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Of all the things he’d been expecting to stumble upon in the new universe, a child definitely wasn’t on the list.
The kid was scrawny, his height not even reaching Richtofen’s hip. He stared up at Richtofen with wide, mismatched eyes, identical to Richtofen's own. The kid held a small tree branch like it was a sword, and the thing looked like it had been sharpened.
“Who are you?” The boy asked, with a thick German accent. It had a hint of Russian to it as well, and Richtofen wondered if the universe he’d stumbled into also had the war.
“I’m Edward,” Richtofen said, getting down to one knee to be able to speak to the boy a bit better. “And I happen to be a bit… lost.”
The boy gasped. “No way! I’m also named Edward! My dads just call me Eddie, though.”
A deep sense of unease was growing in Richtofen's stomach. A boy named Edward, who had identical eyes as him, as well as an accent nearly a copy of his own? Creepy.
“You said you’re lost?” Eddie asked with a tilt of his head. When Richtofen nodded, Eddie pointed into the trees with his stick-sword. “I can show you my house! Maybe my Papa can help you.”
“Lead the way then,” Richtofen said, standing.
Eddie ran off, and Richtofen jogged after him.
After a while of running, Eddie and Richtofen reached a rather large clearing with a cottage in the centre. Richtofen couldn’t see anyone inside, but the lights were on, so that was a good sign.
Eddie led Richtofen up and into the house, calling out, “Papa, Dad, I’m back! I found someone in the woods, too!”
As Richtofen was closing the door, he heard footsteps and a confused German voice. “What do you mean, Eddie? Who did you find?”
Rictofen looked up, and nearly gasped. He had to be imagining things. There had to be some reason for it. Maybe he hit his head a little harder than he thought back in the last universe. Maybe he was just truly insane.
But, when he blinked and he was staring at the man, he knew he was real. He was staring directly at Adolf fucking Hitler.
Adolf was staring right back, trying to make sense of the situation, and that was when Richtofen realised he’d never taken his armband off.
He and Hitler had met numerous times before to discuss Element 115, and Richtofen internally grimaced. Adolf definitely remembered him.
It was then that he realised what the man was wearing. It made sense, considering he lived in the forest, but the sight of a man feared by many wearing a frilly apron and a cardigan really made Richtofen question his life.
That was the man he once called Fuhrer.
Standing there looking like he should be running a bakery.
Richtofen glanced down at Eddie, who had no idea what was happening and didn’t seem to actually care.
Richtofen cleared his throat. “Hallo there. I didn’t know this was your home.”
“Why do you have that armband?” Adolf questioned.
Oh. Right. It would make sense for him to question that. Did Adolf really not recognise him? He thought back, then remembered how different he’d looked when they’d met. He still had his thicker moustache. It often got him compared to Stalin, but he didn’t mind too much.
“I used to serve the Reich,” Richtofen replied. “I have actually met with you many times before.”
“Did you follow me? Why me?! I’m just trying to escape that infernal apocalypse, and I don’t need some random soldier hunting me down through universes!”
“I can understand why you’d be upset, but respectfully, I believe you’ve had a much nicer experience than the planet you left behind. So I suggest you shut up and allow me to explain myself further before you refer to me as common.”
Adolf crossed his arms but didn’t say anything, so Richtofen took that as a sign to continue.
“I am not a soldier, I am a scientist. I was the assistant of Dr. Maxis, and we were working with element 115 on the super soldier project. Do you remember meeting with me? I believe I had a moustache back then.”
“Hmm… yes, that does sound familiar. His assistant, you say? What is your name?”
“Richtofen. Edward Richtofen.”
Adolf stared at him, then down at Eddie, then back up at him. “You have the same name. And the same eyes.”
“I noticed.”
Adolf glanced over his shoulder at the stairs, then he turned back to Richtofen and lowered his voice. “Have you ever been compared to either Joseph Stalin or myself?”
“Quite often, yes. The moustache didn’t help.”
Adolf sighed, then motioned for Richtofen to follow him. Richtofen followed him into the kitchen, and sat across from Adolf at the small table.
“Go play outside, Eddie,” Adolf said, and Eddie nodded before running out back into the entryway then out into the clearing. He watched after him for a moment, then turned back to Richtofen.
“I don’t suppose you ever knew your parents, did you?”
That was an odd question. “No, I never did. I never got adopted, and I never knew why. Apparently something about my parents drove everyone away.”
Adolf sighed. “I knew that would happen. We both did.”
Richtofen gave the man a confused look. “What do you mean?”
Adolf looked embarrassed. “A long time ago, before the war even started, Stalin and I knew each other, quite well I might add. We were very good friends, and over time there was some… tension that grew between us.” He glanced out the window at Eddie, who was poking something he’d found in the dirt.
“One night, he invited me over to his home for a drink and to talk. I didn’t know about what, but I still went over. We ended up drinking more than we spoke, and…” He trailed off, face tinting red.
“We had sex. Drunken, extremely passionate sex, in which we were too focused on each other to consider any sort of protection. I suppose the universe decided this was entertaining, and wanted the games to continue, as I found myself the next week holding a very positive pregnancy test.”
Richtofen nearly choked on his own breath at that. The very male communist leader managed to get the also very male genocidal maniac pregnant.
“You got pregnant? I was under the impression you were biologically male.”
“I am. But I still managed to grow and have a baby.”
“Wait, if you had a child, then one very important question remains.” He put his hands on the table and made direct eye contact. “Can you produce milk?”
The two stared at each other for a moment before bursting out laughing.
“Gott, that shouldn’t be that funny but it somehow is,” Adolf said, still giggling.
“Anything can be funny if you make it dramatic,” Richtofen replied. “But, seriously. Can you?”
Adolf nodded. “Joseph wouldn’t stop calling it breast-feeding, so I kicked him in the crotch. It’s his fault I had a kid, and he deserved it.”
Richtofen chuckled. “Admirable. I have a list of men I would like to hit in the balls with a baseball bat. Still, you were telling a story. Do continue.”
Adolf nodded. “Right. I, wanting to join the government, couldn’t let anyone know the child was mine, and they especially couldn’t know who the father was. So, I dropped the boy off at the orphanage. Gave a fake last name, and said I found him abandoned.”
“That’s what the people there told me was what happened to me,” Richtofen said. The story was beginning to sound unnervingly familiar.
“I suppose it sounds so familiar because you would have asked what happened to you eventually. The name you were filled under was Richtofen, not Adolf or Stalin like you should have been.” He looked up at Richtofen, meeting his gaze. “I know you’ve pierced it together now, but I am your biological father. As is Stalin.”
Of all the things Richtofen could have felt in that moment, he felt relief. Maybe because he finally knew who his father was. Fuck, was he happy to have his father back, even if it was Adolf Hitler?
“I… don't know what to say to that,” he admitted. “You had me, then I went and broke reality.”
“I think you get that from me,” Adolf said. “Joseph often says I’m better at demolition than anything.” He chuckled. “Ironic, considering he nearly burnt the house down last week.”
Richtofen chuckled sheepishly. “I can’t say I haven’t done that before.”
“So you really are our kid, then.”
“As strange as this sounds, it’s really nice to hear that.”
He glanced out the window at Eddie who seemed to be playing some sort of fighting game with himself. “So… he looks like me. Scarily so.”
Adolf went red again. “Yes, well, maybe it's a coincidence.”
Richtofen raised an eyebrow.
“Fine!” Adolf looked away. “That’s your brother. I had him a few years ago because apparently, in every universe I visit, I’ll be fertile.”
Richtofen grinned. “He called you Mom, didn't he?”
“He did. He still does sometimes, in fact, and it is embarrassing."
“Oh, a shame. Sorry about that,” he said, and he watched Adolf’s face as he began to draw out the next word. “...Mom.”
“I would skin you alive if you were not my son. Never do that again."
“Sorry. Should I call you Dad then? No? Vater? Papa?”
Adolf pinched the bridge of his nose. “One child is enough, the fully grown one does not need to contribute to this absolute bullshit.”
Richtofen laughed, and Adolf couldn’t help but laugh quietly as well. The laughter faded then stopped as they heard someone coming down the stairs.
“Ah, there’s your other father. Do try not to scare him too badly by existing, ja?”
“I’ll try.”
The footsteps grew closer, and it wasn’t long before a man entered the kitchen. “Adolf? Who is this in here with you?”
The voice was undoubtedly Russian, and the face was one Richtofen had seen on posters or newspapers, but never in person.
It was quite difficult to see Joseph Stalin as anything but the communist leader, but Richtofen supposed he and the man had their similarities.
He and Joseph held the same, tense awkward staring contest as he and Adolf had, and he was beginning to wonder if he also did that when he recognized people.
“Adolf, does this man happen to look very familiar to you?” Joseph asked, and Adolf didn’t waste any time.
“This is Edward. Edward Richtofen, the grown up version of that tiny little baby you so affectionately dubbed your Solnyshko.”
“Wait, this is him?”
Richtofen smiled. “Hallo! I hear that you are my father.”
Stalin stared, then sighed. “Hello. I suppose you’ve already been told what happened?”
“Yes, I have. I must say, it’s quite impressive that you managed to get a biological male body to carry a child, even if it was accidental.”
“Adolf, darling, did you have to tell him that?”
Adolf put on his most innocent face. “I think it was entirely necessary. And very entertaining.”
Joseph sighed. “Well, it’s nice to see you again. Even if it is in another universe while running from an apocalypse. I’ve been wondering who even started the thing in the first place.”
“Ah, that… was me,” Richtofen said.
Joseph stared at him, then just shook his head. “You’re just like your Dad.”
“Ah, yes, he said the same thing as well,” Richtofen said, gesturing to Adolf.
“Interesting. Ah, a question: are you going to be staying here?”
Richtofen shrugged. “If it doesn’t bother you. I was hoping to find out where my companions went, but I wouldn’t mind having a roof over my head. It’s been months since I didn’t have to board up windows.”
“Then you can have the guest room. We were saving it in case we encountered any travellers, so it’s furnished and everything,” Joseph said. “It’s the door farthest from the stairs, at the end of the hall to the right. It’s getting rather late, so we’ve already had dinner, but we could make something for you if you wish.”
“Oh, no, that won’t be necessary. I ate rather recently, but I do thank you very kindly for all this hospitality. It must be strange having me just drop in like this."
“Don’t worry, it’s no bother,” Adolf said. “You go upstairs and rest. You look like you need it.”
Richtofen nodded his thanks, then stood up. He walked over to the staircase, skipping steps as he went. He reached the guest room door, then pushed it open.
The room was small, with a nightstand, small closet, and a large bed.
Richtofen shut the door behind him, then stepped across the carpet over to the window. The sun was almost completely set, and Richtofen hadn't even noticed.
He shut the curtains, then made his way over to the bed. He tugged his boots off, then his coat, and he continued pulling off layers until he was simply in his undershirt and trousers.
He flopped onto the bed, then shimmied under the blankets. The fabric was soft, something he hadn’t felt in a long, long time. The closest thing to comfort he’d gotten was the time he and Dempsey shared a sleeping bag.
That was nice.
He was grateful to be safe again. Sure, his parents were some of the worst people the world knew, and sure, he himself wasn’t exactly a role model himself, but it was a family.
A small, insane, most likely psychopathic family.
And it was their family.
His family.