Please do not alter this story in any way nor post to a publicly accessible Net/Web site without permission.
Web Address: Not available online.
Category: Crossover: Eroica/Patalliro
Rating: PG-13
Pairings: Dorian/Klaus, Bancoran/Maraich
Notes: Kudos to Anne-Li for discovering the original copy of this tucked away in an old fanzine.
Warnings: Attempted suicide, OCCness, and raging angst.
Summary: An alternate ending to Karen’Klinck’s story “Diamond.”
By: Unknown
Written: 1989?
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
An Alternate Endingto Karen Klinck”s
DIAMOND
“To go home?” Bancoran asked quickly.
“I’ll be good,” Maraich promised meekly.
“All right, then, get dressed. You’ve been in at taxpayer expense too long already. Unless you need the nurse to help you?”
“No!”
Maraich wiggled out of bed. Bancoran supported him over to the closet, and he dressed. Then, with Bancoran carrying the small overnight bag with Maraich’s toiletries, a nurse pushed the embarrassed redhead in a wheelchair. They went down one flight to the prison wing. Maraich blinked at all the precautions in wonder.
No wonder Dorian’s upset by all this!
* * * * *
They found James and Bonham trying to get in to see his Lordship again and Bancoran stopped a moment to give them permission to enter but only after he and Maraich had a few words with the Earl. Pacified with that promise, Dorian’s two minions settled down in nearby chairs to wait.
Bancoran pushed Maraich’s wheelchair into the silent hospital room—and the door swung shut behind them.
“Dorian?” Maraich called to the young man who lay curled up facing away from them, blond hair spread in a mass of curls over his pillow. When thre was no reply, Maraich rolled his chair to the other side of the bed, calling the Earl’s name once more. “Dorian! Wake up!”
Still no response came from the sleeping patient and Maraich reached out to give Dorian a shake. But the lax form moved bonelessly, sliding onto its back—exposing the bloody secret that young Earl had been keeping to himself.
Maraich screamed at the sight of so much blood—but Bancoran leapt for the door, yelling for help. Almost at once the room was filled with doctors and nurses—and Bancoran pulled Maraich out of the way, sinking to his knees to cuddle his trembling lover.
“Oh, Ban… he’s going to die!” Maraich sobbed against the Major’s shoulder.
“No, they’ll save him.” Bancoran promised rashly—he’d say anything to ease the readhead’s pain.
“Major—we found these under his pillow.” A doctor held out two envelopes and the raven haired man took them. “A Will—and a letter addressed to Major Eberbach.”
“He planned this!” Maraich sobbed. “He wants to die!”
“Yes, so it seems.” Bancoran noticed they were alone now. Dorian’s limp form had been moved to a gurney and he’d been taken somewhere else to be patched up. The sheets hung in disarray over the edge of an empty bed—red stained and accusing. “If only we’d come sooner—we might have prevented this. After all, the news that he wasn’t going to be arrested—or go to prison would have given him a new lease on life.”
“Yes, you’re right.” Maraich straightened up, blotting his tears on a lacy cuff. “We could have helped him—but so could Major Eberbach.”
“What?”
“If he’d been here—offering any kind of support for Dorian—this wouldn’t have happened.” Maraich stated flatly.
“How do you know that?” Bancoran asked, puzzled.
“The letter, of course.” Maraich waved a hand at the envelopes Bancoran still held. “He wrote a will—which was necessary for his estate. But he wrote one last letter to the one he loved—the one who turned his back on him… The one who had not a word of encouragement for him—nor had he uttered a word in his defense.”
“Perhaps you are right, Maraich.” Bancoran thought it over, staring at the inoffensive seeming envelope. “But that is neither here nor there at the moment. If he lives—we’’ sort is out later. But he had done a rather thorough job on himself…”
“Yes, he has.” Bancoran whiled to discover one of the doctors had silently returned. “He used some sharp object to cut his wrist open. He knew what he was doing, Major. Sliced up the length of the vein, not across it as many amateurs do. Then he must have wrapped some of the sheeting around it—to hide the blood from casual observation—and that is probably what saved his life. The sheets effectively formed a bandage—and clotting slowed the blood loss. Otherwise he would have bled to death in minutes. The very act of hiding what he’d done from view—saved him.”
“Then he’ll be all right?” Maraich asked hopefully.
“I can’t answer that yet.” The doctor answered truthfully. “We’re doing what we can—but he has no will to live. In fact, quite the opposite. And he has lost a lot of blood. We are transfusing him right now—but he is weak…very weak. We’ll know in a very short time—perhaps an hour…or less. I’ll let you know—whichever way it turns out.”
“Thank you, doctor.” Maraich was subdued—his voice filled with sadness.
“You might look around, Major,” the doctor suggested before he left them. “He used something sharp to cut himself—and it wasn’t anything he got from the hospital. We’re very careful about things like that—especially in this section.”
“Yes, I’ll check.” Bancoran suited action to words and soon found the metal nail file Dorian had secreted away in his pillowcase. “Where did he get this from?”
“Perhaps his friends can tell us?” Maraich stared at the blood stained blade in disgust.
“You think so?”
“Ask them.”
Pushing Mariach’s chair out into the hallway, Bancoran had only to hold out the defiled bit of metal—and took one look at it and fainted dead away in Bonham’s arms. The two men had seen the Earl rushed away only a short time before, his face pale and waxen, blood staining his hastily bandaged arm.
“Oh, God!” Bonham groaned, easing James into a nearby chair and propping him up. “Is that what he used?”
“Yes,” Bancoran replied shortly.
“You knew it was suicide?” Maraich asked at the same time.
“Yes, when I saw him being taken away,” Bonham answered. “We both guessed it. After all, he knew best of all of us how he’d fare in prison. He’d never survive it—and he was afraid to face it.”
“Damn! If only he’d waited a while longer,” Bancoran swore.
“Why?”
“We were coming to tell him there would be no charges pressed against him. That as soon as he was better, he would be free to leave,” the Major replied.
“Oh.” Bonham sat down heavily beside his slowly awakening companion.
“This nail file—where did he get it?” Bancoran waved it threateningly under Bonham’s nose.
“From me,” James confessed in a wavering voice.
“You gave him a weapon?” The Major turned his full fury on the quaking young man.
“It isn’t a weapon,” James managed round the tears filling his throat. “It’s a nail file. This morning, while he was signing some business papers, he asked for one. Said he had nothing else to do and he was bored. Said his nails were in terrible shape from this adventure—and at least he could file them down. I didn’t think anything of it at the time. His Lordship always likes to look his best—and his hands were a mess. So I handed it over—but he hadn’t finished by the time we left and I let him keep it…” James broke down completely as he realized he’d left Dorian with the method to kill himself—and if the Earl died, it would be his fault.
“Come, come, get a hold of yourself, mate.” Bonham tried to comfort his friend. “He’ll be all right, you’ll see.”
“I hope so,” James gasped against Bonham’s chest, burying his face so no one could see his pain.
Boot heels struck down the corridor and Bancoran turned to see Major Eberbach swiftly approaching.
“What’s going on?” He took in the sobbing young man in Bonham’s arms—then his gaze flashed up to lock with Bancoran’s.
“Why, we were waiting, Major—waiting to hear from the doctors if the Earl of Red Gloria will live,” was Bancoran’s sardonic response.
“What!?” This was a shock—as Bancoran had meant it to be—and Eberbach turned a shade whiter. “What’s happened? What’s wrong?” Dark eyes flew to the closed door of Dorian’s room.
“He’s tried to kill himself, Major.” Bancoran held out the slim blade. “With this. Slit his wrist and waited to bleed to death…”
“No…” The Major backed away a step, his gaze fastening on the dark stained object.
“He has lost a lot of blood,” Bancoran went on as if he hadn’t heard that moan of negation. “We found him before he died—but it is still very precarious with him. The doctors are fighting to save him—but he is fighting equally hard to die!”
“No, he can’t die.” Eberbach found himself sitting in another of the uncomfortable hospital chairs, with no idea how he’d got there.
“But he can,” Bancoran pressed home. “In fact, you might as well read this…” An envelope was pressed into his hand. “It’s addressed to you—possibly the last you’ll ever hear from him.”
Eberbach stared at the envelope, bearing the Earl’s familiar writing, as if it would reach out and bite him.
“Read it!” This was an order and like an automation, the Major carefully opened the envelope to pull out a sheet of scented, pink stationary.
Dear Klaus,
I hope you don’t mind my using your first name—but it is the last time you will have to be bothered by me—so perhaps it won’t upset you too badly.
As you must know by now, I have killed myself—rather messily, I’m afraid—but that can’t be helped. I personally would have preferred sleeping pills but since that way out was not available, I must make do with the tools at hand. James provided me with both the stationary and the nail file. Please try to help him get over any guilt he might suffer. After all, this is necessary—very necessary.
You see, I have had time to think while waiting to be arrested. I’ve thought of the trial—and the embarrassment it will cause. And I’ve thought of after—when I’ll be sent to prison for who knows how many years.
We all know I won’t survive the kind of treatment I’ll receive there—and I have no wish to die after being raped by some huge bruiser of a man. Bleeding to death that way is not something I can face. And knowing I will go to prison after I’m formally charged—means that I would have died a hideous, painful and totally demeaning death.
So I chose to end it this way. Painful perhaps—but a much cleaner exit for all concerned. I’ve left a Will to sort out my business affairs—and I’ve left this letter for you—to sort out my personal life.
I love you, Klaus—more than you will ever know. I’ve done so many things in the past to gain your attention—so many foolish things. And even if you were angry with me—at least you paid attention to me. That’s all I ever wanted—some of your time, your attention—to be the focus of your gaze and your thoughts.
Do you know that I have kissed you, Klaus? So many times. But each time, you were unconscious or drugged—so you never knew it was me, did you? Stolen kisses were all I ever had from you—and thought sometimes you responded to my lips—I knew you were not seeing me as your lover—but some woman from your past.
All I ever wanted was your love, my friend. All I needed was a kiss freely given because you cared for me, desired me, loved me too. But that is impossible, it seems. God knows, I’ve tried everything to convince you of my love. And still you care nothing for me.
“What?” This broken word escaped Eberbach’s lips as the other’s watched him read Dorian’s pink missive—and tried to ignore the tears falling from his eyes.
If you cared even the tiniest bit for my—about me and my continued existence… he read on, you would have done something to help me out of the mess I’ve gotten myself into. You know as well as I what will happen to me in prison—yet you said not one word in my defense yesterday. You had no protest to lodge. Instead you attacked me—called me a fool. I know I’m a fool, Klaus—I didn’t need to be reminded. I needed help—and you offered none.
That hurt so much—I cried. You thought it was my head acting up—but it wasn’t It was my heart breaking—because I’d finally realized you’d never love me the way I needed to be loved. I said ‘Goodbye, Klaus’—and I meant it to be our final farewell—even if you didn’t know. It didn’t matter—nothing mattered anymore. I hurt so bad—inside and out. Death seemed a welcome relief.
When James and Bonham came to see me this morning, they seemed heaven sent. A simple request from the Earl and I had the weapon I needed to finish my life.
Such a strange thing, to write, Klaus. I don’t want to die. I feel so cheated. After all, I’m young, handsome, wealthy—and yet I’ll die here all alone in this hospital room—without ever knowing the joy of being loved by the one I love. So depressing that thought—and God knows, I’m depressed enough already.
Still, I must say it once more. I love you, Major Klaus Heinz von dem Eberbach—and I always will, wherever I am. I can’t help myself—for no matter how little you care about me—my heart will always belong to you.
Pray for my soul, Klaus—and I hope that someday, you’ll find a woman who will love you even half as much as I did—and you will by happy.
I love you, Eroica
“Ah, God…” The Major buried his face in his hands, sounds of his grief filling the hallway as the letter slipped from nerveless fingers to drift to the floor.
Bancoran started to pick it up but Maraich stopped him with a shake of his head. “It is his letter, Ban. No one should read it but him.”
“Yes, of course.” The raven haired man plucked the pink sheet from the floor and folded it back into its envelope before placing it in Eberbach’s lap.
“Whatever Dorian said—it had a real impact on the Major,” Maraich went on.
“Yes, he seems to have cared for the Earl more than I ever thought he could.”
Suddenly the Major pushed up out of his chair, brushing his tears away as he started for the empty hospital room.
“Wait!” Bancoran leapt to stop him, shoving the forgotten letter into the Major’s pocket at the same time.
“I want to see.” Eberbach pushed past him as if he wasn’t there, stepping into the silent room, his dark eyed gaze taking in the blood soaked sheets—and he froze.
Maraich threw a look of pity at the Major’s rigid back—then glanced up at his lover, silently pleading for him to help.
“Enough, Major.” Bancoran stepped forward, taking the suddenly quiescent German by one arm and guiding him out of that room again. “Sit here. I’ll get some water. Just don’t move.”
The Major didn’t look like he’d have the strength to move for quite some time. His face had gone an unhealthy shade of white—and for a long moment, they feared he’d simply pass out. But a cup of water and a few deep breaths brought him back a bit—enough to ask for a word of Dorian’s condition.
“We don’t know yet.” Bancoran had to tell the truth. “But we should know soon. You’ll just have to wait here with the rest of us.”
“I see.” Eberbach sank down into one of the visitor’s chairs again—sighing deeply, a sound of infinite exhaustion.
“You were coming to see Dorian, weren’t you?” Bancoran asked quietly.
“Yes,” was Eberbach’s subdued reply.
“Does it matter now?” Dark eyes met Bancoran’s and he saw something in their depths he’d not seen before…pain.
“It might—if he survives.”
Eberbach winced at that reminder, then said, “I’d come to tell him—I would do everything I could to help him. It wouldn’t be enough, I knew that—and so would he—but at least he’d know I…valued him.”
“It’s too bad you didn’t say that before—when he really needed to hear it.” Bancoran’s tone was not forgiving.
“But you can tell him when he’s recovered from this,” Maraich soothed, throwing his lover a glare for continuing to punish the repentant Major.
“Right, you can tell him when he’s better.” Bancoran eased off the German, suddenly realizing how badly he’d feel if their roles were revered—and it was Maraich whose life hung in the balance.
Silence stole over the group of men. James was still leaning on Bonham while Maraich had moved closer to Bancoran and they were holding hands. Only the Major sat alone—and he felt that loneliness as he never had before in his life. He was cold—a bone deep chill that made him shiver—but it had little to do with the temperature of the hospital corridor.
Finally a doctor appeared with the news—Dorian would survive—although his heart had stopped once while they were working to save him. Technically he had been dead for a few moments.
“He’s doing well now—although he will remain in Recovery for awhile longer. Meantime, we’ll get his room prepared…” Two orderlies had already hustled into the empty prison room to begin stripping the bed of its bloody sheets.
“No,” Bancoran spoke with authority. “The Earl will not be returning to this room, doctor. He is no longer a prisoner—and will be informed of his new status as soon as he is able to comprehend. Please have him assigned to a private room on another floor.”
“Yes, Major,” the doctor agreed. “I’m sure he’ll be much happier for the change.”
“I believe so too.” Bancoran smiled. “Maraich, stay here with Major Eberbach while I learn where the Earl’s new room will be.” The anonymous doctor quickly found himself being hustled off by the raven haired agent.
“Yes, Ban.” Maraich moved his chair closer to Eberbach’s to find he was sitting in stunned silence as the news that Dorian would live sank in. And Maraich was wise enough to let him be—to give the German time to come to terms with the good news and decide what he would say to the Earl when he saw him next.
Bancoran returned over an hour later with a room number and the information that Dorian had been settled into his new bed only a few minutes before.
“I want to see him!” Eberbach sprang to his feet, hands clenched at his sides.
“Why?” Bancoran stood toe to toe with him.
“I must talk to him… please.” The Major’s voice shook with the effort it cost him to plead but Bancoran read the determination in those dark eyes—and something else…something softer.
“What will you say to him?” Bancoran pressed. “Will you hurt him again? I don’t think he could take more pain than he has already suffered.”
“No, I won’t hurt him. I promise,” Eberbach protested and Bancoran could easily read the look in his eyes—and knew he spoke the truth.
“All right, you can talk to him after I have told him my good news.”
“No—I will tell him,” the German insisted. “I will be the first to talk to him when he awakens.”
“Why you?” Bancoran challenged.
“I must speak to him first—I have something very important to tell him.” Eberbach met Bancoran’s gaze defiantly. “Very important to him…and to me.” The German seemed surprised he’d actually admitted this aloud.
Bancoran might have pressed for more details as to exactly what Eberbach was going to say to the Earl but Maraich interrupted him before he could speak.
“Let him go, Bancoran.” The redhead looked up at his lover from his wheelchair. “The Major won’t hurt Dorian and I believe what he has to say will make him very happy.”
“All right, Maraich.” Bancoran gave way to the soft loving look in the younger man’s eyes. “I’ll trust your judgment.” Turning back to Eberbach, he went on. “The Earl is in 215, Major. You can speak to him as soon as he awakes—and be sure to tell him he is not under arrest.”
“I will,” the German vowed, turning on his heel and striding off down the hall to the elevators.
“He’s not awake yet!” Bancoran called after him.
“I know. But I’ll wait with him ‘till he does wake up.” Eberbach entered the elevator and vanished from view.
“Well, I guess the Earl will be taken car of,” Bancoran observed with a smile. “Now how about you, Maraich? I think you need some rest.”
“But what about…”
“I’ll come back in a while to check on things.” Bancoran brushed his lover’s protest aside. “After I get you settled in bed.”
Turning to the Earl’s two employees, he suggested the same thing. “Why don’t you take James and put him to bed. He seems exhausted.”
In fact, the young accountant was crying again—soft sounds of distress muffled against Bonham’s chest.
“What’s wrong now?” Bancoran knelt beside them. “The Earl will be fine in a few days.”
“I know…” James sobbed. “But I almost killed him…it’s all my fault…”
Dark eyes rose to meet Bonham’s concerned gaze. “Take him home and take care of him. Help him if you can.” Bancoran advised.
“I will.” Bonham rose, his arm around James’ waist, drawing him up too. The two young men walked slowly away, with James still leaning heavily on his friend’s support.
“Now to get you home and into bed.” Bancoran took charge of Maraich’s wheelchair.
“All right.” The redhead leaned back, quite ready to give himself over into his lover’s tender care—all tension eased with the news that Dorian would live. And come to think of it, he was tired—very tired. He ached where he’d been shot—and he just wanted to sleep. “But you must promise to come back and check on them.”
“I will.” Bancoran gave this promise easily. “As soon as you are resting, I will return here.”
“Thank you, Ban.” Maraich’s voice was soft with love.
“I love you, too.” Bancoran replied to the tone in Maraich’s voice as he pushed the wheelchair down the hall.
Downstairs on the second floor, Major Eberbach had located room 215. He entered, moving as quietly as possible to the side of Dorian’s bed. And three he stopped to stand gazing down at the sleeping man for a long moment.
The Earl lay on his back, blond hair spread over his pillow, the bandage around his head still in place. But now his arm was swathed in white also and it lay over his stomach as he slept. The young Lord seemed so vulnerable…defenseless—and Eberbach felt a strange sensation pierce his heart—a sort of bittersweet pain.
Dorian’s other hand lay curled against the sheets at his side and the Major found himself drawn to take those slim fingers in his own solid grasp and squeeze reassuringly.
“You’ll be all right now, Eroica,” he murmured, sinking down onto the edge of the hospital bed without a second thought.
The sleeper frowned in silent protest at this disturbance and Eberbach didn’t move—waiting for Dorian to sink back into deeper levels of slumber.
But once disturbed it began to seep into the young Earl’s mind that he might still be alive—that he might have failed in his attempt to escape the humiliation of prison.
Pale blue eyes fought to open—only to find the Major leaning over him, a worried look on his face.
“How are you feeling, Eroica?” the German asked softly.
“I…hurt.” The Earl sounded surprised at this admission.
“Of course you do,” Eberbach agreed, his gaze flickering to the bandaged arm and back up to Dorian’s large pupiled eyes once more. “Why are you surprised?”
“But it shouldn’t hurt,” the Earl protested in a small voice.
“Why not?” Eberbach waited for the patient’s reply.
“Because I must be dead—and it shouldn’t hurt if I’m dead.” To Dorian, it sounded perfectly logical.
“Why do you think you’re dead?” Eberbach pressed.
“You’re here with me…just like my dream,” the young Lord explained. “You’re even holding my hand.” He squeezed Eberbach’s hand to remind him of their joining. “And you seem concerned about me. So I must be dead, don’t you see?”
“Well, my friend, you are not dead.” Klaus smiled down at him. “But you are right—I do car about you…very much.”
“You do?” Dorian’s voice expressed his disbelief at this statement.
“Yes, Eroica—I do.” Eberbach grew serious. “I’ve been shot—many times over the years and tortured almost as often. But I’ve never been hurt as badly as I was today.”
“What? The Earl’s blue eyed gaze traveled over Eberbach’s form. “What happened?”
“You, my friend.” The German’s voice was taut with remembered pain. “I read the letter you’d written to me—while the doctors fought to keep you alive…and I cried for you. I saw your bed—soaked with your blood—and I cried…for me.” Tears choked Eberbach’s voice once more, giving Dorian a moment to assimilate his shocking confession.
“For you? Why did you cry for yourself, Major?” the Earl asked softly.
“Because I feared you would die—never knowing that I did care for you…more than I’d ever realized before.”
“You do?” It was a day of revelations for Dorian—and he was suddenly beginning to feel much better.
“Yes, Eroica.” Eberbach leaned closer, their faces only inches apart. “And I think you should call me Klaus in the future. Major is really too formal for us now.”
“Yes…Klaus.” Dorian complied with the request readily enough.
“Your letter was beautiful…but very painful to read,” Eberbach admitted gently. “I’d never realized how cruel I’d been to you until I read how badly I’d hurt you…” A deep steadying breath helped—then he forged on. “And suddenly I realized how I felt about you—how much I really did care—and it hurt terribly to think you might die without every knowing. So as soon as I knew you would survive, I vowed to be here when you awoke—so I could tell you…and show you how much I really do care for you, Eroica.”
“Klaus…” the Earl’s voice trembled with so many emotions at once.
“Remember in your letter—you said you’d always desired a kiss from me—freely given because I…loved you…desired you?”
“Yes.” It was a thread of a sound but Klaus heard him clearly.
“Well, I do love you, Eroica. And I do desire you…” One hand stroked tenderly over silken blond curls. “I’ve always wanted to do that. Your hair has always fascinated me. And now…I want to do this…”
Dorian soon found out what ‘this’ was as warm lips met his in a tender kiss—freely given by the German—and eagerly received by the young Lord.
A soft moan and Klaus drew away to gaze down into Dorian’s face, finding tears sparkling in blond lashes. “I have hurt you?”
“No!” Misty blue eyes sprang open to deny. “No, you have made me feel so…wonderful.”
“But you cry…and you moaned.” Eberbach was still concerned.
“I cry because of my joy.” Dorian explained shyly. “I’m so happy I can’t seem to keep it all inside me. And I moaned because you were…affecting me with your kiss.”
“Oh.” Eberbach blushed a bit at this admission but bravely answered in kind. “You also affected me…powerfully. But I would rather explore our love in more…romantic surroundings. Of course, you, my Lord, will have to become my teacher. I will want to learn everything there is to know about loving you—and giving you pleasure.”
A deep, despondent sigh—and more tears spilled from Dorian’s eyes. “I would love to teach you, Klaus. But I doubt I will be able to since I’ll soon be in prison.”
Dorian’s lower lip trembled endearingly, Klaus noted—and knew his new lover would be able to wrap him around his little finger with that look anytime he wished. But now to allay his fears, the German leaned down for a rather salt flavored kiss, feeling two arms entwine around his ack, pulling him closer.
And when their second kiss ended a breathless time later, Klaus raised his head to whisper against his new lover’s damp mouth. “But you will have time, Eroica. For Bancoran has managed to get the charges against you dropped. You aren’t under arrest—and you won’t go to prison. The fact is he and Maraich were on their way to tell you the good news when they found you—bleeding to death. They saved your life, love…and thereby they saved mine. For I am not sure I could have lived with your death on my conscience.”
“Oh, Klaus,” Dorian cried out, drawing the German agent closer. “Don’t speak of it—don’t think of it, please. Just kiss me once more and make me forget the past.”
“I will, Eroica.” Klaus breathed against eager lips. “I’ll make you forget everything…but me…”
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Kaoru-no-kimi