Obligatory Introduction/Fic

*waves* Hi.

I write (I draw but until I can scan the point is prob'ly moot). I'm in love with this series-- I picked up the first six volumes at one go when I found them on the two-dollar manga shelf at my favourite comic book store, and I was just *lost* to it.

Anyway, I brought fic.

Author: Anneko
Title: By the Moonlight
Rating: Erm... adult for violence.
Warning: It *is* deathfic. Sometimes I understand not posting a deathfic warning if it's a major twist, but I'm gonna let you know up front that this is deathfic.
Disclaimer: So not mine. Le sigh. I get nothing from this but my own personal satisfaction, and if I'm lucky...
Feedback: I loves it.



The road that led to the inn was a ribbon winding 'round the mountains and through the woods.

Which was a load of poetic crap, and not an easy drive to make.

Klaus von dem Eberbach had a room that looked out on the road, but he had drawn his curtains when night fell, because he was *not* the sort of man who went for poetic crap like roads like ribbons and moonlight on treetops.

It was a bit late for the car he heard to be pulling up, but it did sound as though there was still drinking going on downstairs, and he thought little of it until he heard the clatter at his windowpane.

He grabbed his magnum and yanked the curtain back. He shouldn't have been surprised.

He opened the window before Eroica could toss another bit of gravel up at it and glowered down at the man. "What do you want?"

"I heard you might be here." The thief smiled winningly-- or it would have been, were Klaus the sort of man who could be won!-- and climbed onto the roof of his car. A sensible one this time, at least. Perhaps the rental place was out of ridiculous ugly convertibles?

"That is not an answer."

"One kiss, my bonny sweetheart, I'm after a prize tonight," He stretched one hand up.

Klaus glared harder. "If you don't leave right now, I swear I'll call Interpol."

Undaunted, Eroica leapt up, agile, feet finding some foothold, hand catching the windowsill. And before Klaus could react, the other hand had wound itself into sleek black hair.

"If you push me now, I'll take this with me." He warned.

"Verdamt-- Let go at once and get out of here!"

Eroica pressed a kiss to the lock of hair threaded through his fingers, then released him, alighting on the ground as graceful as a cat.

"I'll come back, when this is all over..."

"I don't want you to come back!" Klaus hissed. "And-- you look ridiculous! Are you *supposed* to be dressed like a pirate?"

"Do you like it?" The man preened, hands smoothing over his coat. His *red* coat. Ostentatious.

As if the leather trousers weren't bad enough.

And of course his blouse was better suited to a woman than to a man! That much lace was just ridiculous on anyone, really.

And the boots should have been part of a costume, not everyday wear.

"No, I don't like it. I *never* like it-- I never like *anything* you wear, or anything about you, now go, and if you come back, I will call Interpol!"

"At night, I think." Eroica ignored him. "To see you by the moonlight again."

And then he climbed into the car and drove off.

Klaus slammed his window shut and didn't care who it disturbed.

---/-/---

Mercifully, Eroica did *not* show up at the inn the next day.

He didn't show up at night, either.

Interpol, however, did, and Klaus hadn't been the one to call them.

They came into his room with guns drawn, and he grudgingly released his own.

"This is some kind of misunderstanding."

"No misunderstanding." The officer in charge said, handcuffing Klaus to the foot of the bed. "You are Major von dem Eberbach of NATO."

This... was unexpected.

"You are a known... consort, of Eroica. And we have reason to believe that your being here is no accident."

"I am here visiting my fath--"

"Save it. Eroica pulled off a heist last night, we were unable to apprehend him. But I don't doubt he'll come here... after a different treasure."

Klaus' eyes narrowed. "I don't like your tone, and I don't like what you're implying. Now release me at once and return my weapon or you'll have it all the worse when this is over."

The man produced a roll of duct tape and wound it around Klaus' wrists, reinforcing the handcuffs. "We don't want you escaping, now."

"You bastards, when your superiors hear of this, don't think yo--" He was cut off by a gag, and more duct tape followed that. Klaus saw their sniper readying his rifle in the corner and felt real fear stab through him for the first time.

Eroica-- Dorian... he *would* come, if not this night, then the next. Threats never worked to scare that idiot off.

Well it would serve him right!

Except... these men didn't mean to capture, they meant to kill.

And for some reason, that upset Klaus. Frightened him, to his very core.

"You still want it?" The officer dangled his magnum, laughing.

Klaus glared at him, and even though he was bound, he saw a flicker of fear. Quickly hidden, but there.

"Here." Another loop of duct tape-- he would have a devil of a time unsticking it from his hair!-- wound about Klaus neck and the magnum's barrel, holding it in place under his chin. "See what you can do with that, Iron Klaus."

Not much, it was sadly obvious. The tape covered his wrists and most of his hands, even if he got down so that he could reach it, he wouldn't be able to work it free.

He tried to work his hands free, vainly he knew. Layers of tape kept him in place as he writhed in vain against the cuffs. They bit into his wrists, but not as hard as they would have if he'd been free to struggle.

Dorian...

In Klaus' heart of hearts, he had to admit that he did not always think of the man hatefully. In his heart of hearts, he had to admit, he sometimes wondered what the world could be like, if he were free to-- but no.

That could never be. Even if it could be, it couldn't be. Not now.

Ridiculous Dorian, who dressed like a pirate to come and see him-- to kiss him goodbye... Who infuriated him and teased him and made his life hell! Who would make his life hell by leaving it.

He heard the crunch of gravel. No one moved, were they deaf? He could hear the rumble of an engine, far off. He could not yet see it, past the curve of the mountain or through the trees, but he could *hear* it, why did no one move? A flicker of movement, away down the road, he could hear the car, Dorian's car...

Klaus fell to his knees, eyes sliding from the window. The officer looked to him, just in time to see as he bent towards his hands and found the trigger.

---/-/---

Dorian drove off with the memory burned into his mind. Burned onto his lips, the silk of Klaus' hair.

He shed the more showy aspects of his costume, changed into a simple black turtleneck before the heist. It went off without a hitch, and he watched from afar as Interpol swooped in-- Klaus wouldn't have to call them after all, it seemed.

Klaus... he protested, but he *was* warming up.

Dorian smiled to himself. He'd have pleasant dreams *that* day.

---/-/---

He didn't set off until sunset, but his whole body seemed to hum at the prospect of meeting Klaus.

He was dressed again-- as Klaus had put it-- 'like a pirate'. He'd said he didn't like it, but he'd *noticed*. Dorian practiced saying 'drop your weapons and prepare to be boarded!' without spoiling it by laughing. Oh, Klaus was going to yell...

Still... as long as he got to *see* him, it didn't matter. Dorian could take a little yelling.

He was almost to the inn when he heard the gun go off. Either Interpol was one step ahead of him for once, or Klaus really didn't want to see him again...

On the off-chance it was Interpol, he made a swift u-turn.

---/-/---

Bonham woke him early, and Dorian turned a glare on his lieutenant, but the graveness of the man's expression got him out of bed.

"What's happened?"

"It-- it's the Major..."

"He's furious, I suppose,"

"He's dead, milord."

Even if Bonham had known what Dorian would do, it was unlikely he could have stopped him. He ran out after him, but the car was already tearing down the highway.

Dorian was armed, of course, but he would never get close enough to use a blade, when Interpol sat waiting armed with guns.

The glass of the windshield shattered, the car veered sharp to the trees. The tires were shot, and the grille, and the driver at last, as well.

The officer in charge came out to the car, opened the door and let the body roll out to lie in the dirt road. His coat, perhaps to reflect his name, perhaps just to reflect his flamboyant tastes, was red. And now, so was the front of his shirt. He breathed his last lying in the dirt road, blank eyes turned to the moonlight.

---/-/---

FIN

=^_^=
Anneko