Warning: AU –Second World War

M-Rated!Contains coarse language, violent imaginary related to the context of war, and sex.

I do not own South Park. I do not own anything. I wish I was that f* genius!

Herr Cartman didn't sleep the rest of the night.

He sat behind of his desk at his office, his eyes never leaving the sleeping figure of the most unlikely Jew he has ever met. He turned his head when he sensed the daylight softly greet him through the office's window. Soon the rollcall would start. But the Jew would miss it today. Herr Cartman didn't have the heart to wake him up, when he looked this peaceful. Besides, he knew he could never send him away before his guests would leave. It would give a too bad impression.

There was a soft knock on the door. Herr Cartman unlocked it and saw Alfred's interrogative look. He never locked the door. The butler asked if he wanted breakfast to be served and the Nazi ordered his to the office. The table in the dining room would be prepared for the guests, so when they would wake up, they could eat at ease.

"Warn me when they are up." Alfred bowed at the order and was about to leave when he turned around.

"My lord, should I bring a new shirt for the violinist?" Herr Cartman looked behind him and saw the shredded shirt on the floor, lying next to the couch. He felt his face go red and nodded unable to speak. He felt too embarrassed and was glad the butler was a discrete man.

It was only an hour later, when Kyle slowly stretched his body and opened his eyes. He blinked a few times, not recognizing the surroundings. Suddenly he sat up startled. His face twisted slightly at the sore sensation when he sat up and all the last night's images returned to his mind. A dreadful sensation swept all over his body as he realized what had happened.

"Good morning Jew." A cold voice greeted him. Kyle turned bewildered at the source of the voice. "Please clean yourself with that water over there and get dressed. Last thing I need is you running around naked in meh house." The Nazi nonchalantly said while he nibbled some bread.

Kyle glanced awkwardly at the SS. He hesitated, noticing he was fully naked and had nothing to cover himself with. So he grudgingly obeyed. He tried to ignore the horrible feeling of being closely watched. His nudity made him feel too exposed under the Nazi's gaze. He quickly paced to the basin with cold water and cleaned himself with his back to Herr Cartman. Kyle grabbed the soap with trembling hands, as a nauseous feeling grew in the pit of his stomach. He scrubbed his skin harder than needed, wishing to wipe the memory of the Nazi's touch and scent off his body. Kyle fought back the tears. As much as he scrubbed his skin, it remained unclean. The dirty feeling wouldn't go away. Kyle felt disgusted by himself, for allowing the other one do whatever he wanted with his body. For wanting the Nazi to touch him. For enjoying it fully. His head was throbbing and his insides turning around. The images of last night's heated moments were still too vivid and Kyle didn't recognize himself in them. He had acted like an animal, like a lust-thirsty beast. He had lost his virginity in the most mindless passionate manner and to the person he most hated in the world. Shaking from the overpowering emotions that tormented his soul, Kyle dressed himself up and sighed, only slightly relieved, for having clothes covering his unholy skin.

"Eat something. I'm going to see if the others are already up." The fat Nazi spoke with a distant voice and didn't even look at him. He simply stood up and exited the room.

Kyle stood in the middle of the office, looking lost. His eyes were on the door that had been just shut. He could feel shivers travelling his body. He could feel his nails dig his hand's skin. His eyes stung and were watery. If hours ago the Nazi acted wildly passionate, he was now his icy cold self again. And this fact alone, was what made Kyle stand in the brink of tears. It was his apathetic voice, his distant attitude, which made him feel used, dirty, disposable.

As tasty as the food looked, he was unable to eat. Instead, he left the office and stumbled painfully along the corridor, opening door after door, until he found a toilet. He entered it panting and locked the door behind him with shaky fingers. He could feel the tears wanting to escape, but he kept fighting them back. Just like the nauseous feeling in his stomach. After long minutes of agony, Kyle finally gave up. He fell to his knees and threw up yesterday's contents in the toilet, while tears cascaded freely. He let a miserable moan escape his lips, sobbed inconsolably and then threw up again.

Herr Cartman stood behind the door, listening to the painful sounds of vomiting, followed by soft weeping. He closed his eyes in pain. He knew things would never be the same again. He knew the Jew's suffering would never please him like it used to. And for this, he wished last night had never happened. When he opened his eyes with a sigh, he saw Alfred walking in his direction. He straightened his back, trying to hide his distress.

"The guests are already having breakfast, sir." The butler announced.

"Good. Good." Herr Cartman said a bit absentminded, clearing his throat. "I'm joining them, then…" Another awful sound of vomiting was heard behind the door. "Ehm…The Jew…he's not feeling too well. Must have been something he ate yesterday." He lied, unable to face the butler in the eye (he was suddenly very interested in one of the paintings hanging on the wall).

"I'll see to him that he takes a calming tea for the stomach." Alfred kindly said, knowing perfectly well what was going on. Without adding another word, Herr Cartman walked away.

He joined his guests and behaved in his fake sweet and cheerful manner. Butters had a horrible hangover, Clyde and Bebe were pale and had rings under their eyes. Craig was the only one of the lot that actually looked healthy.

"Hey Cartman. Where's Kyle?" Craig asked with a knowingly look. The Nazi had the urge to punch the black haired boy in the face for just putting out the question. Instead he grinned.

"Is having a hangover similar to Butters." He said, while the blond moaned afflicted.

"But he will come and say goodbye, won't he?" Bebe asked concerned.

"Of course, of course." Herr Cartman said with a wave. "He's just not eating with us…I mean, pfffff... He's a Jew." He said with a chuckle while he cursed internally. A Jew with who I had the best fuck of my life! His stomach sunk when he realized he had to send Kyle back to the camp after his friends were gone. And while the food tasted like ashes in his mouth, Herr Cartman continued acting as the perfect merry host.

Meanwhile, Kyle was back in the office drinking a smoothing tea, far away from the sight of any other staff in the house. He refused to sit on the leather couch and sat instead on an ordinary wooden chair. Alfred had insisted he needed to eat to keep his strength. So he forced himself to eat, because this could very well be the last time he would have a decent meal. He wished he could sneak some bread with him to give to his father and brother. He sighed feeling miserable. Yesterday he had the time of his life. He had a glimpse of his old life and of a lifestyle he would never have. And he wished he hadn't. Because, and in addition of feeling hollow because of the Nazi; he was reminded of how life should be. He had lived so long hidden in a small cramped attic and afterwards in the camp, that he had forgotten how natural it was to have all the little comforts and basic needs in the reach of a hand. He got to taste life again, but now it was being taken right back from him. Kyle could not imagine a worse kind of torture.

...

Kyle and Herr Cartman watched the two cars drive away in the snow. It had been a rather warm goodbye and Kyle succeeded in hiding his general grief. But now he stared at the end of the street with a heavy heart and waited for the words to be spoken. He heard Herr Cartman call Alfred. His uniform was returned. How he wished he was living a nightmare and would soon wake up, safe back home, in his warm bed. But this was reality. And soon he was following Herr Cartman in the snow, dressed in his thin and dirty uniform. They walked silently. Not one single word had seen switched. Suddenly, the Nazi stopped and turned around. Kyle stopped too and had his head down, according to the rules.

It was awkward, for both of them. To stand in the snow, opposite each other. The Nazi and the Jew. Two opposite races. One superior, the other submissive. One was to dominate the world, the other was to disappear from the face of the Earth. And yet, just hours ago, foes became lovers, became unity, became perfection. The impossible had happened.

"Yesterday never happened. Just wipe it out of your memory, Jew." Herr Cartman said in the coldest possible manner and tried to believe Kyle was shivering only from the icy wind. He could see how his hands were balled up in fists. He could see his mouth contort from anger. Herr Cartman called a soldier and instructed him to lead Kyle to the barracks. And without adding another word, the fat Nazi left. He didn't even glance at the Jew. He simply marched away, without ever looking back. But with each step he took further from Kyle, Herr Cartman felt a little bit of himself die away.

…

When Kyle reached the barracks, feeling heavy and numb, he could already see the line for lunch. He was so used to stand on the line every day that he never had realized how depressive and ridiculously degrading this vision was. A long row of breathing skeletons with skin. Lifeless faces with deep and hollow eye sockets. They moved slowly with little energy. And received just enough sustenance to recover some of the worn-out energy. Kyle listened the soldier give him his last instruction written on paper by Herr Cartman. After lunch he would return to his work and fetch bodies in the female section. Kyle walked towards the end of the line and looked upon the many nameless faces. And wondered, how many would die in the camp and how many would live to die in gas chambers.

"Kyle!" His eyes darted to the far end of the line. He saw his father waving and his little brother was already running to him. He smiled happily and a new wave of warmth filled his heart. He caught Ike in the air, for the little boy threw himself on his brother. Laughing heartily, Kyle carried him to the end of the line to meet his father.

"Oh my son, where have you been? I was so worried about you." Gerald Broflovski said while he cupped his hands on his son's pale face.

"You'll never believe." Kyle said with a smile and with an enthusiastic voice. But his father could already read the pain in his eyes. "I got to play the violin all night long at Herr Cartman's condominium. You see, he had this party arranged and his musician injured himself so… I don't know how, but he had my violin and discovered I was its owner. That's how I got there."

"I told him it was you!" Ike innocently said. "He came yesterday in the fields asking for the violin's owner." Kyle looked shocked at his brother. "I bet you had a lot of fun!"

"Ike, never ever do that again!" Kyle said frightened at his brother's imprudence and stared at his father with a look of disbelief.

"I already talked to him. Hopefully things are clear to him, now." The man said with a disapproving tone and Ike looked annoyed but nodded.

Kyle spent the little time they had for lunch, answering Ike's many questions about the soiree. His words were careful and well chosen, omitting everything related to the alcohol, drugs and sex. He sounded cheerful while he talked with his brother, but his father was no fool. He could hear the sadness in his undertone. So, that evening, before going to bed, he confronted his eldest son. They sat at a corner of the common room so they had their privacy.

"Kyle, I need you to be honest with me." Gerald whispered. "Did something happen yesterday?" Kyle shook his head, but the man knew his son too well. "I can see something is bothering you." Kyle looked in his father's eyes and was in the verge of crying. He could never tell him about Herr Cartman. He could never come to know about this deadly sin.

"Do you remember the taste of butter in fresh baked bread? Or the feeling of warm water? Or the smell of perfumed soap?" Kyle asked in tears and his father sighed finally understanding what was paining his son so much. "Well, I didn't, but now I do and I-I wish I didn't. Because now everything is so much more difficult. Because I want to go back to that life and I know it will never happen!" Kyle said while he wept and his father embraced him warmly.

"Oh my son. You must not lose hope. One day this war will come to an end. One day the Nazis will lose and we will be free again." He whispered in Kyle's ear.

"You truly believe it, dad?" Kyle skeptically said.

"I need to. So I can be strong. For you. For Ike. Because I love you so much." He looked lovingly at his eldest son and kissed his forehead. "Remember what father Maxi said. Look to what you have and not what you lost." Kyle gave a weak smile and rested his head on his father's shoulder. And he wished he could do it. To be grateful with what he had. To believe there was still hope. Because he didn't. Not after what happened. Not anymore.

…

That night, Kyle cried silent tears. He had already let his sorrows flow, during the afternoon, while he wandered through the woman's fields. He had already cried, but too much hurt still remained in his chest. Kyle cried from the harsh reality the Jewish race lived in. A harsher reality than he ever had expected or dreamed of. How was he supposed to find hope in a world where it had died long ago? Kyle cried because there was no justice on Earth. He cried for God allowing a so called superior race find all kinds of ways to torture and kill His people. He cried for those he carried in his cart. He cried for those who still lived to see worse days and end up in gas chambers. But most of all, he cried from the hollow feeling in his chest.

Kyle couldn't understand what was going on with him. He couldn't understand why he had given himself physically and so willingly to the hateful Nazi. He had lingered around all kind of theories to explain why he had acted so willinly. To explain why he had embraced that physical pleasure so desperately. He tried to blame it on the opium and the alcohol. But he didn't believe in it. He tried to convince himself it was a sickened compensation for the sufferings he had undergone all these years. That he was so desperately in need of feeling good, that he allowed himself to dive into pleasure without second thought. But he doubted this was the reason behind his reckless behavior. Kyle figured out he had to be mad. There had to live some kind of crazy lusty and depraved creature inside of him. Because he knew, if he could turn back time, he would have done it again. Which only confused him the more and made him feel sicker about himself.

As days slowly passed by, the emptiness lessened equally slowly. Each day, the strange depressing became a bit more tolerable. The memory of that night started fading away, becoming more distant by the passing day. Kyle slowly started forgetting how the touches had felt electrifying, how the kisses had tasted sweet, how the physical union had felt so right. At a certain point, it was bearable enough to believe and accept it had been nothing but bodily urges, lust and desire; enticed by drug and alcohol. And slowly, he started believing the lies he kept telling himself every day. That there had never existed any kind of connection during their moments together.

Kyle never saw Herr Cartman again during the two months that followed the cursed night. He found it ridiculous and, till a certain point, disappointing (although he would never admit it) but the fat Nazi's absence did make his grieving process a bit easier. Sometimes Kyle wondered if Herr Cartman had succeeded in getting himself transferred to the extermination camp. He hoped so, because this meant he would never have to be confronted with his mistake, his carnal sin.

However his thoughts about Herr Cartman (which became less and less frequent) were always dark, a part of him knew, that deep down inside, he wished to see the fat Nazi one last time. Why? Kyle could not understand. He couldn't understand himself anymore. All he could understand was that, while nature slowly changed and days became sunnier and warmer, fields became green and flowers popped out everywhere; in camp Dachau nothing changed. It was always the same daily struggle. It was always the same depressing routine. It was everyday survival.

A/N

Just to let you know, in the next chapter you'll get to read Herr Cartman's point of view about their one-night stand.