[MO-Luds] A Taste of Happiness || Gilbert, Ludwig

[Alfred F. Jones]

it's a

revolution

Word count: 794

Tags: (see below)

Notes: Gilbert Beilschmidt, Ludwig A. Beilschmidt

Alfred didn't invite company over frequently, and for good reason too. He made some friends, sure, but none who were all too close or those he could legitimately have over without risks. Even now, with Gilbert riding up the elevator with him, Alfred was still having his doubts.

Part of him thought they should have met elsewhere, except then the reunion would be short and restrained and Alfred wasn't interested in Ludwig and Gilbert having to go through anything similar to him and Mattie.

And he did trust Gilbert. At least, he trusted him as much as Alfred could trust anyone after only meeting them once.

He had arranged for this meeting just two days after they'd met. Time was of the essence—though not to the point where Alfred would have taken Gilbert to his apartment the day of. That was too risky. And, unashamedly, Alfred had wanted time to run a background check.

All this he had done without Ludwig knowing. Alfred had decided that he would tell Ludwig he was FF...though not now. Not yet. Perhaps after this meeting.

Gilbert and Alfred didn't talk much on the way over. Alfred hadn't even given Gilbert his address technically, instead meeting him a little aways (similar to when he'd picked up Ludwig) and then walking him over. Not because he was paranoid...but because he was paranoid.

Alfred hadn't told Ludwig of the meeting either, instead saying that he would have company over, someone that Alfred would like Ludwig to meet. Alfred briefly wondered if Ludwig still thought that Alfred wanted him for a job. He certainly hadn't treated the mutant that way, but Ludwig could be so quiet sometimes that it was difficult to know what he thought. Perhaps Ludwig thought he was finally going to figure out why Alfred had bought him out of the Underground or what Alfred really wanted him to do.

Although it hadn't been his original motivation, Alfred did think that bringing Gilbert and Ludwig together would be the perfect lead in to telling Ludwig about the Freedom Fighters. If there was anything that Grigory and Alfred agreed on, it was that they needed allies, both inside and outside the Underground. They needed to change minds. Alfred didn't think it could be done without action (real action. Like, directly challenging the government action, because there were no higher up officials to change minds and the people were too scared to stand up), Grigory thought that there was still a chance it could be done more peacefully...but that didn't matter. They both knew they needed more people.

Gilbert was one of those people. Alfred had double checked the information Gilbert had provided and it was true that Gilbert had a degree of influence. Alfred thought briefly about the plan that Gilbert had proposed, the factory. It was a good idea. Whether reasonable or not...though it was true that the mutants did end up sitting in their cells most of the day. Perhaps, just perhaps, the government would be willing to use them as a labor force and if Gilbert had some influence over how it panned out, it could result in a much better quality of life. Certainly it wasn't completely out of the question...

The elevator door dinged and Alfred glanced upwards. They were here.

He stepped out of the elevator easily, giving Gilbert an encouraging smile. Alfred wondered how nervous the albino was. It had been years since he'd last seen his brother after all. Alfred hadn't known nervousness, only fear, but that was a different matter.

Today was a day for Gilbert and Ludwig and Alfred would be damned if he didn't make sure they got the best out of it.

He would let them have their alone time. Give them some space and leave the apartment for an hour. Alfred trusted Ludwig enough to make sure his brother didn't get into too much trouble. Hopefully Ludwig could keep Gilbert from trashing the apartment, though one never knew...

Afterwards, well...whatever happened happened. They could go out together (though Alfred would probably feel like a third wheel) and do something normal. Alfred would have preferred if Ludwig and Gilbert did it themselves, but that might land all of them in trouble if they got caught. Would it be dangerous for Ludwig and Gilbert to be seen together? Perhaps it would, knowing Gilbert's position. Having a mutant brother could jeopardize how the public viewed him...

That could be fussed over later. For now, the most important part was getting the two brothers together.

"Ready?" Alfred asked Gilbert. Without waiting for an answer, Alfred unlocked the door and pushed it open.

"Ludwig!" Alfred called. "I'm back! There's someone here I'd like you to meet!"

i suppose

by Worldie for Leia

[Gilbert Beilschmidt]

It was finally happening. Finally after all this time… Gilbert swallowed heavily as the elevator rose. His hand gripped the railing tightly, his knuckles shining through his skin. How long had he worked for this moment and yet, now that it was almost here, it didn’t feel real. Gilbert realized as the elevator doors opened, that he had been working so hard towards a goal that he was no longer sure he’d achieve. He was just one person after all, one measly man against a system that had the support of countries the world over. A part of him almost regretted agreeing to the meeting—how could he look West in the eye and admit that he had no idea how to get him out of that hell? That he had no way to give him a chance at a normal life? Would West even want to see him?

Gilbert blanched as that thought hit home. Oh God, what if he didn’t? What if his little brother hated him? Still blamed Gilbert for not figuring out the truth, for not protecting him, for letting him get picked up and treated like an animal. Why wouldn’t he? Gilbert certainly blamed himself. The German took a deep breath and swallowed the heated wave of panic that threatened to consume him as Al began to step out. Just a few more minutes and he would be faced to face with West. Al must have guessed at the whirlwind of nerves brewing behind Gilbert’s red eyes, because he sent the older man a small smile of encouragement. For once, Gilbert had been grateful for the silence that had accompanied them through the entire walk here, he wasn’t sure he could focus on a conversation now. Not when his head was filled with questions and memories. There were getting so close now. So terrifyingly close. With every step, Gilbert felt his heart pound just a bit louder. He shoved his hands into his pockets; ashamed of the way they shook. If he was going to meet his brother, he wasn’t going to look like some spineless kitten. Even if West hated him, he deserved to have a decent punching bag, rather than some trembling excuse of a big brother. Gilbert owed him that much at least.

Perhaps as a much needed diversion, Gilbert shifted his attention to the boy leading the way. Al was just the same as he remembered from their first meeting, he was even wearing that gaudy bomber’s jacket. But something about the whole situation bothered Gilbert. Mainly this idea of a reunion. He had no idea why Al was so eager to reunite them—he certainly didn’t seem like the type to do anything solely out of the goodness of his heart. Given his job description, Gilbert imagined he didn’t invite a lot of people to his home. And with good reason, the more people know about you, the more they can use against you. So why had someone as suspicious as Al agree to take Gilbert to his home? How did this play into his plan? Gilbert might not know exactly what plans Al had, but he was certain there was one. This boy no doubt intended to use Gilbert just as Gilbert intended to use him. And Gilbert didn’t begrudge him for it, in fact it made him respect the boy all the more. It just vexed him that he couldn’t figure out just what those plans are…or how he and West fit into them--

"Ready?"

What? Gilbert realized with a panicked start that they had come to a stop just outside a door and Alfred was already jamming the key into the lock. Any coherent thought still left in the German’s mind flew out the window as a wordless panic seized him. West… His heart felt like it would burst under the strain, as he stood motionless in the door. He’d forgotten how to make his legs work, how to make his mouth work. In that moment, he was just a pair of eyes, seeking any hint of his brother, and a heart, beating out an anxious rhythm.

“West?” The word was barely a murmur, escaping from Gilbert’s lips as easily as a breath. He took no notice of it, took no notice of Al, took no notice of anything but the possibility of his little brother… After nearly 10 years of working, of dreaming, of hoping, it was finally happening.

[Ludwig A. Beilschmidt]

baby you're a firestorm you're a loaded cannon

With no direct orders and only vague prompts from Alfred, Ludwig was still having difficulties trying to manage the sudden near-absolute freedom that he had been given. His temporary owner had been nothing but friendly, but by now the German had determined that Alfred absolutely had some secrets, and that prevented him from trusting the man entirely. Sure, the chatty American loved to try to strike up conversations or offer suggestions or even scold him for certain things — like when he tried to sleep on the floor after Alfred insisted he get the bed. In school, Ludwig had explained politely, they’d been taught never to outstep their owners. Sleeping in a nicer bed than that of their owner’s meant they were selfish and greedy, and a selfish mutant was a bad mutant, which Ludwig didn’t want to be. But Alfred seemed to think that was nonsense, and despite his anxiety and misgivings and guilt, Ludwig had found the bed extremely comfortable and had put up less of a fight the following evening. Yet although Alfred had given Ludwig permission to ask questions, he had dodged more than a few. Where had Alfred gone that afternoon? Oh, nowhere special, just out to visit a friend. Could Ludwig accompany him to the supermarket? Oh no, not today, he wouldn’t be there for long and it was raining outside. And Alfred had given Ludwig no commands, no assignments, no orders — nothing but free time. Ludwig hadn’t known how to handle that, so his first day at Alfred’s place, when the other man had been out on business, he’d cleaned the entire living space until it was spotless, leaving every little stray sock or paper where it lay, just in case. He’d done Alfred’s laundry and ironed and folded his clothes, he’d tidied up the refrigerator (he hadn’t seen one of those in a while, so examining it had been fun), and he’d repaired a broken clock that he’d discovered in the bathroom cabinet. After that day, Alfred had been more specific about what he could do. So Ludwig had read his way through the man’s collection of books and newspapers and magazines. He got an allowance for groceries and his first visit to the supermarket, after he had spent an hour or so just exploring, he’d bought ingredients for a cake and had whipped up the treat upon his return. When he felt a little bolder, he took short walks around the neighborhood. It felt strange. Ludwig felt beyond happy to be outside of the Underground, but without a clear purpose, the hours of killing time with small chores were beginning to feel uncomfortably familiar to him. So when Alfred had announced that he was going out and would be back with company, Ludwig had assumed that his task would finally be revealed to him. That brought back uncomfortable memories of how he’d first met Alfred, in a dark alleyway at night, and how even then the cheerful bespectacled man had seemed suspicious. But he forced himself to ignore the misgivings he felt. Even if Alfred wanted him to do something dodgy or even illegal, that’s what he had to do, especially after being treated so gently: not only did Alfred own Ludwig, but now Ludwig owed him a genuine favor. Trying to ignore his misgivings, Ludwig had passed the time tidying things up just a little more. He straightened the books on their shelves, dusted the furniture, vacuumed the carpet, and then went to the kitchen to make some snacks, just in case Alfred’s mystery company felt hungry. He had just started on the drinks when he heard the latch of the door and Alfred calling for him to come and meet someone. ”Just a minute, I’m making coffee for everyone,” he called back, washing up and running a hand over his hair to straighten it before leaving the kitchen. ”I made some food too—“ Rounding the corner, Ludwig felt like the air had been sucked from the room and the rest of his words died in his throat as his eyes went wide. Gilbert. There was no mistaking Alfred’s guest: his older brother had hardly changed at all since he’d last seen him. He’d gotten taller but Gilbert’s eyes, Gilbert’s face, and Gilbert’s messy white hair remained just as Ludwig had remembered them all these years. He could hardly believe it — what would Gilbert be doing in Arcadia? Ludwig had assumed that he’d just stayed in Germany… not that anyone had ever told him otherwise. But to see his brother standing before him now, healthy and alive and here… When he’d been dragged off to Weeds, Ludwig had grieved for the loss of his old life. He’d missed his school and the few friends he’d made there, he missed the thick forest near their house, he’d missed Germany and German food, he’d missed his mother and father, but the deepest and most painful ache in his chest had been the absence of his older brother. Even with how distant they had become, Ludwig felt lost and alone without Gilbert. His brother would have known how to adapt to such a strange new place, he felt certain. Gilbert wouldn’t have gotten lost in the vast hallways or hidden in bathrooms to avoid the other students. Gilbert wouldn’t have cried himself to sleep for weeks. But time had closed even that wound. Ludwig had adapted to the school, made a few new friends, and learned to live a solitary life, and when the happy memories he had made a reappearance in his thoughts, they did so with a low dull ache, an easy thing to ignore. He hadn’t expected to ever see Gilbert again. The world had not been a kind place to him and he didn’t anticipate that to ever change. But as he stood there, pale and shocked into silence, Ludwig realized something troubling: Alfred, for all he had wanted Ludwig to meet him, might not know that Gilbert was his brother. And Gilbert … Gilbert might not want to acknowledge him. He looked like he had done well for himself (and Ludwig felt immensely proud to realize that) and Alfred seemed like the kind of person who treated mutants well. But doubt always existed — nagging, painful doubt. And that left Ludwig adrift. He couldn’t bear rushing over to hug his brother only to be shoved away for behaving inappropriately. But he didn’t want to flee to the kitchen to get the food; what if Gilbert left? He might never see him again. With his thoughts completely blank, Ludwig could do nothing but stand and stare, opening his mouth to speak and then hastily shutting it, although his eyes never left the face of his brother. Word Count: 1130 Tags: Gilbert Beilschmidt , Alfred F. Jones Notes: my hearrrttt

by worldie for lena

[Gilbert Beilschmidt]

“West…” Gilbert looked almost startled by the appearance of the man in the doorway. There was no mistaking it, those eyes, those permanent frown lines… it was unquestionably his brother. Gilbert took as step back as though appraising a painting. There was no way around it, his brother was… a beast . He’d grown into a massive mountain of a man in the time he’d been away, his hair had been slicked back in a severe, almost militaristic, style giving him one heck of an intimidating aura. He looked like a man not to be trifled with and Gilbert felt his heart swell at the sight. (Though those massive biceps would certainly make any punches really smart…) But those eyes… those eyes were what finally kicked him out of his paralysis. They were uncertain and afraid and clearly shocked to see his big brother after so long. The way his mouth opened and closed silently brought tears to Gilberts eye—despite everything that had had happened, Ludwig was still just as awkward and adorable as Gilbert remembered,

So Al hadn’t warned him, huh? Gilbert figured it was probably for the best, if his brother was still the same anxiety-prone soul he appeared to be. Gilbert had planned on giving his brother some space at first, to let him do whatever he needed to before Gilbert made his move. But it was clear West was too stunned to do anything other than gape. Not that he blamed the kid. Gilbert took a shaky step towards his brother, eyes fixed on him as though worried the younger man might disappear if he looked away. He took another step, his breath caught in his throat, his little brother was right there. Right there! If Gilbert wanted to he could lean forward and touch him. And God, did Gilbert want to. After nearly ten years of worrying, of the nightmares of being too late, all Gilbert wanted was to pull his brother into the mother of all bear hugs. But first… no West’s emotions came first and if he needed to vent, to throw punches, Gilbert owed it to him to take it.

Too late, Gilbert realized he probably shouldn’t have worn the suit. He had wanted to make his brother proud in him again, to realize how hard Gilbert had worked to gain influence, the same influence that could help make West’s life just a bit easier until he could figure out a way to get him away from this mess permanently. But as he stood there, he realized now how it must look to West—Gilbert the big-shot coming to lord his success over his poor mutant brother. Gilbert winced and loosened his tie before shedding his coat and suit jacket like a second skin. There. Hopefully his brother wouldn’t add that to the long list of Gilbert’s missteps. He closed his eyes in resignation—West was definitely going to punch him. He certainly deserved it, even now, he made all the wrong moves….

He waited for the backlash, for the anger, for the violence. When none came, Gilbert cracked one rubied eye open and took a slightly bolder step toward his beastly little brother. West didn’t look angry or resentful. No, West looked almost afraid of him. But why? Why would his little brother be afraid of him? He had expected anger, he even expected hatred, but fear? Gilbert came to a stop, not more than a foot away from his not so little brother, his heart pounding a painful staccato in his chest. Why was his baby brother looking down at Gilbert with such frightened eyes? Did he really think Gilbert was going to hurt him?

A strange seething anger seized Gilbert’s chest at the sight of this docile West. True, his brother had always been eager to please his parents and his parents, but there had always been a stubbornness, a steel that lurked behind those beautiful blue eyes. But now as Gilbert stood before him, he saw none of that fight—West looked as subservient as a puppy. The thought churned evilly in his gut. What had they done to his brother? Looking at those wary eyes, Gilbert almost preferred the thought of being punched…. It certainly wouldn’t hurt as much….

“Alright, West, enough stalling,” he said sternly. Maybe if he goaded the boy he could get something other than that horrible subservient fear out of his little brother. He squared his shoulders and closed his eyes with his arms up as though in surrender. “Just hurry up and hit me so I can hug you already,” he opened his eyes and managed a crooked smile, hoping to shake the boy from his shock. “I… I missed you, you moose.” He cleared his throat and closed his eyes once more, taking a deep breath as he prepared for the blow. “Just not the face, okay?”

[Ludwig A. Beilschmidt]

baby you're a firestorm you're a loaded cannon

Gilbert recognized him. Ludwig had heard the old nickname slip out; how long had it been since anyone had called him that? Nearly a decade, almost. And despite the fact that he’d protested the nickname when his brother had first assigned it to him, the word settled over him like a familiar old jacket and Ludwig realized how much he’d missed it. Or perhaps because no one but Gilbert had used it, hearing that word restarted a part of his memories that had long since gone silent. Despite the indoctrination he had gone through at Weeds, it took a decent amount of willpower for him not to rush over right there. Instead, as Gilbert took off his suit jacket and loosened his tie — and he looked more like himself in messier clothes — Ludwig turned his eyes briefly to the remaining figure in the room. Alfred had not given him any kind of order about this; he had remained by the now-closed door, silent and observant. But he hadn’t stopped Gilbert from walking towards Ludwig, he hadn’t said anything about ignoring the mutant… actually, what had Alfred announced? There’s someone that I’d like you to meet— The realization hit Ludwig like a thunderclap. Alfred had set this up. He knew Gilbert from somewhere, and perhaps he’d remembered Ludwig from the Underground, maybe from one of the fights. He’d gotten Ludwig out and had let him enjoy himself and now he’d even found the one family member that Ludwig still loved unconditionally after all these years. The blond realized he didn’t even care if Alfred had some ulterior motive at this point. How jaded had he gotten that he hadn’t been able to spot real kindness, even when it gifted him the soft bed to sleep in, and free reign of the bookcase and kitchen, and found his brother for him? Ludwig felt his eyes start to sting. Gilbert had stopped right in front of him and Ludwig turned his attention back to his brother. With his arms up in a gesture of surrender and his eyes closed, he seemed to be preparing for something — which is what Gilbert explained in short order. And that made Ludwig confused. Hurry up and hit me, his brother had said, but why? What reason on earth did Gilbert have to expect violence from him, after all this time? He couldn’t think of a single reason to hit the other man. And with Alfred still thankfully silent, Ludwig ignored the command he’d received from his brother and threw caution to the wind. Closing the distance between them, he dodged under his brother’s upraised arms and seized him around the chest, pulling him into a tight hug. The tears that had been edging closer to falling ever since he’d come face-to-face with Gilbert overflowed at that point, soaking into his brother’s nice dress shirt and giving off wisps of steam. After a long period of silence, Ludwig somehow managed to find his voice. ”I thought I was never going to see you again,” he mumbled haltingly, still half-smothering himself against Gilbert’s shoulder. He wanted to know how Gilbert had ended up in Arcadia, what he’d been doing that required wearing a suit, what he’d been up to since the two had been forced to part ways nine years before. But all he could manage was, ”I missed you so badly—“ before his voice failed him again and he contented himself with just the silent hug. Word Count: 586 Tags: Gilbert Beilschmidt , Alfred F. Jones Notes: ---

by worldie for lena

[Alfred F. Jones]

it's a

revolution

Word count: 831

Tags: Gilbert, Ludwig

Notes: Here. <333 I'm gonna leave you two now~ Might come back later.

Alfred could see the tension in Gilbert's shoulders, the way the man stood and walked as if his life depended on it. And perhaps in many ways it did. If Gilbert was anything like the man Alfred believed him to be, he had been working every moment of his life towards this point...and suddenly it was here.

Only a fool wouldn't be nervous. And regardless of Gilbert's antics, he was certainly no fool.

When Alfred pushed the door open, Gilbert walked past Alfred, a whispered "West?" on the man's lips.

From the kitchen, Alfred heard Ludwig's voice. "Just a minute, I'm making coffee for everyone," the man called. Of course...jeez...Alfred wished he could provide better for Ludwig. He'd take him out to a movie sometime, go to a nearby amusement park or something... Alfred hadn't bought Ludwig out to use him in any sense, and perhaps that's what made figuring out what to do with Ludwig difficult. The mutant was so unused to not having orders. He'd grown better recently, but still. Alfred's apartment had never been more spotless, and that was including that brief period of time right before Ludwig came when he'd been ready to run away.

Perhaps video games at some point would do the blond some good...though Ludwig didn't seem like the type who would indulge himself too much.

"I made some food too—" Ludwig stepped out of the kitchen and into sight.

Alfred could hear Gilbert's breath catch in his throat. Surprisingly, the albino took a step backwards. The shock, Alfred supposed, at really seeing Ludwig alive. And then Ludwig...Ludwig was pale, eyes wider and betraying more emotion than Alfred had ever seen in the man, mouth opening slightly before hastily closing.

Perhaps Alfred should have warned Ludwig...but then he was sure Ludwig would wonder and fret and it would keep the mutant up until who knew when. It didn't matter though, thinking about the past. This was now.

Ludwig didn't seem to be able to say anything. His glance very briefly slid over to Alfred, something akin to fear in his gaze. No...almost...permission? It was so deeply ingrained in Ludwig at this point, something that Alfred had seen every day while Ludwig had stayed with him, yet it still struck him. Even with his brother...

Gilbert made the first move, stepping towards Ludwig hesitantly. Then another step. It was almost painful, watching the man move, all that doubt, all that hesitation. Alfred thought of Matthew. The belief that one had failed...it was something Alfred knew all too well. But maybe...at least for Ludwig and Gilbert...

Gilbert paused and then loosened his tie and shed his coat to the side. Alfred watched the thick jacket fall to the ground with a gentle thud that neither of the two brothers heeded. Quietly, Alfred stepped inside and shut the door behind him.

"Alright, West, quit stalling. Just hurry up and hit me so I can hug you already." There was an almost teasing tone to Gilbert's words, yet Alfred could tell they ran much deeper. "I… I missed you, you moose. Just not the face, okay?"

Alfred watched in silence. He shouldn't, but he needed to watch out. Just in case he needed to act as a mediator. Gilbert had missed Ludwig, had probably blamed himself for letting Ludwig go. Probably not like how Alfred had with Matthew, but still. Having your brother taken away from you was not a memory that faded with time. And Ludwig...well, Ludwig wasn't much of the sort to share these details, but Alfred had been fairly certain that he wouldn't at least outright attack Gilbert. That didn't sound like the Ludwig Alfred thought he'd come to know. If that had been the case, Alfred would have approached the entire situation differently, would not have Ludwig and Gilbert meet, at least not so soon. Yet...Alfred wondered if he should have brought them together so suddenly. It was a lot to take in, and clearly, Gilbert wasn't sure what to do.

Thankfully, his worries were quickly proven false when Ludwig stepped up to the role that his brother had been unable to fulfill, embracing him and hugging him tightly. Alfred smiled a little at the sight. He saw Ludwig's mouth move with words too quiet for Alfred to hear—as they should be.

Alfred found the collar and leash in the drawers nearest the door and whistled twice for Maëlle. The dog came padding up to him and he scratched her ears before hooking the collar around her neck.

"I'm gonna take My on a walk," Alfred announced to the two. He didn't know if it would even register with them, but still. "Be back in...half an hour? Maybe more. Ludwig, make sure your brother doesn't burn down the house."

With a nod, and before either of them could protest, Alfred opened the door and stepped out, shutting it behind him.

i suppose

by Worldie for Leia

[Gilbert Beilschmidt]

Gilbert barely heard the American. Barely noticed anything. As much as he wanted to react to Al, to West, to anything really, he seemed to be frozen in place. It was too much to take in. His brother was actually here, was hugging him instead of pummeling, was telling him that he wasn’t angry--that he actually had missed his screw-up older brother. Gilbert couldn’t believe his luck. After all this time, his little brother was here, safe, solid, and alive! ALIVE! The word echoed in his head like a victory march, filling his chest until Gilbert thought he might burst from it all.

Finally, his arms remembered how to work and they slowly, reverently wound themselves around West’s back, pulling him closer. The heat radiating off of him sank into Gil’s skin, warming him fully for the first time since he’d arrived in this hateful country. He pressed himself closer as he felt his brother bury his head in Gil’s shoulder, felt this great body shake against him, felt the first tears soak his shirt. He stifled a wince as the tears steamed off of his skin. It hurt, but nowhere near enough to pull away. He reached up and ran surprisingly gentle fingers through his brother’s immaculate hair, even as his own eyes filled with tears. Gilbert couldn’t imagine what the boy had been through. He didn’t want to think about what his little brother had experienced at the hands of his captors, didn’t know how to handle the reality of what life held for mutants. The cloud of West's captivity hung over them both--a dark and menacing thing that had to be addressed. But not now. Gilbert didn’t want to think about anything other than West, in this moment, happy and safe.

“I missed you too, West,” he managed, though his voice barely made it around the rock forming in his throat. His fingers dug into West’s shirt, determined not to let go, not to let the boy slip away. In that moment, everything was perfect, he and his brother were together; Gilbert had found him. He’d found him… Suddenly the words that he'd so carefully rehearsed for this moment abandoned him, and a babbling jumble took their place instead. “I never forgot about you, you know. I’ve been working so hard to find you, to build up enough resources to help you, West! Everything I’ve worked for was to find you, to help you. God…I’m so sorry it took so long, West. I’m sorry I wasn’t around to keep you safe—“ Ah, dammit, there were the tears. Gilbert’s words were cut off in an instant and he just shook his head, trying to hide his tears from West. He was doing a bad job, but then Gilbert had never been a quiet… anything really… He pressed his face to West's shoulder, hoping to stifle this embarrassing display. He didn’t want West to see him so vulnerable—he was supposed to be the protector, his brother’s savior, the one his brother could depend on. He couldn’t go around breaking down like a schoolgirl.

And as much as he didn’t want to, he knew he had to let go of West, at some point the boy would have to breath. His arms reluctantly dropped away, only to grab his brother’s sleeve in order to lead him over to the couch. There were so many questions brewing in the back of his mind, so many things he needed to know (even if he wasn’t sure he’d like the answer.) His hand tightened around West’s wrist like a shackle, like he was certain the boy would disappear the instant he stopped touching him. Yes, West had changed drastically, but seeing those tear-filled blue eyes brought the truth home like no other. This was the same little brother who had reached out to him for help all those years ago (though Gilbert didn’t realize the gesture for what it was until it was too late.) He sat the boy down and quickly followed suit, eying the boy thoughtfully.

“Oh, West…” Gilbert swallowed as he reached up and brushed away the taller man’s tears, ignoring the sting on his fingers. He had failed his little brother, had ignored all the warning signs until it was too late. He still felt guilty, would likely always feel guilty for that. But guilt wasn't going to save his brother. Gilbert knew he had to act. He would never fail his brother again.

“Enough with the waterworks,” Gilbert said, hurriedly brushing away the last evidence of his own weakness as he looked back to West expectantly. “I want you to tell me everything. What’s been happening to you? Nobody's hurt you, right?! Just say the word and I’ll have their asses on a plate!" He paused and met the younger boy’s gaze, his expression taking a serious turn. “Please believe me, West. I promise you that I’m going to find a way to take care of you. I’ve spent a lot of time finding the right people and I’ve made some powerful friends overseas. We’re going to get you out. I don’t know how yet, but until I do, I’m not leaving you alone in this city. No matter what, I’m staying right here. I won’t ever leave you alone. I promise.” He smiled—it wasn’t his usual cocky smirk, but rather a small and fragile affair, reserved for West’s eyes only. “You’ve got someone in your corner now, and I’m not someone to mess with.”

[Ludwig A. Beilschmidt]

baby you're a firestorm you're a loaded cannon

Alfred’s ironic warning managed to reach Ludwig, followed quickly by the quiet click of the shutting door. But both sounded faint and distant, an echo to the blond’s ears. This all seemed so surreal, so impossibly wonderful, and for a moment he became confused. This couldn’t be happening. It had to be some kind of dream. But then Gilbert’s arms locked solidly around his back and the final cog spun into place, freezing the moment sharply in reality. And Gilbert mumbled that he’d missed him too and combed his fingers through his hair the way he’d done whenever Ludwig had come crying to his room after a nightmare — and that’s what this was, wasn’t it? A nine-year-long waking nightmare of Weeds and the Underground, of being scolded and lectured and punished and hurt, all of that coming to an end. In a quiet, unhappy thought, Ludwig reminded himself that he’d have to go back eventually, but here at last was someone that he didn’t need to prove himself to. And Gilbert affirmed that. A wave of silent sobs overwhelmed Ludwig when he heard that his brother hadn’t forgotten him, hadn’t given up on him, had been looking for him all this time — although he managed to recover his voice at his brother’s apology, when Gilbert’s voice failed. ”It’s not your fault, it’s not,” he insisted. ”I was stupid, I shouldn’t have lost my temper — there was nothing you could have done—“ How many hours had he spent stewing with regret over his childish decision to retaliate that day? And the teachers at Weeds had pounded that lesson painfully into his skull like iron nails. Those children were bullying you and you wanted to scare them with your ability, is that right? This is why mutants have to be put in chains and in cells. You would hurt people if you were given a real chance, and that is why we keep you here. None of you have any true control — over your emotions, or over your abilities, or over both. Currently, Ludwig had failed in that; as much as he tried to rein in his tears, he had already lost that battle. Perhaps this was his punishment for refusing to cry over anything after he’d finally gotten used to Weeds. But at least he wasn’t alone in his failure: when Gilbert drew away and grabbed his sleeve to tug him to the couch, Ludwig could see his cheeks were shining. ”S-sorry,” he apologized, his voice weak while his brother attempted to wipe his tears away. ”I still can’t believe you’re here…” He took a moment to scrub furiously at his eyes with his sleeve as Gilbert tried to compose himself, and the heat of his skin combined with his efforts had dried his eyes by the time his brother launched a volley of questions at him. There wasn’t any way Ludwig could tell Gilbert the entire truth — or could he? Gilbert was his brother, for heaven’s sake, and a lack of openness had damaged their friendship in the past. Yet although Ludwig could hear the vehemence and the sincerity in Gilbert’s voice, he doubted his brother would be open to the idea of retaliating against every single cellmate that Ludwig had gotten in a fight with, or every single mutant that had beaten him in the arena. The guards hadn’t actually ever been too nasty to him, and Ludwig suspected it was because they feared him and his ability. But the other mutants had nothing to lose. Secretly, he was glad he’d been wearing a long-sleeved shirt (green-grey, a gift from Alfred) as it hid any evidence of damage he’d sustained over the years. ”I’m fine, I’m fine,” he tried to assure the older man. ”Nobody’s hurt me that much and nothing bad has happened. I think I’ve been very lucky, actually.” Of course he was glossing over some of the less pleasant details of Weeds and of life in the Underground, but compared to what some of the Baits had to go through, Ludwig lived a charmed life. ”This is the first time I’ve gotten to go outside, actually — outside of the Underground, I mean,” he explained, ”because nobody buys me. But Alfred’s been really helpful and —“ Ludwig had to pause to keep his eyes from watering again. ”And I had no idea you’d be here, but I’m glad, I’m really glad.” He mirrored Gilbert’s smile with a shaky one of his own, an alien expression that had fast fallen into disuse before now. But as his brother spoke about his mission, that he’d come to Arcadia to find Ludwig and wasn’t going to just abandon him, the blond’s smile widened a little. He wasn’t sure what to make of the news that Gilbert had made ‘powerful friends’ among the right kind of people — even the rich and influential here seemed to succumb to the majority’s beliefs about mutants, and they were also the only kind of people who could afford to even purchase contracts. But Gilbert hadn’t come for just a short visit — he’d come here with a purpose and he’d be sticking around, and he had wanted to see Ludwig again — it all still made him feel a little light-headed. Unable to resist, Ludwig leaned in and hugged his brother tightly again, as if to reaffirm that he wasn’t just a mirage. ”You never really let anyone push you around,” he spoke, letting Gilbert go after a minute. ”It’s nice to know that hasn’t changed. But what have you been doing? Something important, right? If you have to wear a suit.” He cast a glance at the jacket that had been dumped on the ground earlier. ”Do you still live in Germany? What’s been going on with you?” Although Ludwig had done his best to catch up on his history and current events using Alfred’s newspaper, he still felt like he’d missed a lot of information; still, he was more concerned about his brother’s life. Had Gilbert been able to make more friends, had he graduated school, did he ever buy a fancy sportscar or go to the World Cup or do any of the things he had always discussed with Ludwig when they had been children — the important questions. Word Count: 1070 Tags: Gilbert Beilschmidt , Alfred F. Jones Notes: sorry for the wait!

by worldie for lena

[Gilbert Beilschmidt]

if i only could

make a deal with God

It didn’t seem real, Gilbert mused as he listened to his brother speak. As they sat on a stranger’s couch, it was hard to believe that nearly 9 years had passed. After so many years of dreaming, of planning, of manipulation, his little brother was right there, his leg brushing lightly against Gilbert’s. Normally Gilbert would have complained, but to have the physical, tangible, reminder of his brother’s presence was overwhelming and Gilbert wasn’t about to let it go. However, listening to his brother skim over his life hit Gilbert hard. West, true to form, was clearly trying skim over the more unpleasant details of his life. But he clearly underestimated his big brother’s ability to read between the lines. He noticed the way the blonde tugged nervously at the cuffs of his shirt as he spoke. Frowning, he was just about to demand the truth when West suddenly leaned forward, dragging the albino into an almost crushing hug and effectively knocking away everything Gilbert was about to say. He closed his eyes, and returned the hug, more than willing to indulge his brother’s need for contact. When West finally let him go, Gil just smiled and patted his shoulder.

But then West sent a barrage of questions his way. Gilbert took a moment to process, to figure out what exactly to say to his brother. The look West was giving him was all too reminiscent of those nights so long ago when he came to Gilbert’s door, clutching a book to his chest and begging for a story. If West wanted a story, Gilbert was not going to disappoint. But there was just so much to cover, he didn't even know where to start....

“I moved to the States when I turned eighteen.” he started, his eyes shining. “I live in New York City, if you can believe it. It’s incredible! It’s like… a forest of sky scrappers—you kinda feel like you’re in a separate universe at times, all you can see is concrete and glass and metal. But—mein gott—if you reach the top of one of those towers and look out over the city… there’s nothing else quite like it.” He swept an arm through the air as though to indicate the vast landscape that populated his minds eye. “One day, I’ll have to show you my office—it’s on the 53rd floor. Seriously, I have to take two elevators to get there. And the nightlife… there’s always a party going on, it doesn’t matter when. When I graduated from Cornell we all spent a week in the city and… man I only remember half of what we did there.” He took a deep breath and smiled apologetically, knowing his brother would likely never quite share his love for such things. Time to move on. He looked down at his loosened tie and chuckled, West did seem curious about the suit... “Looks weird on me, right?” He elbowed his brother with a knowing smile. “It took some getting used to… even now I catch a glance of myself and it just throws me. But it’s the price of power I guess.” He puffed up his chest importantly and winked at West. “You’re looking at the youngest Executive Assistant to the VP in KNP’s company history. The way things are going, I could be top brass by the time I’m thirty five.” He paused and laughed a bit, the arrogance seeping from his eyes as he looked at his little brother. He rested a hand over West’s, feeling the warmth seep into his fingers. He wanted to tell him more, to detail his travels around the world, but there was so little time and he didn't want to waste it all talking about the past. Not when there was so much to accomplish in the present.

“You know what…" he said firmly. "I’m not going to waste your time describing everywhere I’ve been. You’re going to see it, West. Once I get you out, we’re going to travel where ever you want. Whatever you want to see, whatever you want to do, we’ll do it. You’ll just have to be patient with me, but I promise. I’m going to get you out. And I’m going to do it legally; you won’t have to live like an escapee, West. I promise… I promise…” Ah damn… he could feel his eyes sting with emotions once more. His brother had lived through enough fear, enough pain, enough degradation. It was time he got to simply live.

word count: 787

tags:Ludwig A. Beilschmidt

notes: so late.... Sorry

by worldie on iof

[Ludwig A. Beilschmidt]

baby you're a firestorm you're a loaded cannon

Ludwig had expected a story, of course: Gilbert had a lot of gaps to fill in his memory, and whereas Ludwig’s life in Weeds and the Underground had been very uneventful, surely Gilbert had to have at least done some interesting things over the course of those years. Yet after the first few words, the mutant realized he’d underestimated his brother. This wasn’t just a story, this was a saga, and before Gilbert had spoken even ten words, Ludwig was listening raptly with awe in his eyes. University in the United States, living and working in New York City, an office on the 53rd floor of some concrete spire, parties every night, an important job and a meteoric rise… and to hear Gilbert speak of it, clearly, he’d had a wonderful time every step of the way. Ludwig couldn’t help but feel immensely proud of his brother, and he smiled as Gilbert elbowed him and laughed and joked. But just as quickly as brightness had come to the room, it seemed to ebb: Gilbert rested a hand on his, almost solemnly, and with watering eyes his brother promised him that he’d see the world, once he got out. Ludwig felt the smile fall from his own face; once he got out, that was the problem. He was out now, but he’d have to go back… and he couldn’t run, no, that would be against the law. Gilbert or Alfred could get in trouble for that, and that alone was enough to convince Ludwig to never consider it an option. ”I’m not really sure where I want to go, honestly,” he had to admit. ”If I could, I’d like to see Germany again, but…” But I don’t know where else to go, he should have finished. At Weeds, he had taken courses in history and geography, and plenty of the books in the library had been full of descriptions or pictures of faraway places. And yet to Ludwig, eventually, all of these shining cities had become near fantasy: they weren’t magical worlds, but to him, their existence wasn’t solid. Ludwig had never been one of the ‘safe’ mutants, which meant nobody would be putting him on a plane and taking him along on a business trip or vacation. His expectations ruled that his world would be confined to the Underground and perhaps Arcadia, and as disappointing as that had first been, like all unfairness Ludwig had encountered, he eventually learned to cope. Moreover, Ludwig’s mental map had been confined to parts of Germany, Weeds, the Underground, and now a shard of Russia. The rest of the world was completely blank, completely unknown… and as much as he hated to think of himself as a coward, it frightened him a little bit. You wouldn’t be alone, he tried to remind himself, Gilbert could come too. And maybe if they were lucky, some of Ludwig’s friends or acquaintances from the Underground would be released… Now he was just daydreaming. Too much wishful thinking, not enough reality. ”W-we could go to New York City, too,” he added, hoping that he hadn’t been silent for too long. The way Gilbert had described the city had piqued his interest, but — like all places he knew only from photographs — it was hard to grant it a true existence. ”It sounds very exciting—“ Ludwig cut himself short when he saw Gilbert’s eyes watering again, following his firm vow. ”Don’t be upset,” he tried to reassure the older man, leaning against him gently. ”If you’ve already made it this far in the world, I believe you can do anything. And I finally got to see you again!” Now it was his own turn to hastily wipe the gathering tears from his eyes. ”I don’t mind being patient, not after this. This is all I could have ever asked for.” Word Count: 661 Tags: Gilbert Beilschmidt , Alfred F. Jones Notes: i am also slow

by worldie for lena