Spring Offensive

"Halted against the shade of a last hill,
They fed, and, lying easy, were at ease
And, finding comfortable chests and knees
Carelessly slept."

Hanschen snuggled closer to Ernst in their single bed, in Schoneburg on the lower east side of Berlin. The sun was just coming up; throwing strange rays of pale light across the jumble of blankets that surrounded them both. He breathed in Ernst's soft scent and glanced across at the calendar Melchior had sent them from New York City, 'May 28th 1930' along side a faded black and white photo of two women seated on a park bench. Ernst mumbled something in his sleep,

"s'time to get up'

"No, no dear Ernst," Hanschen smiled, nuzzling into Ernst's neck and making him giggle, "you must be mistaken, it's still only just gone six"

Ernst turned to face Hanschen, his dark eyes mischievous and his skin pale vivid in the morning light, "then we should have been up fifteen minutes ago-"

"Then we're already late, why bother, let's just stay here for today"

"You know we can't do th-"

Ernst was cut off as Hanschen began to trail kisses down his chest,

"Ohhh.." he closed his eyes as the moan caught in his throat, more than ten years later, they had shared so much, and yet the blonde boy's slightest touch still sent jolts through his stomach. But Ernst had found a few tricks of his own over the years and soon Hanschen was pinned down beneath him, gasping as Ernst lightly trailed his fingers across his skin. The battered alarm clock lay forgotten on the floor.

"But many there stood still
To face the stark, blank sky beyond the ridge,
Knowing their feet had come to the end of the world."

It seemed that this was everything, they were together and nothing else in the world mattered. Time and time again they found themselves lost in each other's thoughts

"Marvelling they stood, and watched the long grass swirled
By the May breeze, murmurous with wasp and midge,
For though the summer oozed into their veins
Like the injected drug for their bones' pains,
Sharp on their souls hung the imminent line of grass,
Fearfully flashed the sky's mysterious glass."

To be together, like this was to forget, the war, the horrors of the battlefield. As they dressed each other silently, shirts, waistcoat and jacket covered up their scars.

"Come on!" Hanschen exasperated, re-entering their small kitchen to see Ernst still gazing out of the window at the street below. Ernst tore his eyes away from the red, black and white flag being hoisted into the sky above a building a few streets away. "Will we be alright, do you think?"

Hanschen looked confused, until Ernst indicated with a nod of his head what was happening. Hanschen looked at the floor,

"I don't know, we'll do what we must"

Ernst nodded; he reached out a hand and took Hanschen's in his,

"Let's go."

"Hour after hour they ponder the warm field --
And the far valley behind, where the buttercups
Had blessed with gold their slow boots coming up,
Where even the little brambles would not yield,
But clutched and clung to them like sorrowing hands;
They breathe like trees unstirred."

Through the 1920s the city had been everything Private Ferdinand had promised it would be, vibrant, liberal and accepting, they had thrived there. The university provided them with good jobs, Hanschen teaching History and English, Ernst English and Drama with honesty and enjoyment and none of the cruel sadism that had riddled from the professors of their own school. Except in the very dead of night, they rarely thought of the tortures of war and even when the nightmares found them, they had each other. But things were changing. The political uniforms in the street told them that. As outspoken intellectuals and as lovers it was no longer safe. They had to leave, and it had to be soon.

Ernst smiled happily as they stepped onto the boat, it really had been like a whirlwind from one place to another with the two of them.

Ernst's mother had informed Hanschen's family of Ernst's message, and soon the whole village knew. They had returned briefly only to find one fresh gravestone for each of them, blank except for the words 'Private Rilow' and 'Private Robel' there own society had forsaken them. Preferring to presume them dead rather than face the truth, their families never spoke of them again. Except one little girl with raven black hair, who spoke often of her big brother, she clutched his crumpled picture in her small fist, and made up stories on her own.

Berlin, England, Switzerland, back to Berlin again and now on to-

"Where are we going this time?"

"Hmmm, not sure, I think I feel like we've exhausted travel in Europe, don't you?"

"But-"

Ernst smiled, pressing a soft kiss to Hanschen's cheek, he felt him lean into his lips.

"Don't worry," he whispered, Hanschen's eyes were staring intently down at him, "we'll find somewhere, together, we always do."

"But what say such as from existence' brink
Ventured but drave too swift to sink.
The few who rushed in the body to enter hell,
And there out-fiending all its fiends and flames
With superhuman inhumanities,
Long-famous glories, immemorial shames --
And crawling slowly back, have by degrees
Regained cool peaceful air in wonder --
Why speak they not of comrades that went under?"

The End

A/N: Thank you to everyone who has reviewed and supported along the way, you've been fantastic :D