A/N: Continues where "The End and the Beginning" leaves off. I thought the original story read better on it's own, but I couldn't resist seeing what happens afterward. . .

...

"Come with me."

An hour ago, Kala felt light-headed with relief.

Finally, finally Wolfgang is here. And he is safe.

She saw him standing against the door to the restaurant. He had called her his beloved, his heart, and she had wanted to run to him, to hold his face in her hands and kiss him. She ached thinking of the days spent without knowing where he was, wondering if he would ever return to her. To them.

That was an hour ago.

Perhaps, if she had been alone, if she had just given in to instinct when she first saw him, she would still be in a state of relieved euphoria. But instead, she had time to think.

As Wolfgang watched, she plodded on with an awkward and painful conversation with Rajan. And her mind began to hum with the wrong Wolfgang had done to her. Her relief began to give way to a steadily-building sense of indignation.

And now, Kala looks up at Wolfgang with wide brown eyes that burn with the hurt and anger she feels. She is furious with him - he doesn't need to be connected to her to know exactly how furious she truly is- but his connection allows him to also know that it doesn't change how she feels about him, and it's the only thing giving him the courage to remain with her when she is like this. He is desperate for her to forgive him.

She is sitting on the corner of her bed as he stands propped up by her wardrobe, watching her cautiously. She/they had retreated to her bedroom after a painful discussion with her parents that had followed hard on the heels of her discussion with Rajan. She had explained that there would be no wedding.

Her father had been surprised but accepting, even as her mother gave a horrified cry and tried to assure her it was only nerves that made her hesitate. Kala had not seen the point in hiding the truth any longer, especially after she had admitted so to Rajan, so she told them: "It isn't nerves. There's someone else."

That set off an entirely new reaction from her father and an even more horrified gasp from her mother.

"Who is it? Is it someone from work? How did you meet this man? When could you have possibly met him? "

The very questions that Rajan had: Gentle Rajan, who had grown angry and upset with pain.

"It is no one from work. I met him quite by accident." Kala felt Wolfgang's hand rub against the small of her back, knew he stood behind her, could feel his heart beating with hers. "And I know that this is sudden, but I know what I feel for him; he feels the same way about me. At least," her breath hitched in her throat but otherwise she gave no sign of her distress, "he says he does. " She heard a soft "scheisse" muttered behind her. Mein Herz, you know that I do.

She excused herself and headed straight to her room, ignoring Daya's frantic demand to know what just happened.

Alone, she locked the door and rounded on Wolfgang, her face flickering with all the emotions she could barely bring herself to express, foremost among them a fury that was not like Kala yet surely not unexpected. He could feel that it was fueled partly by the others' collective frustration as well: He felt the brief presence of Nomi and Lito - relieved but definitely unhappy with him - before they seemed to decide that it was Kala's right to harangue him first, and they were gone in an instant.

Wolfgang had waited quietly, patiently, although he was more nervous than he let on.

"How would you feel if I disappeared from you? " she asked at last, her arms wrapped protectively around herself, "if you knew I was in danger and you couldn't reach me? If the last thing I said to you was to move on and do the very thing you knew was wrong? If you knew -you could feel- that I, that I..." Kala stammered the words, defying Wolfgang to deny them, "wanted nothing more than to turn that gun on myself? How would you feel if those are the last things you know I feel? "

A whisper of her memories passed through him: Internet searches for news of the events at his uncle's; her confusion on learning of his reported death, but knowing he was not dead. Sleepless nights and desperate prayers to Ganesha. Her anger and hurt and fear at his repeated rejection of her attempts to reach him, when all she wanted was to assure herself that he was not hurt, that he was safe.

Not so much from others, but from himself.

He catches a memory of Nomi, Lito, and Capheus coming to give her support, comfort; of Sun who teaches her to focus when she is too agitated. Images of her lab, working on finding a psychotropic drug, a blocker, to keep Whispers out of Will's mind. At least then she feels like she is doing something other than feeling sick with grief and worry.

An echo of his own pain mixed with hers seared through him, sharp and precise, and he feels guilty that he had given her so much to bear. He had been so sure that cutting her off was the best thing to do.

Wolfgang ran an agitated hand over his head and moved from her wardrobe. He wanted to hold her; was afraid she would reject him. She had every right to reject him. Instead, he said the first thing on his mind: "Come with me. "

Surprise temporarily replaces the anger in Kala's eyes. She gives a huff and shakes her head. Kala looks exhausted. The events of the evening have taken a toll, and she slumps a little on her bed.

"Where are you? " she asks. And then she looks up, eyes regarding the shabby motel room wearily, the television on some singing competition. Eurovision pops in her head; Wolfgang's thoughts. She sits next to him on his bed, propped up against the pillows. Their bodies don't touch.

"Back in Berlin." He watches her profile, studiously avoiding looking at him, the light from the television making odd shadows across her face. It's still early here and the sun hasn't begun to set yet, although the weather was kind of shitty to begin with and the sun hadn't been out much at all. But Kala, sitting up on his bed, in this dark little room with its dark walls and dirty windows, transforms it with color in her soft yellow blouse and floral patterned skirt. He thinks that the sun is here.

"Should you be back here?" she asks, concern in her voice. "I know the authorities think you're dead, but are you safe? "

He shrugs, "I think so. " His eyes rove over her face hungrily, memorizing the high cheekbones, emphasized by the way her long, curly hair is drawn back from her face. Her eyebrows are drawn together, still upset with him, but he knows they arch perfectly over smoky, guileless brown eyes that he wishes would look at him, even in anger. She pulls in her full lower lip and his eyes are immediately drawn there.

"How do you know for sure? " Kala finally turns to him,and he is momentarily rendered speechless. She is beautiful, his beloved, and he is in deeper than he thought possible.

"Wolfgang, how do you know? " she asks again.

He shakes his head, frowning slightly, trying to concentrate and answer her without scaring her further. "The Polizei aren't looking too closely at what happened. My uncle was known to them. They think what happened is from a rival." He pauses, letting her catch glimpses of his uncle, the kind of life his uncle led, the kind of life Wolfgang refused because he hated Steiner and he hated being a Bogdanow. Kala gives a soft gasp and her eyes widen. Her hand reaches to grasp his, and he's surprised that she does so, knowing what she knows now. He holds it gently, turns it over and squeezes. "I switched my ID with one of the dead guards; his guards never have family. No one will know he's missing. And my uncle's business associates see this as an opportunity for them. There is already someone claiming to take over where my uncle left off. He isn't complaining. He may suspect the truth, but he isn't complaining. "

Kala nods slowly: It's an alien concept to her, this violent world. "Organized crime" is something she only knows in movies, knows exists outside her sheltered, law-abiding life in Mumbai. A shudder of fear rakes through her. She is still worried. "Are you staying here? "

Wolfgang smiles suddenly and it's Kala's turn to look transfixed, mesmerized by how much more youthful, more handsome he is when he does so. His eyes are a brilliant, pale blue. "Felix is awake," he says. "I'll stay until he can leave the hospital. We were talking about going elsewhere anyway."

Kala's face softens for the first time and she squeezes his hand. "I'm glad he's awake," she says simply, sincerely, and she can feel Wolfgang's rush of joy at sharing the news. She catches a memory of his visit that afternoon, sees Felix's tired eyes smile as he recognizes him and watches as Wolfgang holds Felix's hand as he talks of nothing and everything, even as Felix falls asleep. It will be alright.

Kala becomes aware that Wolfgang has grown still, watching her face, the smile still playing across his mouth, his eyes soft, but there is something more there, too.

She has been yearning to see him for so long.

"Don't ever do that again, " she says quietly, her eyes grave. "You aren't a monster. " His own gaze grows intense and heated. She feels the sudden prick of tears, and shakes her head, embarrassed that now, now she is crying and can't seem to stop.

Wolfgang pulls the hand he holds gently to him, wraps it around his waist while his other hand reaches to tangle itself in her thick, dark hair, cupping her head gently to touch their foreheads together, bridging the small space between them.

"Kala...Kala...Don't cry, Schatz, " he murmurs, his voice thick. He kisses first one salt-stained cheek, then another. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, please forgive me. Mein Herz. " And he kisses her eyes and her nose and full, full mouth, gently, chastely, begging her to forgive him, mumbling endearments in German, until she breathes yes to him, and he's so grateful that the kisses become less chaste, more hungry.

He has wanted her for so long. It was only her, thoughts and dreams of her, that kept him going. Her tears subside and her free hand creeps up to touch his face, as she'd wanted to do earlier.

"Wolfgang," she sighs into his mouth.

And halfway around the world he can hear a knock at her door. No he thinks, but it's too late, and their connection is gone.

Fuck.

He gives a deep sigh, hitting his head deliberately back against the headboard. He wonders if he should go to her and knows he shouldn't. Not with his raging hard-on. He knows tonight that he doesn't have the self control to block her from appearing if he indulges in thoughts of her.

The timing of the applause coming from the television strikes him as funny, and he gives a small chuckle.

For the first time in forever, Wolfgang thinks his day wasn't bad at all.