Whiskey Lullaby

An adaptation of the Whiskey Lullaby CMV by VandettA Cosplay Group

Please see prologue for all disclaimer information.

For those who are interested, here is the timeline for my adaptation of Whiskey Lullaby.

Gilbert Beilschmidt – Born January 18th, 1925: Died June 18th, 1958 (Age 33)

Roderich Edelstein – Born October 26th, 1928: Died June 18th, 1959 (Age 29)

Gilbert and Roderich met in early summer of 1950. Gilbert was 23 and Roderich was 19.

Elizaveta and Roderich were wed in Spring 1958.

Gilbert's father was force-drafted into the German SS in early 1940, just before Gilbert turned 15.

Epilogue

Eliza walked through the center of town with her head held high, doing her best to ignore the stares and whispers that circulated through the air around her. Every once in a while, someone would stop her on the street and give her a sad smile, offering their condolences for her loss. She would smile softly in reply and mutter some form of thank you, shrugging off any attempts at a kind touch in favor of continuing on to her destination.

The scene she had come home to the night before had been nothing short of horrifying. Her husband had been curled up on his side of their bed, a trail of white-foam vomit trailing from his mouth and creeping across the covers to drip off the side, forming a small puddle on the floor. His lips and fingertips had been blue and his eyes half-open, and she had been able to see where the whites of his eyes had filled with blood, making the purple of his irises stand out in stark contrast. Immediately she had screamed his name, dropped to her knees, and begun shaking him in a vain hope that he may still be alive. It had taken her all of perhaps ten seconds to realize that he was gone, and had probably been gone for hours, and that was when she had collapsed in on herself, buried her face in her hands, and broke down sobbing.

When she had found the strength lift her head, the sun had set and darkness had descended on the house. It was a little easier to pull herself up off the floor at that point, given that she could no longer make out anything further than the outline of Roderich's corpse through the inky blackness. As though in a trance she had made her way back down the hallway and into the sitting room, turning the light on and allowing her eyes to adjust before she had picked up the receiver on the phone and dialed in her parents' number.

Five minutes later, with no clear memory of what she had told her father, she had turned off the light in the sitting room, turned on the light in the kitchen, and made her way back towards the bedroom. There was something important there, something she had seen but had not fully registered, something that needed attention before anyone else saw Roderich's body.

When she had flipped the light on, her eyes had instantly been drawn to the picture clutched in her husband's hand. It had taken her grief-burdened mind several long moments to register who was in the picture, but the moment she had, it was as though something inside her mind had fallen into place and clicked.

"… oh, Roderich…"

The front door had opened and her father's voice had called her name, and she had snatched the picture up and quickly tucked it into her belt, effectively hiding it from prying eyes. If Roderich had not wanted his own wife to know of the true nature of his relations with his best friend, she highly doubted he wanted anyone else to know, either.

She had slept very little last night, but the morning had brought with it some form of clarity and peace and she had been able to rise, shower, and take in breakfast with her parents before leaving their home to journey into town. There was still a lot of business to attend to for the funeral, but she needed to speak to one very important person before she could move on and make the proper arrangements to bury her husband. And so she made her way through town, politely accepting the offers of sympathy, until she located the office she was looking for and pushed the door open, escaping from the heat of a late June afternoon.

"Thank you for coming, I'll be with you in just one… Elizaveta?"

Eliza smiled softly at Ludwig as he looked up from his paperwork at her, crossing the small room and taking a seat at the other side of his desk.

"Ludwig. I pray the day finds you well?"

A look of shock overtook his features, but after a moment he recovered and gave her a soft nod. She noticed, however, that he was unable to meet her eyes and that he struggled for a long moment before he was able to speak again.

"Well enough, all things being considered. I must confess, I'm surprised to see you out and about. I would have thought that, given the circumstances, you would be home mourning your loss. If I did not already have a colleague out sick, I may very well be doing just that right now."

It was only then that she noticed the red that rimmed his eyes and the shadows that had made home across his features, making him appear old and somewhat fragile. It was doubtful that he had slept much more than she had last night; she had made sure he was informed immediately, although it was more than apparent that the news of Roderich's passing had spread through the town like wildfire. Even if she had not told him, he would have found out through other means.

"As Roderich's next of kin, it falls on me to arrange his funeral. Before I can do that, I needed to speak to you."

A look of confusion passed over his face, and for the first time his eyes shifted from where they had been settled on the wall to look at her directly.

"… me? I don't understand, Elizaveta."

"Do you know how my husband died, Ludwig?"

"According to the townspeople, it was alcohol poisoning. We all suspected that he had a drinking problem following Gilbert's death, but I never dreamed it was this severe. Why did you not reach out for help?"

"I did reach out for help, but not for his alcoholism. After your brother passed away, Roderich fell into a deep depression. Nothing I said or did could pull him out of it. I even had an American doctor who was traveling through Germany come in and prescribe him some medication. I thought he was taking it, and I thought it was helping. That is, until I came home last night to find that he had somehow taken nearly every pill the doctor had sent him over the last nine months with an entire bottle of whiskey. Roderich didn't die of liver cirrhosis, Ludwig. He committed suicide. The coroner isn't sure, but he thinks that he may have gone into convulsions, which caused his lungs to collapse and his heart to fail. Of course, to save face, they won't put that on his death certificate, but I'll have his official paperwork soon enough."

Ludwig's eyes widened in shock and then immediately brimmed with tears, and Elizaveta reached across the table and placed her hand over it, a gesture meant to both comfort and assure him that he was not alone.

"… but why? Why, when he knew that yesterday was the one-year anniversary of Gilbert's death? Why would he choose yesterday, of all days?"

"I feel that the date was deliberate."

She reached into her purse and extracted the picture of Gilbert, holding it out for Ludwig to take. He did so with slow, careful movement, looking over the image of his brother smiling back at him before he lifted his gaze to her once more.

"… what is this?"

"I found this clutched in Roderich's hand last night. I took it before the coroner showed up to take his body away. I also found the key to his trunk in his bedside table drawer, and I found more things in there. A few more pictures, a jacket, and some letters. I didn't go through the letters, but I don't have to. If you turn the picture over, I think it will tell you everything you need to know."

He did as she suggested, and it was only when his eyes widened further and he inhaled sharply that she knew he had put two and two together just the same as she had.

"…Ich werde ihn lieben, bis ich sterbe…"

"Yes. The exact same thing Gilbert wrote in his suicide note a year ago. Ludwig, I came here today to ask your permission to bury Roderich next to Gilbert in the public cemetery. Because you technically own that plot of land, I have no legal right to make that decision without you present. And even if I did, I would still ask. It's only respectful."

Ludwig turned the picture over in his hands a few times, biting his lip while he struggled to figure out what to say next.

"… do you think that they…"

"I cannot say with any certainty, but it appears that way. Looking back at it now, it makes perfect sense. There was always something just a little different about them, whenever they were together. They always seemed a little happier. Not to mention, they spent every moment they could with each other, and Roderich was tireless in his search for work in Germany, even though he could have found something much closer to home in Austria. Gilbert quit working for my family the day after Roderich and I became engaged, and he passed away three months after the wedding. I don't have to tell you what that did to my husband."

"… I just can't believe…"

"Neither can I, not fully. But I cannot ignore the facts. Nor can I ignore that laying Roderich to rest next to Gilbert would help both of them find peace in death."

"Aren't you angry?! Aren't you absolutely furious at the very idea that your husband could have been –"

Eliza raised her hand, both to remind him to keep his voice down and to stop him, giving him a sad smile even as tears welled up in her eyes.

"When I first started thinking about it, really thinking about it, I was absolutely livid. I felt completely betrayed that the man I loved, the man who asked me to marry him and put a ring on my finger, had done so out of anything other than mutual attraction and adoration for me. I wanted to scream, and to curse his name, and I wanted him alive again, if only so I could kill him myself. At the very least, I wanted to beat him over the head with a frying pan. And I am a woman of God, so I am not prone to thoughts or acts of violence."

She paused and cast her eyes down to the ring on her left ring finger, rubbing it idly with her fingertip.

"I laid awake for a long time last night thinking about all this. I laid there consumed by my anger. But, then… then I started thinking about it. I started wondering if things would be different if we lived in a place where God wasn't such a big force in our society. I wondered if they would have been compelled to hide their relationship, if there was anything there to hide, if we lived in a place where people could just be people, and gender didn't make a difference. It's a silly thing to think, I know, but I couldn't help but wonder. The Bible tells us to love everyone, because we all sin, yet we crucify those who fall in love with people of the same sex. We have been given free will, but we shun those who choose to take advantage of that fact. In suppressing homosexuality and shaming those who are that way, aren't we just going against the word of God? Don't we hate, when we're supposed to love? It is God's place, and God's place only, to judge. It's disgusting that we've somehow forgotten that."

She was crying now, though the smile had never left her face, and Ludwig reached into his pocket and extracted a clean handkerchief, holding it out to her. She took it with a nod of thanks and dabbed at her eyes, taking a moment to find her composure before she continued.

"I loved my husband, Ludwig. I have loved Roderich since the day I met him, and I will love him until the day I die. When I took my vows, I promised to love him without condition. If I were to stop loving him or love him less because of what I perceive as the truth, I would be breaking my vows. Even though I'm not sure that Roderich took his with the same honesty he did, I have to believe that he at least loved me in his own way. Even if he loved Gilbert more, there was still a place in his heart for me. Feeling the way I do, I have to bury him next to your brother. If not next to him, then as close as the law will allow. If things really were that way between them, then their bones should be laid to rest together. And if I'm wrong, and they were just friends, then they were the best of friends. And best friends don't mind sharing space."

Ludwig stared at her for a long moment, his jaw clenched and his eyes shimmering with unshed tears. When finally he did open his mouth, it was so he could sigh heavily and remove the wire-rimmed reading glasses he wore, bringing a hand up to massage the tender flesh between his eyes.

"Elizaveta, I don't… I don't know how to feel about all this. You've seen me in church, you know how I feel about homosexual acts. I'm not sure I can condone such a relationship, even in death."

"You loved your brother, Ludwig. You still do. Gilbert worked hard to support you both, and he gave up a lot to make sure you could finish school and become an accountant. I know these things only because he's told me himself. Gilbert made sure you had the most comfortable life he could provide for you after your parents died. Now it's time for you to return that favor to him. I'm not asking you to do this for Roderich; I'm asking you to do it for Gilbert."

Ludwig looked as though he wanted to object, but when he opened his mouth to speak, he appeared suddenly lost for words and closed it again, pursing his lips instead.

"… I want some time to think about it."

She nodded and rose to her feet, thanking him quietly when he handed her back the picture of Gilbert.

"There are other pictures, if you'd like one. I intend upon keeping one for myself as well, but I'm going to bury Roderich with this one. I'll wait for your answer before I make any plans. Thank you for your time, I'll see myself out."

They buried Roderich on the day of the solstice. It really was ironic, the way the days lined up. A year ago, Gilbert had been laid to rest on the last day of spring, and the weather had been unusually cool. It was now the first day of summer, and the weather had once again shown a need to be tepid. Eliza had donned her black funeral dress and styled her hair for the occasion, thankful that Ludwig had responded quickly and had given her the answer she had been hoping for. It was apparent that he was still uncomfortable with the idea, and Eliza was as well if she were to be honest with herself, but love had transcended societal norms, and she felt that neither one of them regretted their decisions.

The service was small and quiet. When they had laid Gilbert to rest, there had been only four in attendance; Ludwig, Feliciano, Elizaveta, and Roderich. That number was now reduced to three, and Eliza felt a suiting sense of déjà vu as she paid the tall German man and his short, bright-eyed Italian friend a sad smile. Gilbert's funeral had not had a minister present because it was an expense the Beilschmidt family could afford, and they had elected to forego one for Roderich's service, given the circumstances. If their relationship really had been sexual in nature, then a man of God was not appropriate. If it had not been, Eliza could only pray that the sin would fall to her and Roderich's soul would not suffer as a result.

She allowed Feliciano and Ludwig to lay flowers upon the grave first, fixating her eyes on the wooden cross that now bore two names rather than one. Her eyes drifted up to the cross that rested just above Gilbert's name and she crinkled her brow in confusion, turning to look at Ludwig as he returned to her side.

"… was that there before?"

Ludwig shook his head, though the smile he gave her was surprisingly relaxed and peaceful.

"No. I looked all over for that necklace, when I made the arrangements for Gilbert. I never could find it, and I always wondered where it went. I have my answer now."

She nodded her head absently, trying to recall from her memory if she had ever seen her husband wearing it, as she stepped forward and crouched down to lay a rose upon the grave. As she returned to a standing position and stepped back to join the others, she allowed her eyes to drift off to the right, more a reflexive motion than anything else. Immediately she caught sight of movement and turned her head entirely, her eyes widening a moment later.

Standing at the back of the cemetery, nearly obscured by a thicket of tall grass, were two male deer. Their mouths moved lazily as they chewed their meals, the motions almost mechanical, but what caught her attention was that they were staring straight at her with gazes that seemed almost familiar. Then, after several long seconds, one buck dipped its head down to nibble on a fresh patch of grass. The second held her eyes for a moment longer, looked to its partner, and then lowered its head to follow suit.

Against her will, a fresh bout of tears welled in her eyes and a smile broke across her face. She had prayed to the Lord for a sign, for any indication that the decision she had made was the right one. If this was not a sign, then she didn't know what was.

"Elizaveta, are you okay?"

She tore her gaze from the sight of the deer and gave Ludwig a nod, wiping at her eyes.

"Yes. I'm okay. Sorry."

"Are you ready to go?"

She turned back towards where the deer had been, not surprised to find that they had already moved on.

"Yes. I'm ready to go home."

The pain was gone. More than just the physical pain of dying, there was also a lack of the emotional agony that had tormented him for the year that felt like an eternity. Roderich lifted his face towards the sun, wondering why he could not feel its heat upon his skin for a brief moment before he remembered that he was dead. In the afterlife, it made sense that there was no need for sensations he had experienced in life. He cast his gaze upon the train tracks that stood before him, and out of nowhere Gilbert seemed to materialize. Dressed in black jeans and his standard white work shirt, hands jammed down into his pockets as he walked leisurely along the tracks. His back was to Roderich and his shoulders were relaxed as though he were merely killing time waiting in a place where time itself was completely irrelevant. After a moment he halted, turning to glance over his shoulder. A half-smile slipped over his features, then blossomed into a full grin.

I've been waiting for you.

It was not a voice that spoke, but more like a whisper on the wind. Roderich had already been aware of the fact that he was not alone, that there was another soul here. In this place, on this train track, he did not have to see his companion to know he was close. He did not have to hear him speak to know his thoughts. It was as though they were one now, linked together by a stream of unconscious consciousness. When one moved, the other followed suit. What one felt, the other felt in kind. Kinetic energy hummed around them, dancing across the thread that linked them not only to each other, but to every person who had crossed the nexus from life to death.

Gilbert turned and reached his hand out. Roderich looked to his face, then to the hand that was extended out towards him.

It's okay now. I forgive you.

He had known that, of course. Known it because it traveled along the thread that connected their souls. Known it because in this place, there were no bad feelings. There was no pain. There was only him, and the man he loved, the quieted thrumming of others he could not see, and the endless expansion of eternity that waited for them.

Roderich reached out and took Gilbert's hand, engulfed by the most wonderful realization that he would never have to let it go again.

FIN

Thank you to everyone who made this journey possible; your devotion, your patience, and your dedication made all the world of difference. This story was an amazing experience, and I'm so thankful that you were all here to share this with me.