Author's Chapter Notes:
What, me write Eroica fic that isn't crack humor?
Of all the places Major Klaus Heinz von dem Eberbach had expected to kill him, the Sahara Desert had not been one of the top contenders. The Soviet Union, and later Russia? That was at the very top. The Middle Eastern nations? Always a possibility, thanks to the volatility. England? Even if it was an ally, the stupidity of everyone who lived there might have killed him just by making his brain implode.
This included the other person who was stuck there in the desert, waiting to die with him. Lord Gloria had been there on vacation, decided to get himself involved in something he had no business being involved in - and when the burgeoning rebel factions had managed to capture Klaus, the Earl had been captured right along with him. Now they were both buried alive in a bunker beneath the sand that no one knew they'd had, with no way of letting the outside world know their position.
Speak of the devil; Lord Gloria flicked on the torch he'd managed to keep concealed (along with lockpicks that were of no use when the single entry point was twenty feet above their heads), illuminating his face for just a moment as he once again checked the pitcher, as if more water would somehow have appeared in it. They hadn't been rationing at first, seeing as those who held them hostage had been reappearing once a day to question, threaten, and supply minimal food and water to keep them alive.
Still empty. The torch's light turned upwards, to the escape hatch far beyond their reach, then turned off again. It had been two days, and no one had come. Klaus hadn't wanted to voice his theory about why, at first, but it seemed obvious now, especially since the power had gone out, knocking out the light and circulation.
"The government was on the verge of bombing their primary headquarters," he said bluntly, settling himself back against the steel wall, warm from the heated sand that surrounded them on all sides. "It was to happen with or without the information I was to retrieve. The mission went ahead - and likely there's no one left now who knows where we were being held. There weren't many to begin with."
On the other side of the room, there was a small sniff that sounded exasperated. "That doesn't seem like a very smart mission to have accepted."
"It doesn't matter if it was 'smart'," Klaus snapped. "It was my mission. Many of my missions could have wound up getting me killed - you'd think after tagging along on so many of them, you'd have figured out we weren't just playing games."
There was a pause. "I was aware of that. I just assumed you had a way out no matter what. I'd never let myself get into a situation where I didn't have a last resort."
"That's because you don't have a job," Klaus retorted. "And if that's the case, why are you here now?"
No answer came. Klaus nearly felt a little bit guilty about it - it hadn't been Eroica's fault they'd been captured. This time, it was all his fault.
And to tell the truth, the Earl had been handling things better than he'd expected. He'd not gone hysterical, he'd not broken down in tears, he hadn't made accusations. He'd remained perfectly composed, listening to the Major's advice and following it to the letter when their captors were present, and when their captors stopped appearing. And Klaus knew it wasn't because he didn't understand how serious the situation was. In those moments where Lord Gloria had turned on the torch to reevaluate the situation, see if there was something they'd missed... behind the calm expression, there was a quiet panic in his eyes. The Earl was terrified, but keeping it under wraps.
"...I'm getting very dizzy," came the quiet murmur.
"It's no wonder," Klaus stated. He'd been growing a bit disoriented himself. "It's basically a toss-up whether we'll be done in first by heat exhaustion, dehydration, or running out of air down here."
"I suppose James would have loved to make a wager about that."
Klaus knew better than to think Lord Gloria actually considered that to be an amusing joke. Two days stuck alone together with the ever-growing certainty of death had forced them to understand each other just a little, and he was well aware now that the thief was quite capable of being serious when the situation called for it.
"...I wonder what they'll do," he continued quietly. "They're all talented, but they lacked focus. Without me, they have no one to follow."
"I suppose NATO will just replace me," Klaus grudgingly admitted. "I don't know that my men will last long under whoever they find, though. Anyone else would have gotten rid of them long ago."
"Anyone else wouldn't have inspired the loyalty you did," Lord Gloria replied softly.
Klaus said nothing. He wished he had a cigarette.
They sat silently in the dark for a while longer, unsure of how to go on. Then Klaus heard the Earl clear his dry throat. "...We really are going to die here, aren't we?"
They'd never said it so clearly before, but they'd both known. "Yes," Klaus replied. "It probably won't take much longer."
"Then..." He heard the Earl shift across the bunker, possibly propping himself up against the wall? "...Can I ask just one favor? A last request...?"
Instinctively, Klaus tensed, imagining what sorts of things that degenerate would likely ask for as a last request. But then, he'd been behaving, and had kept his hands to himself thus far. There was no harm in just listening to a request. "What is it?"
There was another pause. "...You'll probably hate me."
"I already do," Klaus said, matter-of-fact.
That won a soft chuckle from the Earl, and seemed to give him courage. "Very well then. ...Would you hold me? Just for the last few hours we have together..."
...Well, it was less repulsive than what Klaus had been imagining, at least. Even so... "They'll find this place eventually," he pointed out. "I am not going to be found with you dead in my arms. That kind of shame would ruin my memorial, taint everything good I ever accomplished in my career."
"So when I die, put the body on the other side of the room. It's not as if I'll care then." He still sounded remarkably calm, even if his words said otherwise. "But right now? ...I'm afraid."
He really was being reasonable. Reasonable enough that Klaus actually considered it. "...By the time you die, I'll probably be unconscious myself. Or what if I die first?"
"You won't. I'm not built like a tank. But... how about this? We'll talk. If one of us doesn't respond, even to a direct question, the one who's still conscious will move across the room." There was a hesitation, but an earnest note in the Earl's voice when he spoke again. "I promise - if by some chance it's me, I will do so. I never wanted to ruin your reputation. If you'd ever have given in, I would have been discreet."
"Talking uses up more oxygen," Klaus pointed out. Why, he wondered, was he justifying his refusal instead of just refusing outright?
"Then just ask me if I'm awake every now and then," the Earl insisted. "I'll do the same. And if there's no response, I'll move. I swear it."
Another long pause, as Klaus considered this. "...You're using up precious oxygen while making your case."
"All right." Lord Gloria sounded disappointed. "I suspected as much."
"Idiot," Klaus scoffed, and steeled himself. "...I meant you might as well just get over here now instead of going on about it."
He could almost hear the Earl's surprise, though he said nothing aloud. After a moment, though, he heard a breathless laugh, and the sound of rustling fabric. The torch came on again briefly, its dying light illuminating blue eyes that glittered in the dark and a wan smile, as Lord Gloria found his way across the room to Klaus and slowly, disbelieving, settled himself in the Major's lap, wrapping his arms around his neck. Lord Gloria was warm, Klaus thought, and they were both already overheated. But somehow...
Klaus wrapped his own arms around the Earl loosely. He'd never have admitted it even to himself, but... he'd been shot, stabbed, beaten, strangled, poisoned, and come very close to being blown up - he'd always assumed he would die in one of those ways, rather than slowly and painfully. As it turned out, he was a little bit afraid as well.
* * * * *
The plan of not talking hadn't worked so well in practice as it had in theory. Dorian found that it was easier to stay composed while talking about inconsequential things, and the Major seemingly had decided there was little point conserving oxygen when there was so much conspiring against them anyway; he responded readily, if not cheerfully. But then, it would have been unnatural for him to be cheerful at all.
As for Dorian, he was managing what he hoped was a decent attempt at optimism. He was not going to spend his last hours bemoaning the fact that they were his last hours. Besides, he was finally allowed to sit in the Major's lap and hold him, and be held in return! If he hadn't been half-delirious thanks to his physical condition, he'd have been half-delirious from sheer joy. It was a very rare thing for him to be allowed to touch his dear Major at all.
Which might have been the factor which inspired him to make another request. "Do you remember the first time we found ourselves like this?" he murmured, resting his head on the Major's shoulder.
Silence. "...What are you talking about?"
"In the tank, Major. With Caesar Gabriel." Dorian paused to take a few deeper breaths - which didn't do much good. He was finding it difficult to stay conscious. "You sang to me."
Apparently the Major remembered. "I wasn't singing 'to you'. I was just singing."
"Would you sing it again for me? Your father's tank song?"
"Why? Just uses up more air to sing."
Dorian closed his eyes. "You'll have all the air to yourself soon. I don't think I can stay awake much longer."
The Major didn't respond for a long time. "...Please?" Dorian asked faintly. "It was a happy memory for me..."
Again no response. Dorian sighed softly, letting his head droop. It was all right - he already had more than he'd hoped for.
Then, suddenly, he heard a singing voice he'd heard before only rarely, deep and strong, though tempered a bit by the singer's physical condition. His pride and determination still showed through, and the voice grew in strength as the song went on; he sang the words of the Panzerlied as though he truly meant them. And Dorian knew that he did.
Letting the sound of the Major's voice surround him, Dorian just lay there, enjoying the song and the way the melody seemed to make sense of his dizziness, carrying him higher and lower. After he'd sung it twice through, however, the Major stopped singing. All was silent for a moment, and then there was a murmur. "Lord Gloria?"
Ah, yes... their agreement. Dorian could have replied with some effort, but... he wondered.
The Major waited a little longer, and then there was another murmur, softer. "...Dorian?"
Now that was interesting. Dorian remained silent, his eyes closed and his breathing shallow.
The silence was longer this time, and then there was a soft sigh. To his surprise, the Major's arms tightened around him, but he didn't move as if to set him aside. "...Sleep well, then, idiot," he murmured instead, and it didn't sound irritable. He sounded resigned, and very tired, as he held Dorian more closely.
Dorian didn't last long before he couldn't help himself - he caught his breath, and if he'd had more strength, what came out would have been a giggle.
What sound did come out was enough for the Major to recognize it as such, and he froze. "...Playing dead, are you?"
"Haven't you ever wondered," Dorian replied, "what they would say at your funeral?"
"Obviously, if I said before that I wouldn't want to be remembered as having been found with you in my arms."
"But you didn't move or set me aside, even when you thought I was unconscious."
The Major seemed to have no answer for that. He also didn't loosen his hold, for which Dorian was grateful. He really wasn't feeling strong enough to hold himself up - though perhaps strong enough for one last thing.
"...If I'm going to die," he whispered, "then I want to make good use of the remaining oxygen." Summoning up the last vestiges of consciousness that remained, he lifted his hand and his head, reaching up to pull the Major's head down to meet his lips.
Despite his dizziness, which was only made worse by the rush of finally, finally being able to kiss Klaus, Dorian was fairly sure that Klaus was kissing back. Yes, he was - open-mouthed, with the passion Dorian had always known he had, and which he had always wanted to see firsthand. It very nearly made him angry. Why had he only let it show now? But he couldn't truly be angry, not when Klaus was kissing him like this...
When he had to let go to breathe, he found it more difficult than he might have expected both to let go and to breathe. Klaus' fingers tangled in his hair, stroking it back from his face as he gasped. "...Love you..." he mumbled.
"Shh. Rest," came a surprisingly gentle response, similarly breathless.
Afterwards, Dorian was never sure how long they stayed like that, clinging to each other and struggling to breathe, before he was snapped back to awareness by a scraping sound from above. Then a voice called out. "Major...?"
Instinctively, remembering their agreement, Dorian tried to pull away - but Klaus held him fast. "'S just A," he murmured, relieved, and turned his face upwards. "A!" he barked between labored breaths. "Oxygen, fluids. Now!"
"On the way, sir," called the relieved voice, and a beam of light swept over them from the hatch above. "Once we got the information, we came prepared."
The next thing Dorian knew, a mask was being placed over his nose and mouth while he was laid out on the floor. Relief at being able to breathe, however, was quickly replaced by thirst as his vision returned and he saw bottles of hydration drinks placed nearby in addition to the intravenous fluids that were already being administered. Once that need had been quenched a little bit, it was back to the oxygen mask, and he was able to sit up and look around.
Klaus was slumped against the wall, holding one of the masks to his own face with one hand and holding an open bottle in the other while the medics prepared the IV. His eyes, however, were on Dorian, dark and masked.
Dorian wondered where they would go from there. But he had a feeling that whatever happened, it was going to be interesting.