This was originally written for a contest on deviantart, but I'm pretty proud of it so I figured I'd post it here too. Enjoy!
…
Prisoners of War
It is cold. And dark. And snowing. This is normal, however, in the north of Finland in the winter. It is December after all.
I pause on my way from our tent to the lookout point in order to wipe my glasses off. I'm not sure how much good it does- the fingers of my gloves are encrusted with ice. The snow is getting heavier. With the way the wind is blowing I'd say it's going to be snowing all night.
I pick my way through the trees and knee-high snow until I spot another person lying prone on the edge of a ridge. If I hadn't known he was going to be there I probably would never have spotted him, as he lies half-buried in the snow, his white clothing helping to camouflage him. He has a rifle in his hands and his eye is pressed against the scope.
"Tino."
It's difficult to tell, but I know I've surprised him. After spending five years and three wars as partners it's easy for me to recognize the sudden tensing of his shoulders as a startled flinch. That and the fact that his hand is halfway to the knife on his belt.
"Oh, Berwald!" Tino says turning to look at me over his shoulder, a big and slightly sheepish smile on his face. "You scared me. How did you sleep?"
"Ok," I reply crouching down and army crawling to the edge of the ridge until I'm lying next to Tino. What I don't tell him is that it's difficult for me to sleep when it's this cold out. And how much easier it would be if he was sleeping next to me. I banish this thought as quickly as it comes, but it still lingers. It has gotten so much harder for me to concentrate out here since I realized I am in love with the man beside me.
Perhaps I should back up a bit.
My name is Berwald Oxenstierna. Though I am Swedish I am here in Lapland, Finland's most northern province, fighting to get the German army out of Finland once and for all. I initially came to this country as a volunteer during the Winter War in 1939. It was then that I first met Tino Vainamoinen. We were and still are partnered together in the sniper core.
Tino is my opposite in many ways. He is much shorter than I am and is kind and always cheerful. He loves holidays and celebrations of all kinds. He does have a darker side, however. He is the best shot that I have ever seen and he is completely ruthless behind the scope. He's also ferocious in hand-to-hand combat and has saved both our lives several times through sheer tenacity.
We have been friends for a long time. And as for when I fell in love with him... It may have been the first time I saw him. He has such a cute face and such gentle eyes. But I am certain of when I realized my feelings for him. It was towards the end of the Continuation War earlier this year in June. We were caught between the Finnish forces and the attacking Soviets. While we were trying to retreat back behind friendly lines Tino was injured in an artillery explosion.
He was not hurt badly, but I swear I nearly died of heart failure that day.
Afterwards I swore I would not leave Tino's side until all of this is over. I need to protect him. The thought of my life without Tino- of a world without Tino- chills me to the bone. I have had feelings for other men before, but never have I felt about someone the way I do about Tino.
Honestly, I'm not entirely sure I'll be able to leave him even after the war is over. I suppose I'll have to though. One man loving another is not accepted nowadays. And I doubt Tino would appreciate any advances I might attempt. I could be satisfied with a life-long friendship with him, however, though I would always secretly long for more.
Perhaps I will settle in Finland once all of this is over.
But now is not the time to be thinking of such things. Noise from the clearing below draws both Tino's attention and mine. "What's going on?" I ask him quietly.
Tino presses his eye to the scope once more an after a minute replies, "I'm not sure." He passes the rifle to me. "A group left about and hour ago. I think they were trying to hunt again." Somehow, about a week ago, the soldiers camped below managed to kill a moose out in the woods. They've been eating better than us ever since.
I move my glasses to the top of my head and look through the scope as well. The ever-present darkness does make it difficult to see, but with the moonlight reflecting off the snow and the firelight from below I can make out that something is going on. Some kind of disturbance in the Nazi camp.
This is our current assignment. Most of the German troops have already retreated to Norway, but this small group got separated from the rest of their unit. For some reason they're not in a hurry to leave either, which is making the Finnish high command uneasy. It's our job to keep an eye on them and, if they become a problem, to take them out.
A dangerous job for two snipers. Which is why I'm still here. Neither of us are technically even in the Finnish army anymore after the demobilization of the Finnish forces. But Tino is still out here. And I'll be here as long as he is. I won't allow him to get hurt again.
"Well? What do you think?" Tino asks me as I lower the scope from my eye.
"Commander is drunk," I reply. Tino snorts in amusement before reaching into his pack and digging out some jerky to gnaw on. I keep my eyes on the camp.
Their commander is a strange man. He has pale hair and red eyes- albino. He's lucky it's winter. He'd burn to a crisp in the nearly constant summer sun. Currently he is standing in the middle of the German camp, right by the biggest fire, yelling and waving his arms wildly about. His soldiers are gathering around him looking about as perplexed as I feel.
"Oh," Tino suddenly sighs. "It's almost Christmas." I glance over at him, but his gaze is trained on the sky, his eyes focused on something long ago and faraway. "We'll be on the battlefield again," he adds sadly.
"Mm…" is my only reply. He's right of course. Today is December 12 or 13- it's hard to keep track of the days out here- and it will be our fourth straight Christmas at war since I returned to fight after going home briefly at the end of the Winter War. Neither of us has been home once since then and once again we'll be out here fighting during the holiday season.
Christmas isn't that special to me, but I know it's Tino's favorite holiday. He's told me lots of stories about how he used to dress up as Father Christmas for all the children in his village. Even if we could go home now he wouldn't be able to do that this year, however. His village is gone. We passed the burnt shell on our way north.
"Oh well! There's always next year right?" Tino continues, suddenly sounding much more cheerful than before. I glance at him again to see him smiling widely at me. "Oh…but you'll go back to Sweden won't you…" Tino's expression falls.
This saddens me greatly. I love to see Tino smile. "I'll visit."
Tino brightens immediately. "That's a great idea Berwald! We'll have so much fun! We'll go to the sauna on Christmas Eve and then we'll have a huge dinner and…" Tino continues quietly, though his enthusiasm hasn't waned in the least. I smile softly to myself. I'm glad he's so talkative. It helps fill the silence of the massive Lapland wilderness. And I'm glad he's so optimistic too. I find it difficult to dream about a happy future when I'm always on edge in the here and now.
That and the fact that the future won't be happy for me once I leave. Once I leave Tino… A sobering thought that.
Suddenly there is a noise behind us- a cracking branch. Tino immediately falls silent and we both turn to look. "Bewegen sich nicht," a voice commands. 'Don't move' in German.
Damn it. They've caught us.
There are soft footsteps in the snow and then a man in the German uniform steps into view. His hair is hidden by his hat so I can't tell what color it is, but his eyes are an icy blue. His Luger is in his hand and he keeps it up, moving it between Tino and I. I sense more movement out of the corner of my eye and the sound of more footsteps assures us that he's not alone.
My gaze slides back to Tino. The question is clear in his wide eyes. I give him the smallest of nods. And then we both explode with a roar.
As I stand and turn I swing the rifle up and fire. But the gun is unwieldy at such close range and my shot goes wide. The German man curses loudly and, to my surprise, holsters his gun and charges. I guess they want to capture us alive. He lands a right hook that sends me reeling and I stumble backwards, barely avoiding stepping over the edge of the ridge.
I recover and swing the butt of the rifle. I catch the other man in the shoulder, but he grabs the gun's stock and tries to rip it from my grasp. I land a good kick in his gut and push him away, sending him staggering backwards. I raise the rifle to shoot at him again, but before I can even sight on him two other Nazi soldiers tackle me. They wrestle me to the ground and rip the rifle from my grasp, pinning me in the snow.
The first man, clearly their leader, regains his footing. He approaches me and, after cursing me loudly, kicks me hard in the side. Pain explodes in my gut and I cough, tasting blood. Suddenly there is a strike against the back of my head. Pain races like a wave across my skull, twisting my vision and making me feel nauseous. They must be using the butt of the rifle.
They strike me again and I can't stop myself from crying out as it feels like my skull is about to break. A third strike sends me spiraling towards unconsciousness as black creeps along the edges of my vision. I just catch a glimpse of Tino, struggling valiantly against three more German soldiers and calling out my name, before everything goes dark.
…
When I come to it's to warmth and flickering light. For a long moment I do nothing, lost in pain. My entire head aches dully except for one spot on the back of my skull that throbs continuously. Finally I summon the strength to open my eyes. My vision is blurry at first, but gradually clears as I blink away the last dregs of unconsciousness.
I'm seated in the middle of a tent. I'm tied to the main support pole, my arms bound tightly behind me. My legs, stretched out in front of me, are bound at the ankles. A small, transportable, wood-burning stove provides heat and light along with several old-fashioned oil burning lamps. There is no one else with me in the tent. Where is Tino?
I struggle against my bonds. No good. Those Nazis bastards know how to tie a good knot. Unable to escape my mind begins to race with possible future plans. My first and foremost priority, however, is to find out what happened to Tino. I hope desperately that he is ok and that somehow he managed to escape after I was knocked out.
There is the sound of footsteps from outside the tent as someone crunches through the snow towards me. Someone pokes their head inside, but I don't get a good look at them before they duck out again and began calling to someone else in German. The sounds of activity outside increase until someone finally steps into the tent.
I recognize him once he removes his hat and coat, laying them on a camp table across from the stove. It is the same man who first approached Tino and I. His hair is blond, slicked neatly back from his forehead, and he's built like a tank. No wonder he was easily able to send me reeling with just one punch.
The man turns to face me and I suck in a breath sharply through my teeth. On the uniform beneath his coat he wears the bars of a commanding officer. Damn it! They tricked us. Which means they knew we were watching them the entire time. Things just keep getting worse.
"I see you're finally awake," he says, his Finnish nearly flawless. It's probably better than mine.
I don't respond, instead fixing him with the most intimidating glare I can manage. I'm aware of how effective it can be. In fact I'm certain that Tino was frightened of me when we first met. And it may be only recently that his fear has completely faded.
My gaze has no effect on this man, however. He merely observes me impassively with those cold blue eyes. "I see that you're not inclined to be cooperative. I believe we can change that, however. I only have a few questions for you and if you answer them completely then I guarantee that no harm will come to you or your friend."
Anger rises in my chest at his mention of Tino, but I clench my jaws together to keep my silence. It's best not to give him any leverage. And I don't know for sure that they actually caught Tino yet.
"We'll start with the easy questions," the man continues. "What is your name?"
I don't answer.
He continues as if I had spoken, ignoring the fact that I didn't reply. "Your partner's name?"
Again I refuse to answer.
"What unit are you a part of?"
Silence. I sense that the German is starting to grow impatient.
"Very well," the man says, his tone starting to sound threatening. "Perhaps those questions are too easy. I will try something more challenging. What have those damn Soviets ordered the Finnish high command to do about our retreat?"
I glare at him. Why would I know that?
"I asked you: what did the Soviets order you to do?" the man growls, crouching down to get into my face. His impatience has clearly given way to anger.
Still I say nothing. I wouldn't speak even if I knew what he was talking about.
"Damn it!" the man snarls, grabbing my ear and yanking on it. "Tell me what your plans are for attacking our position in Norway!"
I wince in pain as he tugs forcefully on my ear. "Nothing," I finally say, spitting the word at him with all the anger and hate I can muster.
The other man suddenly draws back, his expression once again tightly under control. "What did you say?"
"I know nothing," I repeat, glowering at him defiantly.
The man stares at me for one long moment before reaching back and punching me in the jaw. I gasp as my head snaps to the side. I taste iron. Blood.
"What did you say?" he asks again.
"Nothing."
Another punch to the same spot on my jaw. It feels like it might be fractured now.
"What did you say?"
"Nothing."
I kick to the face. Pain explodes from nose and I'm certain it's broken, blood pouring across my lips and off my chin. I should count myself lucky that he didn't get my glasses too.
I'm panting from the pain but I still glare at my interrogator defiantly as he repeats his question once again. "What did you say?"
I gather the blood in my mouth and spit it out. I'm pleased to see that it lands on his pant leg, instantly staining the fabric. "I know nothing."
To my surprise and unease the other man looks thoughtful now. "I commend your toughness," he tells me. "But there is one more way we can get you to talk." I watch the man warily, but rather than making a move to hurt me further he strides to the door of the tent and pokes his head out, calling into the cold winter air. "Bruder!"
There is an answering call of "Ja, West!" and the faint echo of a strange, hoarse laugh. The German commander turns back to me and puts his arms behind his back at parade rest, the perfect picture of a waiting soldier. It's just what he's waiting for that has me so unnerved.
My anxiety only grows as the minutes pass. It is eerily silent both inside and outside the tent and the Nazi commander just stands there, perfectly still, waiting. And then I hear something. I crane my neck around, trying to identify the sound. It comes again. A…whimper?
And that's when I realize what they must be doing. "Tino?" I bellow, praying that I'm wrong. That my ears are deceiving me and that they truly failed to capture him.
The sound of my voice seems to break him because in response he cries out, the voice that is undeniably his filled with agony. Panic and rage rise in my chest and crawl up my throat, threatening to choke me. "Tino!" I shout again, struggling desperately against my bonds.
He screams again and I loose all control, thrashing wildly in an attempt to free myself as the tent shakes around me. I call out again and I again as I fight the ropes, the rough fibers digging into my wrists and leaving welts. The only thing saving my ankles is my boots.
Through all of this the Nazi commander remains perfectly calm and still, watching me with an expression that's almost bored. During one of my pauses for breath he speaks, his voice easily carrying despite his quiet tone, "All you have to do to make this stop is answer my questions."
"I don't know anything!" I shout, straining against the ropes around my wrists. I can feel fresh blood dripping down my fingers now.
"You're lying," he accuses peacefully.
"I'm not!" I howl, rage overcoming my panic for a moment. "I'm just a Swedish volunteer! I don't know a damn thing!"
Surprise flashes briefly across the German's face before he abruptly turns and strides to the door of the tent again. I pause in my struggles for a moment, breathing hard, as he calls out into the night again. There is a brief commotion and much shouting before Tino's pained screams finally fall silent. I sag back against the tent pole in relief.
The other man glances back at me with an unreadable expression before donning his hat and coat and stepping back outside, leaving me alone. It is a quiet for a bit and I take the time to savor my relief that Tino's torture is over and readjust my own position so that my wrists aren't in quite so much pain.
Once again there is the sound of footsteps crunching through the snow and a different man enters the tent. Once his hat and coat are gone I see that it is the albino that we believed to be the commander of this unit. He turns to me and looks me over with unnerving blood-red eyes, the lamplight shining off his silvery-white hair.
He steps over to me and reaches down to pat my head in a condescending way that instantly has my hackles up. "Seems like you were a pretty tough cookie," he tells me, his Finnish rough. "We'll see how hard your friend is to crack now." He shoots me a smug smirk that leaves me glowering.
It is quiet again for a while. The albino takes a seat on one of the campstools and begins to carefully clean his nails with a pocketknife. I keep my eyes trained on him, glaring, as I try to contain my own anxiety about what will happen next. The silence is suddenly broken by Tino shouting, though his words are indistinct. He is followed by a shout from the German commander and I'm pretty sure it's the same thing that he shouted before Tino's torture began.
I swallow hard as the albino stands and once again shouts out, "Ja, West!" He sighs as he pockets his knife and goes over to his coat. "I don't really like doing this you know," he tells me as he begins to pull wicked looking instruments out of his coat pockets. Several of them are already stained with dried blood. My trepidation grows.
"But I'll do what has to be done," he continues, inspecting each instrument carefully as though deciding which to use first. "Your high command was pretty clever putting just the two of you out here to watch us. But we've got a mission just like you." He turns to me. The corners of his lips are curved up in a wry smile, but his eyes are hard. "And we'll do whatever it takes to complete it."
He approaches me with a pair of nasty looking pliers. I force myself to swallow as he moves behind me and I'm suddenly terrified of what is going to come next. I feel the ends of the pliers against my fingers as they take a hold of one my fingernails. I squeeze my eyes shut as he pulls it off with a vicious yank.
The pain is excruciating. I have to bite my tongue to keep from crying out as the pain ripples through my body. I will not make a sound though. They're trying to get Tino to talk by torturing me just as they did with Tino before. But I will not make this harder for him. And I will not give them the satisfaction of breaking me.
The albino rips off two more of my fingernails before he's done and each time it's more difficult not to scream. My nail beds throb agonizingly as blood drips down my fingers once again.
After the third fingernail, however, the albino seems to be done. He walks back around to the camp table and drops the bloody tongs on it, a thoughtful look on his face. He looks his tools over again before glancing up and locking his gaze on the stove. A grim smile crosses his face as he goes over to it and pulls the poker out of the fire.
I immediately break out in a cold sweat. I burned myself once as a child on my mother's pot and while the injury was not bad the pain was unbearable. The albino turns to me and inspects me like he's trying to decide where to burn me first. His gaze lingers on my booted feet and I wince internally. Please, please, not that.
Finally he raises his red eyes and meets my gaze. I'm certain he can see my fear there. "I'm afraid this is going to hurt a bit," he says, almost apologetically, as he steps forward. He holds the poker out in front of him, the end of the iron still red hot.
I try to move away as he advances, but once again my bonds are too tight. I can feel the heat before the poker touches me and I gasp as it hovers near my neck. And then…pain.
Agony races through my body and blanks my mind as the poker sears my flesh. I'm unable to stop myself from crying out this time and so I scream, the volume and intensity of it leaving my throat raw. I jerk my head away, trying to escape the pain, but the poker follows and burns away more layers of my skin.
Over my screams I hear Tino's voice. "Berwald?! Berwald!" He calls my name, panic in his voice. I try to silence my own cries, but I just can't. I can hear him struggling, cursing the Nazi commander and all his troops to hell.
Damn it. I'm completely screwing this up.
I jerk away from the poker again and in the process hit the tender spot on the back of my head where they knocked me out before on the tent pole. Stars flash across my vision and I feel suddenly woozy.
Ah. Now this is perfect.
I slam my skull against it once again and blissfully fade back into unconsciousness.
…
When I wake again it is once again to warmth. But this time I'm confused. Everything- the entire world it seems- is shaking around me. Blearily I open my eyes, my vision fuzzy as my head aches. As I blink the world around me slowly comes into focus. I'm sitting in the covered bed of a slowly moving truck. The jostling and bouncing of its springs is what's making the world shake. A variety of equipment and supplies are piled around and under me.
My heat source, nestled into my side seemingly asleep, is Tino. The sight of him freezes me, both from relief and surprise. I'm so glad that he's all right, but I never would have imagined that he would put himself into this position voluntarily. And it makes me just the tiniest bit happy to finally feel him so close to me despite our situation.
The truck hits a particularly large bump and sends my head slamming backwards into the wall behind me. I gasp in pain as that sensitive spot on the back of my skull throbs anew and threatens to plunge me back into unconsciousness. Muttering quiet curses I struggle to get into a more comfortable position where my head won't be in danger again.
"Berwald!" Tino's quiet whisper alerts me to the fact that I've disturbed him. "You're awake!" The relief in his voice is so strong it's palpable. Glancing down I meet his eyes. I'm always startled by how blue they are, their color practically violet. I'm surprised to tears brimming there and he looks down, hurriedly wiping them away before they can actually fall. I'm stunned. Was he really that worried about me?
Once he has himself under control again Tino turns back to me. "How are you feeling?" he whispers. He is smiling again, though I can tell he is still nearly overwhelmed with emotion.
I quickly take stock. I have a fiercely pounding headache and the rest of my body just hurts. Reaching up with fingers that are covered in bloody bandages I gingerly test my nose. Definitely broken. And there is a strange numbness in a patch on my neck surrounded by stinging fire. Feeling my way with my fingers once again I find that my neck has been wrapped in bandages.
"Been better," I grunt.
In truth Tino doesn't look much better than me. He's sporting a bad black eye and a split lip and his hands are also wrapped in bloody looking bandages. Beyond that I can't tell how else he may be injured. Tino notices my attention and his smile widens a bit. "Don't worry about me. I'm ok."
"Mmm," I reply feeling slightly more satisfied. I lean back against the wall of the truck as it bounces over another bump. "How's my neck?" I finally work up the courage to ask. It is by far my worse injury and I both want and dread to know if it's as bad as I think it is.
Tino frowns slightly, but moves up onto his knees so that he's in a better position to get a good look. Carefully he unwinds the bandage, the fabric pulling at my tender skin as I try to suppress my hisses of pain. Once Tino is finished he winces sympathetically and I'm surprised to see tears fill his eyes again.
"It's bad," he whispers. "Easily a third degree burn." I nod. I was expecting that.
Tino rewraps the bandages with trembling fingers. Puzzled, I try to catch his eye to figure out why he's so upset, but he refuses to look at me. Once he's finished he sits back down beside me, his shoulders shaking. "Tino?" I ask quietly, concerned.
"I'm sorry Berwald," he replies so softly I can barely hear him. "I'm so sorry." His voice cracks with unshed tears. "This is all my fault. If I'd just told them—"
"It's not," I deny, but Tino just shakes his head.
"No, it is my fault. What they did to you was way worse than they did to me. And then…" Tino's voice seems to fail. He looks up at me, remorse on his face, eyes begging for forgiveness.
It hits me. I stare back at Tino, quietly shocked. Why, why did he go so far for me? "You told them," I intone hollowly. I had no idea that he even knew that information and he betrayed it all for my sake…
Tino nods, the tears now falling quietly down his cheeks. "Yes. It's just…when you stopped screaming I thought they'd…I thought you had…" Tino seems to be unable to say it. But, it's all right. I understand what he's trying to say even I don't understand why he did what he did.
Tino weeps quietly for several long minutes while I try to figure out a way to comfort him that wouldn't be so horribly awkward. Finally I give up and just wrap an arm around Tino's shoulders and pull him into me. He stops crying immediately and looks up, taken aback.
"It's ok."
It's all I can think to tell him, but somehow it seems to work. Tino blinks away the last of his tears and, with a final loud sniffle, manages to crack a wan smile. "Thank you Berwald," he says.
I would like to reply, but I can't. I'm trapped in Tino's gaze, something shining in his eyes that I can't identify. Somehow it gets my heart racing. Tino seems equally entranced, his eyes dancing from my eyes to my lips in a way that it is most dangerously enticing. The tension between us grows until I would swear it's an electric current crackling with energy.
The spell is broken by the rustling of the canvas flap that covers the far end of the truck bed. Tino pulls away from me and we both shift so that we're as ready as we can be for a fight. The muzzle of a rifle pokes through the flap, quickly followed by a hand and the blinding light of a flashlight.
"Oh good, you're both awake," a voice that I recognize as the albino's says gleefully. Tino and I both shield our eyes from the sudden brightness. "We've got a job for you two. Now get your asses out here before we shoot you."
With much threatening with the rifle and shouting on the albino's part Tino and I manage to crawl our way out of the truck. It's difficult because our bodies are in such bad shape and we don't get a break once we climb out into the midday darkness as we're pushed towards the front of the German's little convoy. This unit has several trucks and some light artillery and one of the trucks has gotten stuck in the snow and the mud beneath it. Tino and I are put to work freeing the truck along with some of the Nazi soldiers.
This becomes common as the days pas. I don't know where we're going, but it's clear it's not anywhere populated. As such we're moving through mostly untouched countryside, an iffy prospect at best in the dead of winter. Without decent roads the trucks get stuck almost hourly and Tino and I are almost always chosen to help free them. It's a good strategy on the Germans' part- their soldiers do less work and it leaves us exhausted.
My biggest question is why we're still alive if the Nazis already have the information they want. It obviously has something to do with Tino as he is occasionally called to the front of the column to confer with the German commander. In the few glimpses that I catch of them talking they're always hunched over a map. I ask Tino multiple times what he told them, but he always refuses, saying that it's safer for me not to know.
Tino and I make half-hearted plans to escape, but they're keeping far too close a watch on us to make an attempt feasible. We still collect information, however, just in case we ever get the chance. We learn that the commander and the albino, who is his second, are brothers, though the albino is the elder. Their last names are Beilschmidt. We learn that the older brother's name is Gilbert though we never catch the commander's- the albino always just calls him 'West'. We have very little to do with the younger Beilschmidt brother after our initial interrogation besides Tino's conferences, leaving Gilbert to be our chief keeper and tormentor.
Most of the days after our capture are spent in miserable exhaustion, but there is one bright spot for me. We got to keep our tent, though our sleeping bags were appropriated by the Germans for their own use. So, during those quiet moments in which we are left to rest, Tino and I nestle together for warmth. Despite our terrible situation I do feel briefly happy as Tino sleeps safely in my arms.
…
Eight days have passed when one of the German soldiers somehow manages to spot a plume of smoke on the horizon as we're stopped for lunch. West sends him and another soldier off to investigate while the rest of us wait. They return two hours later with the news that there's a small occupied village up ahead. Tino and I exchange uneasy glances. There shouldn't be any civilians left up here- they were all evacuated before the fighting with the Germans began. Tino and I helped. Even the Nazis did. But somehow this village had been missed. Or perhaps they'd just refused to go.
We set out and reach the village by moonrise. It's a tiny little thing, just a cluster of houses and barns. There can't be more than 50 or 60 people living here. We're greeted by some of the men of the village, old hunting rifles in their hands. The Germans shift uneasily, hands drifting towards their guns while West takes the lead to talk to them.
"Who is the leader of this village?" he calls across the snow. He has given the men, ten to fifteen in all, a wide berth of twenty feet.
"That would be me," a tall, lanky man calls from the front. He holds his rifle calmly with the barrel pointed at the ground, but it's clear by the confident looseness of his shoulders and hands that he could raise and use it accurately in the blink of an eye.
"Excellent. We would like to take advantage of your hospitality for lodging for the night as well as restocking our supplies," West replies, his voice as coolly assured as it always is.
"We have no hospitality for you," the village leader yells back scornfully. There is more nervous shifting from the German soldiers until Gilbert yells at them to quiet down. The village leader continues unperturbed. "We know who you are and we don't want you in our country anymore. You will leave here and will not disturb us again."
West is scowling heavily, but before he can respond another man from the back of the village group runs forward. "That's right! You stupid Nazi bastards can just get the hell out!" The village leader shouts at him to stop, but before he can physically grab the man he raises his rifle and fires at us.
All hell breaks loose. With a roar of anger the soldiers explode and open fire back on the villagers. West and Gilbert are shouting and screaming respectively, cursing their soldiers in German as they order them to stop, ripping their guns from their hands sometimes in the process. By the time it's all over the snow is stained with blood and all the men from the village are dead.
We stand at the back of the little convoy of trucks both safely out of the way and safely away from possibly interfering. This is probably a good thing because Tino is shaking with rage beside me. I don't blame him in the slightest. I'm quite upset as well. Clearly this was just a massive misunderstanding, but did they really have to kill them all?
I'm immediately alarmed when out of the corner of my eye I see Tino start forward. He is stopped in his tracks by the sound of a gun cocking. Gilbert has appeared beside us, his Luger trained on Tino's temple. "Don't even try it," he warns Tino quietly, his red eyes hard.
Tino glares at him with the most hateful expression I've ever seen on his face before turning away. I follow him. "Tino," I say, laying a hand on his shoulder to stop him before he can get too far away from the convoy and get in even more trouble.
"I'm sorry Berwald," Tino mutters. By his tone it's clear he still hasn't gotten himself quite under control. "It's just…damn it!" he finishes with a shout. He punches a nearby tree, shaking snow from its branches and onto our heads. I brush most of it off both of us, but I'm still left with a chill as some manages to slip down the back of my coat. I'm not sure the chill is just from the snow, however.
"We need to escape," I tell him simply. We've been discussing it on and off in quiet whispers since our capture, but I'd say now it's the time to start taking it seriously.
"Yes," Tino agrees emphatically.
The Nazi unit and us move into the village as the only real opposition is now cooling in the snow. West details a group of soldiers to help the villagers with the bodies of their men, but they are waved off- the villagers don't want anything more to do with the Germans then they have too. Tino's hands clench into fists as we watch the women and children, weeping, move the bodies. The unit gets their supplies and their beds for the night. Tino and I are put in a barn to sleep under heavy guard. I think Gilbert still expects Tino to try something.
It may be a barn, but with the cattle, pigs, and sheep sharing the space with us it's by far our warmest sleeping space in days. Tino and I settle in the loft with a pile of clean straw making for a surprisingly comfortable bed. I was expecting Tino to want to sleep alone now that we don't have to share our body heat to ward off hypothermia, but he stays with me, cuddling into my side like he has been, as I settle down to sleep. I try not to be too disappointed as I tell myself that surely he's just seeking comfort after witnessing the murder of the villagers earlier. These thoughts do not slow my heart rate, however, as I hold him close.
We're roused the next morning and dragged out into the cold to help load the trucks. The sky has lightened some by the time we're finished and ready to leave, but there is something very, very wrong in the village. None of the normal activity is occurring. No one is coming out of their houses to collect snow for water or to feed their animals. Every single village window is dark.
All the soldiers are oddly quiet as well. Tino stops Gilbert to ask him where all the villagers are. "They all left," he tells us, but he refuses to make eye contact with either Tino or I.
The answer doesn't sit right. I have a sneaking suspicion about what happened, but I don't want to think about it- I don't want to think that are captors are capable of it. Tino seems to have already made up his mind, however, as he goes about the last of our tasks shaking with poorly contained rage.
The Germans' final act before we leave is to set fire to the village. This burned-earth style was normal procedure for them during their retreat and West seems to see it fit to continue. Tino and I watch the fires catch without comment. As we turn to leave we can hear the screams of dying animals still trapped in their barns.
There is no longer any doubt in our minds. We begin to plan our escape in earnest.
…
Our chance comes sooner than we ever could have hoped. Two days after the incident in the village we are camped on the edge of a frozen lake not ten miles from it after a blizzard forced us to stop moving. Ordinarily West would have ordered us to pick up and get going again by now, but today is Christmas Eve and, from what Tino and I can gather by eavesdropping on the soldiers, even he has decided that today should be a day of rest.
Moonrise was several hours ago and despite several new feet of snow from the blizzard the party is already in full swing. Tino and I have been left in our tent under the guard of one very disgruntled soldier. He obviously wants to get drunk on the beer taken from the village just like his friends.
After sitting huddled in our tent for several hours, nervously waiting for the right time, our meager dinner is finally delivered. We eat a bit before Tino glances over at me with an expectant look in his eyes. I nod. It's now or never.
I begin to cough, making sure its sounds like I'm having a lot of trouble breathing. "Berwald? Berwald?" Tino asks loudly, his voice sounding increasingly panicked.
I pick up the pace of my coughing and purposefully knock the dishes over. The resulting crash causes the soldier outside to jump and start cursing. "Mr. Soldier, sir, Mr. Soldier! Please help! He's choking!" Tino shouts.
The soldier curses us again before stomping around outside, clearly debating whether he should come in and help or go get someone else. Our plan in danger, I begin to make gagging noises, doing my very best to make it sound like I'm choking to death. With one final expletive the soldier rips the door of the tent open.
I grab him as soon as he pokes his head inside, wrapping my arms and legs around him and trapping his limbs. He tries to yell for help, but Tino jumps on him as well, pinching his nose closed with one hand and covering his mouth with another. For several long minutes he struggles as we hold him there, but I'm much taller and stronger than him and Tino knows what he's doing. Soon he is unconscious.
Tino and I quickly strip him of his weapons- Tino takes his rifle, I take his Luger, and the man has so many knives on him that we both get several. We then make strips out of the fabric of his jacket and tie him up, stuffing extra pieces into his mouth so he can't shout for help one he awakens. Tino and I both take a deep breath and, after exchanging determined glances, sneak out into the winter night.
We move slowly through the deep snow, doing our best to be silent. Over by the trucks, in the middle of the German's ring of tents, is a bonfire where the party is taking place. I can just make out Gilbert cavorting drunkenly before the fire and even West manages to look less stoic for once. Unfortunately for us we're going to have to sneak right past them if we're going to escape.
During the summer where we're camped is probably the source of a spring that feeds the lake. This means that it's set back between two ridges with steep, rocky hills on either side that gradually widen to the edge of the lakeshore. We camped here in order to get better protection from the blizzard and our tent was set in the very back because the Germans were afraid we would attempt to escape during the storm. We did not try, of course. We are not and never will be that desperate.
Tino and I creep forward, using the trucks and the tents as cover as we cautiously move towards the lake. The beer is flowing freely tonight and the soldiers are not very alert. We manage to make it around the bonfire without being spotted and as we head towards the lake and freedom my breathing begins to ease and hope rises in my chest.
Until we hear shouting behind us.
Tino and I both whip around, alarmed. The soldiers are scrambling for their weapons, West and Gilbert shouting orders over each other. Tino grabs my hand and yanks me away, pulling me out of my crouch. "Come on!" he says, already panting from the effort of moving through the snow. "There's not point in being sneaky anymore!"
He's right of course. I run with him and we reach the edge of the lake by the time the first shot is fired at our backs. Tino and I pause here. There are two options: run across the lake or stay on the shore. We aren't given much time to decide as more shots fly past us, the Germans' aim suffering from their celebration. Tino seems uncertain so I make my decision and drag him out onto the ice. The wind has blown the snow around here leaving areas with shallower covering between the deep drifts that will be easier to run through.
Tino pulls his hand from mine as we run. I don't blame him. The ice beneath the snow is slippery and I need both of my arms to balance just as he does. Behind us I hear the roar of the trucks engines as they protest being started in the cold. Around us is a flurry of bullets and the sounds of our pursuers grow louder as they begin to close the distance, our tired and injured bodies less ready for our escape attempt than we would like.
Desperation pushes me to run faster as a bullet whizzes by my ear and grazes my cheek. As I glance back over my shoulder and finger the trigger of the Luger, considering whether to shoot back or not, my foot hits a particularly slick patch of ice and I slip. My arms windmill around me and as I try to catch my balance white-hot pain suddenly explodes from my leg. With a cry I fall to my knees.
I look down. Blood is blossoming from the middle of my thigh, crimson staining my pants and dripping downwards to stand out in stark contrast to the pure white snow. I've been shot, I think numbly.
"Berwald!" I look back up to see Tino racing back towards me, panic in his eyes as he spots my wound.
I shake off my shock as he slows before me, but before he can do anything I seize his shoulder and push him away. Tino stumbles back, hurt in his eyes, but I just shake my head. "Go! I'll keep up." Tino gives me one last worried glance before doing as I say and taking off.
I struggle to me feet. My leg feels like it's on fire, the blood dripping down it cooling rapidly and leaving everything below the knee feeling like it's being stabbed with tiny needles. But adrenaline is my ally here and with it pumping through my veins I manage to move forwards, my run an awkward half-limp.
It's not going to be enough though. I can here the Germans gaining on me, their shouts, their pounding feet, the trucks. I try to push myself faster, but my leg just won't work properly anymore. And then there is an almighty crack, the pitch of the sound so low that it echoes through my bones. It is followed by more cracking and the shouts of anger suddenly become screams of terror. Splashes follow. I don't look back, forcing myself to keep running.
Tino and I make it across the lake without further incident and we disappear into the relative safety of the forest beyond. We don't go much farther before Tino turns around and holds out his hands to stop me. "We should rest here," he tells me, his expression worried as he glances at the blood on my pants. "We need to treat your leg."
I push past him. "We have to keep going. We can't let them catch us," I wheeze, winded from the pain.
I stumble as my knee suddenly gives out and I collapse against a tree for support. I hear Tino let out the tiniest of sighs behind me before he is at my side. He pulls my right arm over his shoulders and wraps an arm around my waist. "I guess we can keep going for a while," he agrees quietly, biting his lip anxiously. We head off again, Tino doing his best to help support my weight despite our height difference.
I'm not sure how long we keep going for. As the adrenaline wanes I'm distracted more and more by the pain and shock. My leg feels like it's on fire and every step sends a bolt of pain shooting up my back and into my skull. After a while though it starts to go numb and when I chance a glance downwards I see that my entire pant leg is soaked in red. How much blood have I lost? I don't know.
After a while I begin to sag, leaning more and more on Tino. Again he suggests we stop, but I shake my head, my lips and tongue too heavy now for me to move. My brain feels…fuzzy. And the world has started to spin. My eyelids flutter. They're heavy now too. But…I have to keep going.
With my next step I go down, narrowly avoiding pulling Tino down with me. I just don't have the strength to stand anymore. My hearing is already gone as Tino leans over me. He is shouting, but I can't hear his voice. My eyelids flutter again as black begins to encroach on the edges of my vision. How far have we gone? I don't know. But it doesn't seem that anyone has been pursuing us for a while now.
I feel a drop of wetness on my cheek. Rain? Can't be. I open my eyes with some difficulty. When did I close them? The only thing I can focus on is Tinos' face. He's still shouting. My name, I think, over and over again. And he's crying, most of the tears freezing on his face. I bet that's what the drop on my cheek was. One managed to escape.
He looks so…sad.
Ah. I think I might be dying. Is that why Tino looks so sad? I hope not. I don't want to make him sad. In fact it hurts a bit to think that I'm the reason why he looks like that. Don't be sad Tino. You're safe. We managed to escape. My death isn't that big of a deal. I did what I set out to do- I kept you safe. So there's no reason for you to be sad.
I can die happy knowing that you're safe Tino.
Goodbye…
…
I wake up feeling more tired then I've ever been in my entire life. All I want to do is lay here for the rest of eternity and sleep. But for some reason my mind won't slip back into it.
Ugh. Why do I feel this way? I can't remember. I allow my mind to rest for a moment, for the memories to wash over my consciousness as they will. And then it all comes rushing back and I snap my eyes open.
The world wobbles for several long moments, making my head hurt and my stomach churn, before finally settling down. I'm lying on my back and above me is the northern night sky blanketed in stars as the luminous colors of the aurora borealis dance before them. Turning my head slowly to the left I see a fire starting to burn low. Beyond it is the charred and collapsed roof and walls of some kind of burnt building. Turning to my right I see a standing, though still burned, wall with part of the roof still attached and providing a modicum of shelter.
And, sitting with his back against the wall, is Tino. He has his legs drawn up, arms wrapped around them, and his face hidden against his knees. I can't tell if he's awake or not. I sigh silently at the sight of him as joy bubbles in my chest. He's still alive and safe it seems and, somehow, so am I.
I make an attempt at sitting up, but my body is far too weak to do so unassisted. I collapse back to the ground with a groan. Tino shifts as if startled and looks up, confusion on his face. His eyes lock on my mine and we just stare at each other for a long moment. He's frozen in shock, like he can't believe what he's seeing. And then he throws himself forward with a cry of joy.
"Berwald! You're alive! Thank goodness!" he shouts, hovering next to me. His face is now the picture of angelic happiness, his eyes wide and shining and his mouth stretched into a huge grin.
His expression leaves me breathless and the only reply I can manage is an affirmative sounding, "Mm."
Tino keeps smiling at me but I'm alarmed to see him start crying again. "Tino?"
"I'm sorry Berwald," he says, as he wipes away his tears. "I'm just so happy. I really thought that this time…that you had… " Tino is unable to finish his sentence, his smile dropping from his lips as his shoulders begin to tremble. I open my mouth to say something, though I honestly don't know what would comfort him right now.
And then Tino leans down and presses his lips against mine.
My mind completely shuts down for a moment. And then it restarts, running faster than it ever has before. Tino is kissing me. This is something that I have been dreaming of for months now and it's actually happening. And Tino initiated it. Could this mean…it must mean…that he has feelings for me as well? Romantic feelings? My mind spins with overwhelming joy and disbelief at the thought.
My face floods with heat. Tino's lips are so soft and warm, exactly how I've always imagined them. But before I get the chance to kiss him back Tino pulls away blushing fiercely, that angelic smile back on his tear streaked face.
And then he suddenly goes pale, violet eyes going wide with fear as though he's just realized what exactly he's just done. "B-Berwald…" he stutters, clapping a hand over his mouth in horror. "I'm so sorry. I just…I was…"
Frustrated at the sight of Tino about to breakdown again I reach out, wrap my hand around the back of his neck, and pull him down again. This time it is I who presses my lips to his and I don't hold back, trying to convoy every feeling that I've been hiding through this one kiss. Tino lets out a terrified squeak against my mouth and tries to pull away, but with a strength I didn't know I currently possessed I manage to hold him still. All at once Tino's fear drains away and he leans into the kiss, enjoying it every bit as much as I am.
When he finally pulls away we are both flushed and breathless. As Tino smiles down at me and I can't help but smile back, the corners of my lips turning upwards into an expression that's rare for me. Tino's smile widens at the sight of my own and he lets out a little joyful laugh.
It's too much for me to take. Our narrow escape, my brush with death, and now, somehow, to have the possibility of Tino returning my feelings…I'd thought it was impossible to be this happy. The words are out of my mouth before I even take the time to think about them. "Tino, I love you."
Tino's eyes widen in surprise as his blush darkens and spreads. For my part I can't believe I just said it. But, even as my heart pounds nervously rather than happily, I'm not going to take it back. I've finally told him how I feel and even if the feeling isn't mutual I'm glad it's finally off my chest.
"Do…do you mean that?" Tino asks me in a whisper. I nod, not trusting myself to speak. "I…" Tino smiles at me and though it starts off small it quickly widens. "I love you too, Berwald."
Pure bliss fills me, leaving me breathless and putting an enormous smile on my face. I don't remember ever being this happy before. I swear it feels like I'm floating. Tino is happy as well, his cheeks flushed with joy. He throws back his head and laughs again.
I can't believe it. I can't believe it! This is really real. Tino loves me. Tino loves me!
The euphoric atmosphere is broken by the sound of a baby crying. Absolutely baffled I try to sit up again and this time I succeed, some of my strength having returned. I'm up just in time to see Tino come back from the other side of the fire, a young baby swaddled in burnt blankets and his jacket in his arms. He sits back down in front of me, rocking the child as it continues to fuss. Tino looks up at me once the baby has quieted a bit and smiles slightly at my confused look.
"I'm sorry. But he was still alive somehow…I had to do something."
I frown slightly at Tino's words, something in them jiggling my memory. "Where are we?" I ask, taking another more careful look around.
"The village," Tino tells me, trying to sound lighthearted though it's easy for me to detect the underlying anger in his voice. "This was their meeting house. I couldn't stand trying to stay in one of the houses…"
I nod in response to this, quietly awed. The only way- the one and only way- that Tino could have gotten me here alive was to carry me almost ten miles through heavy snow. What a feat that must have been. He's managed to treat my wound as well as I detect a bandage beneath my ruined pant leg after prodding it with my fingers. My heart swells as my gaze drifts back to Tino. Tino did all of that and saved my life. This man really does love me.
He is cooing softly to the child now, his expression tender. My affection swells up in my chest again as I lean forward to get a better look at the boy. He has some blond fuzz crowning just the very top of his head and as I look he cracks open one dusky blue eye and yawns. Goodness, but he is cute. Soothed he falls back into sleep, unconsciously snuggling up against Tino's chest.
"We can't just leave him here, Berwald," Tino says softly, pleadingly, setting the boy down to rest in his lap.
"We'll take him with us."
"What? You mean…?" Tino looks up at me with hopeful eyes.
I can't stop myself from smiling again. He looks so sweet like that. "Yes," I reply leaning forward to kiss him again. "Us, together."
…
Historical Notes:
The Lapland War was actually the last in a series of three wars that Finland was engaged in during World War II. The first was the Winter War of 1939-40 against the Soviet Union. The second was the Continuation War of 1941-44, which was also against the Soviet Union. It followed Operation Barbarossa (the Nazi offensive against the Soviet Union) so the Finns and the Germans were pretty tight, hence Germans in Finland. The Lapland War of 1944-45 was the war to get the Germans out of Finland at the behest of the Soviet Union and the Moscow armistice, which ended the Continuation War.
The funny thing is that the Lapland War wasn't supposed to be an actual war. As far as I can tell the reason why it started was simply because the Soviet Union wanted the Germans out of Finland. Initially the Germans gave the Finns their withdrawal schedule so that they could follow their retreat and make it look like they were fighting. They were even supposed to warn the Germans before they started shooting at them. But after a while the Soviets had enough of that and forced the Finns to start actually fighting.
I saw somewhere that (though I can't find it again now) that all of the civilians were evacuated from northern Finland before the war started. Which is a good thing because the Germans went from just destroying roads and bridges to torching everything when stuff got serious. By November most of the German forces in Finland had retreated in Norway.
And there actually were Swedish volunteers in at least the Winter and Continuation wars. I got really excited when I saw that actually. Historical validation! I.e. I'm not just making this shit up!
My lovely bit of German in this is from Google translate, so if it's wrong let me know and I'll fix it. And I have no idea how the Swedes or anybody else besides the US felt about homosexuality in the 1940's, but I doubt it was accepted anywhere at that time.
Thanks for reading!