slip away to Portugal or South Africa or if you really want to throw NATO for a loop, we could go to… America.”

He shuddered at the very thought of going to the United States – imagining all those rude Yanks, in bathing suits no less!! Always wearing swimwear unsuited to their body shape. He nearly gagged.

“Nein. I like it here,” he answered calmly when inside his chest was aching. He didn’t know if he was ready for what was coming, but it looked like – as usual – he wasn’t being given any choice.

“I suppose, since you are supposed to be my prisoner, I could lock you in the cellar, though I don’t think Jamesie would like sharing his austere cell with you,” the Earl suggested playfully, but there was a shadow behind his eyes.

“That could be classified as cruel and unusual punishment,” he pointed-out.

“Ah, it was just an idea. Shall I put a dog collar on you, then, and tether you to the bed?” The words had no sooner left his mouth when Dorian realized what he’d said, and he went pale as a ghost. “Oh! Oh, do forgive me, Major. I didn’t mean that! You know how I get when I’m agitated. I flirt and say inappropriate things…”

Dorian’s hands fluttered and his face twisted in his frustration. Klaus found it endearing, and he did know how the Earl flirted when he was on the defensive, which was why he didn’t take the thief’s faux pas to heart. “No apologies are necessary, although not too long ago, no one would have been surprised to find me in such a… compromising position.”

It was an attempt to joke, to tease the Earl in his own way, but it unfortunately fell flat. Dorian’s eyes filled with haunted pain and he looked away.

“But you know I’d never, ever, ever do that to you, right? You know it?”

“Ja, I know. It was just a joke, Lord Gloria.”

“Two months ago, I might have found it funny. If you hadn’t been missing. If I hadn’t found you… like that, but now…”

“Forgive me. It was in poor taste,” he apologized.

“Yes, but you’ve always had such a dark sense of humor. I should be relieved that your ordeal has dulled none of its edge,” Dorian admitted, cutting close to the bone as usual. The Earl had always understood him better than anyone.

He shrugged and took a sip of his wine and a few more bites of his pasta. He could see the waitstaff hovering just inside the kitchen doorway, waiting to bring out the third course as soon as he and Dorian were finished the second. Unfortunately, the Earl had barely touched his food.

“You should eat. The staff is getting anxious. They will think you don’t like what they’ve made,” he stated, trying to lighten the serious mood.

“Yes, yes, of course. They’ve been such a good staff while we’ve been here. I’d hate to make them fret on my account,” the Earl agreed and attempted to nibble at his vegetables, but he didn’t seem to want the beef and pasta, so Klaus took it from him, adding it to his own portion.

A salad of radicchio and field greens was brought out once he was finished the second course to cleanse his palate, followed by a dish of sliced fruit with a light glaze. The staff seemed to give the Earl a wider berth, and broke protocol by leaving the plates instead of clearing them away, allowing Dorian to pick at the food at his own pace.

‘They feed the hungry one and don’t worry about the bird,’ Klaus mused to himself as he ate heartily.

“So… what is the plan then, Major? Do we just stay here and let Agent A find us?” the Earl finally said.

“He probably already knows where we are, probably has the place under surveillance.”

“Oh dear. Do I have to worry about a bunch of men in flak jackets and Kevlar with assault rifles breaking in after dark some night to “rescue” you from my deviant clutches?”

He knew the Earl was only half joking, but a raid on the villa would be… unpleasant. He looked around, scouting the bluffs to see if he could locate a likely spot for a spy to watch the villa from a distance. There were two or three possible vantage points, and he sent telling scowls to each of the likely watchers in an attempt to warn them not to be stupid. Seeing him having a casual lunch on the terrace with Dorian, unharmed and not under duress, should temper A’s response or at least he hoped so. The Earl still slept beside him with a dagger under the pillow and three more within easy reach, so he couldn’t guarantee that Dorian wouldn’t throw a knife and do damage before he realized the intruders were the Major’s own men.

“I doubt it,” he deadpanned.

“Well, that’s good,” the other man commented, taking a sip of his lemonade.

“Cook will be cross with you. You have barely touched your lunch,” he scolded.

“I’m sorry. I just have no appetite.”

He watched as the Earl pulled the ball cap off his head and ran his hand through his short curls. Klaus didn’t like the expression on the Earl’s face, and he braced himself for what was to come. After nearly two months of avoiding the obvious, they had to talk about it sometime, best do it now and get it over with.

“I’m sorry. I knew this was coming… to be frank, I’m surprised it didn’t come sooner. I always knew this was only temporary, that… it would come to an end, but I… I tried not to think about it. I just focused on getting you well and keeping you safe, and I just didn’t think about what would happen… after. Tunnel vision, I guess, and naïve. But you needed me, and we were getting along so well. I wasn’t ready to give you up, to give you back to the world. I didn’t want things to go back the way they were,” Dorian said softly, his face downcast.

“Lord Gloria, things will never go back to the way they were,” he stated gently but firmly.

“No… I suppose they won’t, but still… I am sad to see this… whatever it’s been end. I am glad that it’s because you are alright, though, that you are all healed up… physically at least, and I’m glad of the part I played in your recovery.”

A serious Dorian always unnerved him; mostly because that was when the man’s true intellect and personality shone through. The persona of the brainless fop was easier to deal with, but he knew that things had to be said between them otherwise they might never get another chance. Throwing him a rope to keep him from falling off a roof or flying a helicopter into the line of fire was nothing like single-handedly breaking into an enemy compound to rescue him. He owed the Earl his life, and that was not something he ever took lightly.

“You saved me. Never forget that. You found me and you saved me,” he said.

The Earl looked out at the sea, his eyes far away. “I had to. To save you was to save myself. I am only sorry it took me so long to find where you were. None of my normal avenues of information worked. Militias fancy themselves honest men; they do not consort with thieves and murderers.”

The inflection the Earl put on the word “murderers” triggered a warning alarm in his head, and he once again remembered the fuzzy vision of the Earl taking him into the room with the unconscious men.

“Lord Gloria…” he began.

“Oh, no. Your face looks so troubled, Major. I’m not going to like this, am I?” Dorian asked, facing him again, his eyes wide. There was a ghost of fear in them.

He pressed on, gritting his teeth. “Lord Gloria… I… have a memory that I do not know if it is real or not. It is from the day you rescued me. I remember you taking me into a room with six unconscious men. You sat me down and you… asked me to identify the men who… raped me.”

He paused to take in the man’s face, but Eroica had closed himself off, his expression blank. That alone told him everything he needed to know, but he continued. He needed to hear it from the Earl’s own lips.

“I identified four of the six, and you… responded by slitting their throats. Did you… did you do this thing or am I remembering falsely?”

There was a very long pause where Dorian looked at him. He met the blue eyes and felt the other man trying to assess him, trying to decide what would be the right way to answer. Finally, the Earl broke eye contact and looked at his hands.

“Yes. Yes, I killed them,” the other man admitted in a whisper.

Klaus closed his eyes as the answer settled between them. He’d known the truth the moment he’d seen the Earl’s expression harden, but it was different to hear him admit it. Dorian was a thief and a nuisance, but he’d never been a killer. Had Klaus made him so?

“Why?” he asked. “They were incapacitated. They were no threat to you. Why did you kill them?”

“You have to ask?”

He slammed his fist on the table, rattling the glassware. “Yes, damnit! I have to ask! You’re a thief, not a murderer!”

“They hurt you! They raped you! They deserved what they got!” the Earl snapped, then looked away, his expression hopeless and broken.

“Twenty-three years. Twenty-three years, I have waited for you, Major. I have stood by and let you insult me and abuse me and reject me, all in the hope that… one day… you would see me for who I really am: the man who loves you with everything he has. I forsook all others. I’ve been celibate for fifteen years. I don’t want anyone else.

“The last few years, I have been so hopeful. We were getting along. We didn’t fight as much, and you weren’t so angry with me all the time. I thought that… maybe… you were even starting to like me, just a little bit. I thought that if I just stayed faithful, and kept proving my worth to you, that… maybe… in another two years, you would accept me.”

Dorian paused and Klaus thought he looked desolate.

“Then those men caught you, and they hurt you in ways no one should ever be hurt, and they ruined everything. You’ll never love me now. You’ll never let me love you. All my effort and patience, wiped out by a pack of raping sadists. All my hope is gone. I’ve no chance to win you now, and even if I could open my heart enough to love someone who could love me back, that person will never, ever be you.”

The Earl took a deep breath and gave Klaus a glare that could sear through iron.

“Those men killed my dreams, Major. That alone was worth their deaths.”

He was speechless because there really wasn’t anything he could say. It worked in his favor, though, because it turned out that the Earl wasn’t done, and he was startled when Dorian rose to his feet, head bowed, hands limp at his sides.

“But since we are on the subject, I have something for you. Stay here.”

He watched as the Earl walked stiffly into the villa. Once he was out of sight, the waitstaff swarmed out to quickly remove the lunch plates, but they left the wine and lemonade at Klaus’s request. After they were done, he scanned the bluffs again, searching out the hidden watcher, and used his hands to send a message to whoever was out there.

/Stay away. Do not come here. I will come to you,/ he signed to the locations he thought were occupied. After the third time, he saw a flash of light from a distant hilltop, blinking in a pattern he recognized as someone letting him know his message was received. It was a relief because he had wanted to meet his men on his terms, not on theirs.

He sat back in the chair, sipping his wine, and watching the sea, acutely aware that he was being observed. He should have told the watcher to clear out, but by the time he’d garnered the resolve to send another message, the door to the villa was opening again and Dorian was stepping out. What the thief had in his hands made him surge to his feet and block the view of who was spying on them, and he prayed that the watcher hadn’t gotten a glimpse of the object or at least that he didn’t have a sniper rifle.

He put his hands behind his back and frantically signed the order to stand down just in case, and he held his breath as Dorian approached with the Magnum .44 in his tight grip. He was holding it by the barrel and the hilt with the gun flat against his abdomen, and he cradled it that way until he reached the table where he gently placed the gun down on its side. Klaus snatched it up as soon as the thief pulled his hand away.

The last time he’d seen the gun had been… Memory surged back, and he sat down with a heavy thud, torn between weeping with joy for the return of his precious prize or throwing it into the sea.

“I didn’t kill four men. I killed six,” the thief informed in a soft voice.

He looked up at the other man, taking in the subdued body language and resigned expression.

“The reason I found you was… I was in a low-class bar, one my sources said was a popular haunt of the men I was looking for. I was disguised, of course, in an outfit that made me look like a burned out soldier. I tucked my hair into a dark wig and put contacts in my eyes, but I was still fearful that someone might see through me.

“On my fourth night staking out the place, I overheard two men talking, bragging about their exploits, and I soon realized that they were… bragging about you. The things they were saying…”

He saw Dorian clench his fists, and he could only imagine what the men had been “bragging” about.

“When they left the bar, I followed, and, when the opportunity presented itself, I knocked them out with one of Bonham’s soporifics and dragged them into a vacant warehouse. There I tied them up and used some of the methods I learned from you over the years to interrogate them. I think you would have been proud of me, Major, I had them singing for me in minutes. Those brave, military boys just caved under my Iron Klaus glare, though I suppose threatening them with your Magnum might have had something to do with it. The one little bastard had had the audacity to steal it from you and carry it on his person as brazen as could be, so I took it from him. They had no idea that I’m horrible with guns, but the things they told me…”

The Earl sounded like he was about to be sick, and he didn’t need to question why. He knew what things Dorian was talking about; he’d been there when the acts were committed.

“I killed them quickly, the same way I killed those four in the compound, but not until they had told me where to find you. I took the gun with me because I knew you’d want it back no matter what they had done with it. And then I made my way to the address they had given me. What I found there was even worse than what my own imagination had conjured from what I’d been told. I always thought I knew what nightmares looked like, but I had no idea…

“After that, after… seeing for myself, it was easy to kill the rest of them. You can’t blame me, Major, for wanting them dead. What they did was inhuman.”

The truth was, he couldn’t. He’d wished his captors dead any number of times, and he knew the world had suffered no big loss, but it was hard to reconcile that it was Dorian who had cut their throats as easily as he would have stolen a painting. Then again, if their positions had been reversed, and he had been the one to walk in on that scene…

He’d have blown their heads off without a second thought, and he wouldn’t have asked who was guilty and who was not.

“No. No, I can’t,” he admitted, looking down at his gun.

“The little weasel who took it from you told me what they did with it. I tried to clean it, but I was afraid to take it apart, and I didn’t dare show Bonham or Mr. James. Jamesie would have stolen it from me and sold it on the black market to the highest bidder.”

He had no doubt that Iron Klaus’s Magnum would have fetched a hefty sum.

“Ja. Thank you for getting it back and keeping it safe for me,” he said.

“I can get a gun cleaning kit for you in town, if you’d like. I’m sure there are… things you want to do to it before you use it again.”

“That would be good. Thank you.”

He turned the Magnum over in his hands, remembering the last time he’d seen it. His captors had sodomized him with it and threatened to fire it while the barrel was still inside him. He knew he could scrub every millimeter of its polished surface, but he didn’t know if he could ever get it clean. Still, he was very glad to have it back, and it spoke of how well Dorian knew him that the thief had kept the gun in order to return it to its rightful owner.

“I see that lunch has been cleared away,” he heard the Earl comment.

“Oh. I’m sorry, were you not done eating?”

“No. I was. I just feel poorly for the cook, and Jamesie hates it when I waste food.”

He chuckled. “Knowing that Stingy Bug, he’s already raided the garbage for the leftovers.”

That got a small smile out of Dorian. “True.”

“Where is Bonham, anyway? I haven’t seen him since breakfast.”

“In the garage, I think. There was an issue with the car after he got back from running into town. Something about the engine making an odd noise. He was going to work on it and see what was wrong,” the Earl answered, leaning on the stone wall of the terrace and looking out at the blue water.

Klaus rose to his feet eagerly. The car wasn’t one of those useless Italian coupes (those drew too much attention when they were trying to be inconspicuous,) but an older model BMW sedan.

“A problem with the car? Why didn’t you say so? I am very good with engines. What would Roly-Poly know about staid, German engineering?”

The Earl laughed and gave him a smile. “Best you get over there then and make sure my man is doing a good enough job. I’m going to go down to the beach, maybe even take a swim. See you at dinner, if not sooner?”

“Ja. Ja. Don’t get eaten by sharks.”

“I’ll try not to, my dear Major. Good luck.”

He grunted a response, but he was already headed into the house after a signing a quick “all is well” to whoever was watching from the hilltop. He took a detour to the bedroom to stow his gun in a safe place, and to put on suitable clothes for working in a garage. He had no coveralls, but he did have a pair of jeans and a dark colored t-shirt, and a pair of sturdy boots.

Six hours later he was sweaty, exhausted, and covered in grease from his fingernails to his elbows, but the BMW was purring like it was brand new, and he was almost ridiculously happy. The work had been hard, but it had been wonderful therapy for his wrist and hands. Even Bonham was looking particularly smug.

He knew he needed a shower, but he went to the shop’s deep sink first and scrubbed his hands and arms with pumice soap to get off most of the oil and engine grease, then he whistled to himself all the way back to his room with its ensuite bath to wash off the rest.

Dorian was lounging in the bedroom’s reading nook – a cushioned window seat that faced the sea – when he walked into the room. The Earl had changed out of the white and green short set he’d been wearing earlier into a billowy, red kaftan with wide sleeves, and he had a book in his hand. He looked up as Klaus came in, an odd gleam in his eyes.

“What? No lewd comments about men and grease or some such perverted nonsense?” he teased when the man remained silent.

The Earl smiled, but the sadness was back, only now Klaus recognized it as longing – the look of a man who has seen the heavens and been denied. He hid the discomfort he felt looking into those eyes by rummaging in the dresser to pull out fresh clothes. Since he intended to take an evening run, he selected a soft, blue tracksuit and left off the undershirt.

“Oh, I assure you that there is quite a litany in my head. I’m just refraining from commenting aloud since I know such remarks would not be appreciated. But if you’d like to hear a few, I am sure I could oblige…” Dorian replied airily, waving a hand.

“Pah! I’m going to go take a shower and no thinking indecent thoughts about me naked in the bath!” he warned, glaring.

“Too late,” the Earl countered with glee.

He scowled and stomped into the bathroom, locking the door behind him, but there was no true anger in his actions. It was just a bit of joking between them. Both men knew Dorian had seen him naked numerous times over the past two months. As his primary caregiver during his convalescence, the Earl had had to perform any number of personal tasks that Klaus had been unable to do for himself, and he’d done them with a very high level of professionalism and respect.

In the beginning, Klaus hadn’t been able to object to Dorian touching him. He’d been so sick and injured that he hadn’t had the strength to fight the man with any more than a few grunts of protest. He hadn’t even been able to speak enough to yell at the thief and tell him to get his hands off, and by the time he could, the Earl had already proven himself to be a capable nurse. With both hands unusable, and his body wracked with fever and infection, he’d needed someone to help him, and he’d rather have had Dorian than strange man, or worse, a strange woman touching him.

He remembered from his stay in the hospital after the grenade explosion that consideration for modesty from the medical staff was in short supply. Nurses barged in at all hours, doctors brought in interns without his consent, aides thought they had every right to manhandle him every which way because they were medical “professionals.” Strange women touched him in intimate places with no regard for his sense of propriety, and his modesty was ridiculed as almost antiquated. He’d hated every minute of it until he was well enough to do his own washing and personal care.

Dorian, on the other hand, had gone to great lengths to accommodate his modesty. He’d undressed him only as much as necessary and only for the bare minimum of time. Baths were drawn with a profusion of bubbles, and Dorian had averted his eyes whenever bare flesh was exposed. He’d encouraged Klaus to do as much as he could for himself, even if the task took twice as long, and he’d never made Klaus feel pressured or rushed. He would never have guessed that the flighty, spoiled Earl had it in him to be such an attentive caregiver, but he’d been pleasantly surprised. He’d even enjoyed some of the things the man had done, finding him an unexpectedly talented masseur.

The Earl was still reading when he emerged from the shower, and Klaus noticed that the man reached up to brush the side of his neck while he was immersed in the pages, perhaps searching for an errant curl that was no longer there. He felt a pang of guilt for being responsible for Dorian’s short hair, but the Earl had never lamented the loss directly to him. He did notice that the hair was damp, a sure sign that Dorian had showered a short time ago, probably to wash off saltwater from a swim.

“I see the sharks did not eat you,” he said, drying his hair with a towel.

“They spit me back. Complained I was too skinny. I told them I’d give them you once I put more meat on your bones,” the Earl quipped, not missing a beat.

“Gut. I’ve never beaten up a shark before. It’d be good practice. I hear you have to punch them in the nose.”

The Earl’s answering giggle made him smile.

“Dinner will be ready soon. My lack of appetite was noted this afternoon. I have had no fewer than three inquiries about my health, and the cook has decided to make something that will be easy on my delicate constitution,” Dorian informed him with a hint of a amusement.

He chuckled and returned to the bathroom to comb his hair. When he stepped out again, he noticed a long wooden case on the bed. Casting a glance over at the still “reading” Earl, who was looking very intent on his book in an “I’m really just reading here and oh so innocent” way, he opened the box to reveal a universal gun cleaning kit.

“Ah!” he exclaimed with delight. “Where did you get this?”

“Benino has hunting rifles,” Dorian replied. “He let me borrow that for your Magnum.”

Klaus grinned as he inspected the case, making sure everything he needed to clean his gun was there. In his peripheral vision, he saw the thief preening and shook his head, still smiling.

“Thank you. I shall use this after dinner.”

“You are most welcome. You have no idea how happy it makes me to see you smile like that, even if it is over a piece of metal. But then, I have long known of your appreciation of the beauty of steel.”

“Ja.”

“Dinner should be ready. Shall we?” Dorian asked.

“Ja,” he agreed, carefully placing everything back in the cleaning kit the way it belonged and closing the case.

The Earl stowed his book and rose gracefully to his feet, the ridiculous, billowy robe fluttering around him, and they left the bedroom together. He knew the choice of foppish clothing was a defense mechanism, a way for the thief to express his uncertainty and disquiet by choosing garments that were deliberately meant to attract attention.

Klaus found it irritating, but he was willing to forgive it. When he was unhappy, he screamed and threatened his agents with Alaska. When Dorian was unhappy, he wore loud clothes that were designed to have people fawning and cooing over him. Each of them dealt with stress in their own way. He looked over at the Earl, noting the thoughtful expression on the other man’s face, and stepped a little closer. Dorian noticed the move and gave him a small smile.

It was twilight on the terrace so the sail awning had been retracted, allowing the subdued light to fall on the paving stones. The table had been set for two in much the same way it had been for lunch, except that it was more formal and had a lit candle on it. The staff was aware that the two of them were not lovers – although defining what they actually were was more complicated – but for some reason they always set the dinner table up for an intimate meal. Klaus had suggested having Bonham and the Bug join them for dinner to negate the waitstaff’s romantic notions until the horror of actually sharing a meal with Mr. James set in. After that, he couldn’t have cared less if someone had serenaded him and Dorian from the beach.

He waited while the Earl chose his usual seat before sitting down himself and placing his napkin on his lap. Shortly after, the waitstaff served the first course – a broth-based soup with herb bread. The wine was another white, but lighter and not as dry as the one they’d had at lunch. When the first course was over, the staff brought out a dish of grilled boneless chicken in wine sauce tossed over penne pasta and a selection of blanched vegetables. The food and drink were very good, but he noticed that the Earl kept looking up nervously.

“What is it?” he finally asked impatiently.

“We’re being watched, aren’t we?” the thief replied.

“Ja,” he confirmed.

Dorian shivered and frowned. “I can feel it. Thieves’ sixth sense. We can always tell when we’re being observed. Makes me nervous. It almost makes me wish they would come storming in because then at least it would be over with.”

Klaus calmly took a sip of his wine, wondering how much he should say and deciding that honesty was the best policy. “They won’t come here.”

“How do you know?”

He cleared his throat and looked down at his plate. “Because I told them to stay away.”

Dorian’s eyes opened wide. “Y… you told them? You’ve been in contact with them?”

“Not the way you think! I haven’t seen anyone, but I signed a message that everything was fine and they should stay away.”

“You… signed?” the Earl repeated, confused.

“Ja. It’s a kind of semaphore. All field agents learn it. I guessed the location where they were watching from and signed in that direction,” he explained.

“And did you get a response?”

“Ja. They’ll do as I ask.”

“So then what? You’ll go to them?”

He took another sip of his wine. “Ja.”

“Oh,” Dorian said, his expression falling and his eyes downcast. “When?”

“Not tonight. And probably not tomorrow either.”

“Why not? I would have thought you’d be eager to get back to work,” the thief stated coolly.

For some reason the Earl’s comment made him irrationally angry, and his whole body tensed.

“For what? So I can almost die trying to get back some harlot’s client list because a NATO General is on it? So some anti-government asshole can rape me because a rich businessman doesn’t want his wife finding out he’s fucking prostitutes? No. I’m too old for this bullshit,” he growled, stabbing his pasta forcefully.

“Major? Are you thinking of retiring?”

The Earl seemed shocked, aghast even.

“Why the fuck not?” he snapped. “I’ve been a military man for over thirty years. I’ve served faithfully. I never failed my duty or shirked a mission. No one has my record. No one. And this is how they repay me for all my years of service? Sending me to play retriever for a cheating bastard? You still have that flash drive, don’t you?”

“Of course, Major. It’s in a very safe place.”

“Gut, because if the Chief thinks I’m going to be quiet about this, he’s dead wrong. Fucking pervert bastard,” he snarled.

He wasn’t sure where all the anger had suddenly come from, but he was practically vibrating with it. Maybe it was because it was all coming to roost now or because it meant that he would have to face everything that had happened to him. Or maybe it was because he felt that his sanctuary had been violated and he was getting territorial. He’d been safe. He’d been happy, and now it was all going to go to shit. Regardless of the reasons, he was fuming with rage.

“I’ll help you, Major. You know I will. I’ll leak the list to the press if you want me to. You only have to say the word.”

“Not if you don’t want to end up dead,” he warned. “No, you let me handle this. They’ll learn not to fuck with Iron Klaus.”

He heard Dorian snort delicately and glared at the fop. “Not like that, you pervert!”

His indignation only made the Earl snicker more. “You have to admit, you walked right into that one, Major.”

He sighed and conceded the point. “Ja. I suppose you’re right.”

The little tête-à-tête worked to calm him down some and he resumed his meal.

“Though I must say, it’s the first time I’ve seen you so worked up about something since I found you. It’s nice to know that your temper is still there. I was beginning to worry because you’ve been so mellow recently,” Dorian admitted.

The Earl was right. He had been mellow. He’d been mellow because he’d been safe and protected, and no bullshit had bothered him. Now all of his feelings of security and peace had been popped like a bubble, and he felt like he was the crying child who had suddenly realized that his shiny, floating ball was nothing more than a drop of inflated soap.

Damn A! And damn his Alphabets for being good agents for once. He hadn’t wanted to be found. He wasn’t ready to go back. He’d half a mind to take Dorian up on his offer to run, but he knew he couldn’t. If he left now, he’d be declared AWOL, brought up on desertion charges, and forced to resign his post in disgrace. He hadn’t spent the last thirty-two years of his life serving NATO and his country to have them humiliate him that way, even if that meant his safe place had been invaded.

“Pah! Don’t spout bullshit. I’m still Iron Klaus,” he grumbled sullenly.

“Oh, I don’t doubt it, it’s just that it’s been so long since I’ve seen him. It’s a relief, actually, but might I ask you to please refrain from hitting me from now on? I really don’t fancy being struck,” Dorian replied.

“Gah. I won’t hit you… unless you really piss me off!” he agreed with a glare.

He’d expected the Earl to flinch, but Dorian just grinned at him, joy shining in his blue eyes.

“What are you smiling at, you pervert?” he demanded.

“You’ve always been your most magnificent when you’re angry, Major. You take my breath away,” Dorian cooed, his face ecstatic.

“Take your breath… Stop spouting foppish nonsense! You’re a man! Act like one! Idiot!” he fumed, clenching his fists.

The Earl just shivered with delight. “Oh, how I’ve missed your verbal abuse, Major. Please, call me a degenerate pervert again. I love to watch how your lips curl to form the words.”

“Watch my lips…” he repeated, taking a deep breath in preparation for a tirade the likes of which he hadn’t screamed in three months when he noticed a gleam of amusement in the Earl’s eyes and caught a clue. “You’re provoking me on purpose, you idiot.”

The thief gave him an innocent, sly look and took a drink from his wine glass. “Now why would I do that, Major? To provoke Iron Klaus is inherently dangerous.”

He groaned and relaxed. “To distract me from my unhappiness. You really are suicidal.”

“Not suicidal. I just thought your having a good scream might make you feel better.”

He scowled and sat back in his seat, taking a piece of herb bread and ripping it into small pieces and tossing them at the Earl.

“Stop that. Jamesie will come out here crying about your wasting food and make us both sick when he eats the crumbs off the ground.”

“If he does, can I kill the Stingy Bug?” he asked gleefully.

The Earl gave him a disdainful look. “No. You may not kill him. You may not even maim him.”

“Spoilsport.”

Dorian snickered, and that made him snicker, and soon he was laughing softly.

“You are…” he sighed, then stopped, shaking his head and resuming his meal.

Storm passed, the waitstaff whisked out to clear away the plates and bring out the salad course. This time they brought a simple spinach salad with mushrooms and grated Parmesan cheese accompanied by a light vinaigrette dressing. Dessert was a fabulous Limoncello Zabaglione with raspberries that was a perfect blend of sweet and tartness, and both he and the Earl gobbled up every last bit.

“There,” Dorian stated, wiping the corner of his mouth with his napkin. “I think I have redeemed myself in the eyes of the cook.”

“Ja. She is dancing with joy because you ate all your dinner, and I am a bloated mess because I ate too much again,” he sighed, patting his full belly.

“That’s because the cook always gives you double portions, and you always eat all of it because you don’t want to upset her,” the Earl pointed out.

“Fattening me up for the sharks?” he teased.

Dorian gave him a coy smile and pulled out a cigarette. “Precisely.”

Klaus motioned for one even though he didn’t care for the Earl’s brand. He’d all but stopped smoking, but he still enjoyed a cigarette after a good meal. A few nights ago, Dorian had joked that the Major smoked after eating because he’d substituted food for sex. He’d snorted and deadpanned that he smoked after sex too, and that shut the other man up.

Dorian smiled and offered him the slim cigarette, and he accepted, as well as the offer of a light. He drew deep on the filter and sat back, enjoying the act of smoking if not the taste.

“Danke,” he said.

“Kein problem.”

He snorted and smoked his cigarette as the two of them sat in companionable silence. It was full sunset now and the sky was a blaze of colors. He sighed, trying not to think about what was to come.

Finally, after about a half hour of digesting the meal, he finished off his wine and stood.

“Well, I fear I must thwart your evil plan by taking my evening run,” he announced.

“But I thought you wanted to practice punching sharks in the nose,” the thief countered, looking up at him innocently.

“True, but not tonight.”

“All right, but don’t overdo it,” Dorian cautioned. “I wouldn’t want the sharks to complain that you were too wiry and tough.”

He gave the Earl a soft smile. “I won’t. I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”

“That long? Is that wise with them… out there?” Dorian asked, concerned.

He frowned. “They won’t take me. I won’t let them.”

The Earl gazed at him, his eyes serious and measuring, then turned away. “Okay. Good luck.”

He grunted and headed off the terrace to the path that led down to the beach. Once there, he did his warm-up stretches and began with a slow jog, steadily increasing his pace until he was at his ideal speed. Forty-five minutes later he spied the black clad figure standing on the shore. The man was a blacker hole against the already dark horizon, but Klaus saw him immediately, probably because he wanted to be seen. He breezed past the figure and was not surprised when the man fell in behind him, matching his pace. They jogged together for another twenty minutes or so before he slowed down and finally came to a halt.

Turning to face the man, he wasn’t surprised when the agent pulled back his hood to reveal Agent Z looking back at him.

“Z,” he stated calmly, wondering why he had a sudden, desperate need for a smoke. Come to think of it, dealing with his men had always made him crave cigarettes. He filed that little tidbit away for later examination.

“Major, I’m disobeying orders by making contact, but I had to speak with you,” Z said in a rush.

“Why? I signed that I would come to you. Do you have any…?” He motioned for a smoke.

Z’s hands shook as he pulled the pack out of the front pocket of his black jacket and offered it to the Major.

“Danke,” he said, taking one and leaning forward so Z could light it for him.

“We have orders to bring you in, but not to engage you until you’ve been debriefed by someone from NATO central command,” the agent explained.

Klaus gritted his teeth. “Until the higher-ups have figured out what I know, you mean,” he growled. That meant General Bayden knew he was alive and suspected that he was in possession of the flash drive. This could not be good. ‘Use my own men against me, will you? You bastard.’

“Sir?” Agent Z said cautiously.

“Yes?” he replied, trying to think his way through this mess. He motioned for a second cigarette as he ground what was left of the first into the sand, and Z readily handed one over.

“Sir, if I may say, it’s wonderful to see you. A told us you were… badly injured when he found you in Zurich. I am glad that it appears you have… recovered well.”

He snorted, now even more glad that Eroica had whisked him out of Switzerland. If he’d been turned over to a NATO hospital while he was still so weak and helpless, he’d probably be dead.

“I am mending,” he replied, taking a deep hit off the cigarette. He would reek of tobacco smoke when he got back to the villa, but he didn’t care.

“When G saw you having lunch with the Earl this afternoon, he nearly cried with joy.”

He frowned, clenching his jaw. “G is an idiot. I am fine.”

“Yes, Sir,” Z whispered meekly.

Klaus frowned, thinking. If Bayden was using NATO to try to get the flash drive and silence him, his men were in danger. He and the Earl could easily disappear again, but hiding twenty-six agents would be tricky.

“Listen Z, this is going to get ugly before it’s over. I advise you to steer clear of me, otherwise you and the Alphabets will get dragged into it with me,” he warned.

“Sir, we are loyal to you, all of us. We don’t understand what is happening, but we have all decided to stand with you,” Z replied, standing tall.

“And risk your careers? No, I can’t let you do that. I have the Earl with me. We can use his resources if need be,” he refused, sucking deep on the cigarette.

“We have orders to capture and detain the Earl as well. We’re to bring him to NATO headquarters. Rumor has it that NATO intends to hand him over to INTERPOL.”

‘Over my dead body.’ Which was probably the intention. It would be a clever way of getting rid of two loose ends, and General Bayden was probably eager to eliminate the two people who most likely knew his secret.

Z looked disconcerted by his silence, but he was considering his options. If General Bayden was against him, things would get very unpleasant very quickly, but the General obviously didn’t know who he was dealing with, nor did he know anything about Eroica.

“Sir, your orders? What do you want us to do?”

Scenarios were running through his head, plans and avenues of attack. The only way to save himself was to expose the General’s involvement with the Madam and his attempts to use NATO resources against a fellow officer.

“General Bayden is a Yank, is he not?” he asked suddenly.

“Yes, Sir, I do believe he is,” Z confirmed.

“Gut. That will work in our favor. Has NATO sent any other teams other than the Alphabets?”

“Not that I know of, Sir, and I can’t say I’ve seen anyone that I recognize who isn’t one of us, but, of course, I can’t be certain.”

‘Bayden probably thinks my men aren’t loyal because they are terrified of me, and he probably thinks they won’t help a known thief and pervert. Asshole.’

He grunted, thinking quickly. If he could somehow get the flash drive with the General’s name to a JAG lawyer, he could be brought up on charges for conduct unbecoming an officer, and it wouldn’t even have to be a high-ranking JAG lawyer. In a JAG investigation, even a Lieutenant would out-rank a General.

‘Come to think of it, there is a JAG rep stationed in Germany…’

A plan began to form and he smiled. “Okay, this is what I want you to do…”

An hour later, he was jogging back to the villa, feeling somewhat better. He knew Z would do as ordered, and his men would follow his instructions. If he could get Eroica’s team on board, things should work out in their favor without too much trouble. They’d have to survive long enough to allow the wheels of justice to turn, but if they could hold out for a few weeks they’d be okay. Once JAG caught up with the General, he wouldn’t be able to do anything against them because he’d be too busy defending himself against the allegations.

‘Dorian is going to be ecstatic. This kind of shit is just up his alley,’ he thought as he crested the hill and stepped onto the stone terrace.

Dorian wasn’t immediately in evidence, but Klaus found him sitting in the study with Bonham and the Stingy Bug. The Earl looked up the moment he walked into the room as the Bug screamed and hid under the table.

“Major, you’re back. I was beginning to get worried,” Dorian greeted, rising to his feet.

“Bah! I’m fine. But I need to talk to you,” he snapped, feeling uncomfortable under the Earl’s worried, blue gaze.

“Of course. What is it you need, Major?”

“You’re going to have to kidnap me again,” he stated.

The Earl raised his eyebrows curiously. “I beg your pardon? Not that I object to having you at my mercy, Major, but weren’t you telling me just this afternoon that you were going to go back with Agent A?” Eroica smoothed, a wry smile on his lips.

“Plans have changed. I ran into Z on the beach. He told me my men have orders to hand me over to central command for debriefing, and to capture you and turn you over to INTERPOL.”

For a moment the Earl looked stunned, then the blue eyes went cold and his mouth set into a grim line. “That philandering General is behind it! The cretin!”

Klaus nodded. “He’s a Yank, and you know how Yanks feel about that sort of thing.”

“It’s not looked too kindly upon by the German military either,” Dorian pointed out.

“Nor NATO, but the Americans can be guaranteed to make a spectacle out of it.”

“True,” the Earl conceded. “So what’s the plan? Am I to drug you and spirit you away in the night to a location so secret not even you know where you are?”

“Nothing so dramatic, but it would be good if I didn’t know where we were going beforehand,” he corrected.

“You’re serious!” Dorian gasped.

He glared at the Earl and wished for a cigarette. “Ja.”

“I was just joking!”

“I wasn’t. Wherever we go, we’ll need to be there for a while, just until the second half of the plan can be implemented.”

“Which is?”

“Getting a copy of that harlot’s list to a JAG advocate in Germany.”

“Oh, Major, that’s dangerous business, especially if he is on to us,” the Earl said, shaking his head.

“It’s a risk we have to take. If we don’t bring Bayden down, we’ll never be safe and neither will my men.”

“None of your agents can do it; they’re too well known. It’ll have to be one of my men, and I think I know just the one. He’s in England right now. I’ll have to contact him,” the Earl said, looking thoughtful.

“You’ll have to use a pay phone. The lines here are being tapped as well as our cell phones,” he informed.

“Not to worry. Mr. James has a number of cell phones he’s dug out of the garbage. I’ll use one of them.”

“Gut,” he agreed, still itching for a cigarette. What was it about work that made him crave nicotine?

“All the same, I may take a drive tomorrow. Y’know, go up to Naples for a bit of shopping or at least that’s how it will look.”

“I’ll go with you.”

“Wouldn’t that look suspicious? Going shopping with me one day and getting kidnapped by me the next?” the Earl questioned.

Klaus frowned. “I hate it when you’re right.”

“And it happens so often, doesn’t it, Major? It must be a serious blow to your ego,” Dorian replied, looking anything but contrite.

“Watch it, thief. I have my gun back, remember?” he growled.

“I wouldn’t do that, Major. You know how I get when you go all Wire Rope and Immovable Object on me. Makes me weak in the knees,” Eroica responded, twirling a finger in one short curl.

“Damnit, Lord Gloria! This is serious!” he scolded, losing patience with the foppish act.

“I am being serious,” Dorian insisted. “I can’t help it if I love it when you behave like the German tank you are.”

“Eroica…” he warned. Damn, he’d give anything for a cigarette right now. There were a number of smokers among the staff. Maybe he could intimidate one of them into giving him one or two or ten…

“It’s all your fault, you Machine Maniac!” Mr. James yelled, coming out from under the table. “If it weren’t for you, M’Lord wouldn’t be wanted by some crazy General and we’d be back on track making money, instead of spending fortunes on this villa!”

“You mean stealing,” he deadpanned, but the realization that the Earl had been footing the bill for everything suddenly didn’t sit so well with him. He’d have to reimburse Dorian for most of his expenses and pay for his upkeep over the last two months.

Dorian seemed to sense his sudden discomfort and waved a dismissive hand. “Don’t listen to him, Major. You are worth any amount of money. I’d spend every last dime of my fortune if it meant you would be safe and well.”

“Noooooo!!! M’Lord, don’t say such things!” the Bug cried, covering his ears, then he turned one blazing eye towards Klaus. “I hate you! The Earl was happy before he met you! I wish you had died when those men caught you!”

“Jamesie!” Dorian gasped, appalled. “Apologize to the Major at once!”

“No! I won’t. Our lives were so much better before you met him! You’ve wasted twenty years of your life chasing him! He’ll never love you! Ever!”

“James!”

But there was no consoling the Bug, and he ran out of the study, sobbing. Dorian gave Klaus a helpless look.

“I apologize for him.”

Klaus shrugged. “No need. He is what he is.”

Dorian sighed. “Yes, but sometimes I do wish he’d have a midlife crisis and wake up one morning with the desire to wear Armani and buy a yacht.”

He snorted and gave the Earl an amused look. “That will never happen.”

“Oh, I know, but you know me. I am the patron saint of hopeless causes,” Dorian replied with a shrug and a bat of his blue eyes.

He chuckled at that and shook his head. “I will refrain from commenting at the risk of offending my host.”

Dorian snickered and cast him a wicked glance. “There’s sooo many ways I could answer that, my dear Major, but if I am to plan your kidnapping, I need to get busy with Bonham. When, pray tell, is this great caper supposed to happen?”

“Day after tomorrow. You’re supposed to intercept me on my way to meet my men,” he explained.

“But, I am assuming, your men should bear witness to your abduction?”

“Ja.”

The Earl gave a delighted grin that made Klaus very uncomfortable. “Oh, the possibilities… Well, yes, you run along now. If you don’t want any details, you need to shoo. I have forty-eight hours to plan and pull off the greatest heist of my career: stealing you, Major.”

“Hey, don’t make a spectacle of it! Just grab me and run. Besides, technically you’ve already stolen me,” he reminded, wondering what the hell he’d just gotten himself into.

Eroica waved a cautionary finger. “Tut! Tut! Major that was all brute force and desperation. I’d had no time to plan ahead! It lacked my usual finesse and style! This time will be different. I have a reputation to uphold, you know.”

He clenched his fists at his sides and glared. “I am going to go clean my gun! So I can use it! To shoot your empty head right off your shoulders!”

“Promises, promises, my dear Major. Now go on. Eroica, the world’s greatest thief, has a kidnapping to orchestrate. Shoo!”

He growled, but turned on his heel and stomped out of the room. Dorian’s voice called him back from the hallway.

“Oh, and Major, ask Benino for some cigarettes. You look like you could use one.”

“Shut up, you stupid idiot! I do not need a cigarette, and I certainly don’t need to beg a crappy Italian cigarette off the groundskeeper! Mind your own business, you degenerate thief!” he shouted back. Mein gott it felt good to yell. To feel good enough to yell, to just fill his lungs and roar…

“And ask him for some Nescafe! You need some caffeine too!” the Earl added, snickering.

He didn’t grace that with an answer as he tromped down the hall and headed to their bedroom. There he angrily snapped open the gun cleaning kit and pulled out his .44, immersing himself in the task of disassembling the firearm and servicing it. The familiar act of cleaning and oiling the Magnum calmed him down, and soon he was humming Panzerlied to himself.

When he was finished cleaning, reassembling, and reloading the gun, he put it under his pillow, noting as he did so that his fingers brushed against one of the knives Dorian kept there. There were two more under the other pillow for a total of four knives and the .44 all within hand’s reach in the bed. Anyone who tried to accost either him or Dorian in the night would quickly be skewered and shot. There was comfort in that.

Once he was done stowing the Magnum, he stripped and took another quick shower, dressing in his pajamas but leaving off the undershirt in deference to the night’s heat, then he got under the covers and sat up reading while he waited for Dorian to come to bed.

In the beginning, when he was feeling stronger and better, he had tried going to sleep without the Earl beside him, but he’d found sleep to be elusive and fitful when it did come. The tiniest noise would rouse him, and he’d wake up in a panic, unsure of where he was or if there was danger. He would still hear his captors’ rough voices, smell their stink, feel their bodies as they’d used him at their leisure. Towards the end, he’d heard them complaining that he was no sport anymore because he didn’t fight them and he’d gotten so… loose from the repeated rapes. They’d been talking about trying his mouth again, wondering if he’d still try to bite down now that he was so weak and ill. The first time one of them had tried, Klaus had snapped his jaw shut so fast, he’d nearly bit the man’s dick off. The unfortunate man had screamed bloody murder, then punched him in the face so hard, he’d almost broken Klaus’s jaw. He remembered thinking that he hoped they’d choke him and just put him out of his misery.

But if Dorian was there, he slept peacefully, feeling safe and knowing he was protected. He didn’t like to examine that too closely, although he knew he’d have to eventually. One of the good things about having Dorian “kidnap” him again was that it prolonged their time together, and he could put off dealing with it for a while longer. If he did, he wouldn’t have to face the fact that maybe he wasn’t handling his ordeal as well as others thought he was, that he still woke suddenly, in a cold sweat, convinced he was back in that dank cell, in agony, on fire from the fever, and praying for death.

So he didn’t bother trying to go to sleep without the Earl there. He just piled pillows up behind his back and read his military mystery until Dorian breezed in about ninety minutes later. The Earl was aware that Klaus couldn’t sleep without him, but he’d never made an issue of it. He gave Klaus a sweet smile, his eyes soft and warm, as he gathered up his nightclothes and prepared for his nighttime toilette.

“Is everything settled then?” he asked curiously.

Dorian grinned and made a motion of zipping his lips. “You shall get no information out of me, Major.”

“Hmmph, all I need to do is wrap you up in a blanket and threaten to drop you off the balcony,” he grumbled.

“Yes, but that was for nothing so important as me being in Denmark to attend a ballet. This has to do with your safety, Major. No amount of torture can make me speak. I’d die before I’d reveal anything.”

Klaus frowned because he knew for certain that the thief was dead serious. Dorian gave him a measuring look then brightened, waving a careless hand.

“But listen to me, going all maudlin and serious on you. Nothing is going to happen to you. I am Eroica, the world’s greatest thief, and you are under my protection.”

“Heh. At least I’m not a microfilm, and you’re not up against a Steamroller or an old lady with a handbag,” he teased, referring to Eroica’s antics in Vienna a few years back.

“Yes, but if you were a microfilm, I wouldn’t put you in a cross around my neck. I’d put you in my belt,” the Earl replied with a leer. “Or… or I’d keep you as a microdot in my underwear!”

“Go brush your teeth, you pervert, before I throw this book at you!” he yelled.

Dorian snickered, still grinning, and skittered off to the bathroom, and Klaus groused and fumed for a bit while the Earl did his nightly things of brushing his hair and teeth and changing into his pajamas. The thief preferred flimsy silk things that were opaque, but barely. Klaus had complained at first until Dorian had informed him that he usually slept in only his briefs or, if it was very hot at night, nothing at all. After that, Klaus stopped bitching about the Earl’s nightwear, using it as further proof of the man’s degenerate nature.

But he hadn’t thought of the Earl as a degenerate in any serious capacity for years, and certainly not in the last eight weeks. All teasing and innuendo aside, he knew Dorian would never touch him inappropriately or behave in a lewd manner towards him, so when the thief finally emerged from the bathroom all ready for bed, Klaus set his book aside and moved to the left on the mattress, inviting the other man in. He always snuggled on Klaus’s right side, so the Major would move over to give him room.

Dorian smiled, stowing his red kaftan in a drawer, and slipped between the sheets. Klaus rearranged the pillows, making sure the Magnum and the knives were properly positioned, and settled on his back. Before his capture, he usually slept prone, occasionally rolling to one side. Now he noticed that he curled up into a defensive position and tangled himself in the blankets. Dorian usually curled around him, one hand on his shoulder and his cheek pressed to the back of Klaus’s head. He never put his arm around the Major because that would make Klaus feel confined, but the light fingers resting on his shoulder were enough to let Klaus know Dorian was there.

When he was so sick with his injuries and infection, the Earl’s presence was the only thing he could cling to as reality spun away in a fever dream. Dorian’s voice and gentle touch would call him back from his delirium as cool cloths were laid across his sweaty brow, and he’d drift, somewhere between wakefulness and sleep, in a kind of numb state where there was no pain or fear only Dorian. Now that he was better, there were no fever dreams, but the Earl’s presence still made him feel secure.

“Ohh, it was a long day, wasn’t it?” Dorian commented, stretching out on his back.

“Ja,” he agreed, reaching up to turn off the bedside light.

“You were so busy with the car, we didn’t even take our afternoon nap. It’s no wonder we’re both so knackered,” the Earl sighed.

“Hmmph,” he grunted. “Don’t need one anymore.”

He didn’t. Right after his rescue, and during his recovery, it wasn’t unusual for him to wear out and need to rest in the middle of the day. During those times, he and Dorian would lie down together in the den or the olive grove or sometimes back in bed. They’d sleep for an hour or two, and he’d wake refreshed and rejuvenated. But he hadn’t really needed one lately, although he often took one just to escape the hot sun in the afternoon. The villa was designed to be cool even without air conditioning, and it was best to be out of the sun during the hottest part of the day.

“No, but the Italians have it right, taking a rest in the heat of the day.”

“Lazy grape-stompers, sleeping half the day and wasting the rest drinking coffee,” he complained with a huff.

“You don’t have a high opinion of anyone who isn’t German, do you?” the Earl teased.

“Nein.”

“Pray tell, what do you think of Englishmen?” Dorian asked with a hint of amusement.

“They’re either fops like you or idiots like that SIS Agent Lawrence.”

“Ohhh, the Emperor of Hamburg Nights. Yes, I never did hear the rest of that story.”

He ground his teeth and stiffened, his hands clenching into fists. “Do not remind me. The man snored and constantly disturbed my sleep! It was horrible.”

“Ooohh, my poor Major. Was he not a considerate bedmate like me?” the Earl cooed with mock innocence.

“Pah! You? You hog the blankets and kick me with your cold feet.”

“Oh dear. Do I? I do apologize,” Dorian replied, but he sounded anything but sorry.

“You should try to be more considerate. I am your guest. You should do your best to accommodate me,” he stated matter-of-factly, but inwardly he was laughing and the Earl knew it.

“Yes, dear. I promise to try to be more aware of my blanket hogging.”

“What is it with you and pet names?” he complained.

“What? I’ve saved your life twice. I’m about to kidnap you again to save you from a corrupt General who most likely wants you dead. We’ve been sleeping in the same bed for two months. We’re in bed now and you’re not wearing an undershirt, so that means you’re half naked, and you’re telling me I can’t all you dear?” the thief protested, one eyebrow arched.

“Well, all right, if you put it that way. Dear is okay,” he begrudgingly agreed.

“But not darling.”

“I might shoot you. I just cleaned my gun.”

“Yes, dear,” Dorian replied, a smile in his voice.

“Idiot.”

“Yes, dear.”

“Shut up,” he snapped, peeved.

“Yes, dear,” Dorian parroted happily. “See? We’re already like an old married couple. Yes, dear. Yes, dear.”

He huffed, breathing out sharply through his nose. “Quit your foppish nonsense and go to sleep.”

“Yes, dear.”

He grumbled, but then Dorian was snuggling up, and he was getting drowsy. It had been a long day, and he hadn’t had a nap. Long, thin fingers stroked his hair tenderly as the thief whispered into his ear.

“Sleep well, my dear Major. Mary had a little lamb. Mary had a little lamb. Little lamb. Little lamb…”

Klaus was asleep before Dorian could sing the second verse.

Klaus hung his dress uniform up on the back of the bathroom door. It was clean and pressed and ready for him to wear tomorrow when he had to give his sworn testimony as part of General Bayden’s court martial. Court martialing a General was serious business, and the case had garnered a great deal of attention. Ever since Dorian’s man had infiltrated the JAG offices in Germany to plant a flash drive with a copy of the Madam’s customer list on an ambitious Lieutenant’s desk, quite a few people in high places had been very unhappy. He and Dorian had been in hiding ever since because the General had many loyal men who would like nothing more than for Klaus to disappear, permanently. The threat had gotten serious enough that even his Chief was willing to waive any AWOL or desertion allegations that might have been levied against him in lieu of him being able to make it back to his post alive.

In situations like this it was very nice to have a Mafia don on their side. Signore Volovolonte had been most helpful in providing safe haven and protection for him and the thief while they waited for JAG’s case to proceed. Not that the Don minded having leverage over a few high profile people who had publically extolled their virtues but had somehow found their names on the Madam’s list. No, Volovolonte was gleeful, almost scarily so, and he gladly gave him and Dorian anything they’d needed.

He and Dorian had spent the last several weeks moving from safe house to safe house, always staying one step ahead of their pursuers, crossing borders and continents. It turned out that Volovolonte and the thief had several contacts in countries not part of NATO, so General Bayden had been unable to use NATO resources to flush them out. Unfortunately, the desperate man had tried to use hired mercenaries instead. That had not gone well, but it had proved to him that he was just as good a shot as he had been before his “accident.”

He didn’t like killing as a general rule, but if it came down to him or someone else, he liked himself better, and he’d take the shot if not given any choice. Dorian, on the other hand, had proved to be even more ruthless than he was when it came to protective instincts, and he’d further shattered Klaus’s already cracked image if him as a harmless fop. The man might be horrible with a firearm, but he was wicked deadly with a blade, and he threw knives without remorse or mercy.

“How many men have you killed?” Klaus had asked one night after they had been ambushed by a pair of dishonorably discharged former Marines in Tunisia.

It had been close; a bullet had hit the wall right behind Klaus’s head, and Dorian had thrown a dagger so fast and sure that it had lodged in the mercenary’s throat, severing the carotid artery. Afterwards, the thief had been rattled – not by the ex-soldiers’ deaths, but by how close Klaus had come to being shot, and he’d reacted by being particularly clingy and attentive that night when they’d retired.

“Every man who’s tried to rape me after the first,” Dorian had replied, his blue eyes dark and haunted.

“You’ve been raped?” he’d questioned softly. If the Earl had been a victim, too, then much of his actions were explained.

“Yes, a long time ago.”

“How old were you?” he’d demanded, shocked and appalled.

“Thirteen.”

He’d gasped, his eyes opening wide, and he’d stared at the man who’d gazed calmly back.

“Thirteen!” he’d blurted. “You were… you were raped by a… a pedophile?”

“In a manner of speaking,” Dorian had answered.

“In a manner…? What do you mean?”

The Earl had sighed and rolled to his back, one hand behind his head. “I mean… Do you really want to hear this, Major? I’ll tell you, but you might think less of me when I do.”

“That is not possible,” he’d assured the thief.

“Why? Because you already think so poorly of me?” Dorian had said teasingly, but there had been an old pain in his eyes.

“Nein. You know that’s not what I meant,” he’d corrected, stung by the Earl’s words – mostly because not so long ago they’d been true.

Dorian had smiled contritely and patted his hand. “I know, my dear, I’m sorry. Old habits, you know. Forgive me?”

“Bah! You don’t need my forgiveness. I’ve said much worse things to you.”

“True, but I never took them seriously,” the Earl had admitted with a wink.

“You didn’t?” he’d pressed, rolling to his side so he could pin the thief with his “interrogator’s glare.”

Dorian withstood the scrutiny for a few moments before he looked away. “Well, perhaps I did take them to heart a little bit.”

“Ah. I thought so. Lord Gloria, I am sorry.”

“No apologies necessary, my dear Major. I know you don’t think that way of me now.”

“Nein, I don’t. So you can tell me… about this man who raped you in a manner of speaking.”

The Earl had looked thoughtful and had reached up a hand to play with his hair, a clear sign that he was uncomfortable.

“He was a friend of my father’s, and he had a painting I wanted.”

“A painting?” he’d repeated.

“Yes. A Giorgione. The Young Shepherd. Father and I were moving away. He’d had to sell the castle in North Downs to pay for my mother and sisters in the divorce, so we were moving to a smaller place he could afford.”

“The castle I was at that time?”

“Yes. I bought it back with the money from my first big heist. Father lived long enough to know it was back in the family. I was glad of that,” Dorian had explained with some pride.

“But when you were thirteen, you had to move away,” he’d stated, bringing them back on point.

“Yes, and I was sad that I wouldn’t be able to visit Lord Price’s house and see the Young Shepherd anymore.”

“Lord Price? So he was…”

“He was a good friend of my father’s. I would spend many hours at his house, admiring his paintings. He knew I wanted the Giorgione so he made me a deal…”

Klaus had frowned, rage boiling just under the surface, but he’d kept it in check.

“He offered you the painting if you would have sex with him.”

Dorian had winced and flinched away slightly. “Yes,” he’d confirmed. “He said he would give me the painting for my birthday if I slept with him, but after I did it, he sent me a forgery instead of the real thing.”

“So he raped you and cheated you.”

“It was the first time I’d learned the viciousness of adults, and I’ve never let a man use me like that since.”

He’d been unable to hold in the growl that rumbled low in his throat, and his obvious fury had made Dorian smile softly.

“You don’t have to worry about avenging my honor, Major. Lord Price is dead. He died when I was twenty-four, and his collection went up for sale. You know, that time in London when you tried to sell The Man in Purple.”

“Oh, that business where you cheated that Sheik, Sabbah.”

“Hmph. He was going to cheat me, so I cheated him first. I took all the paintings, including the Giorgione. I would have gotten The Man in Purple, too, but you’d had it shipped back to Germany,” Eroica had confessed, eyes sparkling.

“Degenerate thief,” he’d accused.

“Patient thief. It goes to show you, my dear, that I always get what I want.”

“Hmmph!” he’d huffed and slumped down on his back, turning away from the amused thief. Dorian had giggled and patted his arm amicably.

“Did he hurt you?” he’d asked softly after a few moments.

There was a long pause before the Earl had answered, but he’d finally replied, “No, not really… actually… yes. Yes, he did. He hurt me quite a lot, and not just physically. His… betrayal hurt just as much. I’d been a virgin and he… he’d taken more than my physical innocence.”

He’d reached over, searching for the thief’s hand, and took hold of it when he’d found it. Dorian had curled his fingers around his, and they’d stayed in silence for a while.

“It hurt,” he’d admitted. “When they… you know. It hurt. Especially the first time.”

Dorian’s hand had squeezed his tightly. “My only regret is that I did not have time to torture them the way they’d tortured you, but I was far too concerned with finding you and getting you to safety to waste time on a slow revenge.”

“I’m glad you killed them,” he’d admitted in a whisper, almost surprised by his own lack of remorse.

“Me too.”

After that, Dorian had put an arm around him, loosely across his chest but in such a way that he knew he could break the hold with a little as a deep breath, and snuggled close.

“I love you, Major,” he’d murmured in Klaus’s ear.

“I know,” he’d murmured back.

He’d wanted to add that he didn’t know why because he didn’t love the other man back, but he couldn’t because he wasn’t sure it was true. Dorian had sighed happily, and rested his cheek against Klaus’s head, then he’d sung the lullaby that put the Major to sleep.

Two weeks later, Agent A had passed along news through the usual underground channels that the Major was needed to testify at the General’s court martial, and they’d made arrangements to carefully make their way back to Germany.

The last time he had seen any of his men had been when he’d been standing on the Maiori wharf, and he and Agents A, B, G and Z had heard the whirr of a propeller. He’d looked to the sky with a sudden, sinking feeling, then turned back to the wharf when he’d heard his agents gasp. Eroica, in full costume with foppish hat, high heeled calf-length boots, a cape – yes, a cape – and a mask (as if everyone hadn’t already known who he was,) all in his signature red, had been running towards him at top speed. He’d had two seconds to marvel at how fast the thief could run in heels before hands were around him, and he’d realized that the cape was meant to conceal a double harness.

No sooner was he clipped in, secured to the thief with amazing speed, when the helicopter they’d been hearing came zipping into view, dragging a tie line. Two more seconds and Eroica had them clipped on, and then he was being yanked up into the air in a shower of rose petals and “From Eroica With Love” calling cards.

“I have him now my dear Alphabets! Good luck finding him this time! The hunt is on! From Eroica with love!” the fop had shouted over the wind and roar of the engine. “Oh, and dear G! Yellow is not your color!”

His agents had been staring up at them in mute shock, unsure if they should shoot or die laughing. As it was, it took him a full eight seconds to start screaming obscenities, and another three for him to scream at his men to shoot.

“Shoot, you idiots! Shoot!” But none of them had, and the last thing they heard from him as he was whisked over the wharf was, “I’m sending all of you to Alaska!! AGAIN!!”

He knew he’d never live that down. Ever. There was even a rumor that Agent G had gotten the whole “abduction” on film, but, thankfully for G, it hadn’t shown up on Youtube.

Klaus sighed and gave his uniform a final pat to smooth away a nonexistent wrinkle. He was nervous, but did not like to admit it. Once he went back to Germany, everything that he had been avoiding for four and half months would hit him in the face, and he wasn’t certain he was ready for that. But Klaus Heinz von dem Eberbach was no coward, and he would present himself as ordered and do what had to be done. Everything else would just come as it went, and he’d make decisions accordingly.

And speaking of decisions… He looked around the bedroom of the house they were occupying. It belonged to one of Dorian’s colleagues (if one could call a fellow thief a colleague) and it was on the French-German border on the French side. They’d been there for two days, waiting to cross into Germany at the last moment because they knew the most dangerous part of their journey would be trying to get to the court martial. Their enemies knew where and when they had to be in a specific place, and they were sure to be lying in wait.

He and the Earl had decided to stay out of sight for as long as possible, and Dorian had even wanted them to disguise themselves in order to sneak onto the air force base where the court martial was being held, but he had refused. He was a NATO officer, a decorated Major in the German military, and he would not slink onto the base like a coward. All the same, Dorian had a plan to create some kind of diversion so that their pursuers would be confused. Klaus had learned that it was best for him to remain ignorant to the details of Eroica’s often elaborate and hare-brained plans, if only to spare himself the aggravation.

He sighed, noting the significant absence of the fop in question. The closer they got to Germany, and the date of the court martial, the more distant Dorian had become. He knew it was his fault that the Earl had pulled away. The other man was assuming that their “close association,” as they had been calling it, was coming to an end once they returned to Germany, and so far he had done little to dissuade the Earl’s belief. He’d been trying to telegraph his desire to continue their “association” beyond their return, but being a man of few words and subtle signs, his attempts had gone unremarked by the thief. It would seem that, after so many years of gobbling up the tiniest crumbs of encouragement Klaus had sent his way, the idiot had decided to become obtuse.

He supposed his own uncertainties regarding their “association” had something to do with Dorian’s reticence, but how could he be confident when he still had so many questions? He had no idea how any of it would work. The mechanics of a same-sex relationship notwithstanding, the two of them were such polar opposites how could they do anything but kill each other? But yet they were alike in all the things that mattered: they were both fiercely loyal and had strong senses of honor; both of them were committed to their jobs and passions, and both had proven to the other that they would do whatever was necessary in order to protect and support each other. If they shared those core values, was it enough to keep them together even when they had such differing views of the world?

And he wasn’t ignorant to the physical aspects of a relationship. He’d never had much of a sex drive to begin with, and now, after all he had been through, having sex was something that was entirely unappealing to him. The thought of anyone, male or female, touching him was enough to make his palms sweat, but he had no illusions that sex would play at least some part in a relationship with Dorian Red Gloria. The man made no attempt to hide his enjoyment of sex and sensual pleasures; things Klaus had routinely denied himself in deference to NATO and his duty. What sex he had engaged in had been as straightforward and utilitarian as the rest of his life, and Dorian seemed the type of man who could turn even something as base and simple as intercourse into a grand production.

Could Dorian accept him knowing his… limitations? He knew the man had confessed to being celibate for over a decade due to his unrequited love for the Major, but could Dorian handle a man that was as much of a tank in bed as he was everywhere else? He wouldn’t know until he made the offer, and if Dorian couldn’t…

His eyes strayed to the clock and then to the empty bed, his mouth drawing down into a deep frown. If Dorian couldn’t, what then? What then would be left for him? The life of cold solitude he’d convinced himself he liked and wanted? The empty bed and sterile house that reeked of sorrow and loss? The dark monotony that had been his life before Dorian had let the sunshine in? He hadn’t realized how lonely he’d been until the Earl had shown him what a true partnership could be.

No, they weren’t lovers, but they’d shared just about everything else, and Klaus had become accustomed to the other man’s presence. There was intimacy and comfort in his friendship with the thief, and hard won trust. He was not a man who trusted easily, but when he gave it, it was for good, and Dorian had proven to him that he would not betray Klaus’s confidence. He would miss the man’s opinions and clever viewpoints, and the solace of knowing he had someone to come back to after a long day.

It would be hard to go back to the life he had led before, but he could do it if he had to… even if it meant that the bit of his heart that had softened under Dorian’s care hardened again. He could wrap himself in his cloak of duty and honor and press on, Iron Klaus once more – cold, hard and immovable. But he wouldn’t know how it was to be until he had reached out. Yes, it would be easier to do nothing, and he would not risk being rejected, but that would be cowardly, and Iron Klaus was anything but cowardly.

He sighed again and fingered the buttons on his pajama top. He’d left the undershirt off again even though the weather had turned cool. It was one of the subtle signs he’d been trying to send the fop that he was willing to negotiate entering a relationship. Dorian had noticed because he’d commented on the lack of undergarment, but Klaus doubted the thief had realized what it meant. Perhaps now was time for a more direct approach since they were on their last night in the safe house, and he did not know when he would get another chance.

Taking a deep breath, he steeled himself and marched out of the bedroom in search of the English fop. He found Dorian sitting in the rear of the house on a padded window seat in a bay window that looked out over the property’s gardens. The Earl was on the cushion, arms around his knees, eyes staring out the plate glass. Since it was dark, there wasn’t much to see, but Klaus doubted Dorian was even registering what he was looking at. As it was, it took the other man a good minute to realize he was no longer alone.

“Lord Gloria, aren’t you coming to bed?” he asked, keeping his voice neutral.

The Earl glanced his way briefly, then turned his sad eyes back to the night. He was the very picture of dejection.

“I was thinking that perhaps we should sleep separately tonight. I know it is our last night… together, but it might be for the best. A… dry run of sorts to see how you do on your own. Not that I think you won’t do just fine, but… just for practice. And you know I’ll be just in the room next door if you need me. And I was thinking… if you were to… have trouble… after you go home, that maybe you could call me… perhaps… if you wanted and I… I could talk to you and maybe hearing my voice would help. What do you think?”

“I think you’re babbling,” he replied, still keeping his voice calm.

His jibe, however tenderly delivered, landed home, and he saw the Earl shiver and take a shaky breath.

“So sorry, my dear Major. I’m trying to keep a stiff upper lip, but I’m finding it a bit difficult. Do forgive me. I am just a lovesick idiot, you know, and I’m doing my best to face this bravely.”

He laughed softly. “You make it sound as if we will never see each other again.”

“Oh, I know we’ll see each other. You can be sure of it. I’ll be shadowing all of your missions from now on, and don’t you dare try to talk me out of it! I don’t care, I won’t listen to reason, and my mind’s made up! I will never again go through what I went through when you went missing. No, no and no! Never again, and that’s final.”

Dorian gave him a serious glare that was almost comical in its fierceness, but he hid the smile and met the stony gaze with calm aloofness until the Earl looked away again.

“Good. You’re not arguing with me. That means you’ve seen reason,” Eroica said with a hint of relief.

Klaus snorted. “Or maybe I just know the futility of having a battle of wits with an unarmed opponent.”

“Oh, that’s rich even from you,” Dorian snapped. “You know full well that I have a brilliant mind.”

He crossed the room to stand beside the still seated Earl, and he reached out to tug one of the now ear-length curls. “Ja. You do. When you use it,” he responded gently.

Dorian sniffed and slumped his shoulders in defeat. “I… I know we’ll still see each other, but it won’t be the same. We won’t wake up together or share meals or spar with words and weapons the way we do now. You’ll be in Germany and I’ll be… wherever I’ll be, and we’ll only see each other when others will be looking. We won’t have this time alone anymore, and I’ve come to cherish what we have. We’re not even lovers and I feel like I’m losing my life-partner forever.”

Life-partner. Somehow, Klaus liked the sound of that. It sounded permanent, and it was good to hear that Dorian considered what they had to be for life, too.

He let his hand slide down to cup the nape of the Earl’s neck, then he gave a little tug so Dorian would look his way. He had to bend down at an odd angle in order to place his lips over the Earl’s, but he managed it, and he gave the other man a kiss. It was awkward and hesitant, but a kiss nonetheless, and the Earl reacted by gasping into Klaus’s mouth. When he pulled back to give Dorian a smile, the thief’s eyes were as round as saucers and full of mute shock.

“Dorian, come to bed,” he whispered in the shell of the man’s ear.

The Earl was still staring at him in stunned silence, so he moved his hand to run down the man’s arm and took his hand, tugging him forward. The tug seemed to break Dorian out of his trance, and he scrambled to his feet. Klaus gave him a secret smile and took a step back, before turning on his heel and walking sedately out of the room, and he had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from snickering when he heard the Earl hurrying to follow.

Once back in the bedroom, he gave the other man a friendly push towards the ensuite bathroom.

“Go brush your teeth and whatever else you do that takes you nearly half-an-hour to get ready for bed,” he said, tossing a pile of flimsy silk that he thought was the Earl’s pajamas at him. The other man caught them almost as an afterthought and held them close to his chest.

“Major, are you feeling alright?” Dorian questioned, finally speaking since Klaus had kissed him.

“No. I am tired and I want to go to bed. Tomorrow I have to testify at a court martial for a man who betrayed his rank, his wife, his country, and his fellow officers, and I want to be well rested before I have to face him. So get to it. It’s after midnight,” he answered.

“Forgive me if I seem a bit addled, Major, but I think I just hallucinated you kissing me.”

He rolled his eyes and took three strides forward to plant another one on the poleaxed thief. It was easier now because they were both standing, and he was able to get a good one in before releasing him again.

“Go brush your teeth,” he ordered lowly.

Dorian blinked at him, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, until he finally snapped his jaw shut and huffed. “Don’t think you can order me around all the time, Major. I’m only doing what you’ve told me to because I’m half-convinced you’ve been taken over by aliens.”

“Right.”

“Right. Just so long as we understand each other,” the Earl repeated, then turned and went into the bathroom.

“I’ll never understand you. It’s an impossibility,” he muttered under his breath.

While he was waiting for Dorian to finish up his nightly bedtime routine, he did a few stretches and push-ups. He was almost back to his pre-abduction shape and weight, and he pushed himself to his limits every day. There was still some loss of feeling in the right hand, but he could fire his gun one-handed again and run for hours without breaking much of a sweat. Dorian had been helping him, challenging him, sparring with him. The Earl possessed none of his brute strength, but he made up for it in agility, and Klaus was hard pressed to lay a finger on him when they sparred.

When he was finished his little therapy session, he got into bed, propped pillows behind his head, and settled in to wait. While he lay there, he let his mind work through what would come next. He’d kissed the Earl – twice – and would probably kiss him again before the night was over, and perhaps he would even do more than kiss the man. He didn’t know.

He rolled the idea over in his head. He’d kissed Dorian. Now what? Soon Dorian would come out of the bathroom and get into bed. What would the Earl expect of him? What was he willing to offer? Kisses he thought he could do. Maybe a bit of petting and stroking would be okay as well, and maybe some disrobing as long as it wasn’t below the belt. Dorian did have very soft, smooth skin. He wouldn’t mind feeling more of it.

He could treat it like a mission. He could rationalize any behavior or action if it was for a mission. But Dorian wasn’t a mission. He wasn’t a duty, and he deserved better than Klaus forcing himself to do things he didn’t want to because he thought he had no choice. Both of them deserved better than that, and besides, the Earl would know Klaus was closing his eyes and thinking of Germany right away. No, he’d have to do it willingly, which meant Dorian was going to have to work within Klaus’s limitations while he expanded his horizons. He only hoped the Earl would be okay with that, otherwise the whole operation would crash and burn before it even got off the ground.

Thinking of the thief, Klaus noticed that he was still in the bathroom, and he was about to go banging on the door to find out what was taking so long, when the ensuite door opened and Dorian stepped out. He gave Klaus an uncertain, wary look before cautiously coming over to stand next to “his” side of the bed. Then Klaus watched with amusement as the other man hesitantly lifted the covers and slid between the sheets. Klaus gave him a full ten seconds before he took one arm and wrapped it around the thief.

“Come here,” he said, placing his hand flat on Dorian’s back and pulling him close.

The Earl scooted closer, but only to put a restraining hand on Klaus’s chest. The thief was on his side while Klaus was on his back, and the Earl was looking down at him with puzzlement. “Um… Major…”

“Klaus,” he corrected, relishing in the thief’s confusion.

“Klaus? Um…”

He chuckled. “I think I am liking you tongue-tied. I just might get a word in edgewise.”

“Don’t get used to it. I’m gathering my wits as we speak,” the thief countered.

“I’d better talk fast then. Or should I kiss you again and make you speechless?”

“I’d take a vow of silence if it meant you would kiss me,” the Earl cooed huskily as if he couldn’t help himself.

He laughed and smiled. “Do not make me promises you cannot keep. But I will kiss you again if you would like.”

“If I’d like…” Dorian breathed, bending his head down.

Klaus tilted his chin and met the thief halfway, offering his lips up for a kiss. Their mouths met, working against each other, and Klaus thought that it wasn’t all that different from kissing a woman – and not at all unpleasant. Then the Earl made a little choked noise in the back of his throat and tried to deepen the kiss, his tongue pressing against Klaus’s teeth.

A sudden bolt of panic and nightmare hit him, and he snapped his jaw shut, almost nipping the thief’s tongue in the process. Dorian sensed his distress immediately and backed off.

“Sorry! I’m sorry,” the Earl apologized.

He took a moment to calm his racing heart before comforting the thief who was looking like he was going to bolt at any moment.

“It’s okay. Just… don’t try to put anything in my mouth. They…”

“Say no more! I understand. Forgive me. I got carried away and wasn’t thinking. I am so so sorry.”

“As I said, it is okay. I am… better now,” he reassured the man, reaching for Dorian’s hand and holding it.

The Earl, however, did not seem mollified. If anything he looked spooked, wide-eyed and breathing shallowly. “We should stop. Yes, stop right now. You aren’t ready for this. It’s been less than six months since you were abducted, and you’re just doing this now because we’re going back to Germany tomorrow.”

He ran his thumb over the thief’s palm in a comforting motion. “It is true that I am being… more direct because this is our last night here, but I have been trying to tell you that I want a more… permanent arrangement for several days. You have been frustratingly oblivious to my overtures.”

“I wasn’t. Oblivious, that is. I did notice them. I just didn’t know what to make of them. I thought you couldn’t possibly be telling me what I thought you were telling me,” Dorian confessed.

“Well, I was telling you what you thought I was telling you,” he replied, taking his free hand and tugging on an errant curl. “But as usual, you had to be an idiot and fuck up my mission.”

The Earl looked contrite but his eyes were laughing. “I didn’t mean to, Ma… Klaus. But as usual, you didn’t let me in on the plan so I couldn’t help you. No, you had to be so secretive like you always are.”

“I’m a spy. It’s my fucking job to be secretive,” he countered.

“Touché! And I am a master thief. One would think I would be more observant, but I’m a bit obtuse when it comes to you. Blinded by love, you see.”

The coy, come hither look Dorian gave him would have had more effect if the Earl hadn’t been smirking, and Klaus ended up huffing and rolling his eyes.

“Ach, I must be insane.”

“No more so than me. Can you imagine a more mismatched pair? An internationally wanted master thief and a NATO Major. God truly is cruel.”

“You don’t believe in god any more than I do. And I am at the end of my career, and we both know it. Maybe I can get to live for myself now.”

Dorian gasped. “You can’t be serious, Major!”

He shrugged. “After all of this… NATO may offer me a promotion and give me the option of sitting behind a desk or retiring with full honors.”

“They wouldn’t! You’re Iron Klaus!”

He grimaced. “Iron Klaus is a relic of the Cold War, just like the KGB. Didn’t you get the memo that we’re all friends now?”

“There will always be people and governments that want to overthrow the free world. NATO will always need Iron Klaus,” the thief insisted.

He shook his head. “Yes, but they will be younger agents who are more adaptable to new technology.”

“You’ve done very well adapting to the digital age!”

“Yes, but I don’t want to anymore! I’ve had enough, Dorian. I’ve given Germany and NATO thirty-two years of my life, and what do I have to show for it? A young man’s rank and a body riddled with scars. Enough is enough.”

The Earl regarded him for a long time, his face sober and his eyes bright, until he suddenly tossed his head and assumed his Eroica persona. “I don’t believe it. Iron Klaus will never retire. What on earth would you do with yourself?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe I’ll take up gardening.”

Dorina giggled. “You? Gardening? I feel sorry for the poor plants. You’d make them grow all in a straight line and threaten them with serious pruning if they don’t follow orders.”

“Heh. Then maybe I will follow you around and fuck up all your thefts like you fucked up my missions,” he said with a grin.

“Ooohhhhhh. A German military man, ex-spy, munitions and explosives expert… Ohhhhh, what I wouldn’t do to have such a man on my team. And here I was worried you’d steal Bonham from me.”

“I’ll never steal for you,” he stated firmly. “Or help you steal.”

“Technically, you’ve already helped me steal lots of things, but they’ve always been ugly things like microfilms and file folders. But I get your point. I’d never ask you to compromise your sense of honor, Klaus. You know me better than that.”

“Ja. I thought so.”

Dorian turned blue eyes his way and dropped the foppish act. “But I would do anything to have you with me always. That’s what this is all about isn’t it? You want me always too?”

He regarded the other man for a good thirty seconds before replying, “Ja. I want to be with you, crazy and suicidal as it is. Ja, I do.”

A single tear escaped the thief’s eye and rolled down his cheek. “Oh Klaus…”

He staved off the declaration of love he knew was coming by putting up a hand.

“I have limits,” he warned. “You know what happened to me. You know I am… damaged. Still, I am willing to try a relationship with you, but you must be patient. This is all very new to me, and I am… uncertain. You will have to go… very slowly and be very gentle with me.”

His words, ones Klaus feared would make the Earl pull away, only made Dorian smile sweetly and bend down for a gentle kiss.

“I shall be as tender as rose petals and as light as gossamer wings,” he whispered against Klaus’s lips.

Klaus snorted and gave the other man a disapproving look. “Must you always spout foppish nonsense whenever you are with me?”

“I’m sorry. I can’t help it. I get within ten feet of you, Major, and I get all flustered and agitated,” Dorian replied, eyes dancing with happiness.

“You’re a blithering idiot no matter where you are in relation to me. How am I supposed to tell the difference?” he complained.

“I’m not sure, but you know how to shut me up.”

“Ja, I do,” he agreed, then he took the thief by the back of the head and pulled him down for another kiss.

“Dorian! What the hell do you think you are doing? We are going to be late!” he yelled at the infuriatingly naked and wet thief who was flitting around his bedroom like an addled butterfly.

“Oh, I’m sorry, my dearest! I don’t mean to, but it’s your big day, and I’ve nothing to wear!” the Earl apologized, tossing garments from the bed in a shower of yellow and crimson. “Do you think dear G will be upset of I wore the canary after I told him yellow wasn’t his color?”

Klaus did his best to rein in his temper because he knew it would do no good. “Dorian,” he began in his most patient voice. “You told me last night that you had decided on the blue suit with the red tie.”

“It’s cranberry not red, and did you look out the window? It’s raining! My matching boots can’t get wet!”

He sighed and counted to ten. “Then wear the green.”

“I can’t wear the green! You’ll be wearing your dress uniform! If I wear the green, we’ll clash!”

He mentally ran through just about every curse word in every language he knew before he managed to state calmly, “Then wear the…”

“Oh! I know! I’ll wear the gray with the yellow tie and the canary scarf! I’ll be like a ray of sunshine on a dreary day! Poor G will just have to forgive me.”

Decision made, Dorian grabbed the clothes and zipped off into the bathroom in a flurry of gold curls, leaving Klaus to sigh and shake his head.

It had been six weeks since General Bayden had been court martialed and found guilty of conduct unbecoming of an officer, among other things. It turned out that, while he and Dorian were in hiding, both of their respective teams were amassing evidence to help prove JAG’s case against the man and funneling their findings through the proper channels. By the time the date of the court martial arrived, the prosecution had enough evidence against Bayden to convict him several times, and Klaus’s testimony was practically a formality because JAG had other eyewitness testimony, payment receipts, bank transfers, recorded conversations and text messages. Really, what idiot would hire a hitman via text message in today’s day and age?

Bayden’s original infraction – frequenting a high-end prostitute – probably would have gotten him no more than a reprimand if he hadn’t panicked and lied to NATO in order to have Klaus sent to retrieve the stolen list. Then he compounded his crimes by using NATO resources (ie: Klaus’s Alphabets) to try to hunt Klaus down and get the list – or at least destroy it. And the final nail in his coffin was, of course, hiring men to kill Klaus and the Earl of Gloria once NATO was on to him.

All in all the situation had been extremely messy and uncomfortable, but it had gained Klaus his partner, so he could appreciate the irony and be, somewhat, grateful. He definitely could have done without being captured, brutalized and raped, but he’d survived and he was stronger for it. Plus his time recuperating had given him a much needed respite, and it had provided him with the opportunity to examine his life and ask himself what he really wanted to be doing with it.

He’d been convinced that he was going to die in that dank cell, and when Dorian had rescued him, he’d gotten a second chance. He decided that he was not going to waste the gift he’d been given, nor would he ever take it for granted. Dorian had taught him that life was too precious not to find some meaning in it, and he’d earned the right to be happy. He was seizing that opportunity and fuck all who tried to tell him he couldn’t.

He moved over to his pressed, dress uniform and put it on, straightening the collar and adjusting his numerous medals. Today was the day he would return to active duty. There was to be a ceremony to announce his promotion to Colonel, then he would be cleared to return to his team. From there he would continue to lead his Alphabets on their mission to keep the free world safe in an ever-changing age, although perhaps he would lead with a touch less venom and a bit more compassion. But just a touch. It was never good too become too soft. Soft intelligence agents died quickly.

Iron Klaus was still Iron Klaus. Even if he might be a bit more polished than before, he was still deadly hard and sharp.

He’d feared a desk job at first, and he was prepared to tender his resignation if NATO ordered him to shift paperwork and answer phones. But it was made quite clear to him early on that his skills as a spy, interrogator and intelligence agent – even a fifty year-old one – were too valuable to waste. He had no idea how much influence Eroica or his Alphabets had in the higher-ups determining that, but he was grateful. Perhaps they hadn’t done anything, perhaps he was being put back in the field because no one wanted to deal with Iron Klaus the administrator. Whatever the case, he was glad to be going back to his old job, even if only for another few years while he sorted out what he wanted to do after retirement.

What he wanted to do when he grew up, as the Earl had put it jokingly. He didn’t know yet, but he was damn sure it was going to involve Dorian.

His relationship with the thief was… progressing. Dorian had all but moved into the Schloss, and, although nothing official had been stated, it was clear that the two of them were involved. He’d been shocked at how well it had been taken. NATO and Germany recognized same-sex relationships, but he was surprised by the level of acceptance he and the Earl received. It was as if no one really cared if a 50-year old leftover from the Cold War decided to shack up with another man. It was the twenty-first century, after all, and homophobia was so blasé.

Even his father had barely grumbled when he broke the news. Klaus had been terrified of the elder man’s reaction, either of giving his father a heart attack or being disowned, but the senior Eberbach seemed much more relieved that his only son was alive and whole.

Now in his 70’s, Klaus’s father appeared to be less focused on his son’s life and more on the end of his own, and father and son had shared many conversations about life and love and choices. They were closer for it, and that seemed to please Dorian to no end. Klaus was even further surprised to find that his lover and his father got along quite well. Both men loved him very much, and they were committed to making sure he was happy. His happiness, it appeared, was a common goal.

“I loved your mother very much,” his father had confessed one night by the fire, after a snifter of brandy and a good cigar. “There is not a day that goes by that I do not miss her, and I will be glad to be with her again. I see so much of her in you, my son. I am sorry if the reminder of her kept me away from you when you needed me.”

“It is alright, Sir,” Klaus had replied stiffly, uncomfortable with serious talk from his father.

“No, it wasn’t, but we all make the choices we think we must whether they are the right ones or not.”

“Yes, Sir,” he’d answered, holding his snifter in both hands and staring at the amber liquid.

“This Englishman of yours…” his father had begun, and Klaus had braced himself for the lecture. He’d told himself he was prepared for whatever the old man might say or do, but the moment of truth had found him nervous all the same.

“Lord Gloria, Sir.”

“Lord Gloria. He looks at you the same way your mother looked at me. He was the one who found you, yes?”

“Yes, Sir. He… found me.”

The elder man had nodded and sipped his drink. “And he hid you and kept you safe?”

“Yes, Sir. I would not be alive if not for him.”

“Then I owe him a great deal for saving my son. I love you very much, Klaus. I know I was a distant father, and you will never know how much I regret that. Sometimes I think Conrad was more of a father to you than I was.”

“He is a good butler. A faithful man,” Klaus had agreed uncomfortably.

“Yes. We all need faithful men in our lives. We are cold men, you and I. We need their warmth because we have so little of our own. For so long, Klaus, I feared you were just like me. I feared I had turned you into a tank…”

“I did my best to honor you, Sir.”

“And you have. I am very proud of you, Klaus. Yes, I would be happier if you had married and fathered an heir, but I resigned myself to your bachelorhood years ago. I feared that your… inability to form lasting relationships with anyone was my fault too. But now I see that you are just like me. You trust slowly, go guardedly, but once you give yourself, you do it completely. It was like that for me when I met your mother. I cannot say I am overjoyed by your choice…”

“I didn’t choose him!” he’d snapped defensively. “The fop chased me for over two decades. He never gave up no matter how much I rejected him.”

His father had drawn a shaky breath and put down his snifter. “And it is because of that devotion that I did not lose my son. Klaus, are you happy?”

The question had surprised him because he did not think his happiness had ever factored into anything so it took him a moment to answer. “Yes, I am happy, or as happy as I ever get which is to say I am not unhappy. Joy is not something I am familiar with.”

“It will come. It will begin with brief moments, then spread throughout your life. And you will cherish it and hold on to it because it can be taken away from you in a heartbeat or a single breath,” his father had whispered.

“Sir?”

“I am glad you are happy, Klaus. I want you to be happy. I like your Englishman. He is smart, and brave, and he loves you. That is all I could ever ask for.”

“I am sorry there will be no heir,” he’d murmured.

“You have cousins. Your Uncle Franz’s eldest is a fine man.”

Klaus had nodded. Wilhelm was good choice.  “I will consider it.”

“Gut. Now tell me about this commendation and promotion. Colonel, you say? It’s about time, and you’ve earned it.”

“Yes. Yes, Sir.”

And that had been all there had been to say in the matter, but Klaus had come upon his father and Dorian playing backgammon the following day as if the two of them had sat across a game board from each other for years. The scene had been surreal, but it had made him smile nonetheless. Now it was not so unusual for the three of them to retire to the study to smoke and play chess or backgammon. He owed the thief for his newfound closeness and understanding of his father, and for that he was grateful. He was grateful to Dorian for a lot of things.

The Earl was still in the bathroom, so Klaus took the time to make sure his uniform was lint-free and creased in all the right places. He heard a gasp a minute later and turned to find the thief staring at him with predatory eyes.

“Oh, Major…”

“Do not look at me like that. We do not have time. All of your dallying and fussing has wasted half-an-hour. If we do not leave in the next fifteen minutes, we will be late,” he stated sternly.

“You can’t expect me to be unaffected by you, my dearest. You know how your uniform turns me on, and you look truly magnificent today,” Dorian replied.

He gritted his teeth and quelled his own stirrings of arousal. Sex between them had been… moving slowly forward. They’d not had intercourse, but they had been intimate. There were many things he enjoyed doing to the Earl, and many things he was coming to enjoy being done to him, but he still could not bear to be naked for any length of time even with his lover, although Dorian could be nude (and he often was, the brazen hedonist.) He was, however, discovering that being desired triggered his own need, and Dorian was nothing if not a shameless opportunist.

“No,” he flatly refused.

“I could bring you off twice in fifteen minutes,” the thief purred.

He couldn’t say that he wasn’t sorely tempted, but he was saved by Conrad knocking politely on the bedroom door.

“Komm!” he ordered, and the butler appeared in the doorway.

“Breakfast is served, Master Klaus. Your father awaits you and the Earl in the dining room,” the older man announced with a bow.

“Thank you, Herr Hinkel. Lord Gloria and I will be down shortly,” he replied, ignoring Dorian’s disappointed snort.

“Oh well, I’ll just get you later,” the thief promised, batting blue eyes at him.

“Of that, I have no doubt. As you are so fond of telling me, you always get what you want,” he said as the gray and yellow-clad man sauntered past him, hips swinging.

“See, my dear Major, you are learning.”

Klaus groaned and shook his head before following the thief out of the bedroom.

The promotion ceremony was simple and straightforward. The commander gave him his Oberst insignia and collar tabs and a Cross of Honor for bravery under hardship or some such bullshit that made for a good photo-op, but in the end meant nothing. He smiled for the camera and shook his superior’s hand, and tried not to flush under the praise of his Alphabets and the antics of the ridiculous blond man who popped open a bottle of champagne right after the flash blubs went off.

Thankfully, he didn’t yell at anyone nor did he even threaten anyone with reassignment to Alaska, and he even smiled once or twice at the celebratory luncheon that was held in his honor. Afterwards, Dorian and his father went back to the Schloss to make ready for the evening’s plans, and he went to the office he hadn’t seen in almost nine months. International espionage waited for no man, and soon he was barking orders to his subordinates and sufficiently terrorizing them enough to make them all feel normal. Not that anything would be normal ever again.

That night after the rest of the household had retired, he and Dorian sat up by the fire in the master bedroom’s hearth, toasting his achievements and each other. He’d kept his uniform on all day just to give his lover the chance to get him out of it, and the Earl undressed him with all the tenderness and care he would have used if he were a priceless statue made from the most delicate bone china. He pushed his limits and allowed Dorian to strip him naked, then the thief ran light and gentle hands along his body while he fought down his own memories of his days in the cell. He lasted nearly twenty minutes before he grew too uncomfortable and had to put on a pair of underwear and pajama bottoms. Still it was progress, and Dorian was very pleased.

They curled into bed, the thief gloriously naked as he was most nights nowadays, despite the fact that the old castle bedroom was chilly, and they settled in for some petting and kissing that led to an inevitable, pleasurable, conclusion for both of them. Afterwards, Dorian held him, kissing his brow and stroking his hair, and he relaxed in the thief’s arms, drifting in that blissful state somewhere between slumber and wakefulness. His last thoughts had been of peace and wonder just before Dorian sang him to sleep.

Maybe it was true that life began at forty, or at fifty in his case, because he could certainly say that life really hadn’t gotten started until he’d woken up out of a fever dream with a British thief wrapped around him and the realization that he was not going to die. From that moment on, he’d begun living with opened eyes and a commitment to seize every day as if it were his last. He was lucky to have been blessed with such a chance, and even luckier to have been given someone to share that chance with, even if he happened to be an infuriating Englishman.

There was a rumor whispering its way through the halls of NATO that Iron Klaus had had a mid-life crisis, and he supposed that in some ways he had. It wasn’t the kind of crisis most men had, but then he wasn’t anything like most men. He didn’t leave his job, or his home, nor did he buy a sports car of any color or spend any money he didn’t have.

He did, however, buy a sailboat, and the villa on the Amalfi Coast to go with it – one with an olive grove facing the sea. It was the same villa Dorian had rented after his rescue; the place where Klaus had felt safe and protected, the sanctuary where he had begun to let himself love the man who had loved him for over twenty years. It was their place now, and although there had not been any official ceremony or announcement, they shared the house as they shared everything in their lives – equally and together.

As it should be with an immovable object and his own irresistible force.

FIN