Five Years Ago - Antonio and Ludwig meet (closed, R-18)

His handler wanted him to meet someone. Juan still didn't know why he needed a "handler," exactly, or what, precisely, the Division wanted from him.

But they said they could help him with his powers. And he wanted that desperately.

"Just tell him exactly what you told me...about the woman who can heal people with a touch," his handler repeated.

"Why can't you tell him?" Juan frowned.

"Because you might not have told me every detail. He needs every detail, Juan, even if you think it's unimportant."

"Sí, sí," Juan mumbled.

---

sí - yes.

The door opened, and in stepped a blond man roughly six feet tall. He was dressed much like any other Division member that Juan had encountered -- a suit with a white button-down shirt and a dark tie -- but the man's face seemed sharper somehow, more focused. Blue eyes took him in as well as his handler, and when he seemed satisfied that everything was as it should be, he nodded once.

He turned to Juan, those blue eyes still assessing. "You are the Watcher?" he asked, a German accent making his words sound rougher around the edges. He glanced at the handler once, but focused his attention back to Juan.

Juan shivered. The room seemed colder somehow. He looked at his handler, but the man said nothing. He looked back at the operative.

"Sí. Mi nombre es Juan. Y usted?" the pleasantry was so terribly misplaced here. But Juan didn't care. His visions may have been unwanted, but they were part of his mind, and he didn't like sharing them in person, with total strangers.

---

Spanish translation: Yes. My name is Juan. And you(rs)?

The man blinked, looking more surprised by the language than what Juan might've said. The man's voice was rich, smooth, much like how the man himself looked. If it weren't for the Division office they were in, he imagined that the man -- Juan -- would've been more enjoyable company.

However, he wasn't here to exchange pleasantries. He had a job to do. It was tempting to just demand the man speak German or English, get the information and be done with it, but people tended to be more forthcoming when he was more approachable.

He cleared his throat politely before sitting down in the chair in front of Juan's. "Ah, mi nombre es Ludwig Schneider." He paused for a moment before admitting slowly, "No soy fluido en español. ¿Usted habla inglés? ¿Alemán, quizás?"

***

Translations from Babelfish, English to Spanish.

No soy fluido en español. - I am not fluent in Spanish.
¿Usted habla inglés? ¿Alemán, quizás? - Do you speak English? German, perhaps?

"Ludwig" had a deep, commanding sort of voice that matched his presence to a T. Juan wished suddenly that he could see Ludwig's future. He felt like it was important.

Juan glanced at his handler again. The man gave him an unimpressed look.

"Tú habla Ingles. Habla con él," his handler glared at him.

Juan managed a smile for Ludwig. "It's nice to meet you," he said in English. "I'm afraid I don't know any German at all...but I speak English well enough, I think."

---

You speak English. Talk to him.

Ludwig nodded once. "I was told that you had information about a woman."

He reached into an inner pocket of his suit jacket and produced a 4"x6" glossy photograph of a woman with light brown hair, hazel eyes that danced, and a sunny smile. The shot looked candid -- she was walking down a cobblestone street somewhere that looked like an old part of Paris or possibly even Prague.

Ludwig offered the photo to the man, his gloved hands not leaving any fingerprints on the glossy surface.

"Do you recognize her?" he asked calmly.

Juan took the picture, a fingertip just brushing Ludwig's glove.

His own hands were broad, tanned brown-olive, and a little dirty. Well, he thought with a little mental swirl of embarrassment, he had been gardening when he had the vision, and come straight to the Division with the information, like he was always told to do.

"This is the chica I saw," Juan nodded. "But it wasn't near here," he tapped the background. "She was in Madrid. I've been in that place I saw her in. It's called Plaza del Parterre...it's a beautiful garden. She was walking a dog and a little girl ran up to her...here, I drew it," he pulled a folded piece of paper from his jacket. A short carpenter's pencil added little details to the smudged drawing.

---

chica - girl

Ludwig accepted the drawing after Juan made a few adjustments to the picture. Righting it, he pulled out a pair of reading glasses and set them on his nose before narrowing blue eyes at the picture, picking out small details in the scenery. "This is quite good," he murmured. As much as he was fascinated by Watchers and their ability to see the future, the artwork they could produce, with such attention to detail, was usually just as impressive.

The dog seemed to be a West Highland breed, the little girl cheerful and as the target. The leaves on the plants near them looked vaguely familiar, but Ludwig wouldn't be sure what they were until he consulted an encyclopedia.

Blue eyes lifted from the picture to look at Juan steadily. "Did you see anything else in your vision?"

Juan thought for a moment, eyes closing as he concentrated.

"One thing. It smelled like burning meat. And..." he shifted uncomfortably. "I think - this is just an impression I had - I think that it was human flesh. So I suppose I should say...be careful?" he actually looked honest-to-God worried about this strange agent, and he found himself nearly as surprised by that as he was by anything in this very unusual of jobs.

Ludwig frowned, noticing the concern in the other man's expression. "I... see." His eyes narrowed for a moment before he took the photo back.

"Do you know what day or time this will occur?" he asked.

Juan flushed, embarrassed by such a foolish omission. Time was everything. "Ah, of course - late afternoon. The bells were ringing...I heard three chimes. The day..." he thought for another long moment, eyes closing again. When he opened them, they seemed a brighter green than before. "Not long after Ash Wednesday. I saw an española with the mark on her forehead," he drew his thumb over his brow in a pantomime of a priest making the cross in ash.

Ludwig's gaze became sharper, more intense. He nodded once, firmly, to Juan. "Thank you -- ah, gracias." He stood quickly, tucking the photo back into the inner pocket of his suit jacket. Ash Wednesday wasn't too far off. If he made the preparations quickly enough, he would be able to apprehend her with little trouble.

"How are you usually compensated for your ability, Juan?" he asked, not quite sure what to do. He'd dealt with Watchers before, but this had been the first time that he'd encountered one who'd required a handler. Usually, he would have paid the man and been on his way, or recommend him for a raise or a promotion, but this situation was entirely new to him.

"De nada," Juan smiled, pleased by the effort to use his language. Ingles hurt his mouth yet.

Ludwig's question surprised him. He looked at his handler again. "El quiere saber cómo 'compensar' me."

"Lo pregunta para una punta, si le gusta," the handler said derisively. Juan shifted, uncomfortable with that idea, but mostly uncomfortable with the handler's tone.

"Dinner," Juan smiled at Ludwig. "I don't often have company. Next time you're in the city, bien?"

---

De nada - It's nothing

Ingles - English

El quiere saber cómo 'compensar' me - He wants to know how to "compensate" me

Lo pregunta para una punta, si le gusta - Ask him for a tip, if you like

bien? - okay?

The request for dinner was unusual, but given the exchange he'd just witnessed between Juan and his handler, the German couldn't say that he was all that surprised.

He nodded once, reaching into his wallet and producing a business card. "If you need to contact me again, here is where to reach me."

All the business card said was the man's name, two telephone numbers, and an email address.

To be honest, Juan was mildly shocked that the agent had agreed. He smiled in the way people do when someone has given them a simple, honest present from the heart with no expectation of repayment. He took the card and tucked it into his wallet.

Ludwig seemed more caught off-guard by the honesty in the man's expression than by the fact that man had taken his business card. Blinking once, his nod was a bit weaker than before, surprise making him hesitate for a moment.

"If I need to contact you, I will." Whatever hesitation his physical movements lacked, his voice more than made up for it. "Buenos tardes, senor."

Juan laughed a little. "Señor," he said, emphasizing the sound of the ñ. "And...while I'm sure you could find me through..." he waved vaguely around the room, not really indicating his handler, but clearly meaning him. He pulled out his own business card, for the small flowershop he ran in his spare time.

Ludwig's cheeks flushed as he accepted the card. "My apologies."

He looked the card over, taking in the information, his rudimentary Spanish enough to help him figure out the information. A flower shop. It explained the man's hands, if nothing else. Perhaps he was a consultant, though Ludwig wondered why the man was allowed to maintain a flower shop instead of being a Division agent.

That was a question for another time, however. There was a target to apprehend, and with Juan's information, the capture would go much more smoothly.

He tucked the business card into his wallet and nodded again. "Gracias..." he paused, trying to figure out how to say the rest. "Ah. Gracias por su ayuda, señor Ramírez." He put an emphasis on the ñ with a quirk of the lips that could be mistaken for a smile.

***

Gracias por su ayuda, señor Ramírez. - Thank you for your assistance, Mister Ramirez.

"De nada," he repeated, meaning both the mistake and the exchange of cards and the vision.

Juan grinned. "Bueno. Ah - gut." He shrugged, as if to say, "See, I don't really know your language either, but I try~!" And he definitely saw a smile in that mouth. Well, perhaps the German agent wasn't all business.

A blond eyebrow quirked at the attempt, and he nodded once.

"If you'll excuse me, I have business to attend to," he murmured.

And, just as quickly as he'd arrived, he left.

"Did you get his address for the loveletters you're going to send?" Juan's handler asked snidely.

Juan rolled his eyes. "I'm going back to my shop. I'll call you if I see anything. Unless, of course, I See you falling down some stairs, in which case I'll laugh."

He didn't notice the way the man glared at his back.

He did notice that he got a new handler a few days later.

---

yellow text means Spanish.

Four years, six months ago. Madrid.

It was nice to actually enjoy traveling in a city for once. Ludwig had gotten so used to just going to a new city for a target that they ended up starting to blur, with the only real difference between them being what languages the people spoke when he needed to interact with the local populace. He never really had the time, but after requesting two days of vacation, he had to admit that he had been cheating himself a little.

A gaggle of young women -- probably in their late teens or early twenties -- were eying him appreciatively, which forcibly reminded him of the fact that, despite how old he looked, he was sixteen. He could feel his face flush, and of course, this meant that the girls giggled behind their hands and whispered to each other in quick Spanish that sounded musical.

No matter. He'd already made arrangements. This wasn't the time for distractions.

He pulled out the card that Juan had given him six months prior, and seeing as how he had no idea how to navigate the streets, he kept an eye out for people watching, brought the card up to his nose, and Sniffed once, delicately.

Were he somewhere more private, he would have indulged his senses, let himself metaphorically roll around in the scent until it enveloped him and wouldn't let go. But for how well he'd trained himself, this would do. If nothing else, it wouldn't look like he was in the middle of... yes, well. The less said about that, the better.

The scent registered, and he could almost taste it in the air. He must not have been as far away as he'd thought. Flowers also lingered as well, so it was quite possible he'd find the man's flower shop first.

Either way, Ludwig knew where he was going now.

Juan was finishing up the last few orders and getting ready to close. A bouquet for Señora Valdez, a corsage for some boy's dance partner, and he was done, a small smile at the accomplishment.

This place was his sanctuary. He'd taken it over right after he finished school, bought it off the old owner for a shamefully low price. He'd known he would be happy here. And he was glad to be right, for once.

Juan was not quite 21, but he felt far older. He had seen terrible things with his visions, he had watched people he had never (and would never) meet die for nothing. It wore on him, until simple joys were enough to brighten his day...because he knew better than to expect more than that.

The scent of roses and heather brought the German to a small, but well-kept flower shop, and inside of the glass windows, he could see the man he'd met six months prior.

Not much had changed, really -- Juan still had an aura of calmness to him, a down-to-earth feeling that enjoyed simple things like a German trying to use his language (and butchering it a little), or someone he'd never met asking what he would like in return for his help. The Spaniard looked happy, standing behind the counter and filling out a form. The apron he wore was a bit smudged with dirt, but even from this distance, Ludwig could tell the man had a quiet happiness about him.

The German found himself if he would ever feel that kind of serenity. It was possible he never would.

Shaking his head, Ludwig entered the shop, the bell chiming as the door swung open.

Juan looked up when the bell rang. "Hola, Ludwig~! What a nice surprise," he said in English. "How are you?" Had he been a dog, his tail would have been wagging in eagerness to greet a long-absent friend.

---

Hola - hello

Sorry this is so MISERABLY short, but I just finished class so I'm about to hike back to the dorm.