1.
Nurse
The nurses' heels clattered against the hard floors, ringing through the halls like dry bells. They passed by his bed, leaving behind a trace of their smell half hospital half perfume behind their ears and on their necks. Every once in a while a nurse would stop, sometimes she was short sometimes tall sometimes plump and sometimes bony. She would part the curtains and come close to his bed, take his temperature and check on his legs broken and crooked, dyed shades of purple and pink unhealthy. He watched them complacently, wanting a smoke or anything really to ease the flow of pain from bone to muscle. At noon a nurse brought in his lunch. He ate the dry bread and lathered butter on it and then ate the rosy tomatoes, and then went on to whatever the main course would be. An hour after that the doctor came in. The doctor knew little and spoke less. He checked on his legs, crushed, and told him he'd go into surgery soon enough but he won't walk for a while and that he should not return to war for some time.
During these visits he hardly listened. He knew the news since it passed his ears each day and night. Finally the doctor left and went on to the senile patient over yonder and then to the patient who could hardly breathe, and on down through the rows like checking damaged goods with little to no hope on his steely eyes.
The patient with the broken legs is named Ludwig. He has no last name. The name "Ludwig" is written on his headboard in pen. It's unmistakably German and everyone notices. This was an Italian hospital and the Germans that arrived were in such a wretched state they could hardly go anywhere. Ludwig's hair was blonde and thin, like floss dyed corn color and pushed back at his temples and widow's peak to expose a broad face and sharp jaw and eyes like two cold stones that were either removed or remotely annoyed but it was hard to tell.
On the night of his tenth day in the hospital the final nurse of the day came with a tray of dinner. The light was thinning outside and pouring in a copious amount of late evening sun blood red. She stood in the doorway, her frame highlighted by the crimson color like a painting. She stepped behind his curtain and placed the dinner on his lap, checking his temperature once more and his pulse. Once she was satisfied she set up his meal. She seemed to have forgotten that Ludwig had full usage of his arms. Her eyes were wide set and a curl of brown hair constantly fell between them. She brushed them away with short fingers and gave Ludwig a strained smile, wanting only to go home and rest. She turned away and did just that.
Ludwig ate the meal without tasting it. There was something meaty and something soft but it went by his tongue unnoticed and left no trace it was there besides a string of meat sticking stubbornly to his back tooth, dangling like a thread. Ludwig suffered trying to dislodge it but couldn't. He gave up by the time another nurse returned and took the tray. She pulled the curtains around him and cut off all other light and sound besides the soft snoring or the loud, raspy elephant snores. He couldn't see the moonlight. All he could see was the floral pattern along the curtains and sometimes their shadows hazily covering his feet under cover of the soft blankets.
He lifted the blanket and took a look at his legs. They were damaged badly and looked no better than they did when he arrived. Ludwig release the blanket and it floated down back to his legs, touching the bandages and casts that supported the back.
He had not moved in a long time, he felt. Once on his fifth day there a doctor ordered one of the nurses, a bright and intelligent young woman, to set him in a wheel chair to take him around, so he could have a change of scenery. But at that time he could hardly pronounce his name and images that he saw hardly registered in his mind and instead produced something frightening. He howled and shrieked enough to raise the dead when she dared lift him from his seat. Instead she let him back down and told the doctor that he was not ready for that kind of exertion. They spoke in their lilting Italian language Ludwig understood from his years of learning it before enlisting.
"Well what do you suppose he does? He can't just lay there forever."
"Wait until he has healed somewhat," the nurse said gently. "I am sure he'll be fine."
"Perhaps his war crimes are catching up to him."
"You mustn't say that! You don't know anything he has done."
"I can assume."
"You assume wrongly."
For whatever reason, Ludwig did not see the nurse on the days following.
That tenth night he thought of her and wondered if her advice was still in that man's brain somewhere. Maybe it was lodged in the far back, repressed by other thoughts or prejudices. Then he began to dream. He dreamed of a train. The train carried a figure with their face buried in shadow, so much so he couldn't tell their dress or sex but he could tell they were human from their movements. He saw it from a removed distance. He watched the figure raise their hand and place it against the window. It was an old hand, ropes of veins traveled along it, carrying slow blood under papery skin. Outside the scene rushed past. He saw trees green and prickly, and the sky overhead seemed not to change but the clouds glided past smoothly, as though tugged on a flat surface by a string. The sun beat down from an undetermined angle, glaring in the window and slicing through the old fingers. The train rattled like a bell. It continued to rattle and then faded to delirium as someone yelled and something dropped.
When Ludwig awoke he was informed that a new nurse, a male, would be taking him around building.
"And then, if you're very good and you think you are well enough to do so, he'll take you out to the garden." The doctor said, watching Ludwig eat.
Ludwig nodded.
The male nurse came soon after. He wore a plain white uniform, same as all. His hair was the color of copper and his eyes of amber. He smiled often and laughed more. His skin was tanned from being out in the sun too often and his dress clean but with an edge of sloppiness that was endearing, like a child trying their absolute best to be neat.
"Hello, Mr. Ludwig." He said.
"Hello." Ludwig said gruffly.
He was astonished that the nurse didn't pause to ponder the lack of a last name. Most of them look twice or thrice and then wonder if there is some mistake. Then Ludwig has to inform them that they are not wrong and that his middle and last name are nonexistent. At least, he tells them so.
"I'm Feliciano Vargas and call me Feliciano. We'll be going around for a little bit. Your doctor said that you should be able to bend your legs slightly, but if you can't do that then we can easily accommodate for that. You'll be fine. Now, let's stand up."
Ludwig raised himself and pain like a grapeshot erupted in his leg exploding at one cell and then into the next. He winced violently and bit his lip so not to scream.
"It's all right," Feliciano said gently, placing both his hands on Ludwig's arms. Ludwig doubted such thin and soft limbs could raise him but they somehow did and in a matter of moments Feliciano's skilled fingers were fixing his hair as he sat in the wheelchair. His legs were propped up on wooden planks beginning to mold. He placed his hands on the arms, the peeling black material exposing a metal painted gold beneath. He tilted his head back and Feliciano gave him an encouraging smile. "Look forwards, you might miss the view."
Feliciano then wheel Ludwig through the hospital. He omitted the sickly patient's wards and remained in the gray halls. Ludwig looked around and found nothing of interest. Bedpans lined one wall and another chairs sat for waiting families even though no family would come long enough to stay in the vile stench. Ludwig then went into the lobby room. There was an expansive room with only a tinge of the sick's reek. A woman sat in one corner, stitching something. At her side a little girl, presumably her daughter since they both had the same brown hair and eyes. The little girl's hair was bound in a white ribbon matching the larger one at her waist around her light blue dress. The girl stood at her mother's knee, gripping the softer beige fabric and watching the woman who smiled as she worked. She pretended to take no notice of her child pestering her and continued to carefully sew. Finally the woman took the object in her lap and sat it on her lap. The doll's yawn hair spilled down the woman's fingers as she gripped it to stitch in the final thread to create a smile on the doll's face. She cut the thread and tucked away the needle into her purse, handing the doll to her daughter. The girl hugged it and played with her, pinching its white mitten hands and examining the button eyes with great care. She looked as though her mother had given her a star for how she smiled so bright.
"Will you show Papa when we go in?"
"Yes Mama!" The girl giggled.
The woman surveyed the scene and noticed Ludwig being wheeled through. Ludwig had watched the exchange and ordered Feliciano slow but there was no need to, since Feliciano had left him a foot away to retrieve something from behind the counter. The woman's eyes, brown as a cow's like the sodden earth, widened. She never expected to see a German soldier in this small Italian hospital. She reached forth and touched her child's arm, drawing her closer. The girl shuffled over, not noticing her mother's alarm and continuing her absorption in the pretty doll.
Ludwig looked away from the woman and saw Feliciano come back. He had a square yellow basket and he slung it across an arm.
"This is for when we go into the garden." Feliciano said warmly and pushed Ludwig on. They went through another hallway. Sun flooded in and shone on the white walls. Several doctors, lofty and qualified surgeons, quite notorious as well, stood chatting near the desks.
"I think this patient will do just well."
"It's a surgery to remove a bullet from his arm. We've done this a hundred and one times before. We should do just fine."
Through a crack in the doorway Ludwig could see a strip of the room on the other side. A nurse was bending over with something, possibly sedating the man. A bottle of whiskey sat on the table.
"Here is where you'll have your surgery soon enough." Feliciano said.
"I see." Ludwig muttered.
After another row of empty beds stained yellow Feliciano took Ludwig outside. Ludwig blinked to adjust to the sight. He hadn't seen this country except far overhead. Green grass shimmered on and on, spotted with flowers and a ribbon of smooth stone road looped through and into the trees. Feliciano took him down this path. The sun shimmered overhead, reflecting as a clear disk in Feliciano's. Feliciano gripped the wheelchair's handles. The road fanned into a larger area with a pond before it. There were no ducks but flowers of whites and yellows lined the circumference and in the center the fish could be seen flashing their tails and going from one corner to the other.
Feliciano placed the wheelchair next to a red bench. He sat down and placed the basket before him. From it he produced several apples and a package of buttered biscuits.
"Do you think you can chew?" he asked, holding the apple before him.
"Yes." Ludwig said. "It's my legs that hurt and not my hands or teeth."
"Would you prefer I cut the apple for you? I can make them into nice thin slices."
"That would be nice." Ludwig admitted.
He watched as Feliciano held the apple before him and with a stubby knife cut thin slices. When he finished with one he placed it in Ludwig's open hand. Once all had been sliced and remained cupped in Ludwig's dry palm, Feliciano took a smaller apple and bit into it.
"They are very good, aren't they?" Feliciano said. "You can hardly believe their imported."
"They are very good." Ludwig agreed, chewing the juicy and tender white-yellow flesh. "They are imported?"
"Yes," Feliciano nodded, "But they aren't from very far away. They're still Italian."
"I can taste it."
Once they finished the apples Feliciano gave two biscuits to Ludwig and one for himself, as there were only three in the package. They were dry but also smooth and rich from the butter. Feliciano collected the apple stem and wrappers and placed them in the basket. He picked up the red napkin that lined its bottom and picked out a chunk of chocolate. He handed it to Ludwig.
"Eat it up and don't tell anyone. It's hard to get chocolate and Maria, the woman who put them in, did you a great kindness." Feliciano created a sound that bordered a giggle and a raspy laugh. His cheeks brightened and his eyes lashes, black and smooth like silk, scrunched up to hide his eyes.
"Thank you," Ludwig found a smile beginning to form, but it vanished just as quickly. He took the chocolate and chewed it contently.
Some time passed and Feliciano said to Ludwig, still eating, "You know, this is almost like a picnic!"
"Yes, it is."
The pond before them glimmered. Insects with long bodies and wings moving so fast they blurred hovered over the surface before catching a drift of wind and flying off.
"You're hands are all so sticky." Feliciano said and took a towel from his pocket, kept there for these reasons, and wiped Ludwig's chocolate-stained fingers. "You'll have to bathe anyway once we return. One of the nurses, possibly Mariana could do that for you."
"Thank you."
Feliciano looked at him and then returned to preparing to leave the pond.
"Feliciano, will you come back tomorrow?"
"Ah, yes, I've transferred over here. I'm to care for you and to another patient. I specialize in this, you can say. Why? Or is it that you would prefer another nurse? I know it can be strange having a male nurse tend to you."
"No, it's not that. I just enjoy having you around." Ludwig attempted another smile but nothing could appear.
"And I enjoyed being around you." Feliciano said.
And then they returned to the hospital.
I do not own Hetalia.