Chapter 9: We passed the school, where children strove
"No," Wilson said, "She can't leave."
"What?" Newkirk cried, "You saw the bruises, you know what that pig did to her! Why the bloody hell can't she?"
"I know what I saw, and what she wouldn't let me see," Wilson said quietly, "But I also know she can't walk, not to mention run. What are you going to do, carry her to London?"
"If I 'ave to, yeah!" Newkirk said sharply. Hogan laid a hand on his shoulder.
"What can we do, Doc?" the Colonel asked quietly.
Wilson sighed.
"I'll try to get her on her feet as fast as possible. But it will take a few days, at least, before she'll be up to even the most minimal of exertion. She's still very weak."
"A few days," Newkirk whispered, his face drawn, "After a few days in his hands, she'll…"
Hogan's hand shifted to the back of Newkirk's neck.
"I know," he said softly, "But she's strong. She'll make it."
-000-
Klink gave the medic privacy as he tended to her, and, though he didn't appreciate the grimace of disapproval Wilson gave him when he left, Klink understood it.
Klink, too, had seen the bruises on her wrists and knew what they must think of him.
A monster.
Klink didn't miss her flinch when he entered the bedroom, nor the way she drew into herself, as if to present a smaller target.
"Danke," she said softly before he spoke, startling him.
He cocked his head and looked at her in question.
"Thank you for letting me see Peter for myself. I had thought you…" she trailed off, looking away.
"You thought I was lying when I said I didn't kill him," Klink finished.
"Ja," she said with a nod.
"I do not lie, Anna," Klink said with a sigh, his hands behind his back, "Nor do I kill prisoners or take what is not mine," he finished meaningfully.
She flinched again and swallowed.
"I apologize," she said softly.
Klink stepped forward and took her hand.
"As do I," he said, just brushing his fingers along the bruises.
She looked at him then. Really looked at him. He met her frank gaze seriously, her hand still cupped gently in his.
"Danke, Wilhelm,"she said.
-000-
That afternoon it was easier. She did not flinch when he entered the room, and only flinched a little that night, when he came to check on her. She ate most of her dinner, and even commented a few times on Klink's mostly one-sided conversation.
The next morning Wilson returned and announced that it was time for her to stand again, though he warned it would be painful.
Klink left after a few minutes, unable to stand the small whimpers of pain she fought to hide.
At lunch she was napping, so he did not get to see her again until dinner. She ate sparingly, her efforts and the pain taking away what little appetite she had. Klink tried to encourage her to eat more, but she politely declined.
She was asleep before he left the room, which on one hand gave him the warm feeling that she trusted him, but on the other hand worried him that the medic was pushing her too hard too quickly.
Sitting in the overstuffed chair next to her bed, Klink laid his copy of Faust on his lap and promptly forgot about it, staring at her.
She'd called him by his first name. Only once, yes, but still, it was progress.
"Kristof," she murmured in her sleep, startling Klink from his contemplation.
"Kristof, bitte," she moaned.
"Shh," Klink comforted, moving to crouch down next to her.
"Kristof, please, don't leave me," she entreated, "I need you. Please!"
Klink frowned deeply and sighed. Who was Kristof? Her husband? Her lover? She'd mentioned him before, said he was killed. Did she love him still, even in death?
Did her love for Kristof mean she would never grow to love him?
"Nein!" she screamed, her eyes flying open as she sat up.
Klink didn't know what to do. He froze. She stared over at him uncomprehendingly for a long moment and then she grabbed his shoulder, yanking him onto the bed.
"Anna, what?" he stuttered, falling forward, his arms automatically wrapping around her.
"Please, Wilhelm, hold me," she wept, hiding her face in his chest, "Promise me no more pain."
"Shh," Klink hushed, running his hand through her hair as he held her close, "Nothing will hurt you here. I promise."
She fell back to sleep in his arms, his hand still moving. He sat, propped up against the headboard, while she used him as a pillow.
He'd never felt so content.
-000-
Newkirk sat up in his bunk, his face pale.
"Notre Père, qui es aux cieux…"
Newkirk heard LeBeau whispering the Lord's prayer as he listened to the silence.
"I didn't imagine it, then," he said finally, looking down at the petit Frenchman in the bunk below his.
"Non," LeBeau said softly, his face obscured by the darkness.
"Do you think he's…" Carter asked softly, surprising them both. He'd argued with them earlier, defending Klink and trying to rationalize away the evidence. He always wanted to believe the best in people. But now he sounded disillusioned and hopeless.
They looked over in his direction, the sparse light glinting in his eyes as he sniffled.
"I mean," Carter continued, his voice raspy and low, "She wouldn't just scream in the middle of the night for no reason."
"Go back to sleep," Newkirk said tightly, "There's not a bloody thing we can do for her now."
Newkirk turned over in his bunk, his back to the rest of the barracks. He pretended to go back to sleep, but listened to the silence instead, his mind filled with images of what was happening in the Kommandant's quarters at that very moment.
Newkirk knew that Hogan hadn't missed the scream last night either, his eyes darkened by lack of sleep as they stood at attention during morning roll call. Schultz sighed heavily and shook his head as he met Hogan's eyes, the large German heavy with remorse.
Hogan kept his face expressionless as Klink strode out of his office.
"Report!" the Kommandant shouted, his hands behind his back. Newkirk scowled and Schultz grimaced at the large smile plastered across the Kraut commander's face.
"All present and accounted for, Herr Kommandant," Schultz answered quietly.
"Dismissed!" Klink said, quickly turning and stomping back up the stairs to his office.
The men disbursed, but Schultz stopped Hogan, Newkirk and the others hanging back to listen in.
"Colonel Hogan," he said quietly, looking around to make sure none of the other guards were watching their interaction, "You must do something."
"What are you talking about?" Hogan snapped, rubbing his eyes with a sigh as the guard's face fell further.
"Sorry," Hogan said, "What are we talking about?" he asked patiently.
"The woman," Schultz said, "The Kommandant did not sleep in his cot last night and I heard her scream and this morning I saw the bruises…" he trailed off, his eyes filling with tears.
Newkirk let out a strangled curse and looked down, his hands clenched. Carter looked like he was about to vomit and LeBeau alternated between anger and concern for his comrades. Only Kinch remained composed, giving Hogan the strength to respond calmly.
"We know," Hogan said, "We're going to try to get her out of here as soon as we can."
"Gut," Schultz said simply, "I will help you."
Hogan looked at him in surprise.
"I thought you wanted to know nothing, Schultz?"
"Nein," Schultz said with a shake of his head, "I will not close my eyes to this. I may not be much of a soldier, but I am a man and I will not stand for this. Not if I can stop it."
"You're a good man, Schultzy," Newkirk said softly, patting the guard's back.
"We have to wait until Wilson clears her, though," Hogan reminded.
"Ja," Schultz said with a deep sigh, "You will let me know, bitte?"
"Yeah, Schultzy," Newkirk assured, "We'll keep you in the loop."
Schultz nodded and then waddled off, looking heavy-laden.
