(A/N; The next few chapters are going to be about The Holocaust, in depth about Medic's time spent in the camps, and his youth, with the rise of antisemitism. This topic can be triggering to some, so read with caution. It's an extremely heavy subject, even difficult for me to write about. I apologise for any historical inaccuracies; I'm researching the topic thoroughly, yet if you find any errors, feel free to contact me about it, and I will change it. I hope you all enjoy.)

"Is it really alright?"

The night was young in TeuFort. Wisps of sand had found their way into the base, collecting in corners of the cold, empty building. Sheets shuffled in the darkness as two bodies snuggled together, my arms gripping Medic, making sure he was still there in my blindness. He said nothing, no sighs, not even a breath. He was simply still.

"Is what?" he questioned, finally.

"You."

"About?"

"Th' war. An' everythin', ya know."

Silence fell over him again. This time, I felt his form deflate with a sigh. Guilt swamped me after he did, by now I should've known better than to ask him about this.

"Don' answer if you don' wanna."

"No," he said softly. "But, you should know, Scout, that grownups lie."

"'Course," I scoffed. "Had plenty. Hada listen to ma lie about m' pa. I can't believe I bought that crap."

"Hmm." I could feel his eyes searching in the shadows, maybe for an answer.

"D'ya miss your family?" My voice was soft.

After a bout of silence, the simple reply came, "Yes."

"I bet they loved ya a bunch." There wasn't much I could say.

"Yes," he said again.

"An'...an' I bet they loved ya all the same."

"I have no doubts that they loved me until they died," Medic said. "And I will love them, until I depart from this world as well."

My heart seized in my chest, the pain in his voice slowly becoming apparent. The poor man who had seen the world's moral failings, carried himself effortlessly, felt more pain than any of us here, I can almost guarantee. I pulled him forward, pecking his forehead with my lips.
"They still love ya, doc," I murmured. "They'd be proud of ya, hangin' on fer so long. Yer a hero."

"Thank you."

We were silent again. I've never been good at comfortin' people, and this was definitely not my moment of glory. It didn't matter, I had to try. Medic was usually the one to listen to me gripe, so I kinda owed him.
"Doc," I said.

"Ja, Scout," came the reply.

"Were th' camps scary?" The question came out as if a kid asked the 'how are babies made' question. "I heard m'pa woulda gone to one of 'em, if he'd lived..."

"Scout," the voice rumbled. He sounded tired, gravelly.

"I'm sorry, man, I jus'-" I fumbled for an answer, "I..I wanna know. I wanna understand."

"Did they not teach you in school?" he asked.

"I barely went." Jeez, I felt almost guilty for telling him. The Doc was a well-read guy, obviously went to med school, and fluent in two languages. To him, I musta been some sort of American idiot. "I got eight brothers, Doc. We couldn't afford it."

Medic sighed, his chest rising and falling steadily. "Alright." Part of me lit up with excitement. I quickly snuggled into his arms, swaddled in his embrace and in a mess of sheets. Upon his chest, I could feel the scars embedded in his flesh through his thin nightshirt. His heartbeat was slow, yet powerful, and alive. He truly was a remarkable man.

"I was 17 when antisemitism began to resurface. The man, Adolf Hitler, took power, and forced me and my family from our home in Stuttgart. We fled to Poland, where we were herded into a Jewish ghetto." He grasped me a bit tighter, before continuing, "They made us wear patches in the shape of a Jewish star, so the world would know who we were."

"Jeez." Words came out along with my normal breathing. I was already tense.

"We lived in poor conditions for a while, until I was 24. I had met a young woman, Anna, and we had gotten married while we lived together. Soon, we had a child, who we named Klaus. We were so happy, the two of us, and nobody could have foreseen what would have happened." Medic paused, swallowing a lump in his throat.

"Y'don't have to keep tellin' me," I whispered.

"Nein," he answered shakily. "You...you have a right to know." He inhaled once, gathering his words. "Anna... Anna and I both, and all of us in the ghetto, were taken to labour camps. Klaus was so young, so innocent-barely even walking. He was stripped from us immediately, for he could not work..." A sob caught in his throat. "H-he...was simply...taken, from us. We did not see him until..until we saw wh-what they did to children like him."

"I can recall the cries of children as their parents were taken from them. I still hear the SS officers, screaming, yelling, treating their own people like cattle... Worst of all, I still feel the pain when I saw... I s-saw what they did to our boy, and all of the poor children. Th-they pushed Anna and I onto the trains, pushing and shoving, l-like...like animals, and our poor Klaus, crying for his mother and father as th-they-"

Doc squeezed me as he cried. My whole body went rigid. Behind my eyes, all I saw was young Medic, dragged from his own country by his ankles, crying for his family, then his family crying for him.

"...the snow fell on that day," he murmured, with a few sniffles. "It was red, I remember. The screaming babies were silenced in the only way the Nazis knew how..."

"Doc." I was on the verge of tears myself.

"Do you want me to stop?" he asked softly.

"No," I said. "No."

"Anna cried, and cried on the train. We were all stuffed in like crates, shipped like animals. The car was ringing with shrieks and sobs, cries of pain and agony. All I could do was hold my love in my arms as she wept for our boy.

We stopped in Birkenau, in Poland. This camp began as a labour camp, then soon became so much more, so much more frightening. Walking through those gates meant entering hell on earth. Anyone who went in, was most likely never to come back out. I was fearful, no more and no less than everyone else. Upon our arrival, the ground was muddy from the snow, the white patches dirtied from the boot marks. Barbed wire was strung from poles like ribbon, with people caged behind it.

The officers lined us up, demanding our valuables in our pockets. They took what we had left, and that was that. Anna and I still had each other, while some had nothing. In this strange land, survival was sought after, even if it meant the greatest risks, and staring death in the face. I can recall one officer, I believe his name was Finn, who marched us to our block, to our beds. Anna and I were torn from each other, her to work with the women, and I to work with the men. Finn took pity on no man; he constantly spat on us, calling us 'filthy swine' who caused this calamity. That, I will still never understand.

We were dressed in stripes, and given a bowl, a spoon, shoes, a hat, and a belt. No more, no less. I know you saw my numbers, Scout, and you know what those are. We all had a set of numbers to identify ourselves. Ink that proved we were prisoners. Ink that will never be removed.

Days went by, and more and more people came, and were killed. I was forced to become accustomed to burying the dead. Often I would lie awake, unable to sleep in the cramped quarters, staring into the boards above and thinking about all the poor souls I had mechanically buried. Anna and I saw each other so rarely, but even so, gave me reason to hope. Even in her stripes, she was simply beautiful, my little star. We had to be careful, of course, and many beatings from the guards made sure we remained on our toes.

Soon, it became more apparent that this would not end soon. It had been about a year, perhaps, and I had just undergone a relocation to Auschwitz, where the gas chambers were put to use. Terrible, terrible things. Every day, men, women, and children passed through the devil's door, and those of us still alive were forced to bury them all. Hope had died here, and I had died with it when I saw Anna, my beautiful Anna, dead, thin, and withered, with the many others who were worked to their last breath.

I cried that day. The storm still has yet to end.

I went numb for the rest of my time spent in the camp. If you have not heard of a man, Josef Mengele, he is known for his awful experiments on Jews. I was unfortunate enough to have known him, but I suppose 'fortunate' enough to have been spared his testing... He knew I was a doctor. He made me assist him in his killing sprees.

He was a monster if I have ever seen one.

His tests made me sick to my stomach; some I could barely stand to be a part of. I regret it all. If I could have saved the poor people...what I wouldn't give to start over..."

Medic trembled. The dove before me had become a leaf in the wind. His body heaved with dry sobs, hoarse breaths, strangled in his windpipe. I was still frozen in his arms. My brain swam, thinking of all I had just been told. Bein' honest, I was feelin' sick myself.

Two forms lay in the darkness in a mess of sheets and limbs around one another. For the first time this night, both of us cried.