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Running soap-slick hands over a naked Major was one of Eroica's favorite fantasies, but the reality nearly overwhelmed him. Both of them naked, he cautiously led Klaus into a compromise between warm water and the cold the Major preferred. He took them to about waist depth.
It was the hardest thing he had ever done to remain asexual, reminding himself that Klaus saw him as a friend acting as nurse, not a lover. So he soaped his love's arms, shoulders, chest, and back, resisting the urge to follow his hands with his lips, but not failing to appreciate the feel of the strong body, only slightly larger but much more muscular than his own.
Klaus's body was hard — not just firm enough to look good, as Dorian kept his own, but powerful and tough. Eroica had seen that strength often enough, felt it once as it exploded his fantasies and almost broke his jaw. He was glad the memory of punching him disturbed Klaus; perhaps when he regained all his memories he would finally apologize.
The dimpled scar below Klaus's right shoulder was surely a bullet wound. The slash on his left arm had happened when Dorian was with him, in Alaska. Always in the line of fire, that was his love. If he allowed himself, he would panic every time the telephone rang, for fear of learning that the Major had been killed on one of his dangerous missions.
Leaving that line of thought, he made Klaus sit down in the shallows while he washed his legs and feet, then, just like a sister in hospital, handed him the soap to wash his own genitals. Taking a firm hold on his emotions, he did not allow his body to react to the sight of the Major caressing himself ... except to note that it was not a caress at all, just an impersonal cleansing. Obviously the motions were an ingrained habit.
But, were it the usual Iron Klaus before him, Dorian knew he would be scolded for watching, and that the Major would find some way to humiliate him afterwards. The Klaus with him in the cavern today was unconcerned; there was neither shame nor exhibitionism in his moves.
Finally, it was time for the task of washing Klaus's hair without reopening his wound. As it had not been stitched — Dorian hadn't even thought until now that it should have been — the scar would probably be wider than it would have been with proper treatment. Even hidden under the thick black hair, it would probably give his love a cowlick to contend with.
He found a place where they could sit shoulder-depth in the warm water, and with infinite patience combed the tangles out of the raven locks. Dorian loved doing it, but he saw Klaus wince and grit his teeth when he tugged at the blood-matted strands.
Then, with great care, he used his own soap over Klaus's protests about its perfume — some things never changed — knowing that it would leave his love's hair softer and easier to comb than the stuff the Major had brought. Klaus leaned back against Dorian in the warm water, and, because his love could not see his face, he allowed himself to indulge his own pleasure as he washed the silky hair and gently massaged the scalp beneath. He was very careful around the wound, washing antiseptic and matted blood away without reopening it. "I don't think there's any need to put the bandage back," he said.
"Good. I don't like wearing a turban."
Klaus leaned back to help Dorian rinse the soap away, looking like a water god with his hair floating about him. But as soon as Dorian pronounced his hair soap-free, he was up and out of the water, a glorious Greek statue on the edge of the pool as he toweled himself off and began putting clothes on.
Dorian sighed, and proceeded with his own bath ... only to realize some minutes later that he had an appreciative audience. Startled, he met Klaus's eyes.
The Major blinked, as if he had just realized what he was doing, and busied himself searching for something in his pack. By the time Dorian got out of the water, Klaus was carefully combing his hair again.
"Let me do that. You can't see the wound."
"I can feel it," Klaus replied. He combed the damp fringe down over his forehead, and laughed. It covered his eyes. "Dorian, have you a pair of scissors?" he asked.
"Let me look." Sure enough, Bonham kept a miniature sewing kit in his pack, which included a pair of small but sharp scissors.
The Major pulled out his shaving mirror, but he couldn't find anything to prop it on to see what he was doing. "Let me do that for you," Dorian offered. "You can't see with your hair in your eyes anyway!"
Again the expected argument didn't happen: Eberbach simply handed him the scissors, saying, "If you cut it at the level of my lashes, when it dries it will curve right above my eyebrows."
"You remember that, huh?"
"Trivial things come to me the minute I think about them," Klaus explained. "It's only important things I can't remember."
"You will," said Dorian, taking the opportunity for a good look at his Major looking cute as a puppy with his hair tangling in his eyelashes. "You sure you trust me to do this?"
"Why not?"
"You usually call me a klutz."
"Are you?"
"Only with guns."
"Oh. I can fix that. As soon as we get the chance, I'll teach you how to handle one."
Eroica smiled at the confidence in Klaus's voice. He obviously didn't remember exactly how klutzy the Earl was with a gun in his hands.
Meanwhile, Dorian carefully combed the black hair into place, then cut a smooth line across the fringe. It sprang immediately into place, and he couldn't help smiling. Even the Major's hair obeyed orders, unlike his own rebellious locks. "Now you look like yourself, except for the beard," he said.
"I think I'm steady enough to shave," said Eberbach, "but there's not enough light in here."
"We both need it," said the Earl, and was caught totally off guard when Klaus reached out to stroke his cheek, then scraped a nail over the stubble.
"You do need it," he said. "It just doesn't show."
Eroica caught his breath and tried to still the pounding of his heart at the Major's easy touch. Oh, gods, if he could only always be like this! He knew there was nothing sexual in it — but it was such bliss not to fear a harsh word at every accidental brush of hand or body.
They put on their parkas and went out into the bright mountain sunlight. It was warmer today; their hands didn't go numb, or the warm water they brought with them freeze before they were finished.
Bandage and beard both gone, the Major now looked very much himself ... but he still didn't act or sound like the man Eroica knew, and weakness assaulted him again after all the activity. "I'm sorry," he said when he had to lean on Dorian to get back inside.
"I've done this for you before," said the Earl, "and you for me. There's nothing to apologize for. It takes at least a week to recover from a head wound."
"I know," said Klaus. Then, "Yes, I do know that. Why can I remember all this common knowledge, and almost nothing personal?"
"It's coming back," Dorian reminded him. "Don't push it." Give yourself time to get used to being easy and friendly with me ... trusting me.
They rested and talked quietly for a while, and when Klaus felt up to it he made a spicy stew out of the meat, vegetables, and herbs from the storage room. They had decided to save the less flavorful but more convenient foil packets for their journey back down the mountain.
By the time Dorian had done the washing up, he noticed Klaus's eyes drifting shut. "Go to bed!" he told the reluctant soldier. "You need extra sleep while you're healing."
Obediently, Klaus stripped, crawled into his sleeping bag, and was immediately asleep. Eroica knew he had the ability to will himself to sleep almost instantly. He also knew that, at least in his presence, the Major never slept nude. Well, he could enjoy what he had while it lasted.
He went into the chapel and meditated for a time, hoping for another glimpse of the Mother goddess, but although he felt the peace that surpasseth understanding, she apparently had no more to say to him. Eventually he went back into the pool cavern and fell asleep.
#
On top of a train hurtling at breakneck speed, Klaus knelt with a rifle in his arms. From behind him, Dorian's arms provided welcome support.
At a desert checkpoint, dressed in flowing Arab garments, he saw Dorian at the same moment Dorian saw him. They ran to one another, flung their arms about each other. Then Dorian was hugging and kissing him while he stood helpless, for reasons he could not comprehend unable to return the blond's caresses.
Standing before Klaus, eyes lowered as if he feared what he would see in Klaus's face, Dorian stated clearly, "I love you."
Klaus and Dorian lay naked amidst heaps of jewel-colored cushions, Dorian's arms about him, blond hair pouring down over the two of them like their own private tent. "I love you," said Dorian. "I would never hurt you." Then they were kissing, this time Klaus kissing back, feeling fear in the pit of his stomach at the sparks that flew through him at the contact. His naked body surged against Dorian's nude flesh. He rolled on top of the Englishman, feeling warmth against his coldness —
Again he woke with a start, sitting straight up in shock. This time he didn't cry out, though, and Dorian remained asleep in his own sleeping bag, remote and exotic.
The memories were true. He had no doubt of it. And they explained one whole helluva lot.
He had to smile at his own stupidity. They had obviously been sleeping together until Dorian discovered Klaus's amnesia; only then had he removed himself, and ever since been rigorously impersonal in every touch.
Smiling with new, joyful knowledge, Klaus leaned over and captured Dorian's mouth in a lingering kiss.
Forward to Part Ten
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