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[anonymous-note]

A Valley Song

Chapter 4 - Carpe Mortem

Masterlist

The enemy fire and occasional posted lanterns provide just enough light for Dave to see in the pitch blackness. The wall of sandbags in front of him provides both cover and a steady place to rest his gun, making it easier to aim as Vietnamese soldiers flood into their camp. He watches as silhouettes drop to the ground, battle cries are cut short, and lives end in the shadows and sparks.

Klaus is by his side, providing sporadic commentary as the sky lights up with gunshots and explosions. He whoops when he hits his target, despite his previous lamentations, and he curses when he misses, even if it means one less ghost hovering over him. It’s all a part of getting caught up in the war.

A bomb explodes, likely a grenade thrown from the enemy line, and shrapnel and debris rain down on them. At the same time, Dave feels a jolt go through his back, followed by a sharp, white-hot pain, and he immediately knows he’s been shot. He can’t bring himself to move, though, and it’s as if time slows down. He can feel the blood pouring from his chest, and the rasp of his breath through a collapsed lung. He can feel himself growing weak with each passing minute, and his eyelids grow heavy with every blink.

He can hear Klaus’s voice, recognizing the airy drawl, but he can’t understand what he’s saying. It’s as if Dave’s ears are filled with cotton, or he’s lying underwater, head fully submerged, so he can’t hear anything clearly. He can’t see anything either, until Klaus shoves him and he rolls onto his back, the night sky peeking through the leafy canopy overhead.

He can hear Klaus shouting his name, screaming for a medic, begging him not to go. He tries to move, tries to grab Klaus’s hand or gently hold his face, like when they first kissed. Anything to show Klaus that he’s still there, that he hears him, that he wants to stay and have a future with him, just like they’d planned. But his limbs are too heavy, and he’s too tired to speak.

No, he thinks, frantic as he tries to stay awake. No, I can’t go yet! Klaus and I were supposed to grow old together! We were supposed to get out of this godforsaken place, to always have each other! I can’t die yet! I can’t leave him by himself!

He’s screaming in his head, screaming into nothing. No one can hear him, and no one can help him. No one can stop it as darkness blinds him completely, drowning out Klaus’s desperate sobs, the gunfire all around, even the heat and dampness he’s been living in the past few years. No one can stop it as Dave fades away entirely, his eyes blank and unstaring, his body cold and alone until it’s found the next morning.

All in an instant, Dave Katz and Klaus Hargreeves are gone, killed by the unforgiving island, far from the home they knew, but also the only home they would ever know, either. Not even a whisper carried on a breeze is left for them. No stirring of grasses, nor gentle rays of sunshine. Just some memories that never happened, dreams that were never realized, and a song that was never sung.

[anonymous-note]

A Valley Song

Chapter 3: Tandem in Lucem

Masterlist

The mystery that is Klaus Hargreeves only seems to grow more mysterious as time goes on. The more Dave finds out he doesn’t know about him, the more he wants to pick the man’s brain and learn every detail of his life.

There isn’t much Dave can surmise on his own, considering Klaus keeps some closely-guarded secrets. However, what little he does learn, he buries deep into the recesses of his mind, committing every tiny thing to memory as he slowly constructs a puzzle that he can eventually put together. The puzzle that is the man he loves (and even though he hasn’t even known Klaus for very long, Dave is absolutely sure he’s in love with him).

Some things Klaus does reveal about himself is he used to do drugs, as well as drink alcohol, which he is well-versed in. He was a severe addict, ever since the age of about thirteen years old, in and out of rehab ever since. That was just his way of coping with the abuse he endured as a child, held under such strict regime that getting high or drunk was his only escape. He’s sober now, considering he has no access to those resources since coming to Vietnam, but that doesn’t necessarily mean he’s clean.

He hears voices, too. Dave doesn’t know the psychology behind it, but he hears Klaus muttering to himself, especially when he thinks no one can hear. It’s mostly things like “Shut up,” “Go away,” and “Leave me alone” that he whispers into the darkness. Sometimes Dave finds it unnerving. Most times, he resolves to help Klaus however he can.

But then in the mornings, he’s okay again. He’s back to the nonchalant, flirtatious, coy man that Dave is most familiar with, somehow making their standard army fatigues look like high-end fashion, fit for royalty. Even with dirt and grime on his face, there’s no hiding that lazy grin, the one that makes Dave’s heart stutter, and there’s no indication that Vietnam is having any affect on Klaus. If anything, it’s the other way around.

And then comes the night that they’re on watch together, armed with guns and helmets. They’re standing just outside of the light, surrounded by leaves and undergrowth, separated by a few trees. Dave is trying his best to keep his eyes focused on their surroundings, peering through the shadows in case there are threats just beyond his line of sight, when he hears the sound of a body dropping from Klaus’s direction, and his stomach drops with it.

There’s Klaus, writhing on the ground, hands clapped over his ears. He’s repeating the word “no” under his breath, over and over, sounding like panic and terror are just a few heartbeats away. Even when Dave is standing right in front of him, it’s as if he’s staring straight through him, to something Dave can’t see.

“I’m sorry,” Klaus moans, tears streaming down his face. “I didn’t mean to. I never wanted any of this to happen!”

“Klaus, what are you talking about?” Dave asks, trying to fight off the fear bubbling up in his chest, shaking off the urge to look behind him. He’s not a child anymore, and he has no reason to fear the dark. “Snap out of it!”

“Please, no,” Klaus sobs, curling into a ball. “Just go. Please, just leave me alone!”

Dave drops to his knees at Klaus’s side, pulling the man towards himself. “C’mon, Klaus, you have to snap out of this. Please, whatever’s wrong, just wake up. I can help you. Please let me help you!”

He cradles Klaus as he continues to mutter, desperation clawing its way up his throat. Then, it’s as if a curtain lifts, and Klaus is suddenly staring up at Dave, his eyes watery as his creases his brow in confusion.

“Dave?” he croaks. “What. . . . Where did they go?”

“Where did who go?” Dave asks, willing himself to breathe now that Klaus is okay.

“The men. The soldiers.”

“What soldiers, Klaus?”

“The ones we killed.”

Chills raise goosebumps along Dave’s arms, despite the jungle heat, as he shakes his head at Klaus. “What are you talking about?”

Klaus’s lip trembles as he clutches onto Dave. “I can see ghosts, Dave. They’ve haunted me since I was a kid. My dad locked me in a mausoleum to try and teach me not to be scared of them, but it didn’t work. I take drugs to block them out, but I can’t block them out here. They keep coming to me and yelling at me.” He’s crying now. “I didn’t mean to kill them, Dave. I didn’t mean to kill anyone.”

“I know,” Dave whispers, holding Klaus tight as he cries into his shoulder. “I didn’t either. But we have each other here, and we’ll be okay. We will be. I promise.”

Klaus never explains what happened after that, and Dave never asks. He doesn’t know if it’s mental illness, the effects of long-term drug abuse, or if Klaus can actually see ghosts, but he decides he doesn’t care. Even with all of that, there’s no one as ethereal in the world as Klaus, and Dave would rather that he be haunted than to not have him at all.

They talk about their futures often. Klaus talks about returning home to his family, though he isn’t really sure that he wants to. It’s the same for Dave. As much as he loves his uncle, he can’t truly be himself around him, or happy. Not if he has to hide who he is, lie through the rest of his life, pretend to be someone he’s not. There’s no life like that. There’s no life without Klaus.

So they start to talk about a life together. Moving somewhere far away, where no one will care that they’re two men who love each other. Spending the rest of their lives together, doing whatever they want, with no one to answer to. No more war. No more Helen Weaver. No more ghosts. Just the two of them, Klaus Hargreeves and Dave Katz, together forever.

If only that’s how it could’ve gone.

[anonymous-note]

A Valley Song

Chapter 2 - Ad Bibendum Antequam Moriar

Masterlist

It’s not often soldiers get the weekend off to go to a bar and celebrate, so when they’re given the next three days off, everyone scrounges together whatever clothes they can find to go out and enjoy the next few evenings. They take the money they haven’t sent home, hop on the bus to the city, and chat for the whole drive, the bus smelling strongly of cologne and hair gel.

It’s been about two months since Klaus’s appearance. He and Dave have been talking everyday ever since, getting to know each other. They talk about their families, how Dave has just his uncle, and how Klaus has two sisters, three brothers, a dead father and brother, his mom, and a butler who raised them as children. He talks about the abuse he endured at the hands of his father, and Dave finds himself sharing more about his uncle than he’s ever cared to admit to himself. Something about Klaus’s openness helps him to be open as well.

And of course, Dave was elated to hear Klaus was getting the same amount of time off as him. To hear he is also going to the bar to drink the night away. To know he doesn’t have anyone back home, and whenever Klaus refers to his former partners, he rarely says “she.” It’s as if he’s intentionally giving Dave hope. Whether to crush it or not, Dave doesn’t know. He’s bold enough to declare that he doesn’t care.

“You best keep up, Katz,” Klaus drawls, his words slurring as they always do when he speaks, like he’s stringing them together and blurring them at the ends. “I can hold my liquor, you know. Quite well, in fact.”

“You don’t look old enough to be that experienced of a drinker,” Dave remarks, trying his hardest to look Klaus in the eye and not glance at the strip of exposed skin between his shirt and his pants.

“Well, how do you think I coped with daddy dearest?” Klaus asks, tilting his head down and to the side to look up at Dave through his lashes. “Alcohol is the best medicine there is, especially if you’re self-medicating.”

There have been a number of times Dave felt like drinking and drinking when spending nights with his uncle, but he never actually did. Hearing that Klaus has is strange, to say the least.

He didn’t lie, either. When they get to the bar, everyone drinks, but Klaus is ahead of all of them by at least three shots. Every time Dave looks, he’s either on the dance floor, entirely in his own world, or he’s at the bar ordering another drink. The other soldiers take notice now, most of them assuming Klaus is a lightweight thanks to his build and his size, but he doesn’t seem to slow as the night goes on. His steps become less sure, his smile more intoxicated, but he’s certainly not making a fool of himself like some of the others.

And it’s fun. Even in the dingy bar with its shifty patrons, Dave is having fun. Maybe it’s because they’re all in Vietnam, in some foreign war all the way across the world. Maybe it’s because he now feels just as at home in this jungle as he did in Dallas. How he seems to have more memories of living here than living in America. How the men here are his brothers, his family, and they know and understand him better than anyone else. How they all share something that no one back home will ever understand.

Dave has never been much of a dancer. He never wanted to be as physically close to the girls as the other boys in his grade, smelling her shampoo and seeing the red of her lipstick up close. He once caught himself wanting to dance with Dean Abernathy, and has sworn off dancing ever since. But tonight, it doesn’t matter. Tonight he can drink and dance, even if it is with a Vietnamese woman who barely speaks any English and who keeps touching his arms and his chest. He’s having fun.

And then he collides into Klaus, hitting him from behind so he almost falls over. Klaus turns to face him, grinning languidly, and he jokingly shakes his fist at Dave. He knows he should joke back, make some remark to Klaus, but under the dim orange glow, amidst the churning bodies and blaring music, he’s just so damn beautiful. The way his dark hair curls loosely around his ears and the nape of his neck. The way his half-lidded eyes seem completely alive and at home. The way his skin glows, sweat on the curve of his neck and the dip of his collarbone. The way his lips are parted, his chest rising and falling steadily as he catches his breath. The way he’s just so perfect; Dave can’t help but stare.

Then one of the Vietnamese women drags them to a table with her friends and some of the other soldiers, the tabletop covered in empty shot glasses. Someone fills them all up, and everyone grabs a glass, cheering one another on as they knock them back. Dave and Klaus link arms and drink that way, and Dave swears he can feel Klaus’s lashes against his cheekbone. His green eyes are glowing, and he looks worn but happy, and Dave is suddenly conscious of how warm it is in here.

And now they’re standing behind a curtain of beads, leaning against the wall, the music far enough away and quiet enough now that they can talk without shouting. Dave is propped against the wall, a shot of something in his hand, and Klaus is beside him, so close Dave can feel the heat of his body. He’s angled towards Dave, his hip jutting out, and he looks coyly down at the shot glass in his hand.

Dave says something, he doesn’t remember what, and Klaus laughs. It sounds like a church choir, his smile as beautiful and brilliant as the sun. Dave can’t help but reach up and place his hand on the side of Klaus’s face, his skin soft and golden. Klaus leans into Dave’s touch, his lashes fluttering as he looks up to meet his gaze, just like when they bumped into each other on the dance floor.

Dave pulls Klaus closer, gentle and slow, in case he decides to pull away. He doesn’t, and Dave can feel his soft breath on his face just before their lips meet, light and sweet and warm. It’s everything Dave imagined it would be, and at the same time, more beautiful and more perfect than he could’ve ever possibly conjured up. A sense of peace and calm washes over him, like his entire life has led up to this moment, and now that he’s achieved it, he can now die content.

And that’s how the night progresses. The two sneaking bittersweet kisses in dark and damp corners, the taste of whiskey and salt on their tongues. Dave’s eyes are filled with nothing but Klaus; his narrow hips, his lean shoulders, his dark curls, his half-lidded emerald gaze, his satiny lips. . . everything. And there’s nothing he wants to see except for Klaus, for as long as he lives. If any good could possibly come from this hellhole, it would be this man, always at his side.

[anonymous-note]

A Valley Song

Chapter 1 - Pulchritudo in Turpis

Masterlist

Even if he hadn’t fallen into the camp in the middle of the night with a flash of blue electricity, covered in blood and wearing nothing but a towel and an overcoat, Dave doesn’t think he’d possibly be able to not notice Klaus Hargreeves. The innocent, puzzled look on his face when he saw Dave was too much on its own, like he didn’t know where he was, as if he’d taken the wrong turn off the highway, or gotten off at the wrong stop. Then the look of shock and surprise at the bombs exploding and the drill sergeant screaming orders as he dresses robotically, holds a gun with the tips of his fingers, and follows the others dumbfoundedly. It’s all too much to ignore.

No one else seems to notice. They’re all too busy talking about how many more Vietcong they need to kill before they can return home. Too busy with their letters from their parents and girlfriends, with little pictures they hold up to their faces in the flickering firelight. Too busy playing cards or swatting away bugs or visiting the medics to have another look at the damp sores on their feet. Too busy to notice the most beautiful man ever in their presence.

But Dave notices. He doesn’t have letters from home, except for his uncle, who only ever talks about his own war stories from the second World War, or his boss at the hardware store, writing once in a while to check up on him and mention that Helen Weaver came by to ask how he’s doing. It’s not the same as his fellow soldiers, all of whom have families to start if they manage to make it out of this jungle. Especially since he isn’t excited to return to Helen Weaver, like all his buddies are excited to see their girls again.

It took a few years for Dave to figure it out. His uncle has never accepted queers before, only speaking intolerably whenever it was brought up in passing. It was ingrained in Dave from an early age to hate them too, these other folks with their disease and their lust. When he could never comment further on a girl besides an uncommitted shrug and a simple, “She’s pretty,” he began to worry he was like these sex-obsessed demons his uncle spoke of. Hated by God, destined for Hell, preying on children. He thought the army might fix that, might make him a man again, and a real one at that.

The army did the exact opposite of “fix it,” though. Instead of becoming like his uncle or his friends, he was suddenly surrounded by grown men, all in incredible shape and always covered in a sheen of sweat, their tanned skin glowing in the jungle sun. Even with the stink of body odor and vulgarity of men detached from society for so long, he wasn’t repulsed. Instead, it only made him more aware of his attraction to men, and more aware of the fact that he was the kind of monster his uncle abhorred most.

He was lucky enough to meet a soldier who knew how Dave felt, someone who could help him come to terms with himself and understand he wasn’t an unredeemable freak. Someone who listened to him, and kissed him, and touched him, and taught him about himself. Someone who was transferred six months ago, leaving Dave on his own once more. But at least now he doesn’t hate himself anymore. At least he has that.

The firefight was a few nights ago. Dave has been keeping a careful eye on the newcomer, watching him adapt to their surroundings. He keeps to himself, a constant deer in headlights, taking everything in with wide, startled eyes. He’s a mix of working on autopilot and copying the other soldiers, like he doesn’t know what to do or how to act. He can barely hold a gun properly. It’s like he hasn’t had any training whatsoever.

So on the bus to their next location, Dave moves up a couple seats until he’s somewhere behind the man. “Hey, did you just get in-country?”

He jumps slightly, turning to look at Dave. He breaks into an uncertain smile, nodding as he angles his shoulders to face him better. “Uh, yeah.”

“Yeah, shit’s crazy, I know,” Dave says, giving him a reassuring smile. “You’ll adjust. I’m Dave.”

“Klaus,” the man says, taking the hand Dave offers him. The skin of his fingers and palm is soft, none of the callouses Dave developed while being here. But at least he looks more relaxed now, his smile coming easier, his shoulders not quite so tensed, his green eyes the same color as the shrubbery outside, framed by the darkest lashes Dave has ever seen.

He’s beautiful. And he certainly doesn’t belong here.

[anonymous-note]

A Valley Song

Masterlist

It’s like an angel fell from the sky, colliding into Dave’s life at its most tumultuous time, granting his prayers of love and acceptance and understanding. His voice is like music, his touch like satin, his gaze like heaven, and Dave is going to spend every moment he can reveling in that. Life is too short to waste, especially in war-torn Vietnam, and he doesn’t want to lose a precious second with this beautiful creature who crashed into their camp with a flash of blue light.

Chapter 1 - Pulchritudo in Turpis

Chapter 2 - Ad Bibendum Antequam Moriar

Chapter 3 - Tandem in Lucem

Chapter 4 - Carpe Mortem