Laugh, I Nearly Died

[Dirk Riedel]

Country: Tripoli, in Libya, Africa
Current Time: 12:35 p.m., April 1941
Weather Conditions: Hot and dry; the scorching sun is hanging from the sky at 41 degrees.



“Fräulein ... dem Rauchen wird im Krankenhaus nicht erlaubt.”

The woman turned around from the open window, an expression of mild annoyance stretched throughout her distinctly sharp features as she stared indifferently back at the nurse, standing right behind her with a face denoting a combination of understanding and yet strictness at the same time, as she patiently awaited for the other to respond to her evident request. With a weary sigh, the woman crushed the end of her cigarette on the marble sill, the ashes glued to the limestone surface from the day’s heat, the of yore Libyan sun hanging from the clear sky overhead in the age-old city at this point in time supremely conquered by the Axis forces and shining down upon the mane of hair falling down onto her shoulders like a golden waterfall, somnolent eyes of celadon green slightly narrowed as they turned, the nurse having by now walked away, towards the scenery surrounding her, one hand resting along the window sill and herself standing sideways to view the corridor. A considerable amount of soldiers and other military personnel was seated upon the side benches by the white-washed walls, each waiting for their turn to be seen by a doctor, with a few mattresses placed around the corridor and carrying those who had been most severely wounded in battle and were expected to be moved shortly to the surgery rooms. She scowled.

It had all began around a week ago. The announcement had arrived from the superior commanders of the armed forces as to a private military reception to take place exclusively for commissioned officers as a form of celebrating their latest victories in North Africa and Erwin Rommel’s ingenious tactical expertise and mastery, a reception which she had attended in her female appearance, a rather insignificant decision which had, ironically, proved rather fatal for the future occurrences that were meant to cascade into an avalanche of ill-natured consequences, and which she would have never taken had the fourth platoon never received their delivery of letters precisely that morning. But so it was that the ship sailing from Palermo to Tripoli had been delayed two days by a sweeping thunderstorm which had evolved around the wider region, and as that very same day the soldiers of the platoon, upon leave, were lazily sitting on the sand and eating from their freshly delivered food supplies, the arrival of letters and news from home had them all talking about their wives, fiancés and sisters; and had Alfred Gartman not spoken with such extensive fervour of his beloved sister and expressed wishes profoundly felt he should one day meet her again if only to see the proud smile on her face upon watching him dressed in a military uniform adorned with nothing more but medals stretching out to his back, then Dirk Riedel may have never even been tempted to appear in the reception in her true form, a desire to be feel once again what it is like to be a sister, an unorthodox and strange way to be connected to her brother once more.

But the ship had, indeed, met tribulations due to the unexpected and uncontrolled weather conditions, the letters had been delayed, the soldiers had engaged themselves to a conversation of reminiscence and longing, and Dirk had, as it happens, been unconsciously influenced to appear sporting a dress rather than a military uniform. It was all a part of seemingly or formerly insignificant events taking place in a dynamical system sensitive to the initial events, chaotically developing from a molecule of chance into something of a much larger scope, leading up to her current state. And, perhaps, had this not happened as such, she would have never met Hauptmann Rolf Jäger during that reception and, as a result, the encounter at the Luftwaffe barracks due to the inconvenienced caused by the sandstorm created from the rain-cooled air subsequent to that week’s thunderstorm would have only ever remained a one-time incidence, for the man would have never sought the Leutnant later that evening in pursue of his alleged sister’s whereabouts, the succeeding exchange blows would have only ever existed in some child’s wild imagination, and Schütze Jürgen Kampfer would have never accidentally shot his superior commander and, by extention, the Leutnant would have no need to take care of his bullet wound all by himself without consulting a medic’s opinion or requesting their assistance. But it so happened that the Hauptmann had sojourned to the Wehrmacht barracks, that Jürgen Kampfer had lost the woman he had intended to propose to for the eyes of a Luftwaffe officer, which in itself was something to quite aggravate his feelings towards the Hauptmann even with no direct incentive and encourage his blind fit of rage as he humiliated the man in the worst possible way he could think, in his highly intoxicated mind punishing someone else; and it was indeed so that Kampfer had shot his Leutnant out of such state, that the Leutnant had tended to the wound himself with primitive means in the wilderness, and that the wound should easily become infected, thus making necessary a visit at the hospital.

And so there she was now, standing against the window and smoking, a few hours after the physician had first examined her wound and diagnosed bacteria and various other fungi having developed inside her skin, not without having shared his immense displeasure over her primal method of treatment to her wound, her own annoyance over the prospect of hospitalization, or even wasting a precious amount of time for the purposes of examination, perceptible beneath the curved eyebrows and the sharp temper, only to have her reverie by the window – or, rather, her inner stream of invective – interrupted by a nurse. Dirk had not even wanted to receive examination over her injury, had it not been for Kampfer’s irritably obstinate insistence, further flourished by immense pangs of guilt, regret and shame, to seek medical treatment for her wound; the Schütze knew perfectly well he was getting on his Leutnant’s nerves rather badly but those very feelings would not allow him to give up, and it was until the rest of the platoon supported their comrade’s opinion that Dirk truly barked, “Verdammt!” a few times while kicking the tires of a half-track in overwhelming anger before she had decided to make that undesirable detour to the hospital upon realizing the prospect of an infection would bring more damage in the near future and render her incapable of presenting herself in battle unless it was quickly treated with antibiotics. As she soon became conscious of this fact and swallowed down every feeling of anger and guilt over leaving the barracks and no longer able to be present to her platoon despite the fact they had taken a few days leave after their latest victory against the British, she assigned each soldier under her command a specific task to employ themselves with during their short leave (as to prevent the unpleasant occasion of them stopping by to pay her a visit of empathy), went to the local market in search of appropriate clothing (and formerly planned to out on the black dress she had wore in the reception, now torn and stacked somewhere under the sand, not quite thrilled per se in involving herself with unnecessary chores additionally to her existing predicament, until she fathomed she needed a garment with a shirt and a skirt for the physician to easily examine the wound at the side ribs of her stomach) and endured the blazing heat glaring down at her and allowing small drops of sweat to form underneath her sleeved clothing on her way to the military hospital during the early hours of that morning.

She was silently staring at the patients in the corridor when a nurse suddenly came by and informed her there was an available space in Room 7 in which she could take a rest, as per the doctor’s orders; she stretched her hand and gestured at the narrower corridor to her right, and then walked away quickly, busying herself with looking over a soldier sat on a mattress, who was constantly raising his arm in military salutation once he noticed a superior officer approaching him. It would not have been as ludicrous had that precise arm not been amputated. The only reason that made Dirk growl impatiently under her breath and walk towards the corridor was a false assumption that the doctor had a multitude of comparatively graver cases to handle at the moment, and would thus come to visit her a short while later for the second dose of intravenous fluids and antibiotics. Feeling quite feverish, not so much from the scorching weather but rather the medicine administered, she eventually turned the door’s latch and entered the room. But what she then came face to face with made her stop dead in her tracks, her hand numb onto the latch, as she stood by the side of the door, frozen.



Translation

“Miss … smoking isn’t allowed in the hospital.”

[Rolf Jäger]

Sunlight sifted through the dusty windowpane, creating rectangular patterns on the floor, the figures crawling slowly across the floor as the sun travelled upon the blue sky. Rolf Jäger had observed the movements of the swaths of light with ever increasing boredom, his eyes half-closed and his fingers tapping against his stomach in a steady rhythm while he had to force himself to remain still and composed. Nothing made him more agitated and nervous than not having anything to do and even through all the dull and persistent pain that seemed to have taken a permanent residence within his head, he would have rather been suffering through it somewhere else. As it happened, he had no choice in the matter and the Geschwaderkommodore had visited him personally to see the extent of his injuries, sparing no words in making clear just how displeased he was with the situation. This was already the second time the Hauptmann had been rendered unable to fly with his Gruppe or to properly take care of his duties due to injuries of a very mysterious and unneeded nature. The Oberstleutnat had insisted that Hauptmann Jäger tell him the reason behind these recent incidents, but Rolf had claimed that the first time he had been to blame for the fight and on this more recent incident, he had been attacked in the dark and he had not been able to identify his assailants. Of course, in reality Rolf was very well aware of the identities of the men behind his various injuries and even though the memories of that particular night were still a confusing blur of various images and sounds, the names of the three men had been burned upon his mind. Leutnant Riedel he had already been familiar with after their initial and rather stormy meeting, but he also remembered the names Albrecht and Kampfer, for those were the names the Leutnant had called out when he had needed their assistance. He could have dropped their names to the Oberstleutnant had he chosen to, but in the end it was only his pride that prevented him from proceeding with the idea. He wasn't going to run to the higher uppers like a sniveling brat and he would rather take his time to devise a proper retaliation. The grudge he harboured against these three men was a bitter one, indeed, but in a manner that had surprised even Rolf himself, other thoughts had won over visions of vengeance... for now. He only wanted to get out of the hospital, to rejoin his Gruppe and occupy his time with something useful instead of rotting away on a hospital bed.

His explanation had done little to appease the Geschwaderkommodore, but the man had still told the Hauptmann that he should remain in the hospital until the doctors felt it was safe for him to leave - the Gruppe could not damn well do anything with a Gruppenkommandeur that suffered from random spells of dizziness and double-vision. Rolf's jaw had been dislocated and he sported a few cracked ribs, but the worst damage had come from the kicks he had received to his head. The headaches he had suffered after the incident had been simply infernal and he had been told that in a case of a concussion, the recovering could take from days to several weeks and that for now, he was to stay at the hospital for observation and rest. In other words, Rolf had been prescribed a world of living hell, trapped in the confines of a small room and told to lie very still. How could he stay still, knowing that his pilots were flying sorties without him and watched over only by Rolf's freshly assigned adjutant, Oberleutnant Wahler? A decent man, of that there was no question, but Rolf found the mere thought of transferring his responsibilities to someone else absolutely abhorring. He couldn't trust anyone to do his job for him, especially when it came to managing the extensive staff of pilots, ground crew and communcations personnel that were all part of the Gruppe.

He hardly looked like a German officer in his current state, the other side of his face riddled by a colourful selection of bruises and small cuts running across his lower lip and his right eyebrow. The swelling had settled down by now and he could open his right eye again, although the pupil still appeared somewhat bloodshot, further accentuated by the purple colouring dominating the area around the eye. He had still not recovered from the earlier bruises he had received and they were visible under the new ones, lending curious weight to the expression of having bruises upon one's bruises. If there had been anything positive at all about the stay at the hospital, it had been the shower Rolf had taken and he had been able to wash off the blood, dust and grime, also getting rid of a very strange, pungent smell in the process. He had refused to shave and still sported a stubborn, dark stubble that only worked to make him look all the more unruly, but Rolf had figured that with this amount of bruises the stubble hardly mattered. He had been handed a light tan-brown shirt, a pair of standard issue trousers in similar colour and, seeing as the Hauptmann had managed to lose his belt, a pair of dark-brown suspenders. His boots he had been allowed to keep and they on the floor next to the bed, the man rather choosing to go barefooted for now. Beaten as he was, he had still felt quite refreshingly clean after taking a shower and changing into a set of clean clothes, but by now he had been sweating profusely all day and the only thing he could be thankful of was the absence of dust. The window was closed as it was the only way to try and maintain a somewhat cooler temperature in the room, but it wasn't of much use as the air still felt heavy and almost unbreathable. Having spent some time in the desrt by now, he would have normally considered such a chance for continuous shade a blessing, but being confined in the room and lying on a bed in his own sweat wasn't exactly his idea of a good time.

Remaining still wasn't the only thing that bothered Rolf, as hazy memories of the recent incident kept coming back to him, rendering him almost unable to sleep. He had tried to drift into sleep, but he would wake up struggling and sweating, remembering only dark figures hunching over him and pinning him to the ground, while the only sound he could hear was a jeering laughter and his own bones crunching under someone's boot. He had tried to recall the events of that night while awake, but could only remember how all of it had started, after which only confusing bits and pieces of information existed. He had trouble discerning truth from hallucination, all of this making for a very confusing mixture of various images that might have just as well happened in reality as they might have existed only in a dream. He had tried to push these thoughts aside as they only made him feel sick and confused, but they kept coming back to him with the tenacity of an unwanted stray dog, further adding to his irritation. For some reason he kept remembering the emerald eyes of the Leutnant's sister and for a some time he had seriously pondered if she had truly been there. By now his thoughts felt slightly clearer and he could plainly see that it had been nothing more but an illusion created by his own pain-induced mind, yet it did not prevent him from returning back to that visage ever so often and, truthfully, it was a thought that at least allowed him to calm down for a small moment. Unlike all the other recent memories he managed to recall, this one did not involve pain, humiliation or fear, which clearly made it something more worthwhile to linger on.

Rolf released a frustrated sigh as his swept across the room, not really seeing anything - and there was very little to look at in the first place. The white-washed walls still stood as dreary as before and the only thing he could see from the window was the azure of the cloudless sky, the only signs of life being the sounds of the other patients carried to the room in a constant, distant mutter. There wasn't anything else in the room except two beds and a small table in between them, upon which a glass of water and a recent issue of Signal rested next to the Hauptmann's peaked cap. He had lost his old one during the attack, but Kronberg had visited earlier in the day and brought him another one. Rolf had scoffed at the offering and pointed out how he hardly had any use for a hat in a hospital, but his angry barks had ended short when Kronberg had pointed out the silver flask he had smuggled into the hospital, using the peaked cap to cover it. He had also brought his commanding officer some cigarettes, but it was of little use, for the nurses seemed to possess the acute senses of the finest bloodhounds, smelling cigarette smoke from across the entire hospital - well, maybe not the most accurate description, but that was certainly how it appeared to Rolf. He had made the mistake of lighting up a cigarette, only to have the door open as soon as he had enjoyed inhaling the first wisps of smoke. He had been promptly attacked by a torrent of angry words from a rather heftily built nurse and protested as had, he had still been forced to extinguish the cigarette. No, he could not go outside and smoke, no he could not smoke if the window was open and no, he could not keep his cigarettes, either. Rolf had made sure to stash his new batch of cigarettes into the pocket of his trousers, hiding the flask of alcohol in the other one. All of the nurses be damned, he would find a proper time and place for enjoying at least some of the little joys of life he still possessed inside the dismal walls of this torture chamber.

The man closed his eyes slowly, figuring that if he just emptied his mind and relaxed, he might be able to drift to sleep and at least make it seem as if his stay in the hospital was shorter than it actually was. He swallowed in thirst, yet made no move towards the glass of water upon the table, instead only slipping a hand under his head as he rested on top of the covers, all the time trying to ignore the sharp pangs of headache that kept coming back to him. He could feel small beads of sweat dripping down his skin under his shirt, but he focused on dismissing the sensation, breathing out slowly, evenly. Just as he felt his thoughts settling down and becoming more distant, a sharp rap from the door broke his stupor and Rolf's eyes snapped open, his gaze shifting towards the opening door.

A familiar face looked back at him from the doorway and Rolf met the gaze with no small amount of surprise, his eyebrows arching over his bruised features as he blinked, wondering if he had fallen asleep without noticing it. The moment of silence between him and the woman really only lasted for a few seconds, but it seemed to last for minutes and Rolf gaped, his hand slipping from behind his head slowly. "Riedel?" the man asked in an incredulous tone, still staring at the female as his expression slowly shifted from that of surprise to that of recognition. "Bist du's wirklich?" the man rasped, a lopsided smile finding its way upon his lips as he spoke. It looked strange, bruised as the man was, but he was far too caught in the moment to even consider his appearance. The smile was soon followed by a hoarse chuckle, the man shaking his head in disbelief.

Feeling strange lying there on the bed while the woman stood by the door, Rolf propped himself into a sitting position with his hands, resting his back against the wall with a pained grimace as he felt a sharp jab at his ribs. He held his breath as the sensation of pain passed through him and his next words came in a throaty gasp. "Oh, sagen Sie mir nicht, dass Sie diese ganze Weise kamen, mich zu sehen, Riedel?" the man commented, allowing his eyes to settle on the woman's figure more intensely this time - the Hauptmann appeared nothing short of pleasantly surprised by now. "Das ist sehr nett von Ihnen, aber ich versichere Sie - dass ich ziemlich fein bin. So, offensichtlich einige Beulen und blaue Blaue hier und dort, aber werde ich leben. Nicht, als ob ich Sie merken würde, meine Hand haltend, weil ich genese," another crooked smile decorated the man's lips once again, while inside Rolf's chest his heart was beating faster, a feeling of curious exhilaration mulling in the pit of his stomach as he observed the woman. She was just how he had remembered her, her eyebrows curved sharply above her mysterious emerald eyes, blonde strands of hair falling down on her shoulders in, her stance ever dominant and confident. She looked slightly paler than usually and even though Rolf's words insinuated that the woman had sought out the room on her own accord, a brief thought of the woman just simply being ill visited his mind. Imagine that, having her visit the hospital precisely at the same time as the Hauptmann was, ending up in the same room purely by chance. It would have been a far too outlandish stroke of luck or perhaps... it was really fate herself that had brought his precious prey into the same room with him. Whatever it was, Rolf allowed himself to dwell in the blissful sensation of seeing her again, his lips continuously curved into a small smile and his grey eyes taking in her features as if the man was enjoying some exquisite painting on display.


Translations:

"Bist du's wirklich?"
"Is it really you?"

"Oh, sagen Sie mir nicht, dass Sie diese ganze Weise kamen, mich zu sehen, Riedel?"
"Oh, don't tell me you came all this way to see me, Riedel?"

"Das ist sehr nett von Ihnen, aber ich versichere Sie - dass ich ziemlich fein bin..."
"That is very kind of you, but I assure you - I'm quite fine. Well, obviously a few bumps and bruises here and there, but I'll live. Not that I would mind you holding my hand as I recover."

[Dirk Riedel]

There he was, lying upon the mattress in a laid-back posture, with his hand leisurely resting on the back of his head, the sun penetrating the glass window and shining down upon his bruises in all of their glory, appearing quite relaxed and uncaring as the world revolved around him while he still remained static, expecting others to take care of him instead of taking matters in his own hands, the stubble having grown over his features and covering part of his facial injuries that were still quite visible nevertheless, dressed in clothes the hospital had most probably offered him – as, due to recent events, his uniform had been rather mishandled in more ways than one – and if she had not been as unpleasantly surprised she would have wondered how on earth he had ever accepted to wear clothes as inferior as to his precious stature. But as it happened, the only thought that occupied her numb mind at this very moment as her eyes, unblinking and frozen, were momentarily transfixed at the person in front of her, was that she was staring at the very face of Hauptmann Rolf Jäger.

Well … shit.

Feeling as though fate had taken a major piss on her face in turn, she let the hand slowly slip down the door’s latch and hang lifelessly by her side for those few moments that were required for her to completely register the authenticity of this rather hideous painting, reality soon dawning on her as she realized it was not her sun-dried brain creating painful straps of hallucination, but an unavoidable fact, as rough as a raw diamond, and as filthy as the pools of muddy-brown grime gathered in the slippery streets after a downpour. She simply stood by the side of the door, unable to move or speak as words immediately rushed from his lips and pierced through her veins, consuming her world with the deadly capacity of poison gas, as everything came back to her, his sly, crooked smirk, the mocking eyes, the greedy hands, the hungry, slowly stirring eyes of heedless derangement, the lips that spoke befouling words at her, the adamant arrogance, his unforgivable hubris founded on expanded empires of beleaguered self-importance, the continued mocking essence of his pronouncements and carelessness, the guttural quality of that irritable voice – and everything else was obliterated for those seconds, the pain of her wounded infection, the mild discomfort of the injured arm, her former annoyance and intolerance at the prospect of hospitalization, the image of the soldiers back in the barracks, as the world circled around her in unremitting spins, presenting her with one image and one image only, as his lopsided smirk widened and almost suffocated her very being for as long as he spoke – and once he stopped, with a glint of triumph in his eyes, she needed her moments of silence to properly register that this was, still, quite real. A grimace of fractious disbelief then appeared in her face and, after reflecting how the only thing of hers he would be holding was her foot with his head, her vein popped out in her neck as she burst out –

“Oh, Hure!”

The raspy bark was short-lived and, without warning, the door was slammed shut and she was already storming back across the hallway, rage overfilling her insides and with her hands instinctively made into fists; within seconds she arrived at the main entrance of the old hospital and once she saw a nurse in the corner leaning over an empty bench and fixing a stack of gauze pads and towels in a neat order, she quickly strode towards her direction and wasting to time in letting her know of her demand, she stopped by her side and briskly announced, “Ich will ein verschiedenes Zimmer.”

The nurse curiously turned around and looked at the woman in front of her for a few moments before she turned back to her duties. “Worüber sprechen Sie?” she asked her calmly, clearly used to dealing with patients on a professional level and possessing the exact knowledge of how to deal with them most effectively. She was in her middle forties, short and thin, and appeared to have been the type of woman of considerable beauty in the past, now somewhere altered through a wearied and wrinkled face sporting only hardship, tolerance and wisdom. “Das ist der verfügbare Raum den wir haben, der Ihr Zimmer sein wird.”

But Dirk would not let, and appeared quite adamant as she said, “Ich brauche nicht ein, ich werde nicht sogar streng verletzt – ”

“Sie sind geschossen, richtig worden?”

The young woman cursed the time and place that she should have been the only female in the hospital, which made quite possible that her medical case was better known and remembered by the doctor and the nurses. “Verblute ich? Meine Wunde wird vollkommen geheilt.”

“Ich rufe sonst zurück, dass der Arzt septicaemia durch Infektion diagnostiziert hat,” the nurse responded in a mild tone, her eyes not once lifting to eye the other woman as thin, graceful and hardened fingers stacked a neat pile on top of the bench. Dirk cursed in her mind a second time, and looked at her demandingly, the rage expanding throughout her brain in dangerously progressive lapses.

“Er sagte dass das wahrscheinlich war!” she protested with furrowed eyebrows, but the nurse appeared quite unaffected by this item of news.

“Wahrscheinlich bedeutet ausführbar – wir haben die Freizeit des Spielens mit Gefahren nicht, stimmt dass?” she wisely responded, bending over the neat pile of towels that was slowly rising.

“Sie sollten jemanden anderen legen, der mehr von im Bedürfnis nach einer Ruhe statt dessen ist, werde ich im Gang warten,” Dirk firmly stated, but it was then that the nurse straightened her back and looked at her with slightly curved eyebrows, a mildly confused expression taking over her facial features for once.

“Jeder verletzte Soldat ist zu ihren eigenen Zimmern zugegeben worden, keiner ist gewesen –”

“Es gibt eine Linie von ihnen im Gang!” Dirk objected irritably, her hand outstretched as if to show at their direction, but the nurse’s eyes never followed the gestured as she continued with her work.

“Sie warten, um vom Arzt untersucht zu werden, danach welchem, wenn der Arzt passend sieht, sie zum Ostflügel des Krankenhauses zugegeben werden sollen. Die Truppen haben sich nur kürzlich bewegt, so zurzeit ist die Zahl von Unfällen etwas, dass wir uns durch groß, behelfen können,” she simply said, pulled a stranded lock of black hair behind her ear, and then bent over the pile once more.

“Sehr gut dann ersetzen Sie mich durch einen anderen Patienten. Ich werde zu ihrem Zimmer gehen, sie werden zu meinig, kein zugefügter Schaden bewegt,” Dirk offered another alternative.

The nurse turned over her shoulder to look at her. “Und Sie denken dass wir im Sporn der Moment-Bewegungspatienten können die brauchen Ruhe aus keinem besonderen Grund? Oder dass irgendwelche Krankenschwester Zeit hat, die verfügbar ist, um so zu tun, wie es ist?”

“Ich werde durch den Gang warten,” Dirk said in an intolerant, matter-of-fact tone and turned around to head towards that direction before, quite suddenly, the nurse had rushed at her, grabbed hold of her arm and as the woman turned back around in surprise, the nurse’s palm glued itself against her forehead.

“Sie haben eine hohe Temperatur,” she told her sternly, and pulled her hand away. “Das vorübergehende Fieber zur Ruhe der Soldaten wird nur ihre Bedingung schlechter machen. Ist das, was Sie wollen?”

Dirk frowned in amused disbelief. “Fieber ist nicht ansteckend!” she remonstrated.

“Die Bakterien oder Vireninfektion auf die Ihr Körper seine geschützte Antwort erzeugt kann ebenso sehr viel ansteckend sein,” the nurse informed her mildly, her tone bearing a touch of asperity as she spoke.

“Aber Sie wissen nicht.”

“Sie wollen es wirklich riskieren?” the nurse asked her, and then silently looked at her for several seconds before she frowned. “Wie ist das Problem mit Ihrem Zimmer, irgendwie?” she wished to know.

Dirk stared back at her with an expression as if to suggest someone was having a bad joke on her. She scoffed, and slightly shook her head in mild disbelief. “Wo zum sogar Bumsen damit beginnen,” she muttered, and without another word turned around and left the gaping nurse behind, walking back to the corridor, only instead of returning to the room she snapped onto her left and turned the door’s latch, entering the small toilet and immediately shutting the door behind her. She stood there, unmoving for those moments she needed to calmly swallow down the obnoxious reality, until her hands had suddenly turned to fists and her feet were kicking anything that stood before her, as thoughts turned to words and irritation became rage in such an easy transformation, as might have almost been disturbing had the woman’s nature been otherwise. “HURE!” she barked, kicking against the marble toilet, the walls, the door – “Hure! Hure! Hure! Hure!” she cried out in gritted teeth, releasing her overflowing wrath, and then came to a stop, as unexpectedly as it had began, her chest heaving up and down intensely, her breathing rapid, and by the time she was back in the corridor, she was perfectly calm, as though everything was normal and there was no hint of source to possibly cause her dissatisfaction. She breathed in calmly, straightened out her shirt, and walked away without a second glance at the nurse who had happened to be walking by. Yes, it had all been dealt with, had it not? All was perfectly, insufferably normal.

The door’s latch turned and a very controlled – albeit austerely so – Dirk entered the room, allowing the door to slide backwards and slam itself shut as her eyes bore over the Hauptmann’s figure for a second time that wretched day. “Oh, verschlossen,” she abruptly snapped before he could say anything, and walked towards the bed on his right; she sat herself on top of the mattress and then brought her right leg across her lap to pull her jackboot from it – as one could hardly walk in the desert with heels – just carelessly throwing it on the floor with a small clack; once she was done with the other foot and both pieces of her boots were now lying on the floor, she shoved her hand through the pocket of her skirt and snatched a packet of cigarettes, her fingers easily slipping inside to pull the small lighter placed in the corner. “Sie haben nicht acht wenn ich rauche, stimmt dass?” she said in an indifferent manner, hardly looking up at him, and did not even wait for his answer as she proceeded to light a cigarette, at any rate. The fumes soon consumed her throat and surrounded her lungs as she closed her eyes and curved her neck by bringing her face upwards, facing the ceiling overhead, for those few moments she needed to dull the anger and any other negative sensation she had experienced throughout that day, effortlessly succumbing into a state of quietude and tranquillity, lips softly blowing out into the air around her, thin but hardened fingers remaining unstirring in that small moment of peace. Then, she brought herself back to the current situation and sighed wearily as his figure was still there even when her eyes opened – she had at some point wished he was a part of a rather unpleasant illusion, or that he had simply chosen to do her this favour and wordlessly leave. But indeed not, he was right there, looking back at her, bright-eyed and very much alive.

She carefully observed his face in silence, drawing in from her cigarette every now and then, until anger was dulled into another kind of emotion. “Ich sehe dass Sie in purpurrot geschmückt haben,” she simply observed, the mocking tone evident through her voice, and she stood up, walking barefooted across the room until she reached the window; she stared outside for a second or two, and then turned around, leaning against the sill, the sun blazing at her back and shining down on her. “Was geschah mit Ihnen, fing sich in einem Kreuzfeuer und entschied sich dafür eine Zisterne mit Ihrem Gesicht aufzuhören?” she asked him in a plain voice, but then a sharp, short-lived snicker escaped her throat as she looked back at him, green eyes glinting with mocking and derision.



Translation

Oh, whore!

-I want a different room.
-What are you talking about? That is the available space we have, that will be your room.
-I don’t need one, I’m not even severely injured –
-You’ve been shot, correct?
-Am I bleeding? My wound is perfectly healed.
-I recall otherwise, that the doctor has diagnosed septicaemia through infection.
-He said it was likely!
-Likely means feasible – we do not have the leisure of playing with risks, do we?
-You should place someone else who’s more of in need of a rest instead, I will wait in the hallway.
-Every injured soldier has been admitted to their own rooms, no one has been –
-There is a line of them in the hallway!
-They are waiting to be examined by the doctor, after which, when the doctor sees fit, they shall be admitted to the east wing of the hospital. The troops have only recently moved, so at present the number of casualties is something we can, by large, manage.
-Very well, then replace me with another patient. I will go to their room, they will be moved to mine, no harm done.
-And you think we can in the spur of the moment move patients who need rest for no particular reason? Or that any nurse has time available to do so, as it is?
-I will wait by the hallway.
-You have a high temperature. Passing fever to the rest of the soldiers will only worsen their condition. Is that what you want?
-Fever isn’t contagious!
-The bacterial or viral infection to which your body is producing its immune response may as well be very much contagious.
-But you don’t know.
-You really want to risk it? What is the problem with your room, at any rate?
-Where to even fucking begin with.

Oh, shut up.

You don’t mind if I smoke, do you?

I see you’ve decorated in purple.

What happened to you, caught yourself in a crossfire and decided to stop a tank with your face?

[Rolf Jäger]

Though Hauptmann Jäger was considered the kind of man who had little - if any - interest towards the sentiments of others, he was far from being blind to them. In fact, he could plainly read the stunned disgust mixing with the first kindlings of rage and irritation beneath those viridian eyes as the woman stood frozen in the doorway, her hand slowly slipping from the door handle. Rolf was still getting into terms with his initial surprise, but he was also allowing the sentiment to slowly twist into that of pleasant exhilaration, the feeling dancing and creeping inside his chest like wisps of smoke. He was quite aware of just how much she hated him and of course, she had all the reason to harbour such feelings. Not so long ago they had been trading torrents of insults and the situation had escalated to the Hauptmann wrestling the woman down on the ground and had he been allowed to, he would have surely used the woman's plight to his own advantage. The female had proved a surprisingly difficult prey to bring down and she had managed to fight him off, proceeding to beat him down to the ground in a fit of blind anger. In an unexpected twist of events, Rolf had eventually ended lying bruised in the ground, having to focus in trying not to choke on his own blood while his body burned with anger and pain and strangely enough... also desire and lust. She had told him off with hatefully fervent words and even though a threat had not been included, it had curiously heeled behind the warning, never to be spoken. And here she now stood, her expression transforming into a grimace of disbelief and disgust before a gruffly spoken curse escaped her lips and the door was promptly slammed shut, leaving Rolf alone in the room once again.

The smirk that had dominated the man's features just moments ago suddenly vanished and Rolf's eyebrows drew into a confused, disappointed frown while the left corner of his mouth drew slightly to further accentuate his disappointment. The bruised man blinked, staring at the closed door as he sat upon the hospital bed, a low and irritated grumble soon emitting within his chest. A twinge of sharp anger had quickly replaced the initial exhilaration and Rolf kept staring at the door as if he was expecting it to open again any moment now. A distinct shroud of silence and empty solitude settled upon the room, making the air feel heavier and almost strangling Rolf with its dark despondence. This certainly ruled out the already very improbable possibility of the woman visiting him on purpose, although to consider that the woman had simply gotten lost in the hospital or been assigned to the very same room as him, seemed almost as unplausible. Rolf closed his eyes and rested his head against the wall with a long sigh, vividly feeling how the last traces of endorphin left his body and he was returned back to the frustrating, empty dullness that seemed to continuously dominate the room. He had already briefly found himself being entertained with the idea of discussing with the woman once more, to have his questions answered and to once more bring life to the images that had been haunting his mind after their initial meeting. He could not even begin imagining what it would have been like, to have that chance to talk to her in a place void of most outside interruptions, to gaze at her and to know that she was really there and not only a figment of his own imagination.

Well, it certainly would have been too good to be true and if anything, the latest events had treated him anything but benevolently. His personal confrontations had rendered him unable to perform his duties as a Luftwaffe officer for a second time now and it had been noted by the Geschwaderkommodore - not really a good thing when it came to Rolf's career. On top of that, he had been confined within the walls of this desolate room to rest, making him feel utterly useless and with the headaches and nightmares plaguing him, getting rest was completely hopeless, anyway. Rolf grumbled at these thoughts, his irritation only further fueled by the stubborn beads of sweat running down his skin. Right at that moment he wanted nothing more but get up from the bed, open the door and go searching for the woman from the hospital corridors. The nature of her reaction would have mattered little to him - both anger and surprise would have suited Rolf just fine as long as it would have taken his mind off from the grey dullness of his current state of existence.

He had already started succumbing into accepting his fate, when a sudden, sharp rap from the door caught his attention and Rolf's eyes snapped open, the man directing his expectant and even somewhat hopeful glance towards the door. Rolf's heart jumped at the sight of the familiar face and suddenly the flames within him burst into a new life and like a phoenix rising from the ashes, the sentiment that had already slowly laid its head down to die, was now reborn and flaming brightly once more. The crooked, pleased smile of surprise and recognition reappeared on the man's bruised features, but before Rolf had so much as a chance to address the woman, she had already told him to shut up. Even though Rolf was not used to taking orders from anyone other than military officers of higher rank, something in the woman's tone and stature warned him off and strange as it was, the man complied, only raising his eyebrow slightly while he resisted the stubborn urge to speak. He remained sitting upon the mattress, grey eyes keenly observing each movement the woman made and hungrily drinking in even the smallest of details. The woman sat upon the empty bed, proceeding to pull off another one of her boots - they seemed quite ill-fitting to the rest of her outfit, but Rolf could understand that the solution was practical enough and he had the distinct feeling that Riedel wasn't too keen on paying mind to such trivialities, anyway. Her eyebrows were curved in a determined manner as she worked on the other boot, pulling it off in a rather practiced manner and carelessly throwing it down on the floor. All this time Rolf remained silent in a patient and courteous manner that seemed quite unlike him and even the usually quite persistent crooked smile had slowly vanished, remaining only as a lingering shadow in the corner of his lips. A sharp glint of almost childlike curiosity dominated the Hauptmann's eyes as he absorbed each detail of his prey, following the movement of her hand as it snaked into her pocket to pull out a packet of cigarettes and a lighter. When she spoke, the words drifted past his ears in a distant mumble, the man only answering with a low grumble, far too occupied by his current task as he was.

What else could he do but keep staring when he was suddenly presented with his quarry in such an unexpected manner? He had the uncomfortable feeling that this moment would not last for too long and he had to use it as efficiently as possible, observing her mannerisms and movements while trying to discern her current state of mind from the smallest changes in her expression. He did not dare even so much as blink when the woman settled into enjoying the initial drag from her cigarette, closing her eyes and exposing her pale neck as she craned her head back. Rolf's heart was suddenly beating faster and a sudden image of a similar sight in another place and another time flashed in front of his vision - he could see her lying down on the ground, his body pressed against hers while his fingers travelled down the smooth skin of her neck, tracing small paths and patterns upon it. His fingers moved slowly, unhurriedly, carefully enjoying each moment and taking the time to discern the blissful smoothness of her pale skin and the steady pulse of her heart upon her jugular. The images felt so vivid, he could almost imagine his fingers travelling on the exposed skin of her neck once again and the tips of his fingers pushed against the palm of his hand at the thought.

Rolf snapped out of his stupor only after the woman suddenly spoke again and the man arched an eyebrow, this time managing to actually catch her words. They were delivered with no small amount of jeering and normally the man might have snapped at such audacity, but some curious and unexplored feeling was dampening down his temper and a sudden smile soon dominated the Hauptmann's features. For a moment he had completely forgotten the bruises upon his skin and even though he had not glanced into a mirror this particular day, he could only guess that he looked anything but presentable. Certainly he would have preferred to look more like his normal self on the odd chance of meeting Riedel, but since he could hardly chance the situation or make the bruises vanish, the man only tilted his chin up, as if he, indeed, was carrying decorations instead of a very colourful collection of bruises and cuts. "Oh, Sie bemerkten dann?" the man asked casually, observing the woman as she got up from her bed and walked to the window, her bare feet making scarcely any sound on the floor and reminding Rolf of a stalking feline. She turned around, leaning against the window sill and allowing the sunlight to paint her hair with its bright gold, the previously static shadows upon the floor now mimicking her form. Rolf felt somewhat strange sitting upon the bed and leaning against the wall while the woman was standing, so he concentrated on sliding his feet from the bed and sitting on the edge of the mattress instead, a small grimace of pain visiting his features as he did so. He was still concentrating on sitting up straighter, when Riedel suddenly asked him if he had stopped a tank with his face, a mocking snicker following her words. Rolf glanced at the woman from under his eyebrows, appearing confused and truth be told, for a small while he was not sure if he should have responded with irritation or laughter. This sentiment was evident on the man's features for a fleeting moment, but then a low, raspy chuckle formed in his throat and Rolf merely shrugged. "Nein, das war mehr ein Fall meiner... liebenswerten Natur und umfassender Menschensachkenntnisse," the man smirked at his own words, although his attention was mostly drawn by the woman herself and the Hauptmann's eyes kept constantly skittering over her features. The initial irritation that had appeared upon the introduction of Riedel's mocking tone had once more been overtaken by fascination and curiosity and Rolf pressed a hand against his side as he sat more comfortably.

His eyes searched Riedel's expression carefully, but he could only discern a strange sense of forced serenity or some sort of tired acceptance of fate. Besides appearing slightly paler than usual, Rolf could not see any reason as to why the woman was in the hospital, but of course, he wasn't a doctor and one did not have to have an arm missing or one's face bashed in to get admitted inside the dreary confines of the building. Rolf's eyes skipped to the cigarette between Riedel's fingers and even though the urge to follow her example and enjoy a smoke visited his mind briefly, he already knew better not to. "Ich sollte Sie warnen, dennoch. Die Krankenschwestern können an Zigarettenrauch von der anderen Seite des Gebäudes riechen. Ich weiß nicht, wie sie es tun, aber sie tun gerade," Rolf commented, his eyes automatically glancing towards the door, unmoving and silent as it still stood.

Quick images of walking up to the woman, pushing himself against her, trapping her hands and breathing in her scent visited his mind, but the constant ache upon his side told him otherwise, forcing the man to remain sitting upon his bed like an obedient dog. Rolf's grey eyes narrowed and he tilted his head to the side as he observed her, multiple new questions making themselves known at an annoyingly rapid pace. Why was she here? And furthermore, why was she here in this particular room? What was she thinking and how much of it had to do with their previous meeting? Was she aware of the events that had taken place between Rolf and Leutnant Riedel?

Rolf decided to settle on the current matters first and a very brief frown crinkled his brow as he presented his question to the woman. "Also, warum sind Sie hier dann? Die Hitze kommt zu Ihnen? Allzu eifrige Bewunderer?" a lopsided smirk accompanied this remark, but it disappeared as quickly as it had appeared as the man continued. "Ich würde mir vorstellen, dass es mehr nehmen würde als, Sie... der zu demütigen, dennoch. Ganz eine amüsante Chance des Schicksals denken Sie nicht? Hier dachte ich, dass ich würde wirklich arbeiten müssen, um Sie ausfindig zu machen, noch hier sind Sie mit Ihren unterhaltenden kleinen Bemerkungen.. Gerade wie erinnere ich mich an Sie," Rolf smiled again, a guttural chuckle following his words as he appeared nothing short of enthralled by the entire situation.


Translations:

"Oh, Sie bemerkten dann?"
"Oh, noticed, did you?"

"Nein, das war mehr ein Fall meiner... liebenswerten Natur und umfassender Menschensachkenntnisse."
"No, it was more a case of my... lovable nature and extensive people skills."

"Ich sollte Sie warnen, dennoch..."
"I should warn you, though. The nurses can smell cigarette smoke from the other side of the building. I don't know how they do it, but they just do."

"Also, warum sind Sie hier dann? Die Hitze kommt zu Ihnen? Allzu eifrige Bewunderer?"
"So, why are you here, then? The heat get to you? Overly eager admirers?"

"Ich würde mir vorstellen, dass es mehr nehmen würde als, Sie... "
"I'd imagine it would take more than that to... take you down, though. Quite an amusing chance of fate, don't you think? Here I was thinking I'd really have to work in order to search you out, yet here you are with your entertaining little remarks.. Just like I remember you."

[Dirk Riedel]

Dirk tapped on the cigarette, the ashes flying out of the open window as she watched him closely; she was curious to know how he would respond to her question, what he would say, whether he was cowardly and foolish enough to invent some stupid story of knightly gallantry to excuse the bruises adorning his rugged face – and instead she received his self-stab at criticism over his own nature being the root of all evil. It might have been a significant development for his own self-esteemed ego and the fact he should have otherwise blamed the rest of the participating factors and hardly ever himself. Without really thinking about it, a small smile appeared in her lips for those few seconds, and it was neither mocking nor contemptuous, but genuine, the sun glazing down upon her lightened face as the smile momentarily turned to a short-lived chuckle before she sighed and looked away, absent-mindedly drawing from the cigarette and blowing out the fume slightly sideways so it would escape the room through the window. She returned her glance back to him once he decided to warn her, as he put it, about the uncanny ability the nurses possessed in terms of locating cigarette fume within any section of the hospital. Dirk smiled again, but this time she was jeering. “Erschreckt der Krankenschwestern, stimmt dass?” she teased, the smirk not fading even as she brought the cigarette back to her lips. But she could only arch an eyebrow at him in a deadpan once he asked the reason she had been admitted at the hospital in the first place, even suggesting the most humourless, dim-witted reason his wrecked mind could come up with, mocking tone or not. Dirk did not find it amusing in the least – eager admirers, he must have thought he was being terribly intelligent in his mockery, but Dirk, to begin with, could not even understand why anyone would be admiring her, since she possessed neither female beauty nor any accomplishment worthwhile to mention aside from a University degree, and thus interpreted his words as a stab at her own unimportance. Her lips turned to a grimace as though to suggest someone was having a stupid joke on her, but then he continued speaking before she could tell him to go and fuck himself, and she knew not whether the next words he uttered were to be taken as a further source of mockery or something else she was supposed to comprehend – and, thus, she settled for the former. Words that made no sense, words that held no meaning or rational foundation, words, in fact, best suited for politicians, aristocrats or poetic failures.

Once again, he was talking loud and saying nothing.

A mere scoff was made in direct response to his ill-considered utterance, and she looked back at him with an expression combining mild confusion and faint scorn. “Sie können sich nicht an mich … erinnern weil Sie mich nicht kennen um damit zu beginnen,” she said quietly, for a moment looking back into his eyes before she turned them elsewhere, drawing from her cigarette. Her eyes remained fixed at the white wall in the distance, staring but hardly ever looking at it, before she returned them to him. “Warum wollten Sie mich irgendwie ausfindig machen?” she asked, her eyebrows furrowed in perplexity; had he wanted to lay his hands on a peasant he might have as well found a few of the females from the auxiliary forces, or even the nurses in this very hospital, although Dirk could understand that the immeasurable magnitude of his arrogance, self-importance and pride forged through his ill, polluted mind the notions of dominating what had dominated him, claiming what he selfishly assumed could be his own, destroy what he perceived as a threat to his own imperious quality, break what seemed likely to break him, and eventually conquer through submission. She understood these notions very well, but refused to oblige to them. Be that as it may, Dirk’s head turned towards the door once she heard footsteps approaching from the corridor, immediately extinguishing the cigarette on the window sill and throwing it outside, fingers quickly wiping the ashes away and shut the window just as the door had snapped open and the nurse she had previously been talking to burst through the room.

Furrowing her eyebrows strongly, her brisk facial features narrowed like a hawk as she glared from one patient to the other, examining them carefully, obviously thinking, her nostrils flaring as she appeared very conscious as to the elements in the atmosphere. Dirk remained calm and crossed her arms, looking at her curiously. “Hat einige der zwei geraucht?” she asked in her brisk voice, glowering at them both, but she stepped closer towards Dirk, her suspicions rising as to her being the culprit, considering the position by the window.

“Ich weiß nicht … haben Sie die Pfeifen überprüft?” Dirk jeered in a mocking arched eyebrow, and crossed her arms as she leaned against the window leisurely, looking at her with redundant impudence.

The nurse did not appreciate the joke but instead narrowed her eyes, slowly walking towards her until she stopped right in front of her, appearing incredibly severe and humourless. “Schlag in die Luft,” she demanded brusquely.

“Ich hatte Lachs für das Frühstück geraucht,” Dirk calmly responded, the mocking tone evident through her strangely levelled voice.

“Geben Sie mir Ihr Paket,” the nurse briskly requested, smelling the smoke simply from the other woman’s breathing, the thin lines of her lips underscoring how she did not appear to be the type of nurse to tolerate with a patient in matters involving hospital hygiene and the rules according to which it functioned.

“Es war nur ein, mein allerletztes,” Dirk said, and though her lips did not move, her face was wholesomely smirking.

The nurse narrowed her eyes even more. “Ist das so?”

Dirk smiled. “Traurig.”

“Dann protestieren Sie nicht wenn ich Ihre Taschen suche?” the nurse said, her arm stretching out in the direction of the other woman’s pocket but, within an instant, Dirk’s hand flew and snatched the nurse’s hand in midair before she could proceed with her request, strong fingers looped around the thin elbow and preventing the hand from accomplishing the task given by the cerebral cortex. Dirk was staring back at her, her face unsmiling and grave.

“Tun Sie das und ich werde Sie beschuldigen einen Patienten zu schikanieren, der muss … im Sporn des Moments aus keinem besonderen Grund ausruhen lassen,” she told her, twisting around the words the nurse had formerly spoken whilst they were both standing in the corridor; perhaps a small grudge lived inside the Leutnant’s head for the lack of assistance she had been forced to submit to, and which had led to her sharing a room with one of the most despicable men she had come to know, and indeed, as her eyes glinted, the nurse quietly understood the soft disgruntlement. “Schließlich – ich habe Sepsis.” And she sharply threw the hand away, letting it fold back against the nurse’s chest as she looked at the patient in solemn disbelief, even progressive fury.

“Ich glaube dass der Arzt sagte dass das wahrscheinlich war,” the nurse responded, repeating Dirk’s own words in an attempt to overthrow her argument.

Dirk raised her eyebrows. “Wahrscheinliche ausführbare Mittel.”

The nurse sighed wearily. “Sehr gut dann entlassen Sie Ihre Taschen.”

Dirk slightly tilted her head backwards as she looked down across at the nurse, perfectly cognizant of the fact how hopeless the situation was for the older woman. “Machen Sie mich,” she spoke, uttering those three words with such precise briskness, her voice quiet and challenging, her eyes glinting from the sunlight, that even the nurse knew this would not be as easily and quickly solved as she had initially anticipated. Deciding to stop wasting time talking to someone as perceivably obstinate as the woman could, were she to utterly ignore her demands, she must certainly be incapacitated of paying no attention to the doctor’s requests.

“Ich werde Sie dem Arzt bringen – ” she announced in a finalizing tone, and turned sideways to leave, but not before Dirk had interrupted her leave.

“Sie werden ihn selbst herbeiholen müssen, ich würde die Bakterieninfektion den anderen Soldaten nicht passieren wollen, jetzt würde ich? Bis dahin würde jedes Paket, das ich gehabt haben kann, lange weg sein, aber Sie hätten sowohl den Arzt als auch mich … für nichts gestört.” She shrugged her shoulders, the gesture obviously sardonic, and the nurse instantly snapped around, pointing her finger at her.

“Sie sind in einem Krankenhaus!” she barked angrily, her eyes narrowed to slits and her face distorted by her irritated disbelief at exactly how stubborn the other woman was.

“Und Schätzchen … Sie ist gerade eine Krankenschwester, nicht ein Schutzstaffel Offizier viel, wie Sie sich einbilden würden zu sein,” Dirk calmly told her, and even smiled at this thought – she knew many women, to counteract the incapacity and idleness with which their lives were doomed to be spent, fancied bossing others around as though in compensation for their inability to hold authority, and Dirk wished to make quite clear the boundaries the nurse’s profession reached. The request in itself not to smoke in the hospital was neither irrational nor ridiculous to make, and, truth be told, Dirk would have otherwise been enraged to see anyone showing contempt for such basic rules of hygiene and humanity: a hospital was a place for curing and rest, not a den for street-raised malfeasants, and yet, despite such a strongly held opinion, Dirk was not a robotic material designed in perfection and machinated responses = susceptible was she to weakness through anger she was often prone to experiencing, but even during a circumstance she acted with a strange factor of responsibility; she had been formerly smoking in the corridor by the window, in the far distance from other patients, ascertaining the fumes would be sucked outdoors, and now she had been smoking in a private room, certain the Hauptmann would not be affected negatively by it. Dirk would never cowardly wish to cause detriment even to her worst enemy under such conditions. But being that the latest events had transformed with an unpredictable pace and in a way which only brought her a good reason to seethe, she had no other choice but succumb to the human condition and slightly deviate from the directives of order and discipline she had been brought up with.

The nurse growled under her breath and turned away, her hands into fists as she reached the door and snapped it open. “Machen Sie Zeichen, ich werde wieder kommen,” she warned.

“Ich werde hier sein. Das Versuchen mein Omega 3 Fettsäuren zu sättigen,” Dirk jeered, keeping up with her salmon mockery, and the older woman glared.

“Lassen Sie mich nicht Sie wieder fangen.”

Dirk smiled. “Beunruhigen Sie …” she assured her in a calm, guttural voice, “… nicht ich nicht.”

With a final glare, the nurse walked out and shut the door behind her. Dirk awaited silently, standing by her position for a few moments before she straightened her body, her hand instinctively finding its way in her right pocket and pulling the packet of cigarettes; unfortunately for her, only one last cigarette was inside, and a malfunctioning lighter. With an irritated grimace she pulled out the cigarette and, with the lighter still stacked inside, she threw the packet across the room, right inside the small rubbish bin in the very corner, cursing under her breath. She cared not whether the maids would find such unwelcome material when they would empty the bin, right now what pre-occupied her mind, since she had nothing else to distract her any more, was the prospect of her infection deteriorating, making her hospitalization a necessary evil. The very thought her platoon was in the barracks and she was here was enough to drive her rage, and the next minutes found her pacing to and fro in the room, her steps brisk and impatient, her mind staring somewhere but at the same time nowhere in particular, bowing down to look at the floor, her mind racing, the cigarette tightly held within her fingers; she knew it was foolish to smoke now, but even otherwise she was unable to, without a lighter.

The silence in the room was almost tangible as she paced from one side of the room to the other, sighing heavily once, until, at some point, she quietly approached the table between the two beds, opened its only drawer and threw the cigarette inside within its empty space; she shut it, and then her eyes fleetingly moved to glance at him. Her lips slightly opened, but she did not say anything. She could only stare for a while, green eyes examining the awfully bruised face, injuries her very own hand had meted out, her face lacking anything as might imply mockery, derision, hatred, or fury, but remained a milk white symbolism of calmness and perfect control. She simply allowed her gaze to fall upon the gashes, examining him quietly for a few moments before she slowly stepped closer, slowly, softly, until she stood completely in front of him, looking down at him, and slowly raised her hand over his face, fingers outstretched to touch the wounds and celadon irises rather dilating in almost narcotic absorption.



Translation

Scared of the nurses, are we?

You can’t remember me … because you do not know me to begin with.

Why did you want to search me out, anyway?

-Has any of the two been smoking?
-I don’t know … have you checked the pipes?
-Blow into the air.
-I had smoked salmon for breakfast.
-Give me your packet.
-It was only one, my very last.
-Is that so?
-Sadly.
-Then you won’t object if I search your pockets?
-Do that and I’ll accuse you of harassing a patient who needs rest … in the spur of the moment, for no particular reason. After all – I have septicaemia.
-I believe the doctor said it was likely.
-Likely means feasible.
-Very well, then turn out your pockets.
-Make me.
-I will take you to the doctor –
-You will have to fetch him yourself, I wouldn’t want to pass the bacterial infection to the other soldiers, now would I? By that time any packet I may have had would be long gone, but you would have disturbed both the doctor and me … for nothing.
-You are in a hospital!
-And sweetheart … you are just a nurse, not a Schutzstaffel officer, much as you’d fancy being.
-Make note, I will come again.
-I’ll be here. Trying to saturate my omega-3 fatty acids.
-Don’t let me catch you again.
-Don’t worry … I won’t.

[Rolf Jäger]

The sun shone down the woman's back as she stood in front of the window and an unexpected smile visited her lips briefly, causing Rolf to blink and raise an eyebrow at her unexpected reaction. It was the first time he had witnessed such an expression on Riedel's face, one completely void of any ill wishes or hatred, and it made the man stop for a moment just so that he could better consider such a rarity. Or was it really a rarity or just something Rolf wasn't likely to witness? He did not really know the woman that well and even though she felt like an old acquaintance of his, this was really only the second time they had met. Maybe it was only because of the obsessive thoughts he had maintained towards her, or maybe people truly got to know each other best through violence? It was such an absurd thought the man found himself smiling and grunting at the notion, while Riedel seemed content enough in focusing on her cigarette. The man returned his gaze back to the woman when she asked him if he was afraid of nurses - a challenge the female did not even bother to conceal. Maybe she was expecting Rolf to throw a fit over such a notion and perhaps he normally would have obliged - but the stay in the hospital had seemed to dull down the worst edge of his temper and the man only tilted his head to the side and narrowed his eyes. "Nur derjenige mit der feinen Masse des Mount Everest, der gemütliche Blick von Medusa und der sanfte Charakter eines wütenden Bären ist es im Arsch geschossen worden," Rolf flashed a brief, humourless smile at the woman. He had seen the bait and he wasn't going to take it, although he felt that jeering seemed to come naturally to the woman and it might have not even served any greater purpose at all. Maybe she simply could not stop prodding and irritating him, just to see him fly into another fit of rage.

It was amusing how just after these thoughts he could in turn witness the woman's expression twisting into that of anger and irritation over his words. Precarious as the situation seemed, it did not stop Rolf from going on and finishing his sentence and Riedel's expression settled down slowly, returning back into a state of simply not really giving a damn. Traces of scorn still remained when she spoke again, asking why Rolf was so keen on searching for her in the first place. The question made the man grow silent and his eyebrows furrowed slightly as he had been almost answering the question only to notice that he had no real answer to give. Why, indeed? He could have concentrated on women better suited for his stature, ones that would better fit his future aspirations and that were worthy enough to pursue. Why pay even a second thought towards a woman who wished only to spit on him, to beat him down on the ground and see him humiliated? She lacked all the manners expected from any decent young female and she wasn't built slender and graceful as the women Rolf had met in the various gatherings back in Stuttgart. Where as aristocratic women would wear their finest clothes even for a measly daytime stroll in a park, Riedel was more likely to pull a pair of dusty jackboots off her feet while spitting out curses that would make even a sailor grow silent. Certainly, had Rolf just witnessed these things for the first time, he would have found them crudely amusing and uninteresting, but for some reason... a small twinge of admiration and fascination ran through his mind each time he looked at her. It was a feeling he could not even begin to explore and despite all of his better senses, his mind had been completely occupied by her unusual and wild nature.

She was like an untamed animal that couldn't be caged or like a raging forest fire that was impossible to stop, completely unpredictable and savage. For some reason, Rolf felt he could relate with her on that level - even though they were so grossly different in all other manners. Sudden images of them clashing once more filled his mind and he could already feel the glow of familiar heat forming inside his chest as he imagined how their raw fury would finally get unleashed. Of course, at first they would only trade insults, after that angry blows and finally the rage would mix with desire and then.. Oh, indeed. The things he could do to her..!

The man's eyes narrowed at the notion and he felt his heart racing as the enticing images consumed his thoughts and by now he had almost forgotten the initial question, remaining silent as he - at least outwardly - appeared to be still figuring out the answer. Rolf blinked and raised one eyebrow at the woman, shaking his head ever so slightly, his mouth opening for a moment before the words found their way out. "Ich schätze... Ich gerade finde Sie sehr-" the man's answer was cut short as he could make out the sounds of hurried footsteps approaching the door and not soon after the door was swiftly opened, the sharp eyes of a nurse scanning through the room. She inquired if either one of them had been smoking and Rolf's bruised face took on the distinct expression of utter confusion with the right of the corner of his mouth drawing back and both of his eyebrows raising up as far as possible. The nurse seemed to have quickly found a more suitable suspect, however, and she walked up to Riedel, who by now had managed to get rid of her cigarette. It did not appease the angry nurse and she kept inquiring about the cigarettes, while Rolf found it the smartest just to remain silent and out of the whole incident.

He occupied his time with pressing a hand against his side as he attempted to sit more comfortably upon the mattress, after which he cleared his throat and glanced at his hands to appear as much of an outsider as possible. His ears were naturally still picking up each and every word of the angry conversation between Riedel and the nurse and secret traces of a wry smile lingered on his lips as he observed the opposite wall. It was quite admirable how Riedel held her ground and how she countered everything the nurse was throwing at her - of course, he had already witnessed just how sharp her tongue could be and Rolf would have not expected anything less from her. He noticed how an interesting tidbit of information concerning the nature of Riedel's injuries was revealed as blood poisoning was mentioned and Rolf arched an eyebrow as he considered the fact. There could be multiple reasons for that, although Rolf could only figure it had something to do with a work-related accident which had by then escalated in severity. She certainly did not seem like someone who was suffering from such a precarious state, standing proud and steadfast as she was, continuously hurling sharp words at the nurse. When Riedel told the angry woman that she was merely a nurse and not a SS-officer, a sudden amused snort escaped from Rolf's direction when he simply could not contain his laughter anymore. The man was still grinning when the nurse turner her ice-cold gaze at the Hauptmann, her hardened eyes shooting little daggers into his direction. Rolf merely glanced somewhere towards the ceiling and pretended he was still completely oblivious to the situation even though a small smile still lingered on his lips. The nurse could do nothing but fold under the intense pressure, ominously promising that she would be visiting the room again, although after the verbal beating she had just been through the threat seemed to carry very little weight. She turned on her heels, storming off in a cloud of unmasked irritation and after the door shut after her, Rolf returned his gaze back to Riedel, attempting to discern her current mood.

She fished out a packet of cigarettes, regarded it angrily and finally threw it across the room into the small waste basket, reminding Rolf of the nearly full packet of cigarettes he still held stashed in his pocket. He had not dared to succumb to the lure of smoking them, as the supernatural qualities of the nurses had by now been proved a second time and they would take the cigarettes away from him, one way or another. A more cunning approach was required and confined inside these four walls as he had been, he had figured out something, but it required the shelter of the night for proper execution.

Riedel was now pacing back and forth in the room, while Rolf remained silent, only bringing a hand up to carefully scratch the side of his face, the stubble creating a scraping sound as his fingers brushed over it. He wasn't generally a very patient man, but the situation reminded him much of that of taming and breaking a horse. They were trapped in the same small space in the same way Rolf would have brought a horse into a paddock and set it free inside it. Like the horse, the woman was now measuring the limitations of her enclosure, keeping her distance and burning her worst energy and irritation in the constant movement - all the while Rolf remained silent and subtly observant. He made it his chore not to stare and even though it took him great efforts to remain as silent as he did, he turned his gaze towards the window, his grey eyes observing the endlessly azure sky, while at the same time he sometimes glanced at the woman from the corner of his eyes. A horse would keep its distance out of fear and mistrust, but when the source of its discomfort would remain silent and unthreatening, a natural sense of curiosity would slowly win over the initial sentiments. It was amusing how much the two situations proved to be the same, as the woman slowly quit her constant pacing and approached the table between the beds instead, opening the drawer and placing her one remaining cigarette there.

This time Rolf fixed his attention on her and while his current expression showed little interest towards the woman's actions, all of his attention was really focused on her. She was so close now, Rolf could have reached out and touched her, but instead his hands remained stationary in his lap, the other hand clasping the wrist casually, while the man appeared relaxed and even somewhat bored. The room was so silent that even the faint metallic sound of Rolf's military identification tag could be heard from under his shirt when he breathed in more deeply. As if having come to some conclusion after a careful consideration, the woman suddenly etched closer to him, her bare feet silent on the hospital floor and her gaze curiously neutral. Rolf felt the sudden urge to break the silence and to say something, but he couldn't think of anything worthwhile to say and he only observed the woman from under his brows, watching as she inched ever closer. He could see her hand moving carefully towards his face and after all the curious images and thoughts Rolf had fueled with almost childish hopefulness one would have imagined his heart would have jumped at the chance of feeling her fingers upon his skin, but instead another sudden emotion flared within his eyes.

The man twitched back and away from her hand, his teeth bared like that of a mistrusting dog while his grey eyes reflected only suspicion and bitterness. "Ich denke, dass ich genug Blutergüsse auf meinem Gesicht habe, wie es ist, Riedel," the man growled, his gaze never leaving the woman's eyes while his muscles were already getting ready to deal with another confrontation. His heart was beating faster again, this time due to a completely different reason than before, and the man tilted his head to the side as he regarded the woman carefully. What else could the woman harbour against him but hatred and scorn? The last time he had felt the touch of her fingers upon his face there had been nothing but insult and derision behind the gesture. Even though Rolf could still distinctly remember feeling her hand upon his chest while he had been trapped in a state of sharp pain and confusing images, that image had been only a figment of his own imagination and mattered little. Nothing would have motivated the woman to come so close to him other than the loathing she held towards him and Rolf wasn't as foolish as to give her a chance to demonstrate those ill intentions. His natural defensive mechanisms were always quick to activate and he was already putting up barriers and mustering his weapons, a complete state of alertness having taken over his mind. People generally did not harbour good intentions, anyway, and Rolf had learned to snap his teeth at his opposition before they had the chance to act before him.

The skeptical expression remained on the man's bruised features as he stared at the woman and nodded towards her. "Sollten Sie nicht von einer Blutvergiftung abhängen, eigentlich?" Rolf asked. He was lashing at the woman in a more forceful manner than he had really intended to, but his mind was already weaving various images of Riedel's malicious schemes and clear irritation had replaced the earlier amusement and casualness of his manners. "Denken Sie nicht, dass ich gehen werde, zu den Krankenschwestern laufend für den Fall, dass Sie unbewusst fallen." Rolf rasped testily as he turned his gaze away from the woman, grey eyes narrowed in irritation and distaste while an uncomfortable feeling churned within his chest at his own words and he had to spend some effort in fighting it off.


Translations:

"Nur derjenige mit der feinen Masse des Mount Everest, der gemütliche Blick von Medusa und der sanfte Charakter eines wütenden Bären ist es im Arsch geschossen worden."
"Only the one with the delicate mass of Mount Everest, the homely gaze of Medusa and the gentle temper of a raging bear that's been shot in the ass."

"Ich schätze... Ich gerade finde Sie sehr-"
"I guess... I just find you very-"

"Ich denke, dass ich genug Blutergüsse auf meinem Gesicht habe, wie es ist, Riedel."
"I think I have enough bruises on my face as it is, Riedel."

"Sollten Sie nicht von einer Blutvergiftung abhängen, eigentlich?"
"Shouldn't you be resting with a blood poisoning, anyway?"

"Denken Sie nicht, dass ich gehen werde, zu den Krankenschwestern laufend für den Fall, dass Sie unbewusst fallen."
"Don't think I'll go running to the nurses in case you fall down on the floor unconscious."

[Dirk Riedel]

The woman’s hand slowly withdrew as he twitched his face away from her, distrusting, suspicious, and cold. His former casual and over-confident stature had changed unpredictably and just as quickly, for he had now adopted the reaction of a growling dog backing away with its teeth gritted, its ears moved back and its hackles raised towards a master it had not acknowledged as its own, towards a movement he had perceived as threatening. He spoke, and she tried to understand the meaning behind those words as she stood in front of him in silence, her arms hanging down by her sides, her face bearing no more or less an expression of sheer and quiet curiosity while she studied him. He was one, but not Argos, the loyal and able dog of Odysseus who had, at the prime of his age, been tracking any wild beast in the forest but who, upon his master’s return, had retreated into cow manure, old, tired and near the darkness of death – he was Cerberus, the hellhound that guided the entrance to the underworld, allowing the souls to pass through the gates but none was to escape. His body, as was the human condition, may have experienced its own breaking point but his will had never shattered, and though defeated he lay on the ground in valueless fighting aptitude, he had never bowed his head in submission but held onto the very thing that could never be broken: pride. There were two codes of behaviour Dirk valued the most in life, and these were pride and bravery – and, often it so happened that pride was bravery in and of itself. The multitude of flaws notwithstanding, she would always acknowledge, respect and relate to the fact he had never pleaded for mercy, never uttered words of weakness when others would have been screaming in agony, never cowering in fear as he allowed the golden embrace of pride to engulf him, as far as walk with him unto death. And such was her curiosity about this fact that she could not help but stand there, staring at him wordlessly, attempting to comprehend his nature, if only in the slightest, and understand the spiritual strength pride endowed him with until the final breath – or was it weakness? And thus the question remained: what was he, brave or foolish?

She knew – she had already seen – that beneath the arrogance and even through his pride there was a human residing within who was as much susceptible to weakness and vulnerability as much as the other person, that no matter to what extent he attempted to conceal this aspect of his personality his heart would always tell the truth, eternal traitor of any creature’s emotions and state of mind, and she merely wished to know … Was it fear he felt now? Was he frightened by her, or was he merely uncomfortable due to both encounters they had shared? She could not blame him, her reaction had been most harsh and severe, but he had deserved every bit of it, nonetheless, and she would regret no blow administered, no insult spat. Was it raw instinct which had initiated his body on its self-defensive mechanism upon its signalling her sudden movement or something completely different which neither was she capable of comprehension at the moment, nor would he be likely to admit to her. But to react in this way despite her perceivably calm demeanour and unthreatening move, under the knowledge she possessed no capacity – at present – of causing him any harm due to the fact they were both at a hospital, in the middle of the day, with personnel storming around the place and ready to take action upon any sign of disturbance was something curious as she looked at him, until the hand rose again and, without warning, glued itself against his chest, finding its known place upon his heart, and heard the loud pangs, the quickened beat, felt his inner uproar, the fingers stretched across the shirt, until she knew once again, until she felt the man beneath the animal, and for those few moments this lasted she closed the distance with that one last step and looked down at him from above, eyebrows slightly curved over her green eyes to show her deep curiosity and mild confusion, the almost keen interest to always discover this more human side to him, the one which knew neither pride nor arrogance, the one which trembled like a dangling winter leaf from its tree for its life.

But then she withdrew her hand, and walked away from him. A casual sneer of contempt adorned her lips as she turned over her shoulder, as though to deride him for ever thinking she would take rest for something as insignificant as blood poisoning; she possessed not the leisure of time, place or even desire to worry about something she considered easily handled by her physical structure, considering she was not made of a weakened, slender or asthenic built. She walked slowly towards the door to go outdoors but at his last words she turned sideways and threw him an expression of sheer contempt. “Oh, sorgen Sie sich nicht. Ich weiß dass Sie nicht,” she brusquely informed him, but she had barely even turned the door’s latch to exit before she saw the doctor walking towards her direction.

Feeling her heart beat with a pang of exhilaration over the prospect of leaving the hospital once the doctor had administered the second dose of the intravenous fluids and antibiotics, she walked back to the room and allowed him to pass, without a word reaching her bed and lying on it. The doctor followed her to the bed and sat down by the edge, appearing quite focused on his duty as he slightly pulled his glasses a little lower and examined the small bottle of antibiotics; he was a man around his late fifties, tall and thin, with balding blonde hair and the clearest blue eyes, bearing the appearance of someone who was extremely considerate and tactful, but at the same time relatively stern with his patients. Dirk quickly prepared a glass of water from the jug on the bedside table and immediately swallowed down the pill once the doctor handed it over to her.

“Bevor ich die Flüssigkeiten einspritze, will ich Ihre Temperatur überprüfen,” he spoke in a mild, slow and calm tone as befitting a man of his stature and profession, and he gave her a thermometre. “Lassen Sie mich die Wunde sehen,” he then told her, and she, with the thermometre shoved through the corner of her mouth, slightly pulled up her shirt as the Doctor leaned over to examine her; and, conveniently enough, he had positioned himself in such a way as disabled the Hauptmann from peeking at it. She looked across the room and, for a moment, her eyes locked onto his greys, before the Doctor addressed her again. “Haben Sie irgendwelchen Schmerz seit der ersten Dosis erfahren?” he asked, to which Dirk merely responded with a negative arch of the eyebrows, unfortunately only ever perceived by the older and wiser man as a simple lie told to spare her from the prospect of hospitalization. “Solch ein unbesonnenes Ding zu tun – ” he muttered, as his fingers gently tapped the area around the scarred skin, and she merely attempted to swallow down the pained growling.

“Wir sind dadurch vorher gewesen, Doktor,” she interrupted him with a painful sigh, and leaned her head against the wall, tilting it backwards and staring at the ceiling.

“Darin!” the older man ordered, and with a gentle prod of his finger the thermometer was properly placed back inside her mouth. He pulled her shirt downwards, and looked at her through curved eyebrows and an austere expression through his aged, wrinkled face. “Das ist genau was die Infektion verursachte! Wenn Sie gerade zu mir gekommen wären, wäre keines davon geschehen – ”

“Sie können nicht die Tatsache ändern –”

“Nein, das könnte zu Sepsis leicht eskalieren, dann begreifen Sie, wie schwieriger es für den Organismus sein wird, um sich durch die harten Verhältnisse zu stützen, sind Sie gelegt worden, um zu arbeiten? Ich werde keine andere Wahl haben aber Sie in diesem Fall zu hospitalisieren, ich werde dafür nicht wissen, wie lange, und ich keine Beschwerden akzeptieren werde!” he spoke and stood up.

Dirk furrowed her eyebrows, this conversation bearing an ill impression on her as to her original expectations. “Ich habe Sepsis nicht, ich werde gerade die Flüssigkeiten jetzt und Erlaubnis nehmen.”

The Doctor disregarded her words and merely pulled the thermometer from her mouth, raising his hand upwards to carefully examine her temperature. “Wie ich mir vorstellte – ist Ihre Temperatur durch achtunddreißig Punkt sieben Grade höher, Sie hatten achtunddreißig Punkt zwei am Morgen. Das Fieber wird sich nur verschlechtern, es ist eine natürliche Antwort auf die Antibiotika, ich habe Angst dort ist nichts anderes – ” He caught the expression she was giving him, and decided to tell her in a straight manner. “So, Sie werden seit zwei Tagen und danach hospitalisiert, wenn ich sehe, dass Ihre Gesundheit verbessert wird, Ihnen kann erlaubt werden abzureisen – ”

Dirk’s body shot up straight, glancing at him in dreary disbelief. “Ist das ein Witz?” she asked him in a low grumble, her mouth half agape, her eyes widened.

“Nein, ich scherze fast nie in meiner Berufskapazität, wenn ich mit sterbenden Patienten oder denjenigen mit amputierten Beinen spreche, muntert es sie gewöhnlich auf,” the Doctor told her politely, and a small smile embraced his lips just as she scoffed, preparing to stand up.

“Ich reise in diesem Augenblick ab.”

“Ich verbiete es!” the Doctor commanded, expression austere as he heartily frowned. “Das wird nur schlechter werden - Sie sind geschossen worden!” he protested in utter disbelief and disapproval. “Sie gruben Ihre eigene Haut, um die Kugel, mit einem unsterilen Messer nicht weniger - mein Gott zu entfernen, brannten Sie Ihre Wunde selbst, jetzt bin ich sicher, dass es mindestens einen vernünftigen Menschen innerhalb dieses Krankenhauses gibt, der mit mir übereinstimmen würde, wenn ich sage, wie kleinst Sie tun können, ist nicht verschlechtern Ihre Situation aus der blossen Sturheit!”

“Es gibt Soldaten dort mit amputierten Armen und Beinen, es gibt Soldaten, die dort sterben, ich denke kleinst, der bezüglich Ihrer sein sollte, ist meine verdammte Blutvergiftung!” Dirk recounted loudly, her whole face a perfect symbolism of shattered illusions and incredulity over what she was made to believe, and what was to happen at this very moment, contrary to her wishes being otherwise.

“Ich kann nicht fromme Dienstleistungen denjenigen anbieten, die sterben aber ich Sie versichere, dass jede Aufmerksamkeit auf diejenigen gelenkt wird, die noch lebendig und fähig sind zu überleben,” he calmly responded in a low tone, and then leaned over, pulled the sleeve all the way up to her shoulder and tied a thin piece of rubber around the upper area of her elbow. “Machen Sie eine Faust,” he instructed her, and it was only in her incredulity that she obeyed through fiercely curved eyebrows, quite determined that once the intravenous fluids were injected, she would never be seen in this hospital again. She waited patiently as the syringe pierced through her vein, never having felt the slightest discomfort over vaccination, much unlike her whining brother, and looked up at the Doctor once he was finished. “Zwei Tage nur,” he kindly said, and then grabbed the bottle of antibiotics from the table, back into his pocket.

“Vergessen Sie es.”

He frowned. “Seien Sie nicht so hartnäckig!”

“Ich schätze Ihre Sorge, aber mich – ”

“Setzen,” he calmly requested. “Ruhen Sie sich aus! Es gibt keinen Grund, das schlechter für sich selbst zu machen. Ich habe eine Verpflichtung als ein Arzt, um mich um die Patienten zu kümmern, bis ich ihres Wohlbehagens sicher bin. Ich habe einen Eid genommen, gerade wie die Soldaten des Reichs haben einen Eid genommen, und ich habe vor, dabei zu stehen. Und so aus diesem Grund allein konnte ich Ihnen nie erlauben abzureisen,” he explained to her politely as he was walking towards the door. His fingers turned over the latch, and opened it. “Haben Sie eine Ruhe,” he finally suggested and, with a last nod, he left the room and the door clicked shut behind him.

Dirk looked after the spot he had disappeared from for several seconds on end, not quite believing to what situation she had gotten herself into, until she shook her head and scoffed. “Oh, Scheiß, ich komme hier heraus,” she muttered, and stood up with surprising difficulty; it was only until her legs touched down on the floor that she had to apply additional force to make her body stand up, and, after she had unwillingly fallen back on the mattress, her confusion over such a thing notwithstanding, she compelled herself to walk across the room, but it was then that strange sensations were overcoming her better nature, as for some reason the room began to whirl around her, until the door’s outline no longer stood clear in the distance. She walked those few steps and stumbled through, obstinately determined to get outside, but she had only managed to reach a few steps away from the door when she suddenly collapsed onto the floor, and everything went black.



Translation

Oh, don’t worry. I know you won’t.

-Before I inject the fluids, I want to check your temperature. Let me see the wound. Have you experienced any pain since the first dose? Such a careless thing to do –
-We have been through this before, Doctor.
-In! This is precisely what caused the infection! If you had come straight to me none of this would have happened–
-You can’t change the fact –
-No, this might easily escalate to septicaemia, then do you realize how more difficult it will be for the organism to sustain itself through the harsh circumstances you’ve been placed to work? I shall have no other choice but to hospitalize you in that case, I will not know for how long, and I will accept no complaints!
-I don’t have septicaemia, I’ll just take the fluids now and leave.
-As I imagined - your temperature is higher by thirty eight point seven degrees, you had thirty eight point two in the morning. The fever will only deteriorate, it is a natural response to the antibiotics, I’m afraid there is nothing else – Well, you’ll be hospitalized for two days and after that, if I see your health is improved, you may be allowed to leave –
-Is that a joke?
-No, I hardly ever joke in my professional capacity, unless I am talking to dying patients or those with amputated legs, it usually cheers them up.
-I am leaving right now.
-I forbid it! This will only get worse – you have been shot! You scabbed your own skin to remove the bullet, with an unsterile knife no less – my God, you cauterized your wound yourself, now I am certain there is at least one sensible human being within this hospital who would agree with me when I say how the least you can do is not deteriorate your situation out of sheer obstinacy!
-There are soldiers out there with amputated arms and legs, there are soldiers out there dying, I think the least which should be concerning you is my damn blood poisoning!
-I cannot offer godly services to those who are dying but I assure you every attention is being given to those who are still alive and able to survive. Make a fist. Two days only.
-Forget it.
-Do not be so obstinate!
-I appreciate your concern, but I –
-Sit down. Take a rest! There is no reason to make this worse for yourself. I have an obligation as a doctor to look after the patients until I am certain of their well-being. I have taken an oath, just like the soldiers of the Reich have taken an oath, and I intend to stand by it. And so for this reason alone, I could never allow you to leave. Have some rest.

Oh, bullshit, I am getting out of here.

[Rolf Jäger]

Rolf's steel-grey eyes tracked the movement of the woman's hand as it withdrew and the man felt as if he would have simply snapped had it lingered close to him a second longer. It would have been different had he personally initiated the action, but it was an another thing having the woman commence it. His bruised skin could still recall all the punishment it had received recently and his brain was initiating the defensive measures, his body acting accordingly even before he could fully realize it. The guarded and hostile snarl remained over the man's features even when Riedel still failed to show any actual signs of malice and her hands rested by her sides, neutral and unthreatening. Rolf had been tricked far too many times by such mockery of calmness and he simply refused to let his guard down - hadn't he, indeed, been beaten down both times only after he had allowed his defences to get breached? The man sat rigid upon the bed, his muscles strained and his heart pounding fast while various painful and dark images flooded his senses and his gaze bored into her emerald eyes, searching for the smallest signs of treachery. The only emotions he could read within the viridian orbs were curiosity and puzzlement, but the observation still wasn't enough to allow the man to relax, for Riedel was still standing far too close to him, most likely only waiting for the right moment to strike and to laugh at him, to exert upon him something she thought was clearly just, but which Rolf only saw as her cheap excuse for demonstrating her burning hatred towards him.

It was a confusing tangle of feelings and Rolf had felt both a sense of admiration and respect towards the woman who had refused to be conquered, while at the same time the mere notion of such a female even existing completely infuriated him. Some part of him even longed for the pain he knew she could inflict upon him, while another part would have rather returned such violence tenfold, just to teach the insolent woman her proper place. He was used to the kind of women who would easily bend to his will, even if it meant that they would be forced to shed tears in the process, and for a long time he had thought this was how he preferred things - for a long time, after he had come upon Riedel. Here was another animal entirely, like iron wrought in the hellish temperatures of Tartarus, her will shaped into something that was impossible to bend and her nerves now that of finest steel. Rolf had been certain that he wanted to break that will and forge it into something that he preferred, but sometimes he wondered if he would have really preferred the different kind of Riedel, the inevitable result of such a subjugation. If she was tamed, wouldn't she then be just like all the others? Would the hunt end then and there? Would he simply lose interest and continue his search? It was a notion he had not fully admitted to himself and one he would never certainly let the woman know, but the question often came back to him and he only pushed it aside, figuring that the time wasn't ripe for such considerations, anyway.

The sudden feeling of defensiveness and paranoia were just one of those unexpected feelings Rolf now found himself exploring and while he could not completely understand what was happening, it felt natural enough to remain alert and mistrusting when faced with such a riddle. Still, he found himself almost jumping back when the woman's hand suddenly moved towards him and Rolf was ready to simply tear her apart with his bare hands, before he felt the hand press upon his chest and settle over his heart. A sudden, fleeting sense of recognition flashed through the man's mind and he blinked, eyebrows furrowed in confusion and surprise. The very same thing had happened before in a dream and the similarity of the situation and the feeling had thrown him completely off guard. She looked down on him like some celestial watcher observing an interesting little insect from her divine throne and while her eyes reflected only the same open curiosity as before and her touch remained gentle, not causing him any pain or discomfort, the man felt his muscles coiling in for a strike.

The moment was over as briefly as it had been initiated and the woman withdrew her hand, stepping away from the Hauptmann before he had the chance to retaliate to her intrusion. Rolf's silver eyes were dominated by a curious mix of hatred and confusion as the two sentiments tried to conquer over one another - he could not fathom the reasons behind the woman's outlandish gesture. Why would she have wished to touch his wounds if not to inflict further pain, or why would she have pushed her hand against his chest if not to fuel some devilish scheme of hers? She referred to his earlier words about nurses, returning them with the same biting force as always, while she already made her way towards the door. The previous neutrality had by now vanished from her features, replaced with the same snide derision as before. Rolf's mouth distorted into a hateful sneer and he was ready to bark wrathful insults after the woman, but before he had the chance to act on the desire, the door was opened and the sudden appearance of a doctor completely destroyed any such wishes. Rolf grumbled low in his throat, his silver eyes hatefully narrowed and as he spied the woman walking to her bed, accompanied by the doctor, he released an irritated sigh and attempted to focus on something else - anything else - but her. It was difficult, of course, seeing how they were confined inside the walls of the same dreary room, but Rolf already knew it would have been a difficult task to accomplish barring even this fact. As he tried to distance himself from the other two people in the room and settle into pulling his feet up to the bed and to rest his back against the wall, he could still feel her touch burning on the skin of his chest, the sensation distinct enough for him to even recall the position of her fingers.

The discussion between the woman and the doctor had become nothing more but a steady mumble left hopelessly into the background as blood rushed in Rolf's veins, the mixture of anger and confusion driving him into a state where he would have loved nothing more but throwing everything not bolted to the floor across the room while he shouted and cursed. Of course, with the doctor present in the room he could only work on suppressing the feeling to the best of his ability. When the gaze of his narrowed eyes shifted briefly to the side to regard the woman, he caught her in a similar motion and they stared at each other for the briefest moment before the doctor's words distracted Riedel again and Rolf closed his eyes, trying to ignore the conversation that now seemed to be filled with a multitude of disagreements. As the amount of differences in opinions grew, so did the volume of the discussion, making Rolf wince with irritation, the loud voices further prodding his headache. The woman was resolute in not staying behind in the hospital and in his current state of ever-growing irritation, Rolf would have loved nothing more but hearing the doctor tell her that she was free to go, but the man was adamant in having the woman rest properly.

When he could finally hear the doctor making his leave, Rolf's eyes opened slowly and he could already feel Riedel's seething anger emanating from the distance, rendering glancing at her quite useless. Obstinate and unyielding as the woman was, Rolf could hear her muttering stubborn words under her breath, cursing and promising that she wasn't going to stay behind. The Hauptmann would have sharply told her good riddance, had he not witnessed the woman slumping back on her bed after she had attempted to rise to her feet. Rolf turned his head fully towards the woman, his eyebrows furrowed in slight disbelief as he witnessed her getting up to her feet once again and this time managing to make her way towards the door, no matter how much effort it seemed to require of her. Rolf felt like warning the woman, telling her to follow the doctor's words of professional wisdom, but the bitter anger was still churning inside him and he closed his mouth before any such words could escape his lips, only observing her as she opened the door, wobbled... and suddenly collapsed upon the floor.

Rolf reacted without even really considering it, springing from the bed fast enough to send a hot poker of pain shooting through his side. The man grunted, placing a hand over his side, nevertheless making his way towards the doorway and the apparently unconscious woman that now lay unmoving in the corridor. "Schwester!" Rolf's voice had sudden practiced sharpness to it - result of his years in the military where one learned to shout commandingly enough - and he had not even quite reached the woman yet, when the doctor that had just left the room was already hunching over the woman, soon accompanied by a nurse and effectively leaving little for Rolf to do. Then again, he wasn't a doctor and felt it better to leave the task to the professionals as he settled into standing nearby, furrowing his eyebrows as he craned his neck to see what was happening. It was quite clear that the sudden spell was the direct result of Riedel's own stubborn nature and Rolf simply made way for the doctor and the nurse as they propped the unconscious woman up, bringing her back to her bed with practiced ease. She had already been medicated and lacked only proper rest - a remedy which had been now forced upon the woman due to her own reckless actions. As the doctor sighed and left the room with a weary shake of his balding head, the nurse remained next to the bed, making sure that the woman was properly settled upon the mattress, with a pillow under her head and the other hand resting upon her stomach. Rolf was shuffling back towards his own bed, glancing towards the unconscious woman in a rather confused manner, when the nurse suddenly stopped him with a harsh glare. "Sie könnten ein wenig aufmerksamer gewesen sein und ihr verboten zu gehen," the woman - the very same that had just earlier warned Riedel from smoking - snapped at the Hauptmann harshly and the man was left staring at her, his mouth slightly open and his bruised face distorted into a sheer expression of disbelief. He would have answered with something offensive enough, but the nurse already went on, settling the pillow better under Riedel's head as she spoke. "Kleinst konnten Sie tun soll Ihr Auge auf ihr zukünftig behalten," the nurse stated sharply, giving Rolf another disapproving scowl, as if all of this had been the Hauptmann's fault, as if he was supposed to do the staff's work for them!

The man stared after the nurse, completely stunned by her open audacity, and only when the door had finally closed after her was Rolf finally able to find the words he had been searching for. "Oh, fick dich, Sie runzlige alte Kuh," Rolf spat at the closed door, his skin crawling with disgust and irritation. Rolf remained standing in his place for a small moment, his fingers curled into fists, but then he turned around and his angry glare settled on the unconscious figure of Riedel instead. "Und fick dich auch, Riedel," Rolf growled, regardless of the fact that the woman could have not heard his words, anyway. The man was still muttering rather unkind words concerning the hospital and its staff as he continued back to his bed, finally slumping down upon the mattress with a pained grunt. He glanced towards the woman once more, realizing that even in her unconscious state, she had triumphed over Rolf and made him eat his own words the moment he had called for the nurse.

Rolf groaned at the thought and settled down on the bed, turning his back towards Riedel, just so that he wouldn't have to accidentally witness the woman smirking at him through her sleep.

***********

Dark shadows danced all around Rolf and whenever he turned his head around to observe them, they darted away, hiding themselves in the darkness once again and lingering just on the very edge of his vision, as if to mock him. No matter how hard he tried, he could not force himself to move and some invisible force crushed him against the sand relentlessly, nearly choking him in the process. The darkness around him was abysmal, yet somehow he could still see the shadows within, but the more he concentrated upon the thought the better he started to realize that he wasn't so much seeing them as he was feeling them. A sudden silvery glint caught Rolf's attention and as soon as he had shifted his gaze to observe it, the ruthless blade of a knife appeared right before his eyes. He tried to yell, but his vocal chords refused to produce any sound at all and when he attempted to shrink away from the blade, it only moved closer and sudden barks of laughter erupted from the darkness, one voice after another joining into the chorus as more invisible spectators arrived in to witness the complete and utter humiliation of Hauptmann Rolf Jäger. Fear froze the blood in his veins and he closed his eyes to at least remove the hungrily glinting blade from his vision, but he could still feel it and its malicious sharpness hovered right next to his face, eager to draw blood but not in a hurry to act upon the desire. He tried to wish the blade away, he attempted to imagine someone saving him, but the darkness drank away even the last lingering shreds of such hopes, replacing them with nothing but hollowness and despair. And when the blade finally moved closer, it set all of his senses into a torrent of agonizing, burning pain and his mouth opened up into a soundless scream that only his enemies could hear.

Rolf twitched awake in his bed, his heart pounding violently against his ribcage and his eyes snapped open, his gaze darting around the room. For a brief moment he wasn't sure of his surroundings and for a few agonizing seconds panic clenched his insides before the reality finally settled in, the now familiar white-washed walls of the hospital room staring back at him as neutral and featureless as always. The man sighed, allowing the dream images to slowly fade into nothingness as he waited for his heartbeat to settle back into its normal pace and his breathing to calm down. Even the uncomfortable sensation of having a sweat-drenched pillow under his head felt blissful as it reminded him of reality, further pulling him into an existence he could at least personally affect.

Not wanting to accidentally fall asleep again and to continue the nightmare, Rolf pushed himself up into a sitting position on the bed, blinking his tired eyes as he glanced towards the window. It was already dark outside, but Rolf did not want to check the time as it would have most likely suggested that the hour was late and that he should go back to sleep. The man rubbed his face carefully, proceeding to scratch the back of his head absentmindedly, only now realizing that the lonely light bulb fixed upon the ceiling was switched on, the light fixture illuminating the room almost lazily, providing for the kind of weak, orange light that made the whole room seem dirty and dream-like. Rolf frowned at the thought, but shifted his gaze to the side, a sudden jolt of surprise travelling through his body as he spotted the sleeping form of the woman still upon the other bed. He would have expected her to bolt out of the room the first chance she got, but then again, he had no clear idea of just how long he had been sleeping and with a high fever such as Riedel apparently had, she might be sleeping for several hours, yet.

Rolf remained sitting on his bed and stared at the silent figure of the woman for a small moment before he finally made an effort to rise from his bed and get up to his feet. The man attempted to be as silent as possible and even though the hospital bed released a brief, tired groan when Rolf's weight shifted away from it, Riedel's figure remained as unmoving and silent as ever. The Hauptmann tested the strength and steadiness of his feet for a moment, standing still next to his bed and working on further clearing his sleep-addled mind before finally starting to circle around his bed, his eyes continuously observing Riedel's figure in case she should move. The man's bare feet made very little sound on the floor and the Hauptmann came to a careful stop next to the woman's bed, his mouth slightly open as he allowed his eyes to properly take in the sight.

Riedel was breathing steadily, lying on her back in the very same position the nurse had arranged her in and even though the situation which had confined her into her current state had appeared almost violent, she seemed to be sleeping peacefully now. Rolf's eyes drank in the sight of the calmly curved eyebrows over Riedel's closed eyes, his gaze languidly following the enticing curve of her neck and noting just how pale her skin appeared against the meticulously washed white linen of the bed. Her blonde hair cascaded down the edges of the pillow and Rolf felt a sudden urge to touch her, just to remind him of just how warm and pleasant her skin had felt beneath his fingers that one night. She looked so different now that she was sleeping and she appeared almost uncharacteristically peaceful and vulnerable with her chest rising steadily with her breathing and her eyebrows gently curved above her closed eyes - it was a state Rolf had never before seen her in. The man tilted his head to the side as he stood next to her bed, eyes skipping from one detail to another. He had never before noticed the small, pale freckles that spotted her skin or the curious little bump she had on the bridge of her nose - all these little things he should have been aware of, but he had never really had time to look at, like reading a book for the second time and only then noticing all the details included within.

The mean breathed in deeply, his mouth slightly open as he allowed his mind to succumb further into the image of the sleeping woman and he automatically leaned closer over the bed to better witness the sight. She was so close to him now, so very vulnerable and completely oblivious of his presence that the temptation felt almost unbearable, filling Rolf with a familiar feeling of his blood rushing hotter and wilder in his veins. The Hauptmann's silver eyes glinted almost feverishly and he held his breath as he raised his hand slightly, his fingers outstretched while his hand remained hovering mid-air, not quite yet daring to close the distance and touch the woman, but already imagining what it would feel like.


Translations:

"Schwester!"
"Nurse!"

"Sie könnten ein wenig aufmerksamer gewesen sein und ihr verboten zu gehen."
"You could have been a little more attentive and told her not to leave."

"Kleinst konnten Sie tun soll Ihr Auge auf ihr zukünftig behalten."
"The least you could do is to keep your eye on her from now on."

"Oh, fick dich, Sie runzlige alte Kuh."
"Oh, fuck you, you wrinkled old cow."

"Und fick dich auch, Riedel."
"And fuck you too, Riedel."

[Dirk Riedel]

The roads through the meadowlands were sunny and free, empty of any human faces and extending onto the horizon for them to ride through the soft morning’s breeze and succumb to a state of infantile bliss as the endless rows of richly viridescent green trees and bushes flew past them with accelerating velocity, and perhaps they – in untimely eagerness – stretched out their branches in an attempt to catch them but they soared with the graceful wings of an eagle, spreading onto the open wide blue firmament, never to be tamed, never to be conquered. Her golden strands of hair flew around her face, as she turned sideways to steal a brief glance at him, the welcoming sun beaming down upon her glinting viridian eyes in celestial virtuousness; golden locks adorned the forehead in an elegant carelessness amidst the thin, delicate lines of his palest face, gently strewn in freckles, and eyes of the clearest Prussian blue, with a touch of angelic liberty. He smiled at his sister, their bicycles soaring downwards a small declivity in the wide fields, for mere children they were, embracing their land and her glorious day as nature danced in a blend of various shades, the yellow marsh marigolds, the celebrated pure edelweiss with its woolly leaves made of charcoal and olive, the blossoming knapweed springing along with them as it twirled around the grass in carefree merriment, and its lance-shaped leaves of silvery green. Her arms let go and she stretched them out wide, the eagle flying overhead at the same direction, as she tilted her head slightly backwards and closed her eyes, allowing freedom to wash through every vein of the young, inexperienced body, the feral soul, the spirit that would only be conquered by nature herself, but as she was flying across the horizon in front her eyes snapped open and a veil of darkness suddenly fell upon her face: a gun’s lever was raised, the trigger was released – a distant shot –

Her body jumped upright with a gasp and her eyes snapped open, staring wide-eyed at the hospital room. “Julian!” she whispered breathlessly, and then registered her surroundings for those few moments before she momentarily blinked at the light, until her gaze froze at the sight before her, her mind still addled by the horrors of what she had witnessed, her mouth slightly hanging open and breathing in sharply, hands strongly supporting her body to rise in that standing position. “Sie – was – ” she muttered in confusion, her chest rising from the quickened inhaling as she stared at him with slightly curved eyebrows, but then she let her body fall backwards on the mattress and she touched her face with her hands, feeling the small dribbles of sweat accumulated in the lines of her nose and the neck, slowly remaining in that position for those seconds that passed, concentrating upon reality, and nevertheless the image of her brother receiving the bullet – or had it been her? – was an unbearable thought to possess, the hundreds of kilometres separating them only further aggravating this notion of having isolated him to his own self, though it were for his own protection. She calmed herself and considered the situation around her, needing several moments to realize how she had come to this state at the first place; she knew it now, of course, but now it was too late, and an entire evening had already been wasted for no particular reason. Small waves of tidal anger erupted throughout her insides, one after the other in an overwhelmingly slow motion as it to further prod how precisely exhausted she felt.

Slowly she rose from the bed and put her feet down on the floor, her mind nothing more or less but an unsteady case of dizziness as she felt the room swirling around her for a second or two before she closed her eyes, and opened them again. She slowly stirred herself to stand on her feet and had only completed one step before she almost fell over to the bedside table, fingers strongly supporting the body as she snatched onto the edge of the wooden surface and prodded herself upwards. Almost too enervated to express her seething irritation outwardly, she merely turned around and glanced at him fleetingly before her attention was, instead, turned to the window. She walked quietly across the room, her appearance rather worn out but composed, past him and towards the glass window as she, to her disappointment, saw the sky at dusk. Her eyes gazed outdoors for a few seconds to come and with a weary sigh turned around and faced him, her arms crossed and her expression denoting nothing more but fatigue. She had nothing to say to him, her mind no longer even thinking about the soldiers back at the barracks as it had now decelerated into its own slow river of meanderings, unable at this moment to even feel the anger any more as it had by now evaporated into thin air, merely expressed as a thin layer of irritation subtly painted in her green eyes.

She was standing quietly by the window, realizing this very circumstance, when the door suddenly opened and in walked the same nurse who had scolded her over the cigarette in the morning. The older woman, who had already entered the room a few hours ago to properly inject the intravenous fluids during the other’s uninterrupted sleep, turned to address her instead, and through her strict features – resembling, one could say, those of a hawk – even a subtle hint of concern could be read underneath the neutral, mild tone. “Ich konnte Ihnen etwas bringen um zu essen, wenn Sie Hunger haben, haben Sie seit vielen Stunden geschlafen,” she spoke at her, but Dirk only looked at her with an indifferent gaze.

“Ich begriff,” she said, her voice low and raspy. The nurse wished to appease her and appeared considerate enough as she looked at her with careful understanding.

“Das war nur notwendig. Jetzt denke ich wirklich, dass Sie essen sollten – ”

“Er anästhesierte mich!” Dirk barked at her, releasing the only source of irritation she had left, eyebrows fiercely curved over her eyes as she observed her nurse in a fiery glare, before she scoffed in distaste and turned her head back to the window. “Herauskommen,” she mumbled, and rested her hands upon the sill as she stared outside into the darkened horizon.

The nurse did not seem to desire to challenge her words, grasping her resentment and simply respecting it, as she then turned towards the Hauptmann. She walked up to him and stretched out her hand to touch his forehead and feel for his temperature, perfectly aware such an act would only cause the arrogant pilot further disconcert, but she was following her duty. “Gehen Sie zu Ihrem Bett zurück, Sie müssen sich ausruhen,” she told him in a mildly stern tone, before she turned around and quickly left the room, the door clicking shut behind her.

Dirk smiled to herself, but it only ever was as bitter and humourless as she could muster; a mocking gesture of disbelief at the situation she had prodded herself towards, and for no particular purpose at all. Perhaps she was on the way of ridding herself a rather unpleasant infection, but she had never before been forced through such misfortune to part from the soldiers, on an unaccountable reason, no less; the more she thought about it, the more she regretted the decision to seek medical help and yet thinking, right at this moment, seemed a leisure she did not wish to possess as an embracing twirl of warmth softly danced around her insides and infected her not with poison but the threat of inertia. With an angry – albeit exhausted – sigh, she rambled back across the room, past the man, and allowed her body to simply fall into the mattress, the bed creaking in complaint under her weight. She placed her hand on her forehead and breathed wearily, remaining in that position for a few moments as she seemed to be contemplating, until she shifted onto her side and stood there, the cheek pressed against the palm of her head as it stood against the pillow, and eyes staring, though without looking, at the wall opposite her.


Translation


Julian! You – what –

I could bring you something to eat if you are hungry, you have been sleeping for many hours.

I realized.

It was only necessary. Now I really think you should eat –

He anesthetized me! Get out.

Go back to your bed, you need rest.

[Rolf Jäger]

Rolf's hand reached towards the woman and his fingertips felt curiously tingly as he already imagined how her skin would feel like. His hand was suddenly frozen mid-movement when Riedel's eyelashes fluttered ever so slightly and Rolf held his breath when he felt certain the woman was waking up. His gaze remained on her intently to see if she was being pulled further into the reality, just waiting to see those eyelids flutter open and reveal a pair of very irritated emerald irises. A small moment passed with no visible change and Rolf narrowed his silver eyes, a small frown appearing on his bruised features when he saw Riedel's eyes now moving under the eyelids, tracking images that existed only in her dream. Rolf withdrew his hand and settled into watching the ever escalating changes instead, noticing how her breathing was quickly becoming more frantic and how her fingertips would twitch every now and then, maybe trying to grasp at something, maybe fighting against some illusory enemies. Her lips parted ever so slightly and traces of sweat soon glistened upon her skin - the result was not caused by any actual physical strain, but by some great anguish she was going through in her dream. Whatever was happening to Riedel inside her own mind must have been something quite unpleasant and for a moment Rolf even considered waking her up, soon deciding otherwise. Watching the ever stoic female go through such distress was something he had never before witnessed and even though Rolf wasn't the kind of person who would have relished in other people's suffering, the current situation was far too enticing for him to disrupt. The heavily rising chest, the small beads of sweat forming upon her skin and the almost inaudible little sigh of agony that escaped from between her lips could have related to another situation entirely and Rolf's gaze took on the same hungry glint as earlier. His mouth opened and his grey eyes remained only narrowed slits of ecstasy as he observed the sight, head tilting slightly back as if it would have somehow allowed him to better consume the vision and to turn it into fuel for his own exhilarating fantasies.

Suddenly the woman bolted up and had Rolf still been leaning over the bed, Riedel's head would have surely collided with his, but Rolf had taken enough distance just earlier to avoid such a collision. Even in Rolf's surprise, the desperately gasped name Riedel breathed upon waking up did not escape his attention and the man straightened his back fast, turning his head slightly to the side in confusion as he observed the distressed woman, his eyes reflecting only some sense of apprehension and surprise. Who was this Julian she had been dreaming of? A friend? An enemy? A relative, maybe this highly improbable husband of hers? It could have also been someone attacking Riedel in her dream, but she seemed more worried about someone else other than herself, though Rolf really had no clear idea on how he had come to such conclusion in the first place. Maybe he just considered her the kind of person who would first consider the well-being of others before worrying about herself - she had come all this way to work as an auxiliary, anyway. The thought was quickly overrun by another one as Rolf could witness the disorientation slowly fading from the woman's features and he could only wait for the inevitable, his eyes steeling in anticipation of her angry questions. She would want to know what Rolf was doing by her bed and Rolf wasn't sure how he should have answered such an inquiry. He could have told her that he had seen her having nightmares and had decided to wake her up. His earlier rage had long since passed, forgotten somewhere in the dark reaches of his own nightmares and he could have, indeed, claimed to have possessed such amiable motives... had she asked about it, at all.

Rolf stepped away from the bed when the woman slumped back upon the mattress, wiping the sweat from her face and giving herself some time to calm down, possibly to get rid of whatever hellish images had tormented her just moments ago. The man stood by his own bed now, eyeing Riedel carefully and readying himself for whatever angry confrontation lay ahead, but still - it did not come. After a small while the woman simply propped herself up and without really noticing the Hauptmann, proceeded to get up from the mattress. It seemed like a difficult process and Riedel would have certainly stumbled down on the floor had she not been quick enough to support herself against the small table next to the bed. Rolf simply stood by his own bed, hands hanging loosely by his sides while his eyes remained on the woman all this time, disbelief written all over his features when the woman remained silent about Rolf's rather unseemly appearance by her bed. As if observing some dangerous beast of the wild, the man's gaze followed Riedel's each movement, observing as she stepped quietly towards the window and stopped there. The man frowned, feeling uncomfortable when he wasn't able to discern her motives or mood and hence, not knowing just what kind of precautions he should be taking. When Riedel turned around to observe him, Rolf shifted his weight from one foot to another and arched one eyebrow, folding his arms in front of his chest and tilting his head to the side. He was trying to find something to say, something that wouldn't seem too much like an explanation or an apology and which would be neutral enough, maybe even casual... but what?

Before he had time to come up with any of these perfectly measured words, the door was opened and Rolf's face grew dark the instant he recognized the obnoxious nurse from earlier. She had visited the room to bring him a meal and to attend to Riedel, but Rolf had hardly even noted her presence and had made it clear that had it not been for the food, his welcome would have been far more hostile. He had little tolerance for old crows such as her giving him orders and he was irritated enough by the headaches and boredom as it stood. Riedel did not appear too pleased by the nurse's appearance, either, and Rolf could only wonder how the older woman must have felt, bombed by the sharp looks of her constantly irritated patients as she was. There was a sense of humble appeasement to her voice when she addressed Riedel, as if she was hoping to make amends with her, the nurse already having forgiven for the earlier clash between herself and Riedel. She kept offering to bring some food to the stubborn patient, but Riedel did not seem too interested in it and when she angrily claimed that she had been anesthetized earlier, Rolf raised his eyebrows and felt brief amusement visiting the corners of his mouth. Well, that certainly explained why the woman had remained in such a deep sleep for all this time. Rolf's amusement was shortlived, as the nurse seemed to give up with trying to make friends with Riedel and walked up to him instead, causing a sudden hostile glare appear on his features instead. He grimaced and shifted his head away from her touch, but she was adamant and, testing the Hauptmann's temperature from his forehead first, told him to get some rest. Rolf sneered at her and wanted to tell her to go and rest in a very deep hole, preferrably under three meters of Libyan sand, but she had already turned away, obviously not wanting to get into an argument with the pair of stubborn patients. The door clicked shut after her and Rolf remained standing next to his bed in rebellion, not wanting to follow her instructions. He had already woken up effectively enough, not least due to the enticing sight he had just witnessed when Riedel had been sleeping and felt strangely giddy and restless.

His gaze shifted from the door towards Riedel as she moved past him, slumping down on the bed wearily, her irritation consumed by heavy fatigue, while all this time Rolf merely stood by his bed, his arms still folded across his chest and his gaze turning away from the woman and towards the window. He did not have anything to say and clearly Riedel was not interested in conversation, either, so the Hauptmann wandered towards the window and narrowed his eyes, not really looking at anything, staring outside meaninglessly. He felt far too restless to settle down to sleep again, the earlier exhilaration of observing the woman having made his blood rush so effectively, he felt his skin still tingling and his heart pounding just slightly above it's normal pace. A faint female's voice could be heard from the corridor outside the door and Rolf could faintly understand something being said about the lights, after which the only light in the room suddenly grew dark and the shadows rapidly engulfed the room in their embrace. Rolf groaned low in his throat, allowing his eyes to get used to the darkness while sudden irritation mulled inside him. Well, that was just great. What the hell was he supposed to do the occupy his time now? He wasn't going to go back to sleep, he couldn't continue with staring at Riedel, he couldn't read - hell, he couldn't even count the lines in the ceiling anymore!

Rolf could hear a bed creaking slightly as the woman shifted her position and glancing towards her direction Rolf could see her shadowy figure moving as Riedel turned her back towards him, obviously meaning to go back to sleep. Rolf stared at her silent figure over his shoulder for a small while to see if she would change her mind, but when the woman remained as silent and still as earlier, Rolf frowned and turned around, carefully returning back towards his own bed. He wasn't looking forward to laying awake in the bed for the rest of the night and the mere thought made his skin crawl with irritation. The man came to a stop next to his bed and grumbled low in his throat, glancing towards the resting figure of Riedel... when a sudden thought entered his head and made Rolf's eyes glint with an almost childish sense of mischief.

With a crooked smirk appearing on his features, Rolf turned around and sneaked towards Riedel's bed instead, his mind already set on the task instead of worrying about the consequences. His eyes scanned over the woman's shadowy figure to make sure she had not yet been alerted by his movements, silent as they were, but she must have been either falling asleep or simply ignoring his presence, for he could see no signs of her growing uneasy. With a sly grin covering his face, Rolf was soon climbing into her bed, settling next to her on his side and pushing his chest against the woman's back. "Nächte können in Libyen so kalt sein, Riedel," the man rasped, placing his arm around the woman and further pulling her towards himself. "Aber mach dir nichts draus, ich werde Sie aufwärmen. Und ich werde sogar sicherstellen, dass keine Albträume Sie heute Abend auch belästigen werden," Rolf murmured next to her ear, his tone hoarse and husky, the small smile decorating his lips evident in his voice. It felt so very nice, pressing his body against hers as he was, and he drank in her essence with his eyes half-closed, not minding the obvious traces of sweat and dust that mixed with her natural scent. Even though the pressure of his arm around her body was not constricting, it was demanding and firm, ready to quench any small struggling the woman might be compelled to counter him with. Of course she would struggle, and of course Rolf wanted the moment to last, even though he wasn't planning on actually forcing himself upon the woman. No... For now he was content enough in just pushing his body against hers and a low growl of satisfaction formed deep within his chest as he relished in the moment and, pressing his elbow against the woman, Rolf started snaking his hand up to touch her neck.


Translations:

"Nächte können in Libyen so kalt sein, Riedel."
"Nights can get so cold in Libya, Riedel."

"Aber mach dir nichts draus, ich werde Sie aufwärmen. Und ich werde sogar sicherstellen, dass keine Albträume Sie heute Abend auch belästigen werden."
"But don't worry, I'll warm you up. And I'll even make sure no nightmares will bother you tonight, either."

[Dirk Riedel]

Green eyes stared at the wall amidst the darkness, unblinking and frozen in that moment’s stillness, her mind numbed as the icy fingers of pain and fear were dipped into a scuttle of warm fatigue and exhaustion before they looped against her heart and threatened her with images of unspeakable anguish, and bore such magnitude of desolation such as the woman knew not whether she would be able to respond to this time with as much stoicism as usually regarded her nature. Soon enough the irritable pang of self-condemnation scabbed deeper into her wounds and her breath came to a halt for a moment or two upon her conscience speaking to her with such adamant mockery, such merciless cruelty as was enough to not only dull the former irritation but allow a wave of other, more severe, sentiments overwhelm an enervated mind; she should have never left him behind, to take care of himself alone, for he was just a boy, a mere young boy to her who knew very little of life’s hideous face and through naivety and thoughtlessness would easily find himself into the spider’s web, his innocent and kind-hearted soul breeding only empathy and good intentions. She had exchanged positions with him and presented herself in the military instead, wanting nothing more but to protect him, shield him from inhumanity, brutality and death, and without hesitation would have rushed to end her own life to ensure his survival; she would cut off her arm and give it to him should he need one, and should he suffer from illness she would offer him her livers, and should his heart begin to fade she would give him her own, willingly, happily. There was nothing she would not do for that boy, and not a day passed without thinking of him. Sometimes she wondered, with guilt no less, whether the reason she had switched his place was not merely founded on her over-protection, but, perhaps selfishly, on her profound desire to be where she thought she belonged, a world that most suited her nature and responded to her inner wishes more than anything else would, a world of fulfilment and integration.

All the same, she had had no choice in the matter, as she very well knew; were he to have been conscripted in the armed forces he would not have lasted longer than a day – and no strength, no iron wrought force of resilience and acceptance would have quenched the grief, the loss, her very own slow, untimely demise upon forever being deprived of the one person she cared most in this world. She had lost once, and willed herself to for no reason and under no circumstances show weakness but, through tenacity and resolution, support the family, denying all prospects of their gradual declivity to wretchedness to overcome them. She had replaced her father as the head of the house at that early age, able and severe as she was, but to lose Julian – it was a thought that never even crossed her mind, so unbearable it was, and to live through that nightmare had opened her eyes to the possibilities that always existed, the possibilities she refused to explore, although she knew them well. She knew them awfully well. Her eyes remained transfixed on the wall opposite her as these suffocating thoughts swirled around her mind like a growing, monstrous parasite, reaching every corner of her brain and with a cancerous quality infected the rest of her body, her forehead ablaze, and with her face cold and colourless as she silently stared into nothingness, her heart pacing quickly and her mouth slightly open as she tried to inhale deeply, her chest rising anxiously and she slowly descended into silent despair –

A strong arm suddenly grasped her tightly and pulled her closer, her eyes unmoving as her back pressed onto his chest and his voice pierced through her entire length, consuming her with promises, promises she wanted him to keep; the animalistic growl of his throat embraced her with a genuine vow of pertinacity, assuring her there would be neither escape for her nor surrender from him. She felt his hand slowly snaking up across her stomach, like a gallant traveller exploring the frame of an unconquered mythical land for the first time, leisurely but firmly journeying up to the crescent of her neck, until his fingers stretched around lightly and his arm still held her with an unyielding grasp, the hand shedding its slight coldness from the chilled atmosphere as her warmth shifted onto the tips of his fingers and promptly transferred across his arm and throughout his own frame. Glaucous eyes stared unresponsively at the wall, at the vague shadows painted across the surface in the darkness, a lying figure on a mass of blackness, but which was not lying alone – the dark expanded dimension showed some one else there, right next to the figure, attached and, by contrast, in motion, and the woman merely stood there, quietly staring at this otherworldly reflection in almost narcotic trance as her quickened pulse made her draw in her breath, a shivering cold soaring throughout her length and only inflaming the feeling of febrility, her forehead burning and the dewdrops of sweat trickling along the back of her neck and the sides of her face, slowly creating a path downwards to her collarbone.

The elbow’s pressure against the chest felt neither a source of discomfort nor an additional burden, but the uncompromising arm around her promised only clearance of everything causing her such distress and anxiety at the moment; and so she buried her head lower into the pillow, allowing his toxic embrace to engulf her like the fever channelled throughout her body with infectious rapidity, her chest rising and falling from the ferocity of her unspoken anguish, and though her body lay very still and outwardly calm, the insides were burning in high fever further goading the images in her head, and her quick breathing remained unstable and stiff. Then, she closed her eyes and slightly tilted her head backwards against his shoulder, feeling his head next to her own and his warm breath tingling the side of her face, at the same time as the spidery fingers decisively circled around her neck; they could have suffocated her, but did not; might have strangled her in ruling anger, but had not. Her face became a silent painting of a tortured, fatigued mind, and she buried her pained expression further into the pillow as her fingertips involuntarily twitched before they snatched forcefully the edges of the pillow – pain which came not from his consuming presence but the overwhelming thoughts of the monsters turning real. They spawned in the darkness and fed from a human’s weakness. The brisk, enveloping and crystal sound of gunshots continued pervading her mind with as much vivacity and clarity as she had experienced the previous night for a wound that now adorned the left side of her stomach, and she was trying – struggling with every ounce of strength left in her to cast the sounds away, to dispose of the images of unspeakable cruelty lingering in every nerve she possessed, and slowly his existence constricted her in a world far apart from the one she was making every effort to break free from; soon the guttural essence of his hoarse rasp was drowning down the consecutive, deafening gunshots, a voice circling her head and refusing to leave, promising he would cast the nightmares and in that very moment she believed him, even trusted him. Still, the teeth bit sharply on her lips with determined vehemence to prevent the state of anxiety she was in from being expressed vocally, refusing to show weakness as she in stillness lay, until she drew blood, and small stains of deep scarlet glued themselves in the corner of her lips but, alas, a weary sigh of anguish, so easily mistaken in the evening shadows, escaped her dehydrated throat. When her eyes snapped open, the images were no longer there, replaced by the inescapable reality of his arm strongly looped around her figure, closely pulled against his domineering frame. Her eyes briefly glanced at the shadows on the wall as her body still remained composed, the racing heartbeat slowly declining as she inhaled deeply. To an outsider it might have appeared that the carnivore was having her for dinner tonight, but to her the carnivore was only distracting her mind away from darkness, even if that meant being trapped into his inevitable, predatory essence; even if it had her captured in his very own hand.

The left arm that uselessly lay across the bed slowly moved backwards, grazing against the arm clutching her as she shifted her hand to meet his on her neck, intertwining her fingers through his own, and though at first it might have appeared that the woman intended to pull him away, her hand remained motionless upon his, rising in rhythm along with her chest as she inhaled deeply from the shortness of breath she felt from the experience of those tyrannous images which had by now seemed to have retreated into a corner amidst the shadows. She calmly closed her eyes for a second or two, and when she opened them again she stared blankly at the opposite wall for a few moments before she blinked, and the fingers moved to pull his hand away at the same time as she turned around, settling herself onto his own side so as to properly face him. The bed was only meant to be used by one person and not two, which made this unorthodox way of lying down slightly uncomfortable unless one did not mind having a portion of their back hanging on the edge of the mattress – and she hardly possessed the slender, thin feminine form – for which reason she instinctively lay against him, her stomach pressed against his abdomen. She stood quietly there, her arm pressed against her side and resting on the pillow, in the minimal empty space between their faces; she watched him, the darkness enveloping his features in a mystical ritual of Dionysian secrecy, and only the distinct glint of his eyes was visible through the stillness, the faint angles of his face revealed from the tendrils of the moonlight entering the voiceless room through the glass window in the corner.

At that moment, she propped herself up slowly, not breaking away from his gaze, her hair falling down onto her shoulders as she moved onto his side and hovered above, turning her eyes away from him when she outstretched her hand to reach for the bedside table onto her right; her forehead wrinkled when her fingers merely touched the edge of the wooden surface and her left hand grasped the periphery of the mattress next to his head as she propelled herself forwards and eventually opened the table’s drawer, her fingers quickly searching through the empty space until they circled around the cigarette; shutting the drawer she easily brought herself backwards and lay back on her former position. She watched him thoughtfully, her eyebrows slightly furrowed at the process, until, resolutely and without warning, her right hand jerked to the fore and slipped inside the pocket of his trousers, only to find nothing there. She frowned. “Das ist auf der anderen Seite, nicht wahr?” she said knowingly, and her eyes narrowed for a brief moment before she forcefully moved her hand on the other side of his frame, which, by nature, was a difficult task considering he was precisely lying on that side but Dirk refused to let that become an obstacle and, thus, without minding his reaction, she buried her fingers deep into the mattress and, with intricacy no less, felt for the pocket, causing his frame to slightly shift more weight onto his back until her fingers finally circled around a small metallic device. She simply knew it. With a smirk grazing the corner of her lips, she pulled her hand away and stared at the lighter in front of her, the beautiful steel, a showcase of true human craftsmanship, glinting distinctly in the darkness. But she wasted no time and immediately lit her cigarette, her very last one, breathing peacefully as the angles of his face were suddenly illuminated by the orange light as she drew in from the cigarette, her gaze unyielding on his eyes, and lying still.

She softly blew the fume into the air between them, soon surrounding them in circles of cancerous smoke as she quietly watched him gaze back to her, her tranquil face unemotional and disposed of any sign that may have alluded to sentiments such as irritation, revulsion or even anxiety, and only her tired eyes suggested her current state; it was unusual during the day, but when she lay to rest in the night her eyebrows were no longer curved over a pair of demanding, severe eyes, her lips were not tightly pressed in severity and her jaw no more hardened, her veins relaxed and her pulse declining to its average pace; she lay on the mattress, serene and thoughtful, her pale face a painting of unbreakable calmness and stoicism and eyes denoting only peace in the silence of the night. Just like now. She had been too blind in rage during their primary encounter, but now she could observe the distinct features of his face from yet again such a close proximity, the small pools of moles embellishing his face; some of them were obscured by his stubble, and some were painted lower upon his neck, forming a small triangle of curious dots on the skin; or the distinct shape of his mouth, the soft curve of the cupid’s bow or the depth of the philtrum; and when her eyes looked up she saw the shadow lines under his restless eyes that now, lightened by the small orange glow, mirrored her through their primal gleam. The hand that held the cigarette slowly moved closer to his face, and softly pulled one or two locks falling on his forehead back on his untidy, dishevelled hair. There was nothing else in that room, in that very simple picture, but only two creatures of the wild forest clothed in human skin lying upon the white linen of the mattress in quietude, in the stillness of the moment; one of them had blood stains etching in the corner of her lips; the other bore wounds of the most mythical pride.

“Sehr was?” she asked him, her voice quiet and soft as she looked at him. “Sie finden mich sehr … was?” she reminded him of the sentence he had began earlier in the morning before the nurse had interrupted them; a sentence he had never finished but which had been unconsciously absorbed deeply into the corners of her mind, shoved in the far edges of neglect until now. She smoked from the cigarette, fume exhaling from her nose and her lips as she watched him closely. He was close enough to feel his warm breath tingling the nostrils of her nose; she was close enough to feel her forehead ablaze and the fevered skin transmitting its warmth in the insignificant breathing space between them, the dewdrops of sweat glued in the side of her face or across her forehead. “Was wollen Sie von mir, Jäger?” she said, and looked at him with stoic curiosity written across the lines of her face. “Seien Sie wenn nicht zu mir und mindestens zu sich selbst ehrlich,” she spoke, her eyes gleaming above the orange glow with as much genuine integrity in her question as she possessed, her breathing coming in a slow, calm rhythm. She stared at him for a few moments before she brought the cigarette closer to his lips, pale fingers looped around its length, as she induced him to draw in, her face left in mystical shadows once more as the cigarette illuminated the hunter’s eyes.


Translation

It’s on the other side, isn’t it?

Very what? You find me very … what? What do you want from me, Jäger? Be honest, if not to me then at least to yourself.

[Rolf Jäger]

Rolf's muscles tightened when he expected to meet the first signs of resistance and to feel the hatred rushing through the woman's frame, hear her spit sharp insults at him, yet he soon noticed that his preparation for such hostilities had been for vain. Riedel remained still and silent, allowing the man to place his arm around her, her body not resisting as he pressed it against his own frame. No response came from her even when Rolf's quietly rasped words reached her ears and she did not protest even when Rolf's hand reached her neck and grazed her skin almost experimentally, the man's fingertips twitching away when they first registered the immense heat burning her skin. Still, he allowed his hand to slowly return, the fingertips carefully scrawling paths across her neck while Rolf held his breath, expecting the moment to get disrupted by the woman any second now. The fever had injected her blood with its burning poison and the woman's skin now glowed hot, small beads of sweat trickling down her neck, occasionally interrupted by the Hauptmann's fingers. He could perfectly recall the moment he had caressed her neck in a similar fashion before, yet it felt very different now and her fever had little to do with it. This time Riedel remained unmoving and unresponsive and she allowed him to touch her. Rolf could not discern even the slightest signs of restrain kindling within her fevered frame, not even when his own body was so closely pressed against hers. The man's mouth was left slightly open as he breathed out slowly and allowed himself to succumb in the moment, just concentrating on feeling the woman's own unnatural warmth transferring upon him, the dark silence of the room further emphasizing each breath she took, each one of them which Rolf could both hear and feel. He had never before been involved in something as surreal and unexpected as the moment he was experiencing now, drowning in silence and warmth, just concentrating on someone else's presence without feeling any sense of urgency or hostility. Foreign as it all felt, it wasn't an unpleasant sensation and he felt the need to explore it further, just so that he could memorize every little aspect of the moment for later inspection.

His fingers travelled up the skin on her throat and to the other side of her neck, tracing a path up to her ear and scrawling slowly across the edge of the jawbone, his fingers ending up at her lower chin, moving like an observer in the middle of a burning desert, measuring the edges of the untamed wilderness. All this time Riedel remained still, allowing the man to press her against himself with his elbow, still not uttering so much as one word of anger. Her complete lack of resistance had rendered Rolf silent and confused and the initial smirk of mischief that had lingered in the corner of his lips just moments earlier had quickly vanished, now replaced by only a slight gape of awe. Why would she allow such a thing to happen? Was she just waiting for the right moment to strike back? Rolf breathed out at the thought and for a moment his fingers remained frozen in mid-movement just as they had been sliding down her chin and back to her throat, but then the temptation was too great and he allowed his fingertips to slowly continue downwards again. Maybe it was the fever that had rendered her so uncharacteristically calm; maybe she did not even realize he was there? Whatever the reason for her unresponsiveness was, Rolf wasn't going to let the moment to go to waste and his fingertips found their path again, coming to a slow stop at the side of her neck.

He could discern her rapid pulse from the veins beneath her pale skin and Rolf breathed out evenly, slowly, allowing the narcotic essence of the moment to consume his every sense, the darkness surrounding them only adding to its surreal quality. Riedel shifted her head ever so slightly, as if escaping the reality became a possibility the moment she could not see it and the instant she buried her face in the pillow, all else would cease to exist, yet his presence and touch still did not seem to unnerve her and the woman's body lay still, not even trying to escape the touch of his fingers. Rolf breathed her scent in deeply, his eyes half-closed and his entire frame consumed by her vicinity, one so powerful he felt like he was drowning himself in flames, as if he was pressing his body against a burning pyre instead. But right at that moment the sensation, even in its obscurity, felt so blissful he would have chosen to live through it, even if it meant nothing else would be left of him but ashes. He had never been faced with such a moment of undemanding closeness and he wished to experience it in all of its surreal capacity, no longer caring if it was a fantasy existing in his own imagination - it was unlike any other dream he had ever experienced and he would have still wished to live through it, even when knowing it wasn't authentic. A dream was how it surely felt, with the darkness closing them inside the same small space, the woman's burning body pressed against his and remaining still of her own, free will. It could not have been real, yet it felt very corporeal and each small detail was drawn in crystal clarity before him - he could see the mass of her blonde hair obscured by shadows, he could smell her scent mixing with that of sweat and he could feel the smoothness of her skin, burning as hot as embers beneath his fingertips. All of this would have normally compelled the man's hunger to awaken, but for now the voracious beast had been unexpectedly muzzled by Rolf's own surprise and confusion and he merely explored, experienced and lived through the experience.

The woman shivered as the pangs of fever continued consuming her very essence and her breathing came in short, unmeasured gasps, only further affirming Rolf's assumption on how she most likely was far too feverish and delirious to even notice his presence. Any such thoughts were quickly erased when the woman suddenly shifted her head, tilting it backwards to rest against his shoulder. Rolf would have twitched back with surprise had he still possessed the clarity of mind to react that quickly, but this time he only opened his eyes fully and his fingers seemed to have a mind of their own as the slowly curled around her neck, as if readying themselves to strangle her or to snap the bones, but instead the touch remained as light as before. The coarse bristles of the man's stubble brushed against her skin briefly and instead of trying to analyze the situation, Rolf merely settled into experiencing it and allowed his fingers to slowly caress the sides of her neck, studying the rapid pulse on her jugular and the burning quality of her skin, a result of the woman's body battling against the hostile invaders within her system. Right then he felt he would have helped her conquer over them, allowing her a small reprieve in her own personal war by keeping her other enemies at bay and standing guard over the dark reaches of her mind which her nightmares attempted to occupy. Rolf's eyes glinted fervently at the silent promise while he listened to her rapid breathing and heard her expel a quiet, fevered sigh which made all of his senses sharpen up, as if he was expecting her condition to worsen and his frame remained perfectly still to better evaluate the situation. It felt strange, the way in which he could so clearly witness the slow change in her state. He could hear her breathing calming down with each slow draw of her lungs, the pulse on her neck steadying along with it. While her skin still burned with fever and sweat kept running down her skin and snaking over Rolf's fingers, for the moment she seemed to have battled her way through the worst throes of her illness.

The woman's arm shifted and graced against his as she moved it, her fingers soon grasping at his and causing Rolf to move his hand slightly in preparation of finally having it ushered away. Much to his surprise, he felt her fingers locking with his, allowing his hand to remain on her neck while Rolf's mouth hung open and his eyebrows furrowed in utter confusion. He was now quite convinced that he was awake and what happened could have been nothing else but the reality, for not even in one's most vivid dreams would a person be able to witness such an extent of tiny details; in dreams something was always missing, something one would overlook, yet all of the things he was perceiving now were perfect down to the smallest factor. Rolf merely stared at her calm figure, pure confusion written all over his features as his hand rested over her neck, her fingers now intertwined with his. The moment lasted only for a small while, but Rolf felt as if he was awakening from some ancient dream when the woman finally shifted her hand and pushed his away in a gentle but decisive manner, just so that she could turn around and settle lying on her other side. The bewilderment was still evident over the man's features as he watched her, grey eyes searching for any signs of derision or hostility, yet the shadows engulfed her features and hid them behind her veil, making the task nothing short of useless.

The moonlight that sifted through the window was enough to illuminate her dark outlines and the confines of the small space they now shared forced them to remain very close to each other, but Rolf could still not sense any great urgency on the woman's part to get away from him. Without saying a word, Riedel proceeded to prop herself up and Rolf felt his muscles automatically shifting towards a defensive mode when the woman merely reached past him, her hand stretching towards the handle of the drawer. Rolf attempted to give her room to reach the drawer and its contents and he felt the woman's upper body brushing against his before she finally returned to her original position, her last remaining cigarette loosely held between her fingers. The man allowed himself to relax once more and when Riedel's hand moved in to search his other pocket, he surprised himself by not so much as even flinching from the unexpected motion, only shifting his weight from the bed slightly when Riedel attempted to find the lighter from his other pocket. Finally producing the steel lighter from his other pocket, the woman lit her cigarette and its orange glow illuminated her face in the darkness, not only revealing her facial features, but her current mood, also.

Rolf observed her carefully as he lay on his side, trying to grasp at any fleeting signs of treachery or hatred, yet failing to find any. Her eyebrows were calmly curved over her green eyes, now burning with the same orange light as the ember upon her cigarette and Rolf could clearly see the dark shadows under her eyes, evidence of little rest enjoyed. Her feverish skin appeared pale even in the warm glow of the cigarette and her expression bore no signs of ill will, sustaining only a sense of stoic serenity that neither accused or judged him with anything. Rolf would have accepted either one of those things and he would have known how to answer to them, but this... this he simply could not understand. His eyes remained curious and vigilant, observing the woman through the strangely illuminated wisps of smoke that danced between their faces and any signs of arrogance, hatred and mischief had been lost to the man's confusion. Rolf seemed content in just observing the woman and he lay still, the other hand resting upon his side and the other scrawled across the pillow. Riedel's expression was still dominated by a calmness much akin to the one Rolf had witnessed earlier when she had still been sleeping peacefully, yet it all seemed different now when he could read the same placidity in her eyes, even when she looked at him, even when they were so close to each other. Riedel's hand moved slowly towards him and Rolf managed to remain still, not flinching away from her hand this time, even when a fleeting, primal urgency to do so visited his mind, driven away only by the mere calmness of her gesture. He could feel a light touch upon his forehead, her fingers brushing the skin only momentarily as she moved a few stray locks of hair back upon the unkempt sandy mess of his hair. A sense of almost childish wonder mixed with the slight expression of confusion for a moment and still, Rolf could not understand, not even when his mind was furiously trying to put the pieces together and untangle the mess of events and thoughts that dominated his brain.

The man blinked when Riedel spoke again and her quiet voice seemed to meld with the darkness, as if the two belonged together. At first Rolf felt far too bewildered by the situation to properly register the meaning of her words and a sense of understanding passed through his eyes only after the woman had repeated the entire verse, reminding Rolf of the sentence that had never been properly finished. She had other questions, too, and her softly spoken words held a sense of true curiosity to them as she asked what he wanted with her, advicing him to speak truthfully; for his sake if not hers. She brought the cigarette closer to Rolf and the man glanced from the cigarette to the woman briefly, as if to make sure her offer was genuine, but then brought his hand to hers to lightly grasp both the cigarette and her fingers as he drew in the smoke. Rolf closed his eyes as he allowed the smoke to linger within, thoroughly savoring its sweet, poisonous taste before the grey wisps of smoke finally were breathed out, obscuring the man's bruised features for a small moment. His eyebrows rose up languidly as the brief bliss of the nicotine dose already wore off and then Rolf's eyes slowly opened to observe the woman once again, his mind only now jumping in to find the answers. Rolf's expression remained as guileless and sincere as before, the confusion now having given way to some sense of inner contemplation when he spoke.

"Ich finde Sie so sehr verschieden," the man announced slowly, his voice low and his gaze never leaving the woman's eyes. He had not realized that the words had been left unspoken earlier, but the lost conclusion to his sentence was easily found again. Rolf could not know whether Riedel would consider the notion an insult or a compliment, but he wasn't going to change his original words now, not even for the sake of appeasing the woman. It was the truth, anyway, and for reasons he could not even begin to fathom, he felt compelled to speak with honesty. They were so very close to each other, Rolf felt she would have sensed any dishonesty as easily as she could touch his face. Besides, the initial question had been easy enough to answer, but the second one made the man pause and for a small moment he averted his eyes, glancing somewhere downwards and shifting his weight ever so slightly. "...was will ich?" the man murmured into the shadows, slowly shifting his gaze back at the woman and reaching a hand towards hers, just to pick up the cigarette lighter from her grasp. He shifted the metallic lighter around in his fingers, observing its metallic glint for a small while before he slipped the item into the empty pocket, giving himself more time to better consider the question. Rolf's silver eyes suddenly found hers again and they observed the woman with new-found intensity, the man speaking before he had even time to plan on his words. "Ich würde mit Ihnen, Riedel ehrlich sein. Wenn ich konnte," Rolf rasped evenly, tilting his chin down, as if it would have better allowed him to view each fine detail on the woman's face. "Ich weiß nicht, was ich von Ihnen will. Ich weiß... Dass Sie von jeder anderen Frau verschieden sind, die ich jemals getroffen habe. Stärker. Stolzer," Rolf pronounced the two words with a certain sense of gravity, even when his voice remained low and gravelly throughout. "Störrisch und völlig wild." A thin and wry smile visited the man's lips and it wasn't clear if he considered the last two things to be compliments or insults.

"Es ist nicht eine Frage dessen, was ich von Ihnen will. Die Frage ist... Was soll nicht über Sie dort wollen?" Rolf asked in his hoarse voice, his tone void of any hints of jest or mocking, his expression as austere as before. The man shifted his hand, his fingers curling around hers once more, but only to bring the cigarette closer once again. Rolf leaned slightly to breathe in the smoke and he allowed the smoky tendrils to slowly snake out from between his lips, the man closing his eyes once more to better enjoy its addicting quality. His grey eyes opened slowly and he kept her hand trapped in his, fingertips slowly straying across her burning skin as his eyes held her prisoner. Rolf was very aware of just how close to each other they were and confused as he still was by the situation, he couldn't help but feel drawn to her, the need to further touch her slowly eating him from the inside. Rolf's gaze travelled slowly down upon her lips and in the ember light of the cigarette he could see something glistening upon her lips.

"Ihre Lippe verblutet," Rolf noted, arching an eyebrow at the sight and slowly releasing the woman's hand, just to lightly touch the side of her face. His fingertips traced a short path from her cheek to the edge of her lips and the man's mouth opened in concentration as his eyes studied the problem with great care, observing the smallest details upon her features and further, the small drops of blood at the corner of her mouth. As if having come to some solution, the man growled low in his throat and breathed out slowly, closing his eyes half-way and bringing his head in closer for a kiss that would certainly remedy the problem.


Translations:

"Ich finde Sie so sehr verschieden."
"I find you so very different."

"...was will ich?"
"...what do I want?"

"Ich würde mit Ihnen, Riedel ehrlich sein. Wenn ich konnte."
"I would be honest with you, Riedel. If I could."

"Ich weiß nicht, was ich von Ihnen will. Ich weiß..."
"I do not know what I want from you. I know... That you are different from any other woman I have ever met. Stronger. Prouder."

"Störrisch und völlig wild."
"Stubborn and completely feral."

"Es ist nicht eine Frage dessen, was ich von Ihnen will. Die Frage ist... Was soll nicht über Sie dort wollen?"
"It's not a question of what I want from you. The question is... What isn't there to want about you?"

"Ihre Lippe verblutet."
"Your lip is bleeding."

[Dirk Riedel]

Her eyes watched him carefully in the glow of the evening sun casting its tendrils upon the dark old room, his face illuminated by the dim orange glimmer of the cigarette as he stared back at her with a thorough, reflective appearance one and the same with her own and yet different still; there was something intrinsically genuine to his features as made her gaze back at him in almost revered silence, and how youthful did he appear, even through his transgression how innocent, through his impudent, callous mind how merciful, and through the dark corners of his heart how oddly human. She stood very still as his fingers slowly circled around her wrist and drew her hand closer to breathe in from the cigarette, shortly enveloping him in a warm mass of grey smoke which for a moment obscured his face, until he was revived once more to her lasting vision, all the same and unchanging. She sought answers, answers he could not give, and her perfect countenance of composed anticipation was only ever slightly distorted with a meagre curve of the eyebrows over her eyes as he spoke in that low tone, telling her words she could not understand, truths which her unperceiving heart was not ready to accept; to him she might have appeared different, but the woman had always believed, through a pragmatic and earthbound nature of severe unpretentiousness, that she was nothing more but a mere human being, a peasant, built of the same faults as characterized other creatures of the same kind, starkly blemished and even perhaps meticulously unpolished, enough to render her critically incongruous within the circles of urban society, in which proper etiquette and a particular view on female countenance existed only to contradict the uncultivated roughness of her ways. She observed every detail in his slightest of movements, the repetition of her question, the unhesitant aversion of the eyes, the need to concentrate on something else than her for those moments of fleeting reverie, and only watched his irises closely as she let the lighter slip slowly from her fingers and into his hand.

A mild expression of incertitude and perplexity visited her face as he easily pronounced his inability to understand the very reason he wished to come after her; it was a feeling she could interpret at this moment in time as an inability to understand his very own mind – a culmination of being raised in an environment in which, she could assume, everything should be taken for granted and no thought of his own was required to establish the most fundamental human communication with another, or even as much as be a master of himself and determine his own freedom, coerced as he had been to wear shackles bounding him to generations in time through noble ancestry that only expected of him the evident, the treading of that very path his stature forced upon him to tread. She possessed no knowledge with regard to his background and what there was to assume about him was founded upon no more than mere assumptions, which in turn were rooted in the ancient prejudice strongly maintained between their classes. She knew nothing about him, nor did she pretend to do so at any given moment, and nor had she wished to do so at any given moment until this very moment when the warm fingers of unadulterated curiosity had softly circled their way around her heart.

And as his words pierced through her mind only to tell her he possessed no clear answer to her question, she looked back at him in placid confusion; she never felt self-absorbed were others to speak of her traits, unassuming and straightforward of a character as she was and indifferent to such notions of speaking well of one’s personality or condemning their deviations – but only appreciating what she believed deserved appreciation, and scoffing away at those she deemed irresponsible and unbefitting of privileges, and, thus, to hear him speak of her in such terms, him out of all people, brought her dubiety that only aggravated when a wry smile embraced the corner of his lips, and she frowned in curiosity, unable to tell whether he was simply mocking her. Still, it was not until he indicated the true question that her eyebrows lined over her undiscerning eyes in absolute uncertainty and mystification, her lips slightly parted and her forehead gently wrinkled to further accentuate these rare sentiments, all the while the hand holding the cigarette hanging almost lifelessly in the air between them, completely taken no notice of, until she felt his fingers move around hers again and guide her towards him so that he could enjoy a second draw from the tobacco roll. Then she felt, after a prolonged time of inertia, her blood circulate around her hand again, regaining the sense of touch she had for moments lost through the frozen stillness of time, her eyes unmoving and transfixed upon his face, but her fingers might have belonged to that of a Grecian statue in their warm rigidity, struggling not against his unceasing grasp as the palm of his hand locked around her wrist, fingers resting on her hand and drawing the slightest patterns upon her fevered skin.

There were too many aspects she possessed which she could think of to counter his question, and for a second knew not whether he was plainly deriding her or simply testing her to see her reaction; still, his voice was too grave and unsmiling for her to show ignorance towards the genuine message of his words, even if she could hardly decipher the meaning behind his emendation of her query. Even on the occasion he were right and, indeed, he could attribute to her an idiosyncrasy which he found magnetically inviting – what would this basic fact mean in a simple equation involving her and him, and, furthermore, what would the consequences stemming from this very equation be and to which particles could it be analyzed? She silently watched the grey fume enclose him with an almost narcotic quality attached to its mystical essence as he closed his eyes and breathed in the smoke, corners of his face embracing the cigarette’s dim light while others drowned in darkness, swift shadows softly playing around his features as the moon glow flickered underneath his eyes, as though wishing to reveal stories of the past, stories at this point she wanted to know. She knew very little about him, and what little she knew she could not understand; how from one moment he appeared a vicious animal growling at her and showing her his teeth upon his ravenous hunger, and the next he was human again, speaking words of rationale, words she must admit bore only reason and critical judgement. What was the transition between these two states, from an instinctual living form to one of interpretive reasoning? This she could not begin to fathom, but only remembered the sensation of chilled stillness as she had seen him transform into a being of raw savagery, reacting on nothing but animalistic vengeance and desire before he had taken her down with him unto the bowels of the earth, no sooner than the dirt and dust had crawled along her skin in an organic process of unity with the element of nature.

The three words were spoken simply. The tone was neither a query nor a statement, as his gaze was neither hesitant nor unbending, but merely conscious instead, natural and straightforward. But for his perception, she might have never even realized the stains had lingered, and when he spoke she slightly wrinkled her forehead furthermore. She remained unmoving amidst all of her aching confusion, the skin shuddering beneath his touch as the fingers slowly released her hand and rested upon the side of her face, through her fevered skin and closer to the rim of her lips, through the thin coat of sweat trickling alongside the shape of his fingers, through the uneasy breath that slowly escaped the small parting of her lips. Her eyes followed him without surcease, her face nothing more but an ice sculpture of rimy lineaments that were no longer sharp and austere but softened through what had once been curious interest by now morphed into febrile unrest, portraying the inner state of her crystallized turmoil, her thoughts lying in shambles, or her outright inability to perform a task as simple as stretching her forefinger a little for the sole purpose of proving to herself she still possessed that capacity, her hand left lingering once more between them and having rather forgotten its practical use as her eyes bore into the grey abyss for far too long, far too great a time to be able to escape from the dark chasm that had, with a mere sombre caress, permeated through her defenses like the parasites infecting the body – and the grey abyss was also gazing back at her.

Slowly she realized his warm breath felt closer in the same way one brought the moist rim of a sliced pomegranate nearer to their lips during a dreary summer’s morning, and her pupils widened as she, frozen to the moment’s stillness, with the cigarette lingering in mid-air and her forehead wrinkled in the same upheaval that brought her such unspoken unrest through the faintly parted lips from her powerlessness in understanding him, could only gaze at the man during those few moments as he drew closer, unable to speak, and with his fingers lightly scorching onto her face whence sweat drops glued around the fringes of her hair down by her neck, until her fingertips suddenly twitched involuntarily upon a most heretical union, binding the moment with a humid seal, like rain on desert sand after an eternity of drought, her face a land of gloaming dew, and she, in the midst of her tentative confusion, impassively breathed into his soul and unconsciously allowed a draught of his vitriolic essence into her being through this pilgrimage of discovery, lest she would unleash the secrets his soul was too heedful to bestow upon him; at first she could only blink, paralyzed, unknowing on how to react and unresponsive, her hand shedding its orange glow on his hair as it wavered hesitantly for awhile until, on an involuntary, profound intent she went through the motion for only one mere moment in the faintest movement that might have never even existed, the fingers moving slowly to tentatively rest by the side of his neck, unsure and hesitant, on a quest he had began towards catharsis as he drowned down the red smears upon her imbrued skin, simply, effortlessly, before she found herself for a split second that soon vanished into thin air drawing along the lower rim with her, as if parting meant she would forever be deprived of the chance to snatch curiously at his viscera and reveal the truth behind his inexplicable comportment. He left a taste of salted water, gardenia blossom and Lebanese wood in her lips, and when he pulled back she merely blinked intensely, her eyes just as widened and her face frozen still, the lips parted in determined confusion, and with her eyebrows curved above the eyes of celadon green. She frowned, bringing the hand back to her lips and, after gazing at him for many moments on end in quietude, she fiercely pulled the cigarette’s end into her mouth and drew on deeply, as though forcing herself through the influence of the ignited paper to understand what exactly had happened.

Her frown inflamed and became stern as she gazed into his eyes, a state of complete disarray written across her perplexed face and she burned her lips furiously on the cigarette, her breathing having by now regained its uneven pace and even a physician would have diagnosed her fever to have worsened, her forehead ablaze and the side of the face lying down leaving small trail marks of dried sweat on the pillow. It appeared that the smoke had a pacifying effect on her for her facial features slowly relaxed as she watched him closely, for moments on end, and not making a sound. She should have been infuriated, enraged, she should have showed her teeth at him and growled angrily over his impudence, but her thoughts lacked any cohesion and order; and as she, more often than not, possessed rage which had its foundation of existence on rather solid reasons, her incapacity to put her thoughts and sentiments in a neat military order also disabled her of the ability to react as such. She opened her mouth as if to say something, and though her lips moved no words were voiced, and she closed it again, her face evidently battling against a desire to do something – anything – that would make her understand the invincible forces of mental powerlessness which added more fuel to a fire of aching confusion. It was then that she observed the faintest trace of blood left on his lips as a reminder, a pilgrim’s gift, which might have gone so easily unnoticed had the cigarette’s orange glow not illuminated directly upon it, and though it had almost morphed into the colour of the skin she could distinctly detect its existence, for it had once been hers. Paying no mind to forethought, the hand holding the cigarette moved closer and, slowly, traced along the explored pathway of his upper rim with her forefinger to properly cleanse him of the last remaining stain. She pulled her hand back and looked at him intently, feeling her head alight from the Stygian fires and the shivering cold caught onto her frame, her silence almost consuming. And yet still, she remembered how his hand had stretched out to touch her under the moon glow, and how he had forced himself to retract it upon paying respect to only one thing she had asked of him. Don’t touch me. She breathed in from the cigarette calmly, and at some point her lower lip shivered, feeling the knowing drops of sweat trickle down from the back of her ears on their journey across the land. And when she brought her fingers back to her lips they did so not without lightly quivering.

“Sie … behalten Sie Ihre Versprechungen nicht, stimmt dass?” she said in a low tone, her eyes gazing acutely into his, searching for anything that would make her understand.



Translation

You … you don’t keep your promises, do you?

[Rolf Jäger]

Although the distance between them was insignificantly short, Rolf felt like he was etching towards her in a painfully slow manner, as if he was floating on the eternal waves of the never-ending universe, pivoting towards a burning star and already feeling its warm glow on his skin from a distance, knowing that the closer he moved, the more painful and scorching the sensation would become. Like Icarus, he would foolishly allow his raw emotions lead him, but unlike the fabled son of Daedalus, he was completely aware of the danger, yet simply chose to ignore it; he did not care if he should crash and burn, just as long as he could at least taste the freedom that surely existed high in the skies, in the unconquered heights above the clouds and in the brightness of the inviting, relentless sun. His face moved ever closer to hers and the unnatural warmth of Riedel's skin melded into his while he could feel her breath upon his face, the woman frozen in her place for that one moment just before his lips pressed upon hers. The man closed his eyes and allowed the slow sensation to fill him and to erase his mind of any doubts or hesitations that might have still lingered. If the woman should choose to push him away, she was free to do so - a strange notion if Rolf had ever had one - yet he did not even consider such an option anymore, for his mind was occupied by a torrent of raw feelings instead of such rational thoughts. He would have rather explored the soft texture of her lips and the lingering iron taste of blood upon them than contemplated on the why's and not's of the situation. For now he allowed himself to blissfully exist in that moment only; not after or before.

Small, slow drops of sweat circled past his fingers, scrawling a path down her feverishly burning skin, yet the sensation bothered Rolf very little. If anything, it only seemed to add to the raw power of the moment, lighting multiple little flames inside the man's frame and only pulling him further into the oblivion where forgetting the place and time was suddenly possible. His coarse stubble brushed against the woman's chin when Rolf tilted his head to the side in an effort to completely trace away the specks of blood from her lips and the man breathed in her scent, his heart beating just slightly faster than before. He felt fingers touching the side of his neck, something that might have surprised him at any other time, yet for the moment it seemed natural enough and he accepted the sensation, allowing himself to enjoy it. They were merely going through a familiar progress, each little thing falling into place and coming together in a natural procession, with no conditions set and no questions raised. The man's fingers slid across her burning cheek to her enticingly pale throat, his fingertips slowly finding their rest at the nape of her neck where they remained, pressing against her skin with a determined pressure. Her sweat-drenched hair clung to the back of his hand while Rolf continued drowning himself in the moment, allowing the kiss to remain decisive yet not too forceful, leading and pulling her further into the warm, inviting cataclysm with him. He could taste the lingering traces of nicotine and the sharp, biting essence of her blood mixing curiously with something sweeter and softer, creating for an almost primal and addictive combination. It wasn't like Rolf, remaining so collected and undemanding in a situation such as this one, but the mere surreal quality of the moment had made everything seem almost dream-like, filling his head with a distant, muffled buzzing that only coaxed him to calmly explore the sensation further. The beasts of raw desire snapped their jaws at the steel bars of their cages yet he paid them no mind, only enjoying the moment in its present, narcotic quality.

As much as he would have liked to remain in that moment, he knew that he should end it and the man's eyebrows furrowed ever so slightly when he forced himself to grasp at that thought and change it into an action. The man shifted his head slowly, breaking away with reluctant hesitance and allowing his hand to slide down from her neck so that he could withdraw it and rest it tentatively by his side once again. Rolf was breathing unevenly, silver eyes staring at the woman through the thin veil of darkness, desperately trying to grasp at any small changes in her expression to discern her current mood. He felt light-headed and confused, only now starting to realize the extent of the previous action, on how her hand had rested upon his neck and just how ridiculous the thought of something similar even happening would have seemed just a few moments earlier. The man blinked slowly while his mouth hang just barely open, the slightly heavier draws of breath making his chest heave in small, almost indiscernible motions. A sudden frown appeared on Riedel's features and she moved her hand to touch her lips, her expression reflecting only disbelief, as if she couldn't quite believe what had just taken place. The moment of contemplation lasted only for a brief while and the woman brought the cigarette to her lips swiftly, the ember glowing brighter in the darkness for a moment when she breathed in the smoke. Her expression became all the more severe as she continued staring at the Hauptmann and Rolf tilted his chin to the side, automatically frowning back at her while he expected her to finally unleash her anger upon him. A fleeting sense of doubt visited the man's eyes and he observed her cautiously, his mind already trying to come up with words that would explain away his actions, yet none surfaced. How could he explain away actions even he himself could not come to understand? As was often the case with him, many of his undertakings were based on pure instinct and feeling and they held no intricate explanations or reasoning, no matter how much one might have attempted to imprint them with some acceptably poetic, grandiose meaning. He was most familiar with wrath, lust and pride, yet at the moment some other, unknown motivator had pushed him along its path and now left him standing in the dark, leaving him confused and lost, unable to recall how he had ended up where he now stood.

It could have been something as simple as curiosity and certainly, it was that very sentiment that had first kindled the first inklings of the fascination he held towards the woman. The emotion had grown since then, devouring his mind with such an inescapable and all-consuming power that it simply could not be explained away as curiosity grown tenfold. If Rolf had trouble trying to trace his own motivations, he had even more difficulty in understanding Riedel's mind and even though he could plainly see just how forcefully the fever was consuming her, it still would have not been enough to clarify the reasons behind her actions, or rather, the lack of them. She seemed to have calmed down by now and her stern features had softened with each breath of nicotine she consumed, the woman observing him as silently as before. Her lips parted slightly as if to state something, yet no words found their way out and the silence remained unbroken, almost disturbingly so. Rolf only returned her gaze with open confusion and doubt, his silver irises following each of her movements attentively while his mind was trying to come to terms with both his own actions as well as Riedel's. He had never experienced such strange, calm closeness and even though it grasped his heart with a warm, welcoming touch, another part of his mind was warning him of schemes and treachery, reminding him of the choruses of laughter and the sharp pain he had experienced very recently - things, which when forgotten, would only render him open to another violent attack.

For a small moment the man's eyes burned with sudden mistrust that was readable even through the confusion and Rolf felt as if he should have quickly created some distance between himself and the woman - no matter how calm she seemed, the woman would always pose a danger to him. Only a fool would have exposed his back to a wild lioness and expected to survive it. Rolf had already been shown several times how only treachery resided within the human mind, no matter how innocent the outer shell might have appeared and suddenly everything in Riedel's actions seemed like an invitation to a carefully planned trap. He was too consumed by the sudden sentiments to even notice the hand that closed the distance between them and when her finger brushed against his lips, wiping away the small traces of blood that no doubt still remained, bewilderment seemed to slowly overcome the sentiments of mistrust. A pair of grey eyes only followed the movement of her hand as it had, once again, graced his features in such a gentle manner, choosing not to cause him any pain at all. The man allowed the tight knot within his chest untangle slowly and he breathed out evenly, noticing the small quivering of her lower lip, an almost microscopic change in her expression, yet one not easily faked and pointing towards genuine confusion and unrest.

Even when Riedel seemed to have some trouble finding her words at first, her voice was low and steady when she spoke, the woman pointing out that Rolf was not one to keep his promises. The man arched an confused eyebrow at her words, tongue flicking out only briefly to lick the lips, savoring the taste that still lingered. Rolf shifted his arm, elbow pushing against the pillow so that the man could bring a hand to his temple and rest his head against it, while he still continued watching her, grey eyes attentive and inquiring. "Ich behalte alle meine Versprechungen," the man returned hoarsely, eyes narrowing slightly at further consideration of her words. "Aber ich erinnere mich nicht irgendwelche Versprechungen zu Ihnen zu machen," Rolf spoke sternly, his finger tracing a slow path in his hair as he spoke, pacing back and forth to give him at least some outlet for his confusion. The man allowed a small moment of silence to pass between them before his raspy voice broke the dark stillness once more. "Ich machte eine Versprechung bezüglich Ihrer, aber es war derjenige, den Sie nie hörten." The words were voiced with a sudden sense of casualness and the man shifted his arm, bringing his other hand to lightly grasp the woman's hand, the other one creating a cup beneath, where Rolf proceeded to tap the ashes that were threatening to scatter down upon the mattress any moment now. The man shifted his upper body around slightly, grunting low in his throat as he attempted to ditch the ashes upon the night table, but the lack of light coupled with the man's injuries made it an arduous task. Not quite sure if he had succeeded in his task or not, Rolf merely rubbed his hands together to get rid of any traces of the ashes as he turned around and resumed his earlier position, once more supporting his head against his hand. Of course Rolf knew that Riedel was waiting to hear what the promise was, yet the man resumed with his quiet observing of the woman once again, grey eyes skittering over her facial features with keen interest. "Nachdem wir uns trafen und Sie schließlich... abreisten, versprach ich mir ich würde nie aufgeben. Mit Ihnen," the statement was followed with a very brief, almost incredulous chuckle, while the man did not really appear as amused as to denote that he was joking. If anything, the look in his eyes was the most serious one yet, determined and unflinching. "Wenn Sie fragen, warum ich Ihnen bereits erzählte. Wenn Sie mich fragen, wie ich nicht sagen kann... weil ich nicht weiß. Irgendwelche anderen Fragen bezüglich der Sache, ich habe am wahrscheinlichsten eine Antwort weil auch nicht," the hand that Rolf rested upon his side was waved around lazily, the man not even bothering to lift his arm properly to emphasize the futility of the situation.

Rolf's gaze suddenly sparked with open interest and he stared intently at Riedel, grey eyes searching her viridian ones for answers. "Was ist es mit Ihnen, Riedel..? Wie wuchsen Sie auf, um die Art zu sein, wie Sie jetzt sind? Kamen Sie hier wegen Ihres Bruders? Für Ihr Land? Oder beide? Sand und Staub Tag und Nacht in der Mitte eines Krieges zu essen, gerade... geschossen zu werden," the man glanced somewhere downwards on the mention of gunshot, although he realized he had no clear idea of how, why and where the woman had received a gunshot wound in the first place. It was easier for Rolf to talk as it helped him hide the earlier confusion and even though his voice remained naturally low due to the current hushed nature of the hospital, his words carried a heavy sense of tenacity to them.

His gaze returned promptly back to the woman and the hunger for knowledge burned within, as the desire to hunt down these small tidbits of knowledge grew, one question bringing forth only dozens of fresh ones, all of them demanding to be voiced. His initial question was simple enough, yet one he felt would shed more than enough light on the woman's curious nature, for what else would better paint him a picture of her mind than knowing her motivations?


Translations:

"Ich behalte alle meine Versprechungen."
"I keep all of my promises."

"Aber ich erinnere mich nicht irgendwelche Versprechungen zu Ihnen zu machen."
"But I do not recall making any promises to you."

"Ich machte eine Versprechung bezüglich Ihrer, aber es war derjenige, den Sie nie hörten."
"I made a promise regarding you, but it was one you never got to hear."

"Nachdem wir uns trafen und Sie schließlich... abreisten, versprach ich mir ich würde nie aufgeben. Mit Ihnen."
"After we met and you finally... left, I promised myself I would never give up. With you."

"Wenn Sie fragen, warum ich Ihnen bereits erzählte..."
"If you ask why, I already told you. If you ask me how, I cannot say... because I do not know. Any other questions regarding the matter, I most likely do not have an answer for, either."

"Was ist es mit Ihnen, Riedel..?"
"What is it with you, Riedel..? How did you grow up to be the way you are now? Did you come here because of your brother? For your country? Or both? To eat sand and dust day and night, in the middle of a war, just to... get shot at."

[Dirk Riedel]

The cigarette end was burning amidst the woman’s fingers as she remained unmoving, merely watching him stir his arm and support his head against the pillow, gazing into her eyes from above. She noted his confusion, but certainly he remembered his own unspoken promise at the time he had retracted his hand, certainly he had found himself, for a reason or other, silently acquiescing to her request. Her eyebrows curved, however, in a mild frown as he stated how he always followed his pledges, and even more so when he affirmed – with a stern tone, no less – that he had made no promises to her. She looked at him strictly, her frown aggravating and wrinkling her forehead in her lack of understanding, wondering what on earth could be going around in his mind at that very moment, what the thoughts embracing the dark corners of his psyche were, what his intentions were built on. She drank in from the momentary silence, but it was not until he voiced his next words that she frowned and turned her expression to one resembling sheer curiosity intertwining with adamant perplexity. She awaited for him to tell her the exact promise he had made to himself regarding her, and still, he chose to prolong the moment of silence by lightly shifting his arm just so he could tap the ashes into his palm, fingers circling around her hand for a brief moment in a touch she was by this time familiar with, and retaining the frozen expression for as long as he needed to whirl around and throw the ashes away, before too long having resumed his former position by her side and glancing down at her, while she waited, impatiently, an almost hungry eagerness to know enveloping her insides. It was precisely the very casual tone in which his words were uttered that suddenly alarmed her, as though this very promise he had made that regarded her was only a natural call of fulfilment, nothing more or less than an instinctual need of achievement, the very reason her heart’s pace raced to catch up with his thoughts and unravel that which he for now concealed from her in an agonizingly slow moment.

The only outward sign of the inner tumult rising within her became the widened eyes that gazed back into him with unrepressed wonder, her lips parting halfway and her eyebrows fiercely furrowed as she slightly tilted her head to the side in severe confusion. To make matters worse, his chuckle pierced through her mind and made her frown worsen as she could not tell whether he was only mocking her in such an impudent manner, making a joke out of something as profoundly humourless, and she would have slapped him had she possessed the clarity of mind to react as such. Still, how could he only be treating the issue in contemptuous jest when his eyes told her otherwise? She searched beneath the black irises in an attempt to uncover his genuine sentiments, but only a ferocious tenacity gazed back at him, to the point where she knew not through her fevered mind if this was nothing more but a carefully devised trick to mess with her brain and make a fool out of herself. She opened her mouth but before she could fire him her questions he had already responded – he knew not. It was this complete lack of knowledge he possessed which drove her out of her wits for she, a being of rationale and reasoning, always functioned according to these scientific tools and thus lived through the motions of time. Slowly she rose amidst her sudden annoyance, her hands touching against the mattress and supporting her body as she pulled herself upwards, looking directly into his face with a significant frown. Then, there were questions he had to voice, questions she could not answer, answers no one must reveal.

“Geben Sie auf!” she hissed in a hushed tone of utter disbelief, her eyes widening and her mouth distorted into an expression of distaste, the incredulity in her voice further expanded onto the hand hovering frozen in mid-air as she raised it instinctively lest she accidentally burned a hole onto the mattress. “Was bedeutet das sogar, Jäger?” she demanded of him in a low voice which only exhibited the tension she was presently going through, her face leaning closer towards his as she expected a clear, almost military answer from him this time, lips slightly open in sheer incredulity. “Werden Sie mich in einem Käfig bringen und mich als ein Besitz ausstellen? Sie mich unten ketten und mich Gefangenen wie ein Hund behalten? Was wollen Sie von mir?” she inquired to know, her voice austere and unsmiling, and at that moment she might have felt she was losing blood circulation from the hushed intensity of her words. “Stolz, der ist der Grund? Schluss was Sie vor einer Woche einfach anfingen weil Sie den Gedanken nicht tragen können, hatten Sie nicht wie was Sie, immer wollten? Dass Sie bestritten wurden?” She stared at him closely, her forehead wrinkled, eyes searching for answers that might have unconsciously manifested in his face. “Weil ich schwöre, Jäger, schwöre ich – der nie sein wird. Ich erzählte Ihnen sobald, und ich werde es wieder … sagen ich werde Ihre Hure nie sein,” she assured him in a carefully pronounced voice, her eyes gazing onto his grey unblinkingly, unyieldingly, her chest heaving upwards as she breathed in and breathed out deeply from the accumulated confusion which had, for moments, made her miss a few heartbeats. And as she spoke those words her gaze relentlessly bore into his, her tone neither contemptuous nor hateful, but attributed with such forceful self-assurance as promised him it would be exactly as she told him, no deviations taken, no will broken for it was made of cold, unbending steel.

“Auf die einzige Weise werden Sie jemals im Stande sein Ihren Stolz zu befriedigen ist wenn ich tot bin. Nur wenn ich tot bin,” she whispered at him with a ringing force, her chest heaving as she breathed in heavily, feeling a coat of heat overwhelming her skin and with her forehead ablaze could almost sense the warmth transferred through the air between them and tingling his face. “Bis dahin wird Ihr Stolz warten müssen. Sie können denken, dass Bauer-Frauen nichts mehr außer Huren sind, die im Schmutz und dem Schweiß ihrer Mühe leben, aber ich möchte lieber sterben als in der Scham leben, jemandem wie Sie unterworfen zu werden.” She stared at him with a genuine expression etched across her febrile appearance, and then, as if having realized the use of her hand, brought it closer to her lips and deeply drew in from the cigarette as though it was the last remaining thing to give her clarity of mind and drive her away from the edges of mental illness, a mind already infected by his very soul, allowing the grey smoke to overcome her and slowly calm the intertwined tide of feelings and thoughts washing through every corner of her brain, wave after wave, endlessly, and threatening to eat through every rock of her sanity.

She shifted her gaze away from him as she breathed in from the cigarette, and soon enough found inner calmness as she stared at nowhere in particular, her heart pacing at its normal rate before she slowly stirred from her side and rolled over, lying with her back against the mattress as she pressed the tobacco roll through her lips, exhaling small circular shapes from her mouth and nose. She could feel his frame brushing against her side as she had to restrict herself closer to him so as not to have part of her hanging from the corner of the bed, but spoke nothing during those few moments she stared at the ceiling. She finally sighed wearily. “Sie dachten dass ich ein Pflug-Pferd war,” she said softly, her voice low and even considerate as she watched the fume escape her lips and surround them in a cloud of grey smoke. “Ich war ein Pflug-Pferd. Sie wissen nicht was es Leute Sie abhängen lassen soll. Hängen Sie von Kraft ab, hängen Sie von Hoffnung ab … hängen von Überleben ab. Sie wissen nicht, was es die Last auf Ihrem Rücken tragen soll, wenn es bereits vom Gewicht zerbröckelt, gezwungen werden, die anderen vorwärts seit den Tagen zu ziehen, die sich Wochen zu Jahren zuwenden, die Sie nie begriffen kam um zu gehen. Das Gefühl, dass Sie in dieser Aufgabe nie versagen können, dass die wirkliche Essenz des Misserfolgs nicht eine Straße ist, die Sie nehmen können. Es gibt nur eine Straße Sie müssen spazieren gehen, und Sie müssen es spazieren gehen. Sie haben nur eine Auswahl, setzen fort, zu pflügen, und nie sich umsehen. Sie können nicht schwach sein, der die Freizeit und Geschenk ist, das Sie denjenigen anbieten, die von Ihnen abhängen. Sie müssen ihre Schwäche mit der vergrößerten Kraft entgegnen, und wenn das Gewicht unerträglich wird, müssen Sie Ihre Füße weiter abzapfen, um sie vorwärts zu ziehen, weil Sie wissen, dass es keinen anderen Weg gibt. Weil Sie fortsetzen müssen zu pflügen. Wenn sie lächeln, können Sie nicht. Lassen Sie sie lächeln, ihnen Mut geben, aber Sie können nicht. Sie wissen nicht, was das von enttäuschend sie erschrocken werden soll; wenn Angst und Erschöpfung Ihre Knie schwach machen und Sie nur seit einem Moment hinken wollen, um Ihren Atem zu fangen, aber Sie fortsetzen müssen zu pflügen. Sie wissen nicht was das zu aufgelegt ist …” She allowed a brief second to pass in silence. “… und Sie nie wissen werden.”

She silently stared into the ceiling, though not really looking at anything even if she would have rather preferred seeing something to distract her mind. Green eyes calmly remained unmoving as she considered, but not turning to glance at him again for as long as she had turned over, her voice the merest sound of reason through the darkness, embracing him, leading him to worlds he had never explored, worlds that were never his. “Früher oder später wird es eine Gewohnheit. Sie brauchen nicht einen Grund zu kämpfen, Ihr Instinkt kommt zuerst, weil Sie nichts anderes gelernt haben,” she said quietly, and drew on from the cigarette through the moment’s stillness. “Das ist warum ich hier bin.” And without another word, without a single glance, she brought her hand closer to his side so he could take the cigarette, her eyes transfixed onto the ceiling, and there was something concealed there, something forlorn and consuming which forced her to gaze at it for too long, too long than she must.



Translation

Give up! What does that even mean, Jäger? Will you put me in a cage and exhibit me as a possession? Will you chain me down and keep me captive like a dog? What do you want from me? Pride, is that the reason? Finish what you started a week ago simply because you cannot bear the thought you didn’t have what you wanted, like always? That you were denied? Because I swear, Jäger, I swear – that will never be. I told you once, and I will say it again … I will never be your whore. The only way you will ever be able to gratify your pride is when I’m dead. Only when I’m dead. Until then, your pride will have to wait. You may think peasant women are nothing more but whores living in dirt and the sweat of their toil, but I would rather die than live in the shame of being subdued to someone like you.

You thought I was a plough horse. I was a plough horse. You don’t know what it is to have people depend on you. Depend on strength, depend on hope … depend on survival. You don’t know what it is to carry the burden on your back when it’s already crumbling from the weight, be forced to pull the others along, for days that turn to weeks, to years you never realized came to pass. The feeling that you can never fail in this task, that the very essence of failure isn’t a road you can take. There is only one road you have to walk, and you have to walk it. You only have one option, keep on ploughing, and never look back. You can’t be weak, that is the leisure and gift you offer those who depend on you. You have to counter their weakness with increased strength, and when the weight becomes unbearable you have to bleed your feet further to pull them along because you know there’s no other way. Because you have to keep on ploughing. If they smile, you can’t. Make them smile, give them courage, but you can’t. You don’t know what it is to be scared of disappointing them; when fear and fatigue make your knees weak and you only want to halt for one moment to catch your breath, but you have to keep on ploughing. You don’t know what that feels like … and you will never know.

Sooner or later it becomes a habit. You don’t need a reason to fight, your instinct comes first because you’ve learned nothing else. This is why I’m here.