Chapter 3

Ludwig stared in horror and the now once again pitch black area. With trembling hands, he reached out into the darkness, searching hesitantly for Arthur's body.

Please, let me have miss seen! Don't let it be Arthur. Let it be someone who looks like him. Oh please don't let it be Arthur!

His hands found Arthur still in the same position as when the flare had uncovered his identity. Ludwig's fingers fluttered over Arthur's face, brushing along his eyebrows and following his hairline and jaw before trailing down his abused neck and meeting the ruff, coarse material of the British uniform.

Pulling Arthur gently into his lap, Ludwig cradled his still, limp body as hot salty tears coursed down his face. Frightened of howling at his actions, he buried his head into the crook of Arthur's neck, biting down on the Englishman's collar hard. Arthur's skin was cold against Ludwig's cheek, making him despair more that he had done the unspeakable.

Another flare lit up the sky and ground, allowing Ludwig to see Arthur again for a few seconds. The Caucasian skin on his neck was turning black while his lips were parted slightly and his eyes were closed. Ludwig felt desperation clawing at him, making him want to shake the Englishman hard to see if he could initiate a response; a groan, a sigh, anything that would prove to him that he was alive. The idea of causing more injury though was sickening to him.

Also, during the flare, he noticed that Arthur was a Captain. That stood in stark contrast to his rank of private. There was a huge jump in authority.

Hours had passed and Arthur had not moved once. Ludwig was almost wild in his belief that he was cradling the corpse of his lover, his death having come about through the actions of his own hands. Tears that had previously stopped started to fall silently again, forming fast flowing streams down his face. He was so caught up in his grief that it took him a few seconds to register that he had heard a sigh. However, due to his grief, he questioned it.

"A ... Arthur?" Ludwig asked, thinking that he had imagined the sound. His eyes opened wide as he felt Arthur's head move against his shoulder. The movement was slow and lethargic, but it was movement none the less. Ludwig placed a hand comfortingly on Arthur's ashen cheek and in the grey dawn light, he could see Arthur's tired face looking up at him, his emerald eyes shining with happiness. "Ludwig." He breathed before a change came over his expression. "You're crying."

"I am sorry." Ludwig tried to stop the tears from flowing, but Arthur's pitiable appearance reminded him of everything he wanted to forget. "If I had known it was you..."

"But you didn't know it was me." Arthur comforted. "I didn't know it was you. I came upon the shell hole quite by surprise." He raised his own hand up and cupped Ludwig's cheek in an attempt to show that he held no ill feelings towards what had happened.

"I could have killed you." Ludwig swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat as his eyes lingered over his lover's bruised neck, his fingers dancing lightly across the black and purple skin.

"But you didn't." Arthur counter argued, frustration clawing at him because he couldn't make the German see that he had forgiven him.

"Your throat must hurt." Ludwig pressed his lips together hard.

"Just a little sore is all." Arthur answered before sitting up from his resting position against Ludwig's chest. He remained in Ludwig's lap though. It had been years since he had seen his cherished friend, and the thoughts of his death had plagued him continuously. "The war has affected you. You look drawn and tired. You no longer have that glow of youth you had the night we met."

"I could say the same for you." Ludwig replied just as the heavens opened up and freezing rain started to fall, drenching them both. Arthur started to tremble with the cold. Ludwig was also feeling the bite of the cold weather and consequently pulled Arthur to him and held him close to his chest. Arthur wrapped his arms around Ludwig's back, his grip also tight, refusing to let the German go. Both continued to shake as the rain became heavier and an easterly wind picked up, bringing what was soon to be the first of the seasons snow fall. Arthur studied his hands. They were pure white and stiff, the fingers curled in giving them what would have been a sinister look in any other situation. In this situation, it was sorrowful. He refused to let Ludwig go though. He could and put his hands under his arms so to warm them up slightly, but he wasn't yet ready to release his hold.

"We had better wait for dark." Arthur commented as the light chased away the remains of the night around them. "If we get caught out in no man's land in this light, we won't stand a chance. At least at night the dark is our friend." Arthur also had another motive to sit in a muddy shell hole all day up to his hips in water, but he refrained from adding it. Ludwig agreed to the proposal, again for the all the same reasons and, like Arthur, abstained from voicing the latter.

Arthur had a lone cigarette left and they shared it between them. Ludwig could not take his eyes off Arthur's neck, remorse and guilt tearing away at him constantly. Arthur saw this and tried to console him. He was touched, though he never voiced it. He now knew that Ludwig would never purposely hurt him.

Both slept at varying points of the day. Ludwig slept the most having suffered from both disturbed sleep over a long period of time and very little sleep from the previous night due to the conditions of the shell hole. The sleep he did get wasn't a deep, fulfilling sleep like he needed though. Arthur sat and studied the German during these times, a smile present on his lips. He had not changed much at all. Beneath the mud and the dirt, he was still the very same Ludwig that he had met in London all those years ago. Arthur decided in the end to lay down the best he could next to the Ludwig and curled into his side, resting his head on his shoulder, his expression becoming mournful with the knowledge that the war would take them away from one another again.

The day started to give way to the night again as darkness fell across the landscape. It had been a remarkably quiet day in terms of shells dropping and shots being exchanged. Ludwig could not recall any plans about the British lines being attacked by their guns in the near future and the day had proved him correct. Arthur had fallen asleep mid afternoon leaning on him for comfort. He slept quietly and peacefully, making Ludwig's heart hurt. Ludwig couldn't understand what Arthur was doing fighting. When he slept he looked too young and vulnerable to be caught up in such a conflict. He knew looks were deceptive. Arthur had a fiery temper and he had witnessed it on one occasion when dealing with a loud mouthed American by the name of Alfred who wouldn't take no for an answer when he tried to chat him up. Ludwig always kept him close so as to give him as much of his body heat as possible. Arthur's light breathing reminded him of being in Arthur's bed. Ludwig had taken a great liking to watching him sleep. If it wasn't for the mud, the blood, the guns and the death, what he was witnessing would not be so far off from his memory.

Ludwig's keen hearing picked up on voices. His mind instantly flew into action and the conclusion that they could not be found like this was made instantly. A German soldier holding a sleeping British officer in his arms; he was more likely to find a German bullet embedded in his body than a British one if it was discovered.

Quickly shaking Arthur awake, Ludwig pressed his hand over Arthur's mouth to stop any name calling and protests that he knew would come before whispering urgently; "someone is coming. We must look like the dead." Arthur nodded his head to show his understanding before shuffling a short distance away and, laying on his front with his head pointing at the bottom of the shell hole and his feet pointing towards the rim, Arthur became still, mimicking the dead. He even went as far as to point one of his legs out at an unusual angle that would quickly become quite uncomfortable and rub mud down one side of his face and hair as though he had fallen into the shell hole and travelled down it head first. It was very convincing. Ludwig did the same, keeping himself partly submerged in the water collected at the bottom of the hole before hiding his face in the mud to make sure no one with close observational skills could see any colour that depicted life there.

The footsteps stopped on the side of the shell hole and both men silently held their breath. A shot rang out and hit a corpse a short distance away from Arthur. Arthur had heard it and knew how close the corpse was. He controlled himself enough not to physically flinch. Instead, he went cold with fear and he felt his stomach being crushed by a clenched fist that also felt like a lead weight. A few German words were exchanged before the footsteps receded again. Arthur raised his head slightly after the footsteps had died away, his fingers sinking into the mud to stop him from sliding down into the water. Ludwig also looked up, his eyes darting to Arthur in fear that he had been the one to have received the bullet. Seeing Arthur look back at him though reassured him it was not the case.

Moving themselves back together, Ludwig could no longer suppress the need he felt to show Arthur how much he meant to him. Ludwig grabbed Arthur and, forcing him down so that his back was resting on the muddy slope, proceeded to kiss him breathless.

Arthur was responsive to this and kissed back with equal passion. Both tried to express everything they could that had been bottled up since their last meeting, which was also their first. The mud on their faces from pretending to be corpses transferred onto the others where clean skin was to be found. The kiss intensified as neither wanted to give up the possibility of dominance, their tongues entwining as their hands gripped one another's hair and clothing hard. Air was eventually needed to the extent that the kiss had to be broken, their chests heaving as they fought to regain their breath.

"Meet me back here tomorrow night." Arthur broke the silence that had fallen between them since their narrow escape.

"The risks we would have to run ..."

"Fuck the risks. This damn war has deprived me of you! I thought you were dead, killed in one of the battles or from an infected injury. Now you're here, but still too far! I can never obtain you! Everything goes against us! I say sitting for an hour in your company is worth the risks of having an English bullet tear through my heart!"

"Don't speak like that Arthur." Ludwig cut him off mid justification, horrified.

"It's true though." Arthur insisted before his voice took on a lower, almost pleading tone. "Meet me back here tomorrow night?"

Ludwig saw the sincerity on Arthur's face that was quickly fading as the darkness became all encompassing. "Same time." Ludwig agreed.

They shared one last tender kiss before departing. Arthur, with unshed tears in his eyes, crawled out of the shell hole first and started to feel his way back to the British lines. Ludwig didn't watch him go but instead kept his head down. He didn't want to be shot, nor did he want any present, intelligent snipers seeing who he was watching if a flare should go up.

After ten minutes and with no shots fired, Ludwig held his breath as he climbed out of the hole and started to head in the opposite direction to Arthur. His Captain would find it a novelty to see him come back from the dead without a scratch. He had been out in no man's land long enough now for people to start to write him off as dead.

Getting back to his trench, Ludwig could not help but spare a glance back towards the British lines. Little did he know that Arthur had done the same.