August 27th, 1942
From the moment he had stepped into the room, Ludwig had sensed that something was different about him. It was the smile on his face. Ludwig hadn't seen a single smile in the four months since he'd started working in this institution. Infamous for its brutal curing methods in all Europe, it was hard not to notice the shadow that seemed to encompass this dark, somber place. Now, working in a mental hospital was never fun for anyone, but there was something highly disturbing about the Racconigi Hospital in particular that sent chills up and down Ludwig's spine. But this man, despite the given circumstances and against all odds, merely smiled at Ludwig. He was left seemingly unfazed by this place's crushing atmosphere and in this exact moment, Ludwig couldn't help but wonder just what was wrong with this mysterious man. A mystery he was to soon uncover.
"My name is Ludwig Beilschmidt, and I will be your operating doctor from this day on." He was surprised when his extended hand was met with a firm, enthusiastic shake.
"Buongiorno, Ludwig! My name is Feliciano Vargas, but my friends can call me Feli, if you'd like!" Feliciano… What a common Italian name for such an uncommon Italian man. Ludwig couldn't help but feel fascinated by this person who talked to an authority figure like him as if they were close friends, and who did so naturally like a duck took to water. However, that was also a thing that irritated a proper man like Ludwig to no end. The German watched with a deep frown on his face as Feliciano took a seat on the chair in front of his work desk- unrequested.
"Just Doctor Beilschmidt is fine", Ludwig sighed.
"But Ludwig is such a nice name! You should wear it proudly. I would be happy if my name was Ludwig! Or do you maybe prefer Luddy?", the Italian chattered away. Ludwig was irritated. Why was this guy so happy?
"I would prefer if you didn't call me Ludwig for professionality's sake. Using last names is considered more appropriate", he closed his eyes in an attempt to block out the irritating man in front of him from his eyesight. Just for a second, to give his mind much needed time to rearrange.
"Good thing that I have never bothered with formalities too much then, si, Ludwig?"
Ludwig gave a sigh of disapproval as an answer and cleared his throat, then briefly checked the facts in his folder of documents that had a special place on his neatly arranged work desk. "Anyway, let's get back to the matter at hand. Do you know why you are here?"
"But of course I do! I am here because my fratello works here!"
Ludwig studied the other man's face carefully for any sign of nervous convulsions, although he'd correctly presumed that there were none. He could already tell that he wasn't working with the usual trauma victim here, and so he figured that his symptoms would show in a manner he had yet to detect. Feliciano offered him another warm smile. Or was it all show? Was the Italian trying to fool him? As the German took notes on his notepad, a certain spark of interest in the Italian's version of the story emerged. There was no doubt that it would be made up nonsense, but Ludwig was a firm believer that every little piece of detailed nonsense was required in order to solve the puzzle which was his patient. Who could tell at this point if the information acquired now would maybe give the crucial hint to a diagnosis later? Ludwig was a rationalist and stuck to his logical approach. It was self-explanatory that he already had his own assumptions and theories, but it wasn't like the thoughtful person he was to jump to blind conclusions, to dismiss everyone else's input except for his own. He wanted to be thorough and he knew that he had to cooperate with the Italian actively if he wanted progress.
"Why don't you tell me a bit about your brother?"
Feliciano clapped his hands in a manner that suggested he was keen on cooperating with his suggestion. "With pleasure! Well, you see, my fratello is a very nice man! He may come off as hostile or angry when you first meet him, but I promise that he doesn't mean harm! He's just unsure and afraid of meeting new people, si?" After a short pause for breath, the Italian continued with incredible zealousness. "Our parents died when we were still bambinos, but fortunately our grandpa took us under his wing and raised us with all his love and patience! We were inseparable, but when it was time to part for war, I joined the military while my fratello offered his services as a nurse in this hospital. I originally came to visit for a weekend, but the pasta here is so much better than in the army and now I don't want to go back! War is scary! Once this war is over though, he will take over the family business, which is what he always wanted and worked so hard for- I am so proud of him!"
Ludwig's face paled with each passing second of Feliciano's deceiving but endearing speech that made him want to believe in its truth, with each warm smile the man offered to a world that had likely never smiled back at him. It was strange, really. Normally Ludwig was a professional who would keep distance and objectiveness towards his patients from the start to the very end, but at the same time he also couldn't help but feel immediate sympathy for this man.
It had to be the smile, for a genuine smile was a rarity in hard times like these where rations were limited, and dread and terror were the everyday companion of each citizen. Wherever Ludwig went, it would show on people's faces like a cruel reflection of his own fears and worries. For nobody could feel safe, and nobody was safe in times of war. It was the constant presentiment that each day could be the last, that each day the incessant war could be lost and with it all remaining hope, all of which corrupted the common moral to no end. Because the moment the allies seized Berlin and Rome, Ludwig and his landsmen would have to take responsibility for being complicit in the system. The government's attempts to calm the tense situation by belittling its problems had miserably failed, with rumors of the eastern front spreading. Apparently, Hitler's troops were already struggling to keep up with the soviets despite many proclaimed victories. It was only a matter of time until the existent panic would generate a mass hysteria midst which all reason would fail. But this Italian ex soldier… He must have found the one person in the entire Western world who was unaffected by the horrible development of this war, Ludwig couldn't help but think with underlying irritation. But then he remembered just what the Italian had been committed for and he immediately felt bad for his initial anger. However, the curiosity remained. Ludwig would be lying if he denied just being slightly intrigued by his patient. Seemingly contemplating his next words, Ludwig set pen to paper and frowned.
"I take it your brother and you were close and had a strong bond?"
Feliciano tipped his head lightly with his right hand. All of a sudden, all naïvité had vanished from his look and gave place to a sad glint, but Ludwig might as well have been fooled by the daylight's reflection, and thus dismissed it as nothing. And just as quickly as this change in behavior occurred, it was gone already and Feliciano gave him a wide smile once more.
"What do you mean, 'were'? I think that I don't understand, Ludwig. Aren't we still close to this day?"
"You are not. Your brother… He died on the battlefield not too long ago", Ludwig managed to state calmly. It was unacceptable to show patients too much emotion as it only ever served to provoke or fuel them. But instead of staring back at the face of a crying man, he was met with a weak smile. It was in that exact moment that he realized that even before, the man's warm brown eyes had lacked a certain spark of liveliness to make his façade authentic.
"I still don't get it. Lovi's standing right behind you, and he's been talking to me this whole time. How can you say that he's dead?"
