The second was that Dorian was wrapped inextricably around him, arms and legs twined tightly as if he would never, ever let go.

Dorian had a certain tenacity to him when he wanted to, which was often. It took Klaus a moment, though, to recall the night before and place the reason for that tenacity. He was in Dorian's arms, not the other way around... and they were both so comfortable, wadded up in the warm blankets in that drafty room. Reason told him to get up, that it was already seven, while his body kept him right where he was, gazing around before laying his head back down.

"Mmmmmmmmm," Dorian murmured, shifting slightly, moving so that he was more comfortable before sighing and settling down into sleep again. "Hmmm."

The Briton seemed happy enough in his sleep. This was something that Klaus was sure granted the blond man pleasure and comfort. The night before had driven them both to their own personal horrors, whether Dorian wanted to admit it or not. Best to enjoy what was surely enjoyable, without a question. He stayed quiet, wanting to savor it all before they were both awake and would have to start the day.

For a while, they remained there, close and warm. Dorian stayed wrapped around him, sighing only every once in a while until finally, Klaus felt it against him -- the slight nudge of growing erection, and heard soft whimpers to accompany it.

The nudge against his clothed hip started him, a sudden tenseness in his form, but he could pat himself on the back for not jumping out of the bed. He stayed where he was, just lifted up a little from Dorian. /Every man gets that sometimes./

"No..."

That was something every man *didn't* get sometimes.

"KLAUS!"

More startlement, a tense sort of bewilderment as he shifted to settle against Dorian's side, shaking him a little. "Dorian?"

With a gasp, blue eyes flew wide, and for a moment they were filled with panic, not seeing Klaus at all. When they finally did, though... Arms flung about his neck, Dorian's face buried in his shoulder, the other man holding him tightly. "Don't ever leave me!" he blurted out, shuddering. "Don't ever leave me!"

"I didn't..." He sighed, giving up -- words were sometimes useless against Dorian's outbursts, and this seemed to be one of them.

"Don't leave me," Dorian continued to whisper softly, holding him Klaus. "I love you. Don't leave me. Don't.."

"I won't." It was all he could assure Dorian of; why couldn't the blond man see that he was everything Klaus still had? "I wouldn't."

Little tremors shook their way through the thief, his fingers clutching lightly at Klaus. "I was dreaming..." he whispered. "I dreamed that you left me because..." Because he couldn't prove to Klaus that what Klaus wanted was nothing like the Stasi. "And I..." And he had slit his veins from wrist to elbow at the horror of being alone, and the phantom pain of that dream motion had wakened him. "Love you. Ohh..."

"No -- I won't leave you..." If Klaus dreamt, he never remembered them. His sleep was too heavy to allow memories to leave it. Only vague stabs of emotions and unease lingered and those could have been from the night before. "Everything is all right here. We... we're safe."

The trembling slowed to a still, finally, but Dorian didn't lift his head from Klaus or his arms from around him. Instead, he remained there, quiet, quiescent. /Oh, my darling... How can you bear me this way?/

"I was going to ask how you were this morning, but I can guess," Klaus observed with a grim sort of dryness, closing his eye again. "You don't have to worry about me leaving."

"I'm sorry," Dorian apologized quietly, clinging to him. "I know you must hate me for being so stupid and weak and *queer*, but I can't seem to help it..."

"I don't hate you." It seemed, sometimes, that was all he ever said to Dorian. He missed the back and forth, sharp comments and insults passed between the both of them... anything that would tell him they were *both* better.

"I'm sorry," came a second apology. "If I embarrassed you last night. I was afraid, by myself, and... and I didn't think. I didn't want to embarrass you."

At least it had only been embarrassing to a point. "You've seen worse," Klaus verbally shrugged.

"Maybe," Dorian said softly, nuzzling against him, unable to stop that action. "But I never want to embarrass you or hurt you. Not any more than you would want to do the same to me..." Even though Klaus had embarrassed him before, things were... different... now.

The incident where Klaus had ordered Dorian to remove his underwear had been quite the embarrassment for *both* of them -- if only because Klaus always reacted so hotly to Dorian's jabs. Or, had. "Let's... just get up, all right?" Or lay there quietly, but he didn't want to start off the day in the same rut they'd already worn thin.

"Are you going to go shooting?" Dorian asked him hesitantly, beginning to untangle himself from his tight grasp of the other man.

But Klaus wasn't letting go yet; wasn't letting go at all, it seemed, as he stroked a hand over satiny material, down the line of Dorian's upper spine. There was no reason for them to get up in a hurry -- as long as they *did* get up. "Ja."

"Can I still go?" Dorian asked him quietly, snuggling close again. /Oh, that feels so.../ So nice. It felt so marvelous...

/You'll have to come with me, because I can't leave you here alone./ The more that Klaus thought about it, the more frightened he was by his actions and Dorian's. There *was* something wrong, he knew, but... but it was funny that the doctors hadn't paid it much attention. /Or they did, and that's why they recommended what they did./ "Ja -- then we'll drive around and see what else there is in this town."

"That sounds like a good idea. Maybe we could go for a long walk this afternoon," Dorian offered, nuzzling against Klaus's shoulder.

"Through the woods? The path there..." It was narrow but it wove and then disappeared into the thick woods. He wanted to explore it out, see how far it went and where it wound so close to the edge of the lake to begin with.

With a little sigh, Dorian burrowed even closer, eyes drooping again. "Hmmmm. Mhmm..."

"You're not going back to sleep."

"No," came the sleepy agreement accompanied by a weighty sigh. "'m not..." Even though that statement was patently untrue!

Klaus finally turned his head so that he wasn't looking straight at the ceiling any longer; the new view was the pillows, and the top of Dorian's head. Near, comfortable... yes, he could finally hold Dorian like that without those surges of nervousness. For the moment at least. "This isn't so bad."

"Hmmm?" That brought him Dorian's attention, more awake than before. "How's that?"

"'s more comfortable than when we were in the tank." Holding each other. Then again, Klaus was pissed as hell for the ruin of his tank at the time, and that fluffy Caesar was between them, all but freezing.

"I've always been happy in your arms," Dorian informed him, an extravagant statement, but so true!

A snort, the noise almost a laugh, and then Klaus started to try to sit up while still keeping Dorian close. "You're an enigma."

"A puzzle within a puzzle," was the agreement, blue eyes blinking open slowly, still darkened with sleep. "Is it really time to get up, then, Klaus?"

"Nearly seven thirty," the German rumbled, shifting to fully sit up, leaving Dorian partly in his lap. At least there was no problem of a morning erection to deal with -- not after the tense night before.

/I don't want to get out of your arms./ No, if left that way, Dorian would undoubtedly remain right where he was for days on end! "D'you think we can drop by a bookstore today, too?"

"Why not? Are you looking for anything in particular?" Stretching slowly felt good, even if it did awaken now familiar pains in his body.

"I don't know..." Well, actually, he wanted to look and see if he might find something to help Klaus, or perhaps something on surviving rape, so he could understand more about what was going on with both of them, only he wasn't sure what. "Something to read while we're here. Relax with. That sort of thing...."

He wanted to offer Dorian a book of *his*, but... well, the man wouldn't want to read his familiar history tomes or weaponry books. The art book, though... "I still have that book on museums you gave me. But, yeah, we'll go to a bookstore." An excuse to have something to look for as they drove, at least!

"Really?" That sounded somehow hopeful and it gained Klaus a smile, the curve of lip and the gleam in Dorian's eyes making him shiver a bit. "I'm glad you do," he said solemnly.

Well, there was no reason that he *would* have gotten rid of it -- just like the Trivial Pursuit, and puzzle that Dorian had left him at the hospital. No one ever gave him gifts, unless he counted the few bottles of liquor the Alphabets had given him out of obligation at Christmas, most of them trying to get on his good side. /No more terrorizing my poor Alphabet soup,/ he mused, looking into Dorian's gaze for a moment before he looked away. "Gut."

A stretch came from Dorian, as well, tumbling him partially off of Klaus in a mostly pleasant way as he yawned. "Mmmmm, I suppose we should get dressed...."

With Dorian, that was always an adventure in and of itself, though less so now than it had been before. "Something comfortable," Klaus murmured, finally slipping away from Dorian as they were no longer entangled.

With a sigh, Dorian watched Klaus rise and head for his suitcase before he stretched out on the bed, eyeing his own. "I think I'll wear *blue* today." Blue had been a favorite color of his lately, much more so than red. He wasn't even sure he'd brought anything red with him at all!

It certainly made those sapphire eyes light to life; Klaus was sure that Dorian knew that and dressed with that in mind. The Briton was the sort of man to know what made him look good. Klaus on the other hand, didn't care if there was something that highlighted him or not. Warm brown trousers were chosen, crisply pressed despite having been in a suitcase, a new undershirt and underwear, socks, his boots and then finally a shirt -- plain, off-colored linen. He was trying to not still wear his suits from work.

One way or another, he was still an incredibly attractive man, and nothing could deter from that for Dorian, who rolled out of bed slowly. "You can have the bathroom first," he told Klaus, stretching again, the sound of his back popping noisily in the room.

Wincing just slightly at that noise, Klaus moved down the hall to the bathroom. A quick, *quick* shower, just to clean his body, and hopefully Dorian would be all right with him being gone for a short time. He still had to shave, and with a schedule of sorts set for the day, there wasn't too much thought in his mind to using his razor for anything but scraping the stubble from his face.

By the time he was done and out of the bathroom, Dorian was dressed, pajamas abandoned in a heap by the side of his suitcase. Dark slacks and sapphire silk shirt were accompanied by one of his many scarves, a thing of paisley with blues and greens and golds rampant amongst the various colors, setting him off despite the scars, making him as beautiful as he had ever been -- to Klaus, anyway. "Shall we get breakfast on our way there, or grab fruit from downstairs?" Dorian asked.

"Out; we can try cooking later," Klaus told him, moving to his suitcase again to pull out his shoulder holster, with the Magnum in place already, and put it on; then a second gun, a much smaller semi automatic was shoved beneath the waistband of his pants at the small of his back, safety *firmly* in place. Two extra clips were tossed into his pocket. "Do you want to try that place we went last night?"

"Not particularly," Dorian admitted, face flushing. "I get the feeling the regulars might stare us right out."

"The people from last night probably won't be there this morning. Just this morning; while we're out, I'll keep an eye out for other places." He couldn't remember anything that they'd passed in their search for a grocery store, so that would have to do.

"All right." It wasn't as if Klaus didn't have a point, after all, it was just that Dorian hated being stared at anymore. Once, he would have accepted it easily enough, but now... "At any rate, I s'pose we'd ought to go, then..."
"Do you want to drive, or will I?" Klaus was asking him, moving out the door, down the short hall and then the stairs; but when he reached the bottom he stopped and turned back around. "Forgot my arm brace." The keys were tossed deftly at Dorian as they passed at the top of the stairs. "Warm it up?"

That golden head nodded, Dorian taking them and heading downstairs. At least the sun was up -- that was most of what made it possible for him to bear going alone, and only the trip through the basement gave him any trouble. Once he was in the car with the doors locked and the motor running, though, it wasn't so bad -- he only had to wait for Klaus, after all.

The German must have run down both sets of stairs to get there as fast as he did, the arm-brace being strapped firmly in place as he waited for Dorian to unlock the doors for him, buttoning his shirt-cuff over the unyielding plastic and fabric.

"Hi, there," Dorian greeted lightly, relief flooding through him. "That didn't take long!"

"No -- I just forgot to grab it when I picked up my guns," Klaus agreed as he slid into the passenger side. Dorian driving was a good sign -- perhaps the day wouldn't go as oddly as the one before it.

"Hmmm. How do I get the garage door open?" the Briton asked, peering backwards. "Is there a magic device or something?"

The seat-belt wasn't even clicked in place, before Klaus was out of the car again. It was manual -- required unlocking, and then for Klaus to haul the thing up to a point where it would stay up. "Back out, and then I'll close it."

Carefully, Dorian obeyed, sending the car out of the garage and then waiting for Klaus to get back in it before he hurtled off towards the road. /Right side of the road,/ he told himself, tongue pressing to the back of his teeth thoughtfully. /Right side./ "Left from here?"

"Ja," Klaus told him, seatbelt *firmly* in place. The right side of the road shouldn't have been too hard for him -- continental Europe was right-sided, but Dorian always either ignored sides completely or kept that little reminder in his mind firmly. "That restaurant is on the way, actually."

"All right," came the agreement, and then they were off with a fair squeal of tires.

No matter what side of the road Dorian was on, he was on it *fast*.

Klaus drew satisfaction from Dorian's speed, as it proved some sort of improvement to him, that even emotionally crippled Dorian could function. And knowing Dorian could function gave his own continued existence hope. Now to *test* that hope, to see how well he could site with his left eye, shoot with his left hand.

"How far is it?" Dorian asked a moment later as they hurtled towards town. Hmm, it felt *good* to drive again, and to drive *fast*!

"Not much farther -- remember that the turn comes up fast." He'd nearly missed it himself the night before.

It certainly *did* come up fast, but Dorian just sent their little car whipping around it and headed on towards town obliviously. "And the shooting range is past the post office? Or did they say to the right?"

"Past it on the right." He was *praying*, too, that no one pulled them over for speeding. Wouldn't that be hard to explain?

As they came into the little town, Dorian slowed the car to a more reasonable pace so that they wouldn't knock over any old ladies or small dogs, peering about for the post office. "There's the restaurant," he noted, slowing further and turning into the parking lot. "It looks pretty quiet..."

"But open," Klaus uttered, noting that sign right away. Quiet like that was a good sign -- it was early, so if anyone recognized them from the night before, nothing would be said, would it?

Carefully, the car was parked and they got out, locking the doors behind them, Dorian glancing around in curiosity at the little town. It was a cute place, rather small, and not too busy, or so it seemed. "Ready for coffee?" he asked Klaus, knowing innately that the other man NEEDED caffeine.

Shifting his shoulders a little -- a movement that moved his holster a little forward, but also to a more comfortable spot -- Klaus nodded. "Yes. Too ready for it."

With a smile, Dorian led the way inside, stopping just at the counter to peer at the breakfast choices. "Coffee," he told the woman who looked at him expectantly. "Ah, scrambled eggs, bacon, hashbrowns..." Blue eyes glanced at Klaus, just behind him. "And you?"

"The same." It sounded good, and at least it wouldn't be *burnt*, as one of them probably would have done.

"That'll be eight-forty-three," the woman at the register told them in her nasal tone as Dorian dragged out a ten and gave it to her.

/I'll just buy his books,/ Klaus decided, letting Dorian pay for *that*, while he moved to get a table in a corner. Yes, far more empty than the night before, and the place held no faces that were familiar to him from the night before -- though a few were staring discreetly. /Fucking Yanks./

Thankfully, Dorian ducked into the corner with Klaus, lifting his hands to cradle his face in them as the waitress brought coffee. "Thanks," he said lightly, smiling at Klaus. "Not a bad start to the morning, then," he noted, nodding at the cup now in front of Klaus before he began to add sugar and creamer to his own.

A little creamer was tossed in as if to temper the heat, before Klaus took a testing sip and swallowed. "Not a bad start. We should be fine if we keep busy today."

"Well, between looking for a bookstore and the shooting range, it hadn't ought to be too bad," Dorian answered hopefully.

More coffee passed his lips, and he shifted to pull a cigarette pack out of his pants pocket, the lighter with it. "Mm. I just won't go very far from you."

"I'm sorry to be such a burden," Dorian apologized. "Maybe it'll get better, one day." Not that he wanted to ever be apart from Klaus, anyway!

"You're not a burden to me." But Klaus didn't have a way to prove that to Dorian, just as Dorian couldn't prove things to Klaus. "For something to be a burden, it would have to be hindering."

The response was dry with an odd humor. "Klaus, I have problems when you leave the room to *pee*. If that's not hindrance, I'm not sure what is!"

The edges of his mouth curled up for a moment, though he wasn't looking at Dorian. /What would you think if I told you that I worry when I'm away from you? You'd probably not believe me./ "If you knock, it wouldn't be."

Unable to help himself, Dorian laughed in response, shaking his head so that those short golden curls danced around his face. "Hmm. I'll keep that in mind, then!"

Klaus's wry expression didn't shift -- only seemed to spread a little. It was good -- no, much better than just that -- to see Dorian laugh or smile the familiar laughs that reached his eyes as well as his lips. "I do things that must hinder you. So we're even."

"Mmmmm," Dorian said on the end of a chuckle. "Oh, I think everything is just wonderful. I'm so happy..." His face fell slightly into sadness. "I haven't been so happy in a very long time, and in so many ways, that's disturbing..."

/At least you have been happy./ He could remember elation at missions done well, or smugness when Dorian stumbled or something happened to Mischa. But never quite in any form that Dorian had exhibited so often. "Before... the mission, were you?"

"Sometimes," Dorian admitted. "Often. Mostly when I was with you. That was the most wonderful thing. In a way, getting to..." His face fell further, hands hiding it momentarily. "God, I'm terrible for even thinking it. In a way, getting to be with you made up for anything that could happen. It was worth any risk. Ever."

/And this, Eroica? Was *this* worth it to you? Is it worth it to me?/ "I've never understood that. I probably won't ever."

"I hope one day that you do," Dorian replied quietly even as the waitress stepped up to the table again, plates in hand this time. "Thank you, miss."

"You're welcome. Need anything with that?" the woman asked.

"No, not at the moment." /For you to leave./ He unwrapped the utensils from the rather thin napkin, and laid it neatly in his lap.

Once the waitress was gone, Dorian smiled at Klaus again. "I suppose, in the end, it's ridiculous. That you mean so much to me, I mean. That I can't get by without you. I can't help it, though," he said quietly. "Even if I could, I wouldn't want to."

"What about your men?" Who had surely done so much more in Dorian's life than Klaus ever had.

"My pretty boys..." Dorian said softly. "Well. For now, they'll wait. I couldn't get by without them, either, but in a different sort of sense." He shrugged. "None of them are you." Even Jamesie hadn't been, his poor dark headed little miser.

He drank more coffee as he shifted his fork awkwardly into his right hand. "But I've never done anything for you." /Nothing that you would ever know *was* for you./

"Love has nothing to do with what someone does for one or what one gets out of it," Dorian noted as he began to eat. "If I want something, I can get it for myself."

"I've treated you like shit."

There wasn't any way of getting around that! "Sometimes," Dorian agreed.

"But..." It still didn't make sense. "If we... had've escaped, Dorian, we wouldn't be here."

"I know." The sound of that deep voice was soft, contemplative. "I know. I suppose, if that had been the case, I'd still be traipsing after you, all over the world," he admitted, shrugging slightly.

"This was what it took, then," Klaus murmured, looking back down to his coffee and plate. It took both of their lives to be shredded before Klaus could face that he clearly cared for Dorian. More... wasn't anything he was ready to think about. What Dorian had done the night before still scared him.

"To stop our endless cycle, our little waltz?" Dorian asked him. "Maybe. Maybe..."

"It's a romantic enough idea for you to take to," Klaus groused back at him, careful to keep from himself what *he* thought of that idea. Trapped in a cycle? An empty cycle, that he'd both loved and hated.

"I can't help myself," Dorian admitted, digging into his eggs with his fork and taking a bite. "I'm afraid that I've simply got a romantic soul!"

"Huh." Klaus fell quiet again, spearing a piece of bacon, then starting to eat in earnest. Nothing ever went right for him for long -- nothing. There was little hope that, after everything that happened, he and Dorian could continue on as they were indefinitely. No, Dorian would get better and stop needing him with the desperation he did just then; he'd realize how *far* Klaus had fallen from the man he'd first harassed those years before in the halls of Schloss Eberbach. That he didn't have anything left behind him -- the title, castle, family, and history would be taken from him once his father investigated the reasons for his dismissal. And that there wasn't anything *in* him; no hope for a future beyond the current day, no goals, only a flickering drive to carry on, as if living itself were like smoking. A habit he couldn't quit.

The silence seemed overwhelming, Dorian eating just as steadily as Klaus, until finally he could bear it no more. "What are you thinking?" he asked quietly.

"That the killer cycle isn't over yet." That his *life* was just one gigantic fucking mess and the only reason he'd managed so well was because of rules handed to him that he'd followed. Goals given to him. A future dictated to him.

It took Dorian a moment to place that thought, his head tilting to the side. "Maybe it is," he said quietly. "Maybe it will get better."

"How?" Klaus looked up at him for a moment, just brief, but in that moment Dorian saw so much... nothing. Just an aching *nothing* in Klaus's eye, a lost glaze over grey-green.

"I don't know yet," Dorian admitted. "I don't know. But time is on our side, now. Things will have the opportunity to straighten themselves out... Well. So to speak."

Klaus almost chuckled, though it wasn't a particularly happy sound. "I no longer have anything to do."

"Yes, you do. For now, we have to rest. Concentrate on now," came the quiet advice. "Tomorrow will take care of itself."

"More resting. But what are we resting *for*?" He finished the food on the plate, then picked up the mug of coffee, taking a long sip. "You still can do what you've always done." /You have no idea what my rank meant to me./

"You think?" The sound of that question was dark, worried, and gradually grew softer. "I'm not so sure. It takes nerves of steel to do what I do. I don't have those anymore..."

"When you see something you want enough, you'll be able to." Klaus sounded so sure of that fact that Dorian could almost believe just from the tone of the rich baritone.

That gained him a smile, a strange emotion flitting over Dorian's expressive countenance. "You have the strangest faith in me," he murmured, reaching for a piece of his bacon.

"You never failed to be embarrassingly persistent in your pursuit of art before, whether or not it interfered with international politics."

"And your pursuit of international politics *so* often has interrupted *my* pursuit of art," Dorian teased him gently. "Besides. Rembrandts are *much* more interesting to me."

/And they still can be, Dorian./ Eroica could continue to cross paths with various agencies, but Iron Klaus... "Perhaps it did; still, you can keep your Rembrandts."

"One day, I'll have to show everything to you," Dorian told him gently.

"What do you mean? You entire art collection?" It didn't really interest him too much -- he'd probably spend his time trying to see which ones had been recently stolen.

"Mmm. Everything," Dorian replied solemnly. "I can't seem to help myself. So often, people who have a thing don't appreciate it. *I* appreciate it."

"You've never seen the entire Eberbach art collection, have you?" Klaus asked after a moment.

"Only the Man in Purple," Dorian admitted. "D'you know, I think that I have a painting at North Downs which is remarkably similar, only of another man."

"It wouldn't surprise me -- lots of people had portraits painted out of vanity," the German shrugged, looking to Dorian's plate to see if they could leave yet.

The other man was down to his last bite of eggs and bacon, so it would only be another moment. "Well, perhaps," Dorian agreed easily. "Only I'd like for you to see it, sometime."

"Sometime." Klaus seemed to doubt it would happen, as he slid the coffee cup onto the center of the plate. "Ja, sometime."

"Mmm," Dorian murmured, taking a last swallow of coffee, himself, and dropping a couple of ones on the table. "I'm ready if you are."

"I'm ready -- time to test out my sighting skills," he uttered, rising to his feet and then starting out of the little booth in a rush of movement that was familiar for him. Only he barged right into someone just walking past, in his too-large blind spot.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" the man stuttered, shaking his head. "Wasn't looking where I was going!"

"I..." He backstepped, looking down to the man with his half-gaze. /Couldn't see him, standing right *there*./ Had his senses left him, too, for pinpointing the presences of people around him, or was it just the distraction of Dorian's conversation with him? "Sorry."

The fellow backed away quickly, heading on for the bathrooms, and Dorian smiled at Klaus. "Shall we?"

"Ja." An expression that had been wavering between vaguely pleased and flat turned grim, letting Dorian lead the way out the door, towards the car.

By the time they reached it, the keys were in Dorian's palm, and he unlocked Klaus's door first before moving to the other side and opening it to slide behind the wheel. "It's just down the street now, right?"

"Ja. Just down the street." /I'll still be able to hit the targets. No reason I shouldn't be able to.../ He was half dreading this, half fearing it -- what if he *couldn't* shoot any longer?

Silence reigned between them for a time as Dorian drove, hunting the small shooting range. It was fairly obvious when they found it, the sign proclaiming it to be exactly what it was, and so he pulled into a parking space in front of the store and cut off the engine. "Here we are," he said, the tension in the car rising steadily.

Tension that probably wouldn't abate until Klaus had shot out the ammo in his guns and the clips in his pocket. Seatbelt was undone, and Dorian's companion got out of the car, reaching to the small of his back to pull loose the pistol nestled there.

Swallowing hard, Dorian followed him. There was something incredibly *sexy* about Klaus when he had a gun in his hand, unbearably *hot*, especially considering the fact that Dorian *detested* guns. Still, even shivering slightly, he couldn't resist the other man, or the urge to follow him.

Perhaps it was that Klaus's guns were powerful, deadly, and he was masterful with them. They were an extension of already impressive strength, and they were well loved by Klaus himself. Nothing else in that man's life received such attention.

Klaus paused at the door, long enough to scan the outside of the place, and then stepped in.

The interior of the store was dark and cool, lit by fluorescent bulbs that ringed the area and buzzed slightly. Cases full of guns were highlighted carefully, each displayed by size and type, and in their own way, Dorian found their presentation a lovely thing. It was something about knowing Klaus, *loving* Klaus, that made him see the beauty in the things, even though he didn't like anything at all about them other than their gleam. The proprietor's voice caught his ear, and he looked up to see what was being said.

"These are my guns," Klaus was telling the man absently, putting his German army issued pistol and then pulling free of the shoulder holster the Magnum, to lay both on the counter in front of the man. The clips from his pocket followed, and then he dug into his pocket with his maimed hand to find his wallet and IDs.

"Got some pretty heavy firepower there, doncha," the man drawled slowly, picking the guns up to look at them. "Where'd ya get 'em?"

"Europe." An arrogant, stand-offish tone that Dorian had heard often when Klaus dealt with Mischa, or when Klaus dealt with People he didn't trust in general. "They're both mine; ah, and my ID." The only one he had, his NATO ID card.

"Mmmhmm." The man murmured, nodding his head slowly as he looked it over. "Got the right permits, I reckon. Still. Pretty heavy, 'f you ask me." Dorian could see the brown of the man's eyes as he peered up over the rims of his glasses at Klaus. "You going to be shooting left-handed, I take it."

The brace on *that* hand was suddenly too visible, but Klaus nodded as he took his ID back. "Of course." As if he could pull a trigger or grip a gun with his right hand.

"Well. I reckon it'll be fifteen dollars," came the drawl. "Stairs that'll take you down to the basement 're over in the corner. I take it your friend'll be goin', too."

The magnum was slid back into it's holster with a frightening sort of ease -- from the look in Klaus's eye, to who the ID card said he was, it was clear that people had died at the end of those guns. The pistol was picked up next, the clips slid away in his pocket again, then his wallet came out to pay the fifteen. "Yes, he will."

"You'll find earplugs and such at the bottom of the stairs. Put 'em in before you go through the door at the bottom," the man ordered, taking the money and promptly adding it to the till.

"Thank you," Dorian murmured as Klaus turned and headed towards the indicated stairwell, the slim blond following him.

At the bottom of the dimly lit stairs were earplugs and the more familiar muffling ear phones that slid on with ease. "I want you standing behind me, Dorian."

"Yes, Klaus." The agreement was meek, even as Dorian slid in plugs and slipped the ear phones over them, shivering slightly. "I won't go anywhere else," he said, though he couldn't hear himself, and Klaus probably didn't see him saying it, either. Still... it made him feel a bit better to have said it, and that was enough!

The hallway beyond that door held four corridors, widely spaced apart and brightly lit, targets set up already at the end. Klaus chose the most brightly lit one, and then unbuttoned his shirt-sleeve to take off the brace. He couldn't shoot with that on -- the gun wouldn't be held properly and there was too much risk of it pulling to one side or another.

Timidly enough, Dorian slipped up behind him, hands stuffed into h is pockets. /I won't jump,/ he promised himself as he watched Klaus lay the brace down. /I won't jump.../

He jumped.

It was just a muffled bang through the plugs and earphones, but it was satisfying for Klaus -- to pull the trigger, hear that long missed noise. The first bullet, that tore clean through the little bulb of clay set up on the top row, far left, that was a bullet he wanted to put through Mischa. The next was for that Stasi officer, the next his chief, and that sneering redhead, the fucking psychiatrists in the hospital...

He didn't notice he'd emptied all eight shots until he realized the muffled bang wasn't there anymore.

Behind him, Dorian cringed, hands up over the ear phones, eyes trained on those exploding bits of clay. There was no question about it -- Klaus was just as good as ever, and he still hated guns with a passion!

The first clip was flicked removed, and he jammed another in with speed, picking up where he'd been. Eight more shots, as accurate and angry as the first eight, and then he put the gun out of habit, still hot, against the small of his back after reloading it and putting the safety back on. It burned some, but only enough to redden through his shirt, not to actually hurt. He'd done that before, too. The magnum came next, and he realized he'd have to get a new holster so it would settle properly on his right side.

Gnawing his lip, Dorian let out a shaky breath. Now... it was time to see what Klaus could still do.

He'd brought an extra clip for it so it wouldn't be left unloaded when he was finished, even if he could no longer use it. Hesitance, Klaus knew, would be his enemy, so he brought the weapon up, safety off, sighted carefully and quickly at a clay bulb to the right, before pulling the trigger.

It shattered.

Seven more times, with the same elating result.

He still had it. He was *still* Iron Klaus, even if he wasn't Major Eberbach any longer.

When all the shots were fired, he just lowered the gun, standing there, not yet willing to take it out of his hand. He had to get a new holster, a box of bullets for each weapon. He wasn't completely useless, apparently. Perhaps he could do sharp-shooting for someone, or...

Or.

The feel of Dorian touching him caught his attention, the other man's trembling hand holding tightly to him for a moment, almost fearful. The need for Klaus was desperate, and the sudden fear that perhaps the other man had discovered he was still who he had been before and would no longer be willing to put up with him was terrible!

Klaus took off the head-phones first, not having bothered with ear plugs; then he slid an arm around Dorian's waist, keeping him close. "I'm still Iron Klaus."

There was no response from Dorian; his ear plugs and headphones were still firmly in place. Instead, there was only the tight grasp of arms wrapped about him, holding him close, and the feel of the blond man trembling against him. /What if.../

If it was fear of the guns that made Dorian tremble, or something else, Klaus couldn't tell. But he just held the man, finally pulling off the headphones, letting them drop to the floor. "Dorian."

The green foam earplugs didn't muffle the sound of his name, quite, so blue eyes came up to look at Klaus, Dorian's arms still tight around him. "Yes?" he whispered unsteadily.

Klaus was smiling as he looked at Dorian -- an expression that reached his eyes. Still terribly, hopelessly lost, but not so achingly empty. There was at least something left to him that Klaus could personally be proud of. The incident with the Stasi hadn't shattered him completely. "Are you all right?" Klaus asked, smile that same victorious baring of teeth as he'd seen a few times before.

"Yes," was the answer, quietly spoken, arms coming up to wrap around Klaus's neck. "I told you," he whispered. "I told you..."

"I need to let my left hand finish healing; and then I'm going to fine tune it." He still needed to work on speed. But accuracy... just as perfect as before. "I can do *this*."

"You can do *anything*," Dorian told him worshipfully as the door from the stairs opened slowly.

"'S everything all... Holy Jesus!" the man from upstairs declared, eyes wide. "Well. I reckon nobody's dead..." he muttered to himself.

"Everything is fine." Klaus' tone was sure, sharp and heavily accented as he shifted away from Dorian enough space to slide his gun back into the holster. "Is there any place around here where I can buy more bullets? And a new holster." The one he wore was obviously for right-handed, which he also obviously wasn't anymore.

"Got some things upstairs y'might like," the man drawled, dark eyes still wide. "Might want to look at 'em before you go."

"Gut." He finally did pull away to pick up the brace for his left hand, watching Dorian absently as the blond man removed his ear-plugs.

"All done, then." That was said with more than a little relief, and Dorian smiled at him.

"Yes. I think I'll come here a few times once my arm is healed more, then I can just go out and shoot in the woods." He buttoned the cuff in place, not even bothering to suppress his smile. "I knew I could sight with the left if I had to, I'd just never checked to see if it was as good..."

"I never had any doubts," Dorian told him solemnly, nodding. "Never."

/I did./ But there wasn't a need for them. He could still *shoot*, still kill... "When we go back to Europe, Dorian, shall we vacation in east germany for a few days?"

"You want to go back?" was the startled reply before Dorian saw the decided *gleam* in that green-grey eye. "Yes," he said slowly, nodding. "Yes. I think so..."

"Once everything has healed." And with that, Klaus started up the steps, waiting a moment for Dorian to follow.

Klaus had a new goal to work towards.

That, of course, meant time, planning and a lack of moping, which was an entirely good thing! Unless, of course, time, planning and a lack of moping meant that there would be less of Klaus near him, in which case, it wouldn't be good at all. /He'll get tired of me now that he knows he can be himself again. It won't be long. I should just face up to it and work on it before he goes away.../

"We need to get a map while we're out," Klaus started to tell him, as they reached the top, "And I need to make a few calls. Do you want to help me on this, Dorian?"

"I want to be beside you every step of the way." It was the only answer Dorian *could* give, and it was one he meant most firmly.

"[Best back-up I've ever had, Dorian.]" He nodded to the shop-owner. "You said you had holsters?"

By that point, the man was just a little wary of *both* of them, particularly at the swell of pride that appeared on the other man's face when the first spoke those foreign words. They didn't seem too sane, if anybody had asked him! /Buggers at NATO are probably *all* crazy.../ "Yep," he drawled slowly. "Right over in the corner there. Look all y'like."

Klaus not only looked at the shelf, but he picked them up, tested the leather's strength, and the sizes of them. When he'd narrowed it to two he realized one was set on the right. One choice less, so he carefully slid off his old holster, and handed it to Dorian. "If the Magnum fits in this one, I'll get it," he informed the shop-owner.

"All right, then," the man agreed, still watching both of them as if they were rattlers across from him.

First he put it on, adjusting it with all of the familiarity of a man who was a professional about such things. If felt awkward, but fit properly. He'd just have to get used to being left handed when it came to his weapons. Then the test -- would his Magnum... Yes. "This, then, and a box of bullets for each gun."

Wordlessly, the man behind the counter fetched the things Klaus wanted and rang them up. "Sixty-three-seventeen."

Paid for in cash -- more suspiciousness from the pair. Cash was damn hard to trace...

Klaus had taken his old holster from Dorian, looking at it almost fondly. "I should send it to Z."

"He'd appreciate it," Dorian agreed quietly. "Z worships you, you know."

"Worships?" Klaus asked, taking the bag from the shop-owner and turning smoothly towards the door.

"The very ground you walk on," Dorian informed him. "You've never noticed?"

"Not really," Klaus said truthfully. "He was always a loyal agent..." A good man that he missed not working with anymore. "He was respectful."

That brought a smile to the blond thief's face, thoughtful, his brow knitting. "Most of your men tried very hard to be."

"Huh." Well, there wasn't anything he could do about that fact *now*; he wasn't an agent any longer, wasn't anything. But the line between Dorian's brows... "What's wrong?" he asked, moving to the driver's side to unlock the doors of the car with the keys Dorian had given him.

"Now that you know you can...can do what you did before..." Dorian gnawed at his lower lip. "I suppose I'm just wondering how long it will be before you get tired of pandering to me," he whispered.

Quiet, and Klaus leaned against the top of the car's roof. "I've been wondering how long it would take you to realize that's all I am and leave."

Startled, Dorian looked across at him, eyes going wide. "I wouldn't. I couldn't. Ever. Good God, Klaus! You... You mean so much to me. I would *die* for you. I would die *without* you. I couldn't... CAN'T... Ever..."

"It's only a matter of days more before my father disowns me; I don't have a rank any longer, a job, a family, or a point in life," Klaus rattled off, the confidence to *tell* Dorian everything coming only from the fact that he could still shoot well.

"None of that," Dorian told him firmly, "has *EVER* mattered to me. I love you. I can't live without you. If I could, d'you think I'd have followed you all over the world and back for the last ten years? On my thirtieth birthday, we were holed up in a slum getting shot at, and I never once thought about where I *could* be because I was with you and nothing could *ever* have been better than that. Do you think any of that could ever matter to me?"

"I'm nothing," he murmured, sliding into the driver's seat, waiting for Dorian to get into the car too. He didn't speak until the passenger door was open. "There's nothing *to* me, Dorian. You have... fascinating aspects to you."

"There's *everything* to you," Dorian disagreed as he shut the door and slid on his seatbelt. "There's your sense of humor and rare smiles, there's the way you're so damned protective and your sense of ultimate justice. There are so many things, and I see more and more of them every day! There's *everything* to you, Klaus!"

Klaus just couldn't see any of it -- only that he had Dorian's companionship and the added bonus of still being able to shoot well. "I keep thinking you'll see you're wrong."

"I know that I'm right," came the firm words in return. "And somehow, I'll figure out how to let you see it, too."

/Just like he'll prove that I'm not as sick as the Stasi./ "Fine. Do you want to go find a bookstore?"

"Please," Dorian replied solemnly. "Klaus?"

"Ja?"

"I will never get tired of you. And I will *never* leave you."

Klaus didn't look over at him as he pulled out of the driving range's parking lot. Didn't care to -- but from his profile, the side with the plain black patch over his eye, Dorian could see a hundred things flit over his expression. /You can't leave me. Ever./ "All right."

With a sigh that sounded audibly of relief, Dorian leaned back and closed his eyes. "I just... needed you to know," he murmured. "Even if *you* leave *me*. I won't ever willingly go away from you..." /Not until you leave me, and then, I'll die.../

Common sense was telling Klaus they needed to get help -- that this was sick, and unhealthy. But help from whom? A doctor? Klaus's common sense could also, Klaus consciously noted, get fucked. "Neither of us is leaving the other. Okay. Do you want me to help you look for anything at the bookstore?"

"I was thinking of looking up some things on r..." He stuttered on the word. "You know. And maybe something fun to read, too."

"I don't know. 'r'?" Klaus asked seriously. If English was his native tongue, perhaps he'd have known.

"Rape." The word seemed to shiver off of Dorian's tongue, his face paling slightly and then flushing heatedly. "I thought, maybe..." His voice trailed off into silence.

"Maybe?" /Why would you want to *read* about it, Dorian?/

"Maybe there would be something that would... I don't know. Something that would make it.... easier to comprehend. Easier to live with. Less something to..." He didn't know.

"Oh." Dorian was wanting to think about it, wanting to... try to get help, in his own way. Klaus wasn't about to stop that -- he wanted to help Dorian, but he *also* wanted to forget as best he could that anything had ever happened to *him*. It was hard to watch over Dorian and be aware that they'd both been hurt. "I'll help you look, if you want."

"I'd appreciate that," the tall blond said quietly.

"If..." Klaus stated to try to say something, but it faltered and he just drove for a minute or so in silence. "If I can do anything, Dorian..."

"Thank you." The scenery outside was moving past, and Dorian was fairly well missing out on most of it. Even if they'd passed a bookstore, he wouldn't have known. "You've been wonderful for me, Klaus."

/I'm not, though./ "Just tell me what I can do." The town was still thin, though things seemed to appear more frequently as they passed from Lanesborough to Pittsfeild.

"Hold me," Dorian answered quietly. "Stay close to me. And don't let me go..."

"I wouldn't want to." He turned onto Main Street when it appeared, and they found themselves on the outskirts of a small downtown.

"I think I see one," came the murmured remark, Dorian pointing to the right side of the street. "There."

Klaus eyed the shop-front that was fast approaching, and then pulled into one of the many parking spots along the street. "Do you have change for the meter?" He knew he did, but trying to find it in his pockets...

"Yeah," Dorian agreed quietly, digging in his own pocket to tug out quarters. "I do."

"Shouldn't take us more than... an hour?" Klaus questioned, waiting until a car driving by has passed before he got out, locked the door,and then walked around to the front of the vehicle where he was safe from being hit.

"I don't think so..." After all, it didn't look like it was too big. He wasn't sure he'd find anything he wanted in there!

Klaus wasn't sure anything Dorian was looking for even existed, but he wasn't going to say that. "Fifty cents, then," he said, walking towards it to see if it was *normal* or not. It was then that Dorian realized the pistol was still clearly tucked in place against the small of Klaus's back, the handle and part of the trigger jutting above Klaus's waist-band.

"Um... Klaus..." he said tentatively, change in hand. "Are you sure that you should take that inside?"

"Take what inside?"

"The gun," Dorian said softly, nodding towards him.

"The..." Klaus realized then that he was still armed to his teeth. A moment spent to backtrack, opening the passenger side door, and putting his empty clips and the pistol under the seat. But the shoulder holster stayed in place. "I didn't notice."

Dorian only smiled at him, though, tilting his head to the side slightly. "I just didn't think they'd let us in, or they'd call the police or something."

"Yanks," Klaus sighed, shaking his head as he re-locked the car, watching Dorian put the money into the meter. Hopefully they wouldn't even spend that long in the bookstore.

Hands once again in his pockets, Dorian strolled towards the store and pushed open the door, stepping inside. It was actually a large store, though it was crammed to brimming with used books, to the point where he *felt* small.

"Hello there -- can I help you?"

"Umm..." Pale skin flushed, turning Dorian's scars livid even as he felt Klaus come up behind him. "Could you direct me to..." To what? /To your section on rape and abuse? Ha.../ "To your help section? For trauma and the like?" he murmured.

The *look* the man was getting from Klaus, daring the book-seller to say a *thing*... He shivered, trying to smile at them both. "We don't really have much of a help section, sir," he said, trying to not stare at either man too much. "But if you want to look at it, just follow me..."

"Thank you," Dorian said, becoming less tense as he followed along behind the man. /Well... at the very least, he might know if there's another bookstore in town.../

"What kind of help books are you looking for? The first aid/Trauma section is right here...." It was on a base at the back of the room, the lower shelf of a set of dust-covered shelves.

"Ah...." The mere THOUGHT of trying to express what had happened to them broke Dorian out in a cold sweat. "Um... well... I don't know..."

"Books on... psychological help," Klaus said for Dorian. "For Trauma."

"Yes," Dorian agreed quickly. "That."

The bookstore owner looked back at both of them for a moment, taking in the two of them. One looked wispy, and had that warm deep British accent that MUST have dragged women to him... but from the way he was dressed and the long hair, he was gay. And the man behind him, frightening with the patch over his eye, the grim expression, military build and shoulder holster...

"I really don't know what you mean -- I'm sorry."

"Oh, well, maybe we can just look a bit?" Dorian suggested, a hand coming up to cup a cheek, hide his face.

It was a little late, though, since the man had already been trying to not stare. "Well. If you two need anything, just shout, okay?" And then he moved around them, headed towards the front of the store again.

It was a relief for the man to be gone, but Dorian knew he wouldn't be able to look at a thing, much less *buy* anything about what he wanted. "Maybe there's another store in town..." he suggested, biting his lower lip.

"We can ask," Klaus murmured, crouching down to look at the shelf that had been pointed out to them, and then the shelves above them. Help with sex lives, love lives, first aid, self esteem...

Nothing on rape or violent sexual trauma, nothing on torture of any sort. Nothing that looked even remotely helpful, in fact, resided on those shelves, which made Dorian sigh. "Maybe there's something in fiction we can pick up," he suggested, shaking his head and then sneezing. "Oh, God, at the dust!"

Klaus rubbed at his nose, backing up. "What kind of fiction do you read?"

"Ohh... this and that," Dorian answered. "Whatever sounds good to me at the time. I like mystery novels..." He was also rather fond of Gothic novels, as well, and he supposed he'd like romance novels if only there weren't women in them!!

"We can ask where those are," Klaus murmured, rising to his feet and nearly backing into a shelf behind him. "Then I'll find out where another store is."

"All right." That was said with a grateful sigh, Dorian brushing at his slacks. "Goodness. I've got dust all over me now," he fretted, frowning. "I don't know if I WANT to find anything else..."

"Maybe we can look in the other store if there is one." Everything there was used, anyway -- pages missing probably, spines already broken in. "We'll... look for those books first."

"All right," Dorian agreed with a sigh, shivering. "There're probably spiders in here, God knows, and if I don't HAVE to deal with them, I'd just as soon not."

"Funny the KGB never seemed to scare you, but spiders..." Klaus smiled for a moment, until they neared the store's owner again. "Are there any other bookstores in this area?"

"Uhm..." the man looked at them again, and nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, try 'Either Or' bookstore. There's a building a block down, and it's inside on the second floor. The bank's there, too."

"Thank you," Dorian said, promptly heading for the front door -- he wanted to get out before any MORE dust attacked him!

And Klaus followed as if... almost like a body guard would. How odd.

"We can walk down there, ja?"

"Why not?" came the question by way of agreement, Dorian smiling at him. "That sounds like a marvelous idea."

"Mm." And he wanted to get a map, too -- that stayed in the back of his mind, along with maybe getting a novel to read. "Big building..." A look up the street, and then down it revealed one such building, framed in black steel, on their side of the street, down it. "There. Let's go."

Keeping up with Klaus proved to be its usual interesting pace. Even with legs just as long as the other man's, Dorian somehow always felt that he was scurrying, and the sudden imagine of poor short little James running away from him (or trying to!) came to mind. /Hmmm, running from Klaus. Bad idea,/ he decided, amused as they came to the door of the building. "Second floor?"

But it wasn't hard to figure that out, as opening the darkly tinted door took them right away into a warmly lit space, with tinted skylights and trees growing indoors. A sealed in court-yard of sorts, with shops off of it, and a metal stair-case winding up to the visible store-front of Either Or. "Seems so."

"Marvelous," Dorian said with a sigh. "This looks like at least we won't get dirty searching through things!"

"This town is such an odd mixture of old and new," the German murmured, walking forwards towards that twisting staircase.

"At least it'll make it interesting to explore," came the suggestion, Dorian heading right behind him as Klaus began to take the steps at what would have been a run to most people. "So we'll have plenty to do!"

Klaus very much doubted that he'd be *able* to feel boredom with Dorian there with him. "True. If we do run out of things to do, we can always keep ourselves busy." He stopped in front of the glass door, looking at the tightly packed, but neatly organized and clean store.

"Oh! They have little signs to tell you where everything is!" The relief coming off of the British thief was nearly palpable at the thought of *not* having to ask anyone where something was. "Marvelous!"

"Gut." Stepping in, Klaus was nearly at once accosted by a smiling young girl.

"Hello -- may I help you?"

"Ach, no, we're looking," he startled, forging in through the doorway only because the girl reminded him of G.

"Everything looks like it'll be easy to find," Dorian said with a nod, smiling and stepping closer to Klaus. Women really gave him the creeps, most of the time!

"Ja." Klaus started towards the fiction section at first, before looking at Dorian for verification of that.

That seemed to be fine with the other man because Dorian was close behind him, eyes already locked on the little signs directing them where to go. "Ohh, there are the mysteries, but let's check the new fiction first?" he almost asked, smiling.

"All right." He wasn't partial either way -- just keeping his eye open for anything that would catch his interest even a little. He looked to the woman on shift as if he were just along for the ride.

It gained him a smile from her and a nod as she went back to sorting books at the front desk, occasionally answering questions as patrons wandered up front looking for something or to check out. Her non-threatening demeanor meant that Klaus could relax somewhat, which meant in turn that Dorian could, as well, his eyes glancing along the rows of books thoughtfully. "Ohhh. That looks good," Dorian murmured, reaching out to pick up a novel off of the shelf -- _Windmills of the Gods_.

"Huh." Noncommittal, Klaus letting his eyes scan the shelves for a moment. No, nothing in particular caught his gaze. "I'm going to walk around a little and see if I find something."

"All right," Dorian agreed, holding his book and smiling. "Just... I'll probably find you shortly." Because he couldn't stand for Klaus to be gone long!

Klaus wandered off through the aisles, and once he was gone another sales girl came near Dorian, smiling. "Have you read anything else by Sidney Sheldon?"

"Not really," Dorian admitted with a smile. "But I like mysteries, and thrillers, so I think perhaps it won't be too bad. Do you have any other suggestions?"

"Do you like bloody mysteries, or the more... plot-ish character based ones?" she asked him politely.

"Plot-ish," Dorian decided with a nod, "though blood really doesn't bother me much." After ten years with Klaus, blood had *better* not bother him much!

"There's one that's... it's good, and I can't remember the writer off the top of my head..." She started to lead him towards the mysteries. "There's a murderer on the loose who's raping and killing young women. Very intense."

At the mention of rape, Dorian shuddered. "Actually, I'd just as soon avoid anything violent of a sexual nature," he said in a low voice, humming with tension. "I'm afraid that doesn't suit me at all..." A shiver crept down his spine and he peered about for Klaus.

Klaus was nowhere in sight, though he'd be easy enough to find when Dorian went looking. "Hmn... well, how about something by P.G Wodehouse? They're funny suspense and mystery," she recommended, tapping the spines of a few. "Wooster and Jeeves -- it's a very good read."

"That sounds *marvelous*," Dorian sighed. It also sounded as if there were no women in it, or at least, not the sort who would be aggravating main characters, and *that* pleased him. "And do you have any books on trauma? Er, loss of limb, that sort of thing? Violence? Ah, in the help section, perhaps?" It was so much easier to ask someone who wasn't looking at him as if there was something wrong with him!

That question, when paired with his reaction to her first recommendation, made a swell of sense to her. "Actually, I believe I might..."

"I would so appreciate your help," he replied calmly, trying not to feel completely and utterly *pathetic* for having to look for such a thing at all! "Thank you."

"There's a small section over here," she murmured, taking him to a discreet corner of the 'self help/humanities' section -- books of all sorts, some on trauma, rape, torture and its effects on the human mind. "Not many, but occasionally we have someone come in here looking for something."

"Thank you *so* much*," Dorian said gratefully, face flaming with color. "I appreciate it." And if she'd just go away, he'd appreciate it even more!

"You're welcome," she told him with a short nod, and then started to leave -- for a moment. "The, ah... dark haired man with the patch is... with you? He's wandered over into the uhm... younger section of the store, if you're looking for him." With an armful of deep, dry military history books, which probably disturbed her more than the patch.

"Thank you," he said again, looking around for Klaus. "That will help me find him later!" Klaus's affinity for children's books was sweet, and it made him smile. /I've made good choices in giving things to him,/ he decided.

He wasn't in view of that quick glance around, so Dorian was left to finish going through that little section. A few books caught is eyes, and given how little they knew apart from the actual physical injuries, anything would do! /Hm... _The Second Assault_.../ Well, that was one he would choose for himself. For Klaus.... /_The Body in Pain_. Ohh, that looks interesting. I wonder if he would read it?/ Carefully, he seated himself on the floor to go through them further. /_Rape Crisis Intervention_... _Images of Trauma_..../

Anything that could help either of them; he didn't want to talk about, or even think about what had happened to him, and Klaus was still denying anything was wrong. But it was in his dreams, clear and sharply stabbing at him, and if he didn't do *something*...

"Dorian?"

"Hm? Klaus!" The sound of that voice made his face light up, the books stacked around him gathered quickly. "I found lots of things," he said, looking up at the other man. "What did you find?"

"A few things. Some non-fiction, a couple of fiction." Three books about Prussia's wars of conquest, _The Magician's Nephew_ and _The Dragon and the George_. "You?"

"These," Dorian said, holding them out spine up so that Klaus could look at them. "I wasn't sure. They all seemed applicable!"

The titles of all four made Klaus wince inwardly. "I guess they are."

"Do you think it's all right?" came the tentative question, as if Dorian sensed that internal discomfort. "I mean, I can not get all of them at once, we could come back later, or..."

"Get them," he shrugged. "We'll look at them; we have a month here. Did you get anything to read for... enjoyment?"

"Oh, yes! There was the Sheldon novel I picked up when we came in and the salesgirl gave me a couple of books about some Jeeves," Dorian replied. "It sounded like it would be quite good..."

"Then we'll go check out -- I'm paying for them all. Come on." He wouldn't pay in cash this time, but travelers check -- that way he'd end up with change back. The longer he could avoid a bank, the longer he could remain ignorant as to if his father had disowned him. Two accounts would become one and that would be that.

Agreement was easily gained as Dorian stood, books gathered in his arms, and followed after Klaus to the end of the aisle and up to the front counter. "Here," he said calmly, putting his books next to Klaus's as they were placed on the counter.

It was the girl who'd first jumped them when they came in, giving them both a quizzical look -- first them, then the *odd* assortment of books there. Books on rape and trauma, paired with mystery books, history books, a science fiction novel and a children's book. "Is... that all, sirs?"

"Yes," Dorian answered with a firm nod. "It is."

"Okay." She smiled again, nervously, and started to ring in the books. While she did that, Klaus was pulling out a hundred dollar traveller's cheque, signing the back of it; he was fairly sure that their books would go over it, but best to only sign on one to start with.

Nervously, Dorian glanced around as she worked on the books, eyes roaming over the store. /I wish.../ He wished that people didn't stare at them. That was what he wished, he decided, sighing slightly as he saw a small child not far away looking at them with wide eyes. /Damn./

They made quite a pair -- the symmetrical marks on his beautiful face were striking, and Klaus's cold sternness was only highlighted by his maimed hand and missing eye. Once, Dorian had loved to have people stare at him, because they were admiring his beauty. Now...

Now, it was a distinctly horrible feeling, one that shamed him to the core of his bones. /I just wish no one would *look* at me.../

"That'll be $117.94," the girl said timidly.

The cheque was handed to her, and then Klaus pulled a twenty from his pocket. "We'll have to go to a bank after this, Dorian."

"All right. I think there's one just downstairs, isn't there...?" he asked the girl behind the desk.

"Yes, sir!" she answered, nodding as she made change for Klaus. "Just down the stairs. I'm sure you'll see it once you're down there!"

"Gut. Thank you." Klaus took the two sturdy paper-handled bags from the girl, then realized he didn't have the grip to hold one in his right.

It didn't matter, though, because Dorian took it lightly without being obvious, his hand momentarily pressed to Klaus's before the bag could drop to the floor. "I can tote something," he protested lightly.

The look Klaus gave him as they left the store was a slightly grateful one, right hand slipping into his pocket where it could at least be useless and inconspicuous. "I'm going to change more Deustchmarks to American dollars, when we're in the bank."

"That sounds like a marvelous idea," Dorian said lightly. "I suspect James will be sending money shortly, but he'll let me know when he does, so."

"It isn't a problem if he doesn't." Klaus had more than enough, from years of living inexpensively -- except for his weapons -- and having saved most of his pay. Which was a blessing, since he would soon be cut from his money through the family.

"All right," Dorian told him simply. He knew that Klaus was worried about what his family would do and believed that he'd be disowned shortly.... /Well. He knows them better than I do,/ he thought with a little sigh. It wasn't as if Dorian wasn't familiar with disapproving families... After all, his own mother had abandoned him and taken his sisters with her!

The bank was actually a branch bank, where Klaus changed his money for a small charge. Quickly, glaring at the teller who was trying to not stare at he and Dorian. Not even a curt 'thank you' left him as he left the teller, headed towards the exit. "Anywhere else, Dorian?"

"Oh, I don't know.... What time is it? We could always get something to eat to take back to the house, or we could try cooking..." 'Try' being the operative word.

"Hmn..." He glanced to his wrist-watch, and realized it was *still* before noon. "We can get lunch here -- let's take the books back to the car, and I'll put more money in the meter."

Acquiescence came in the form of Dorian following him out of the room and towards the car, the other man quiet behind him. "I..." He sighed, shaking his head as they walked down the street. "I don't think I'll want to come out very often," he decided. "I really don't like being stared at..." Even though he'd loved it, before....

"You could..." Klaus slowed his pace a little, out of consideration, so Dorian could walk beside him. "Makeup. It would cover easily, I think."

That gained him a slight smile, Dorian shifting closer to him. "Maybe," he said, though he wasn't sure he intended to try. It was one thing when in disguise as a woman, but... as a man??

"You shouldn't be... embarrassed, Dorian," Klaus told him, pulling car-keys free to unlock the trunk and put the bags there.

A sigh drifted from the blond man as he leaned a hip against the car, slipping his bag into the trunk once it had been opened. "I just don't...." He paused, shrugging. "I used to want attention, I suppose. To be looked at, admired. Now... it's just so different. Now, it makes me uncomfortable. I'm not sure makeup of any sort would change that..."

"The marks make you look... more distinctive than ever." /Gained in the service of a country and cause you don't even believe in; you took that job... why? To be with me? Near me?/ Klaus stood there, hands atop the trunk long moments after he'd closed and re-locked it. "Why would it make you uncomfortable?"

"Because they aren't looking at *me*," Dorian explained quietly. "They're looking at what's happened to me, and maybe they're judging me or pitying me because of it, and I hate that."

/You're marked like that because of me./ "If you covered them, no one would even notice." A shift, left hand still atop the trunk, right disappearing into his pocket as he stood in front of Dorian, almost casual. "I don't want us to live in a bubble."

"Yes, Klaus." After all, what else could he say? He knew that Klaus was right... just... He sighed. A morning in public was just not making him happy, he supposed. "Let's go find somewhere to eat?"

"Sure. There has to be some place..." He turned slowly, eyes taking in what he could, and finally seeing on the other side of the street, the corner where another cut into Main, a sign and awnings. "'Friendly's'?" Dorian was asked, as if Klaus expected him to be more knowledgeable of American restaurants than he was.

A shrug was the answer, Dorian shaking his head. "Might as well. With any luck, it'll live up to its name, hm??"

"Ja." Klaus was trying, now, to cheer Dorian up. His own mood was often quickly dismissed in favor of tending to Dorian's. "Come on -- is there anything you want to eat?" /Something with cherries, perhaps... and when we get back to the house.../ He wasn't going to go tromping through the woods. Tomorrow for that; today he'd see what they could manage in the way of keeping eachother busy. Read some, burn dinner perhaps.

"Let's see what they have," Dorian murmured, smiling at him slightly. /And Klaus doesn't understand why I think he's so wonderful.../

The german lead the way to the cross-walk, waited for the light to turn red on the way they were crossing, and then strode across it with Dorian beside him. Traffic was light, even for lunch-time in a small 'downtown' area. "What do you want to do when we get back to the house?" /Anything./

"I don't know," was the admission. "Maybe we could read for a while, or go for a walk. Whatever makes you happy." A nap wouldn't be misplaced, either -- Dorian could have slept at least another hour that morning!

"Reading for a while would be good for me." His pace down the street was slower now, an almost leisurely pace that helped relax both himself and Dorian. "'Whatever makes me happy' isn't an acceptable answer, though."

"Why not?" Dorian asked. "You try to make me happy, don't you? Why can't it be?"

"Because I don't know what that would be." He told Dorian that with far less struggle than he'd expected to have with himself to admit that. What made him *happy* was an impossibility, NATO far from his reach, the missions that went with it... duty, service, the satisfaction of a good mission, success, victory... and beyond that, his guns, watching the news, reading the paper, exercising. Very dull.

"Then we'll have to find out," Dorian decided. "Maybe we can play the game I got you when we go home. That could be fun..."

"And burn supper." If supper really failed, they had cold steaks from the night before that they could still eat. From his pocket Klaus procured his lighter and a cigarette, offering it to Dorian. "We won't come back out again, I don't think; not today."

/That's a relief,/ Dorian thought, taking it from him and drawing in a deep lungful of smoke. Hmmm, he was only an occasional smoker, but sometimes... sometimes, that was *just* what one needed!! "Sounds like a plan," he agreed, stopping outside of the restaurant.

Klaus was a hellacious smoker on the other hand, and quickly drew one for himself from that pack, and lit it between cupped hands before he opened the restaurant's door.

Within was a clean-feeling, brightly lit place that was *chill*, and had ice cream freezers on either side of the entrance.

"Hello -- welcome to Friendly's!" an older woman greeted with a smile. "I'm your server today, and my name is Belle -- two for smoking?"

"Yes, thanks," Dorian told her, and they were quickly shown to a table on the other side of the restaurant, where a slight haze of smoke existed. /Klaus should like this!/

It wasn't a table so much as a two-seater booth, the padding comfortable to sit on, stuck in a corner. There were other people there, eating their meals, chatting amiably. Belle slid a menu in front of each of them. "Do you want to order something to drink?"

"Ahh.... Water, please? And coffee?" Dorian requested, uncertain about American drinks on the whole. He had no desire for a soft drink, and anything else was just iffy!

Klaus nodded in agreement to that, picking up the gaily colored menu and starting to read over it. It seemed all rather senseless -- desserts and the like, a lot of ice-cream -- until he realized he was reading the wrong side.

"Hmmmm. I wonder what's good?" Dorian said thoughtfully, peering at his own menu.

There were a lot of different kinds of sandwiches, burgers and odd names for seemingly normal foods. /Stupid Yanks./ Klaus looked over it a few times before he decided he'd get a basket of chicken strips, and set down his menu. Dorian was still looking at his, so it gave the German a chance to look at the Earl's face.

The lines weren't so bad as they could have been. Flat, straight traces of red and paler skin. It was the deliberateness of their placing that probably drew the stares...

But when Klaus looked at him, it wasn't staring. It was a study, of blond hair, the remarkable blue eyes that were down-cast just then, and Dorian's beautiful face.

"Klaus?" It was questioning, soft, Dorian smiling at him. He'd been caught looking at the other man, and now Dorian was surely wondering why! He didn't ask, though, only said, "Do you know what you'd like?"

"Ja; I'm getting chicken," he replied, looking away after having been caught. "You?"

"I think I agree with you," was the answer, the menu placed lightly on the table. "Chicken it is!"

"You just didn't want to decide!" Klaus accused, though his tone was light, almost chuckled.

"Caught!" Dorian declared, winking at him almost flirtatiously -- one of the first times in forever Dorian had seemed *himself*, and each of those moments Klaus carefully tucked away for remembering later. "I confess, but to no more than that!"

"The next time we go to a restaurant should I order something you won't like, so you'll have to decide?" Klaus asked him dryly, his own mood seeming to lift in response to seeing Dorian smile the way he *used* to.

"I might try it just to see if my tastes have changed," teased the response, Dorian tucking loose curls back behind an ear and sighing slightly. It was a happy sound, mostly, as if being there alone with Klaus was making him feel better already.

"So you like chicken?" Klaus asked his, looking up as the waitress arrived again, water and coffee in hand for each of them. It didn't give the German much time to contemplate the fact that he didn't seem to know much about Dorian at all.

"Would you two like to order now?"

"We'll have the chicken, here," Dorian told her with a smile. "With fried potatoes." He wasn't about to call them chips or french fries -- Klaus seemed offended by that!!

"Two baskets of chicken, fries... will you be having dessert?"

"Let me think about it," was the reply, because he knew that Klaus wouldn't want any. Still... he should ask. "Klaus?"

"None. But if you want something..."

"No," was the decision. "There are cherries at home."

"None then," Klaus told the waitress, watching her nod, smile and then leave.