Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia. I am merely a fan who appreciates the ingenious glory of such masterful tomfoolery.
Warning: Strong Language, Graphic Scenes & Anatomical Descriptions, and Violence
Chapter Eleven Characters:
-England/ Arthur Kirkland
-America/ Alfred F. Jones
-O.C./ Grenadier Lukas Beck
Time Frame: World War I
-Never Your Hero-
Chapter XI
"The sins of my soul."
'He's back!' Alfred gleefully shouted in his mind, racing from the sitting room on the second floor and taking the stairs down two at a time.
He couldn't contain the happiness and excitement flooding him; it was as though seeing the small unit of mounted red coats had burst a dam inside of him. There was only one person alive who could do that to him, only one person on this earth who could tear him away from watching the dusty road leading up to the house - and that was the one person he'd been watching the road for.
Alfred landed on the hard wood with a pounce before he took off running for the front door, grasped the door knob, and threw the heavy oak barrier open like it was nothing. On the first step before him stood a man in a red uniform, silhouetted by the sun with the rays around him spilling into the house and resting at the young American's feet. But the boy's eyes were not for the ground, they were all for the dazed face of the man above him.
He'd grown a full head taller since he last saw him, and now Alfred reached his caretaker's chest. He looked like a young lad of fourteen or fifteen, making Alfred incredibly proud of the growth spurt and he couldn't wait to show Arthur. In his excitement he failed to notice how incredibly tired the older nation seemed.
"DAD!" He shouted, leaping before wrapping his arms tightly around Arthur's midsection, making the man grunt; but eventually an unsteady hand found itself nestled atop the boy's golden hair.
"...Hello, Alfred," he replied softly, almost as if the moment still had him believing he was in a dream...one he was dying to wake up from, yet desperate to hold on to.
Alfred beamed widely, finally letting go of the Englishman as he bounced in his step, still smiling up at him. "Hey, Dad, guess what?" he exclaimed, throwing his arms wide so Arthur could see all of him. "I've gotten bigger! I measured myself against the tree outside like we used to, and I've gotten really tall! Isn't that awesome, Dad?"
Arthur remained standing in the doorway, looking down at his charge with a withdrawn expression on his face. There was a subtle upturn at the corner of his mouth, but his eyes were distant as he nodded to the boy and appraised him. "So you have, Alfred...that's wonderful."
Proud at having received his mentor's praise and approval, Alfred felt ecstatic and positively radiated happiness. But slowly the oddness of the situation began to sink in and he noticed the heaviness around Arthur for the first time. The boy cocked his head like a little bird - usually this lead to Arthur chuckling at him for looking like an owl - and his expression fell to confusion and self-consciousness. Why did Arthur look so...sad?
"Hey, Dad, are you alright?"
Arthur looked lost for a moment, and then came back to himself as he stepped into the house and closed the door behind him. The heavy latch fell into place and Arthur kept his profile turned away from Alfred for a long time... He never withdrew his hand from the knob and for a moment Alfred was afraid Arthur might suddenly open the door again and run. The boy felt incredibly upset and wondered if he'd done anything wrong to make Arthur like this. He bit his lower lip and turned desperate young eyes towards the man still frozen before him.
What had he done to make the person he loved most so upset?
"...Dad?"
Arthur looked like he had received a small shock and slowly raised his head, letting his hand fall away from the knob. He turned to look back down at his charge and appeared pained with what he saw. Alfred looked utterly lost and confused, still believing he'd done something wrong and Arthur would leave again.
The Englishman had already been gone for more than a year, leaving Alfred alone and missing him terribly. Alfred knew there was a war going on in the north, some place called New France that he'd heard Arthur talking about from time to time. Alfred had never traveled beyond the reach of his colonies, but he knew his people had. Arthur had told him that he'd be using British American troops to aid in the fighting...given it had been British American troops that had started the hostilities. He also told him a little more than six years ago that he didn't blame Alfred for the war, as Alfred hadn't been present when the conflicts took place and wasn't privy to the additional motivation behind the scenes. That had surprisingly hurt Alfred for some reason. He wanted Arthur to trust him enough to let him in on...whatever "additional motivation" he was referring to. He also wanted Arthur to let him join in the fight but the older nation refused. While Arthur had taught Alfred some of the basic mechanics of war, how to use a musket, and had even given him some history lessons on the wars he'd fought in Europe and around the world...he seemed hesitant when it came time for those lessons to be put to use.
Instead, Arthur had said he'd be leaving Alfred in charge of the colonies while he was gone. However, in the Englishman's absence, the boy had been reduced to a mere observer as the men in elected and appointed positions ran the government. He watched, sometimes he asked questions out of curiosity, but for the most part he occasionally followed directions or remained aloof.
Unless, of course, he was finding ways to amuse himself at the human officials' expenses; such as stealing a horse to go joyriding, hiding frogs in their desks, or deciding to take interest in important paperwork while running at top speed down the halls with a parade of people chasing him. Several had begun to loathe the wild little sunspot while others met his antics with patronization or chiding.
It hadn't bothered Alfred too much at the time; he was still a child and cared little for the world and responsibilities of older men. It was only when Arthur was there to teach him that he took it seriously...and that was only because the Englishman praised him when he did something right. Arthur had told him that someday he'd be responsible for all domestic affairs in British America, something Alfred met with a peculiar combination of awe and apprehension. Europeans took a lot of pride in running things, making laws, enforcing them, and squabbling over land for reasons Alfred never understood. He knew there was plenty of land out there, far more than there were people to inhabit it, so why were people starting wars to stake a claim on something no one was going to live on?
It just didn't make sense to him, but as it was important to Arthur...he didn't question his sovereign nation's wishes. Even if the pursuit of said wishes involved engaging in horrendous wars.
It had been an especially long war in the north, given the long periods of time the Englishman had been gone. It had been a bloody war, too...he heard the talk in town and a few times Arthur had even mentioned something about it. He knew the empire was strong and could handle himself (especially against that French maniac he kept telling him about), but he hated how long war would take Arthur from him and how quiet his guardian always seemed to be upon his return. Now had to be the worst Alfred had ever seen him...Had something terrible happened? Could it be that...
"...Dad...did we-" It was the most inconceivable thing, but Alfred had to know. "...Did we loose the war?"
Arthur's expression was blank and his body looked stiff. He was quiet for a tense moment before he shook his head and tried to soften his expression, but sadly this made Alfred more worried than relieved. "No, Alfred...we didn't loose the-" He cut himself off as something flashed in his mind before he sighed and continued, "war..."
The young American smiled, though his eyes remained concerned. "That's great, Dad! So you kicked France's butt and can stay home with me for a while? ...Before you go back to England?"
At the mention of France, Arthur looked like someone had slapped him across the face; but Alfred optimistically played it off as one of the usual negative reactions Arthur gave when the French were mentioned. The boy was more focused on probing an answer out of his caretaker about staying for a time in America before leaving on the ships to his other home...well, his real home.
London was a place Alfred had never seen, but wished he could go to if it meant spending less time alone and more time with Arthur.
Finally, the man in red seemed to find the will to speak and what he said startled his young ward. "Alfred...what do you think of me?"
Alfred seemed taken aback by this. His sky-blue eyes widened and he seemed even more confused by Arthur's question. What did he think of him? Had he not made it clear enough all these years?
Alfred smiled. "I love you, Dad. You're my best friend and take care of me, so you're the best person in the world!" No one else cared about him as much as Arthur, so to think anything less than wonderful of the man was beyond him.
The Englishman seemed to relax and warm a little at that, a subtle smile gracing his lips, but there was still great sadness in his eyes. "You took care of yourself perfectly well before I arrived...but I thank you for your kindness. I meant...I meant what kind of man do you think I am? You know about some of the wars I've fought, you know I've taken lives and have even conquered whole nations...I know you've heard some of the negative talk about me in town..."
Alfred scoffed and rolled his eyes. "As if I believe any of it, Dad. I know you personally, so I know the truth and don't pay attention to the lies."
Arthur was silent at that, but his mind wondered, 'What will happen the day you learn the real truths in those lies?'
Sighing, the Englishman continued. "Perhaps I should phrase this another way," he said, looking directly into Alfred's eyes to gauge his reaction. "What would you do if I killed a man right in front of you? What would you think of me then? ...Would you think me to be a monster?"
Again Alfred looked befuddled, but seemed like he was seriously contemplating the question. He wasn't used to homecomings filled with so many questions like this, but Arthur seemed very upset and the proper answer might just cheer him up.
"I know you wouldn't just kill anyone, dad...you'd have a reason, and a good one, so I wouldn't think of you as a monster for doing what's right."
"Have I not taught you that our religion forbids the taking of life?"
Alfred smiled as he proudly replied, "But there are exceptions, like war and on behalf of God." He felt himself very clever for remembering that.
"But out of spite or personal gain it is forbidden. Would you hate me for my sin if you knew I had killed for those very reasons?"
Now Alfred was getting uncomfortable and cast his eyes to the floor. Arthur wouldn't do something like that. Good men didn't kill for selfish reasons...and Arthur was a good man, so maybe this was a test, like those hypothetical lessons the Englishman was always giving him.
...But...why didn't this feel like one?
"...I'd forgive you. I owe you so much and I've seen how selfless you can be...I think God could forgive you too if you asked Him. Isn't that what faith is all about?"
Arthur paused, still watching the child, analyzing him, and finally he closed his eyes and leaned back against the door with a sigh. Alfred was biting his lip again, afraid he'd said something wrong, but eventually Arthur returned his gaze and paused whatever apology was forthcoming.
"So...you'd stand before God and argue in my defense, even if I deserved whatever punishment there was?"
Alfred quickly nodded. "Of course!"
"And what if my enemies slew me before you could come to my defense? What if vengeance by those I had wronged was the punishment I deserved?"
The child's expression was frantic at first, but then bled away to cautious amusement. "Come on, dad...no one's stronger than you. You're invincible, right dad?"
Arthur didn't lighten up at this; in fact, he looked more solemn. "...No man or nation is invincible, Alfred...Even Rome fell to ashes."
It was a rare moment for Alfred, one the Englishman never saw when he'd first taken the boy under the claim of the empire, but one he was seeing more often as he got older. Alfred's face suddenly seemed to age; the color of his sky-blue eyes darkened as they narrowed. His body stood a little taller, his expression like a barely restrained guard for the fire burning beneath and making his presence all the more intimidating. Times like this reminded people how incredibly strong the child was, how he could easily crush a man with the power contained in his little body. He looked set, determined, and more like the being he was destined to become than the adolescent most knew him to be. Arthur saw such potential in this expression, in that ever-building fire...but at the same time it made his stomach churn.
It was the fire of passion - passion and the will to act upon it. There was power and solid resolve within those flames, something Arthur himself had only experienced akin to war.
Seeing that reflected in Alfred...and in the other boy who practically mirrored his face...Arthur felt the cold hands of dread straining to seize his heart.
The deadly calm of Alfred's tone sent a shiver down Arthur's spine, but he held still as he watched the shadow of Alfred's potential merge with his present. "I'd destroy the men who hurt you and find a way to ask God for you back."
Too afraid to address the last part, Arthur replied, "...Even if my enemies were stronger than you, fighting for a cause they felt worthy enough to kill for...would you still fight knowing you couldn't win?"
Alfred didn't hesitate. "I would fight and I would win," he said. "It's only a question of how long it would take."
"...I see..." The Englishman replied in a low voice. His eyes lowered and for a moment silence passed between them.
After having seen this very look in the eyes of a child more silent than the one before him...Arthur now knew what words would have been spoken had the child a voice with which to speak. He knew how he would have reacted had he the strength to...
He would have avenged Francis and begged God for his Papa back.
The empire had fought and he had won. It had been war, but it was a war fought for selfish reasons and personal gain. It had been fought out of spite behind an imperialistic disguise; one justified by all the right words and none of the meaning. How long would God spare him before the child of France rose against him? ...What of the potential for Alfred to do the same?
Revenge was a powerful thing, almost as much as divine punishment.
Suddenly, Arthur felt a light tug on one of his bangs. He looked up and found Alfred before him, his face soft and light again with the innocence of his age. Sky-blue eyes met his own with a silent smile and none of the fire from before. Arthur couldn't stand to see such forgiveness in the same face that silently condemned him. He had never felt such bitterness in victory as he did now, and he couldn't tell a soul beyond the one standing before him. One who didn't understand...one he prayed would never understand...The thought brought him such sorrow as inevitability washed over him.
He wondered if Rome had ever felt like this.
"Don't be sad. It's just a lesson, right, dad?"
Arthur's arms wrapped around Alfred's smaller body, pulling him tightly into an embrace as he pressed his face into the boy's soft hair...
And let the golden strands soak up the silent tears that fell.
Repairing broken bones was the worst. It was his least favorite part of healing.
The feeling of the hard compact osseous tissue grating over itself was incredibly cringe-worthy, but what really hurt were the spongier insides of the bone reforming. When the blood vessels and nerves began reconnecting...dear God, that was horrendously painful. Because he was a nation, the process of healing and reforming was a rapidly accelerated affair. It was all great and dandy when one needed a speedy recovery to return to the battlefield, but the agony of being aware of the process was hellish.
Especially ribs...oh God, he hated regrowing ribs!
He felt each bone rebuilding itself, repairing fractured areas and pulling the excess blood that had soaked into the surrounding tissue back into its rightful place. He could feel each rib bone sliding beneath his skin and reattaching to the costal cartilage along his sternum. When the elastic union flexed the punctured lungs mended beneath the newly formed thoracic cage, allowing him full respirations without difficultly. The crack along his pelvis that nearly bisected his ilium, compacted and hardened; the process feeling like someone had taken sandpaper to his hip and worried the bone despite his protests. The newly opened veins and arteries flooded him with warmth as blood began to circulate properly, making color return to his deprived complexion. Muscle repair was made easier once proper blood flow was restored, and the heat helped to soothe away some of the pain.
He had slipped in and out of darkness for what felt like a long time after Arthur had left him. He remembered briefly becoming aware of sounds and feeling as someone jostled him from wherever he'd been resting. The smell of burning metal and fire, the sweat of whoever was carrying him, and diesel fuel were still thick in his memory; but now all he could smell was cool dampness and dirt.
He was on his back, something he was made aware of when he moved his head to the side and felt dirt give way beneath him. He sighed, no longer in that odd between-state that had him coming in and out of consciousness. His eyes slid open and for a moment he was very confused...
Why was it so dark...and where were his glasses?
Alfred tried not to groan as he lifted a hand to his face and rubbed his eyes. He was getting a headache, but thankfully it wasn't due to a head injury...just a lack of glasses. Sliding his hand up through his hair, Alfred turned his head to his left and vaguely saw two shapes outlined against a low flickering light. He tried to squint and make out more, but any attempts to identify the figures fled him as his eyes locked on to the silver glint of a gun hanging from one of the figure's hands.
A person was sitting on the ground, back pressed against what looked like a high dirt wall that connected to a ceiling held up by crude yet thick wooden beams. It kind of reminded him of the mines he'd seen in California, but he wasn't so sure if there were mines in...whatever part of Europe this was. Regardless, figuring all that out took second to his attention on the person with the gun.
There was a figure lying on the ground next to the hunched-over person against the wall. The person's back was towards Alfred so he couldn't see his face...but that didn't matter. He knew who it was when a jolt ran through him and ice seized his insides.
It was Arthur, and he wasn't moving.
Without thinking, Alfred's hand shot down to the holster at his side as he simultaneously pushed himself up into a kneeling position. The figure with the gun jumped and nearly dropped the weapon in his startled state...but quickly froze as they both realized that Alfred's hand was empty.
Someone had relieved him of his gun.
There was a tense moment of silence before the man across from him slowly raised his free hand as the other lowered to leave the handgun on the ground. Alfred, still reeling that his hand was empty, watched with tense alertness as the man raised his now empty hands, palms out, and tried to show he was unarmed.
Alfred was deeply suspicious. Why the hell was this guy surrendering to another guy without a gun?
"Peace, peace..." The person whispered.
Now Alfred was really confused. Not only was that the heaviest German accent he'd ever heard, but...it...sounded like a kid.
"Who the hell are you?" Alfred growled, slowly moving the hand that had originally gone for the gun down to search for the knife usually on his back.
Surprise, surprise. That was missing too.
The young man shook his head and seemed to be frantically searching for an answer, "N-Not going to shoot."
"That's not what I asked you," Alfred bit back, eyes quickly moving between the kid and Arthur...who still hadn't moved. His eyes went to the gun on the ground, originally thinking how best to grab it before quickly realizing it was a revolver. Arthur's revolver.
Unbelievable anger burst inside the American.
"What the hell did you do to him!" He shouted, immediately on his feet and towering over the German.
The sudden hostility from the American made the young soldier quickly press himself further back into the wall, staring wide-eyed at the man before him. "Er ist verletzt, nicht tot! Nicht tot!" He exclaimed, but seeing as this didn't seem to make any sense to the American, he swallowed and struggled with saying it in English. "N-not dead! Injured, not dead!"
It was hard to make out the words through the kid's panic and heavy accent, but a swell of hope surged inside of Alfred, though he tried his best to combat it. He wouldn't believe it until he saw it, he had to see Arthur alive and well by his own standards or the little bastard was gonna pay.
Never taking his eyes from the German, Alfred (feeling slightly lightheaded as he found himself standing for the first time in a while) stepped parallel to the boy. His body still ached and the stiffness of his newly reformed bones and joints made moving difficult, but he was more concerned about his colleague than himself, making his way first to the gun, securing it, then over to Arthur.
Crouching by the Englishman's head, Alfred reached down and pressed two fingers to his neck. There was a slow but steady pulse that proved the man was alive, something that made Alfred's heart leap, but upon tearing his eyes away from the German he found the entire front of the Brit's uniform stained with blood. To make matters worse there were dried patches of darkness in the dirt below his abdomen...meaning he'd been actively bleeding when he either fell or was placed in this position.
Giving a glare of warning to the German, who was still pressed against the wall with his arms up, Alfred kept the revolver in one hand and slowly rolled Arthur onto his back so he could better assess his injuries. To his surprise, Arthur's belts had already been removed and his tunic was unbuttoned; he slid the garment open and found that someone had already bandaged whatever wound had been there. Alfred blinked, unsure of whether Arthur had done this himself or...
His eyes slid up to the kid, question already on his face as the boy sighed and shrugged. "Ich...tried."
Surprise couldn't be any more profound on the American's face as he looked back at the bandages and then back to the kid. "You did this?"
Even though his vision was blurry at this distance, he could see the German flush and look away, nodding, "Ja...both..."
Alfred quirked an eyebrow at that; both of them? Was there another injury? Alfred looked down and quickly started searching for any more wounds, but other than a healed cut on Arthur's jaw and what looked to be a closed wound on his leg, he couldn't find any.
"What do you mean?" He finally asked after giving up his search.
The young man gnawed on his lower lip before he motioned with his head to the two rifles leaning up against the wall behind Alfred. The American looked and still didn't understand what the kid was getting at-
...Oh.
Alfred glanced back at the kid before looking down at Arthur's bandaged torso. Being very careful, Alfred began to peel back the adhesive holding the gauze to the skin and exposed the wound. He heard a stifled protest from the German, but ignored it as he looked at the fresh scar tissue covering a vertical split in the skin. There was dried blood around the site, but the wound was completely sealed with new pink flesh. Alfred gingerly touched the area and ran his thumb along the scar before glancing back at the rifles. This wasn't a bullet wound, this was a stab wound.
Likely from a bayonet.
When Alfred pulled off the last of the bandages before buttoning Arthur's tunic, he glanced up to see the boy staring at the new scar as if mesmerized. Alfred bet he had never seen an injury heal so fast, let alone a life-threatening one. He couldn't think of what could have possibly possessed the German to stab Arthur then bandaged him back up, but he was still grateful.
Absolutely nothing about the current state of affairs made sense: being stuck in a place that looked like a mine with an unconscious Englishman, a teenage German soldier, and all in the middle of war-torn France was just insane. But…it was acceptable if he and Arthur still had life in them.
So, might as well break the ice.
"Hey kid," Alfred began, startling the German as he tore his wide eyes from Arthur's torso and back to the American. "What's your name?"
The boy-soldier blinked and looked surprised. "Mein Name?"
Alfred nodded, finishing his task before sitting back on his heels as he holstered the revolver at his side. "Yeah. I'm Alfred, and you are...?"
The German seemed to feel a bit better when the weapon was out of the American's hand, and slowly he lowered his arms and sat a bit more relaxed. "Grenadier Lukas Beck...um...E-es freut mich, Sie kennenzulernen."
Alfred made a face, like he was trying to process what the kid said, but ultimately nothing came to him. "...Uh...sorry about this...Lukas?" He asked, receiving a nod that that was indeed the young soldier's name. "I don't understand a lick of German."
The German gave him a look like the man was either mad or possibly unintelligent. 'A lick of German'? What on earth did that mean?
Alfred looked puzzled at the reaction, then sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "Uh...guess you don't understand much English, huh?"
The boy swallowed and tried to formulate a response. "I u-understand...more than...speaking..." In truth he read and wrote English much better than he spoke it. His older brothers, who were fluent, teased him all the time about how goofy his English sounded. He just couldn't make the words sound natural, no matter how hard he tried.
Alfred seemed to perk up a bit at this and smiled...before looking a bit sheepish. "Ah, then you've got one up on me. I don't speak or understand your language at all."
The young man sighed and shrugged again, letting his legs extend from their bent position and just seemed resigned. "Es ist...okay..."
If circumstances had been different Alfred would have felt a bit like an uncultured schmuck, but as it was he figured the war would forgive him for not knowing a foreign language. "Since you understand me, okay...do you think you're up to answering some questions if I keep them simple and yes or no?"
Lukas's face soured, like he wanted to protest something...but eventually he settled for sighing again and nodded his head.
The kid looked like he'd offended him, and Alfred could see how, but he just didn't know any other way to do it. "Alright...first...where are we?"
"The tunnels," Lukas replied, having no difficulty with it.
Alfred, however, looked like he'd just spoken Russian. "Tunnels?"
Lukas nodded and pointed to the side of Arthur's tunic, towards his pocket.
Alfred's eyes followed his direction and looked at the pocket before reaching in and fishing out what looked like a map drawn on a sectional of a sheet. He recognized the topography of France (he'd seen it enough times during those infernal meetings), but the German words and red lines all over the place befuddled him. So...these were the tunnels...under France?
Wait, there were tunnels under France?
"Where are we on this map?" Alfred asked, thinking about passing it to the kid, but it didn't seem necessary as the boy replied.
"Im Süden des Arras."
Arras? Okay, that was a name he recognized...since the first word kind of sounded like "south", he looked back at the map and decided it was the best generalized idea he was going to get. South of Arras...it didn't really narrow it down, but it proved that they'd never made it to Belgium.
"Okay, how long have we been in the tunnels?" He asked, then glance down at the Englishman. "...Had Arthur made it here on his own?" His expression was more worried than before and the German picked up on it.
The boy looked between Alfred and the British man who'd brought him here at gunpoint. They had never exchanged names, something Lukas guessed Alfred didn't know enemy soldiers weren't suppose to do. If enemies exchanged names then it humanized them, thus making it harder to kill then when the time came. Lukas had only given Alfred his because he had hoped it would keep the American from hurting him. He...kind of regretted it now. He also wished Alfred hadn't told him the Englishman's name.
He had nearly given in to the urge to kill the enemy soldier when he first passed out; now he regretted having nearly killed the man named Arthur.
"...Ich weiß nicht, um...many...hours, I think," Lukas replied after a time, rubbing the back of his neck nervously as he tried to hide his shame.
Alfred thought about it, then nodded and figured that it sounded about right, given how healed he was. He could never say he'd been in a train explosion, knocked around like a rag-doll, then had a ton of metal dropped on him...but he figured a good "many hours" would be what it would take to bring him back to functionality. Arthur, however...damn, he was a mess.
"You and Arthur both brought me here?"
Lukas nodded. The trip had been long and the man named Arthur had had to take several rest periods to bring them this far, but eventually he couldn't continue and they ended up here in a smaller offshoot of the main tunnel - one ended by a cave-in so there would be no chance of enemies sneaking up on them.
It hadn't been long after Arthur had set Alfred down that Lukas has grabbed the Luger in Arthur's belt and pulled it on him. The Englishman had been far too exhausted from his injuries and the blood loss to fight him, but he had said something to Lukas that made him hesitate yet again. The man passed out shortly after. By that point, the young soldier couldn't bring himself to kill two unconscious men and simply refilled the oil in his lantern then proceeded to provide novice first aid.
He had been waiting there ever since, unsure of what to do or where to go. He'd been taught to follow orders all his life, whether they were from his family, instructors, or his military superiors...so...on his own he just couldn't make a decision.
His entire unit was gone. Even though he hadn't been with them for very long he had still formed a kind of camaraderie with them. They talked about their families a lot, some of them joking that a good kid like him might someday be worthy of marrying one of their daughters. His Oberleutnant had been very strict and demanding, but he had been a seasoned soldier and led their unit in several successful raids since Lukas joined. Lukas greatly respected the man, and the Leutnant too. The Leutnant had been the near opposite of the commander; the man was almost always smiling and cracking jokes, always trying to lighten the mood and keep morale high.
They all knew the war wasn't going well. They were all tired and hated being trapped behind enemy lines, just sitting and waiting to relay intelligence and cut off Allied supply transports. But Leutnant Müller always found a way to make them laugh, magic an extra canteen of stale beer out of thin air, or provide advice to help cope with another day without change.
He and the Leutnant had survived the stick grenade because they'd been checking the last of the train cars; but the Leutnant hadn't survived the bullet from Arthur's gun when he'd tried to surprise him atop the coach. Lukas had been beneath the ladder when he'd been shot...he still hadn't cleaned all the man's blood off his face and clothes.
A burning sensation began to prickle at the back of his eyes, his sinuses burned and he felt the telltale wetness collecting above his lashes. He hadn't allowed himself to cry since it all happened; he had felt so ashamed for not being able to avenge them, people he really counted as friends, and people who had trusted him. He'd been young, they all suspected he was a lot younger than his paperwork stated, but they expected him to pull his own weight just like everyone else. He tried his best and had even received praise for it. He really felt accepted after a while, even though he'd never fired his rifle once since training. He hadn't killed anyone, not like the others had, but they actually seemed to like that best about him.
One of his friends, a man named Niclas, had said having him around reminded them all of what they were fighting for. Niclas had often told him about his son at home, a young man Lukas had reminded him a lot of...Most of them said that...that he reminded them of home.
Niclas had been their radio operator and the others he knew had been around the rifle cache when the attack began.
As he really felt like he was going to lose his battle against his tears, the man named Alfred crouched down on his haunches before him. Lukas stared at him, still dismayed, but not so much afraid anymore. It wasn't that getting hurt or dying wasn't frightening to him, but he sensed from Alfred that, unlike Arthur, he really wasn't going to harm him. He didn't know how he knew...but he did, and it made him want to cry all the more.
"Hey..." The American began and then, in a move that shocked Lukas, raised his index finger and poked the bridge of the young German's nose. "Have you seen my glasses anywhere? It's hard as heck to see you without my specs."
Lukas blinked. The question caught him completely off guard as he automatically began trying to remember what the American's glasses looked like. It took him a few moments before he realized that he had removed the glasses after tending to Brit.
The American moved a lot in his sleep, like he was in pain, and Lukas had feared the spectacles would be crushed during his tossing.
The German hastily reached down to the space next to him and with a shaky hand retrieved the eyewear before handing it to Alfred. The man smiled and took them gratefully, wiping them off on the edge of his tunic before putting them on.
It took a few blinks, but Alfred's vision eventually cleared and he was able to see the kid for the first time.
...Damn, he looked young.
His pale face was speckled with long since dried blood and his uniform didn't look much better. His hair was flat and blond; his eyes a very light blue and wide like a deer's. The boy's obvious fear aside, it seemed like his eye were just naturally larger than most, which added to the youthful appearance of his soft face. He didn't have the fully developed body of a man - he was still lanky and thin with no facial hair on his angled chin. Alfred guesstimated his height to be about 5'6'' or 5'7'', making him much shorter than himself or Arthur. He looked like he weighed next to nothing, the fact that his uniform was too big for him only added to that assumption.
Alfred had seen child soldiers before. In the Revolution, men and women of all ages had helped in the effort for independence. In the Civil War...he still had images of young men donning blue or gray uniforms as they charged the blood-soaked fields. The memories hurt him deeply inside when he thought of the young lives lost in wars to either give birth to or preserve his country. Now, here in Europe...he found more of them...
Despite the terrible thoughts in his head, Alfred still managed to smile for Lukas, "There we go! Thanks, I really needed these. Not only am I blind as a bat without them, but it gives me one heck of a headache to be spec-less too long."
Lukas gave Alfred a dumbfounded look, but nodded in response and swallowed. "Uh...Bitte Schön..." He replied, now eyeing Alfred with something akin to suspicion. The moods were just changing too fast for him, and while he still didn't think Alfred would hurt him...he was a very, very strange man.
Then again, Lukas had never met an American before so he couldn't be sure if it was just Alfred or if all Americans were like this.
"Hmm," Alfred hummed and cocked his head, still smiling. "I guess that means 'you're welcome'. So, Lukas, think you can grab the supplies and help me and Sleeping Beauty navigate our way out of here? I'd really appreciate the help."
That one staggered him. This guy was asking for his help? Even suggesting he help carry supplies -which were mainly guns- and navigate? Needless to say, that was not what Lukas was expecting.
For goodness sake, a half-dead Englishman had brought him here at gunpoint and now an American was acting like his best friend! What was with these people?
Knowing there really wasn't any point in saying no, Lukas nodded and slowly drew himself up as Alfred mirrored him. Seeing Alfred at his full height made the boy feel a little more self-conscious. Ach du grüne Neune, the man was a giant! It wasn't just his height, but the American was muscular and fully-grown compared to his own fifteen year old body.
Restraining the urge to cringe, Lukas looked back to Arthur and raised an eyebrow to Alfred, asking if he wanted help carrying the Englishman.
Alfred followed him, but turned back and gave him a pat on the shoulder that made the boy jump. "Nah, don't worry about Arthur, I'll take care of him. I'll dress him back up in the gear and carry him if you'll just hold the lantern and lead the way...I assume Arthur might have given you a destination in mind, so if you could just get us there that'd be great."
Still not really sure if there were any catches or ulterior motives at work - after all, the Allies were the enemy - Lukas just nodded and continued to watch Alfred suspiciously as he happily gave the German an 'atta boy'. The American began to head over to the rifles, grabbing them before carefully sitting Arthur up and pulling the rifle slings in a cross over the Englishman's back.
Ah, so he wasn't entrusting him with the weapons...that, surprisingly, made Lukas feel a little better.
Alfred reattached Arthur's utility belt, then reached for the one Lukas had removed from him in his sleep, sliding it back around his waist. The American also retrieved and holster his Colt semi-automatic, the one Lukas had practically been sitting on, and returned Arthur's revolver to the Brit's side. Alfred paused for a moment...then turned to Lukas, standing not far from him...
His eyes scanned the young soldier before returning to his face. "I'll let you keep the knife on your back if it makes you feel better, but rest assured, I will confiscate it if you try anything...understand?" He said, still with that harmless smile, but his eyes were dark with warning.
The German swallowed and turned his body to the side, knife away from Alfred's line of sight, as he nodded. To be honest he did feel better knowing he had a knife, but at the same time he knew he'd be a fool to use it...
He had seen the injuries on both men and they were still alive...what good was a knife going to do against...whatever had helped them survive?
Satisfied, Alfred turned back to Arthur and began to pick him up. Lukas was quite impressed by how easily Alfred seemed to take the man's weight; he and Arthur had had a time getting the American even this far, but Alfred didn't look strained at all. With a quick shift, Alfred had Arthur settled on his back and steady as he hooked his arms beneath his legs. He seemed to be taking great care with the Englishman, and turned to look over his shoulder to see Arthur's cheek pressed against it.
Lukas found himself wondering just what these two were doing this far north of France with no unit, no reinforcements, and clearly no way to get in contact with their allies. It was clear they had some kind of connection, and based on what he'd seen he knew the American had been badly hurt before he'd met the Englishman. Had it been a rescue mission or had the American been that damaged in the attack on the train? Maybe they had been separated from their fellows and were trying to make their way back? His imagination kept the possible scenarios coming, but it always left him wondering.
Especially about the pair's uncanny ability to survive. No matter the scenario, the facts were that these two had taken many fatal hits and yet they were both still alive. This...fascinated him.
"Ready to go?"
The boy snapped from his thoughts and quickly moved to grab the lantern and oil canteen he'd left where he'd been sitting. Returning the canteen to his belt, he slowly moved forward to take the map from Alfred's hand before quickly looking over it. He knew where Arthur had indicated he wanted to go, or at least he assumed so, and he turned his head towards the north and froze.
Was he really going to do this? One of these men had wiped out his entire unit, men who had been his only friends in this war. Both of them were with the enemy and both of them had threatened his life. While the American seemed pleasant now, he had already made it known that he would turn in an instant if the German tried to resist...
Could he live with himself if he aided these Allied agents?
"I don't know how you ended up with us...but I am grateful to you."
Lukas stiffened and couldn't bring himself to turn around. The American's tone was calm and sincere, but his words still hurt the boy all the same. No, the man didn't know what had happened less than a day or so ago...but did that make him innocent of being Arthur's accomplice? The thought weighed heavy on his heart and eventually he turned to look at the American over his shoulder.
"...Why?" He hated how small and pained his voice sounded, but he couldn't help it. He felt both small and his chest was constricting, making it hard to hold the tears back.
However it happened, Alfred seemed to sense this and his eyes and smile softened.
The soldier inside of Lukas hated that sympathetic look, but the child within wanted to cling to it. He'd never been the toughest kid, not like his brothers, and were it not for his family's standing he would have been subject to worse bullying than he had already endured. He wasn't the bravest; just leaving home to join the army without his parent's knowledge had taken so much on his part. Even getting through basic training had been a trial. He knew he wasn't physically strong, he was young, and his lack of build really worked against him...He hadn't been able to save the men in his unit and he hadn't even been able to avenge them when he had the chance. As far as he was concerned...he had done everything wrong that he possibly could have.
Now he was helping the enemy. He was so sick of himself he could barely stand it, so why the hell would this man be grateful to him?
"I know you were waiting with us for a long time. You could have killed us both and run away, but you didn't. I respect those who don't take advantage of the defenseless - it takes a good person to do that, especially considering we're enemies," Alfred replied and nodded his head towards Arthur, his smile growing a little. "Aside from that, putting up with Arthur isn't the easiest thing in the world and you seem to have done it in spades. You deserve a medal for that alone."
Lukas stared at the American for a while before looking away. He knew the man was trying to lighten the mood - his mood, specifically - but Lukas really didn't want to feel better at the moment. He wondered if Alfred would have been so kind in making this attempt if he knew exactly what his partner had done. Lukas had never seen such devastation before the...massacre. It was like a malicious act of God, and his faith had never been so shaken before that event. He felt a numbness washing over him at the memory, something he had noticed happen from time to time while he sat and watched the two Allied agents in their unconscious states. It came in waves, like a high tide that stifled the emotions before it swept back out to sea, leaving him raw, open, and vulnerable.
If he wasn't drowning, he was choking on air.
Silently, Lukas moved forward and began to head back for the main vein of the tunnel. His decision made, he silently listened to Alfred following behind him as they stepped out of the corridor.
Alfred was wondering if maybe he had said something offensive or if the language barrier prevented the kid from understanding what he'd meant. He felt bad that he hadn't cheered the kid up at all and sighed as he carried Arthur onward. He guessed it might be a while before the two of them could converse again...
This was going to be a long trip.
After the several hours in silence, the young German seemed to relax enough to allow the American to interact with him again. Alfred had been thankful for the break in monotony, though Lukas had signaled to him that he should keep his voice down as sound traveled easily underground.
Lukas found that this ritual had to be repeated at least three times an hour; honestly, the American had no volume control.
"So, really, the closest I've ever come to being underground like this was in California. Next to Texas, it's the biggest state back home and full of all kinds of people!" Alfred exclaimed, rambling on as Lukas was between trying to keep up and trying to quiet him down. "If you ever get the chance, you should go visit it. I'll bet you've never seen anything like San Francisco, you'll love it!"
Regardless of how interested he was in learning about America (and make no mistake he was, he'd always been fascinated by lands beyond the ones he knew), he quickly put his finger to his lips again and desperately tried to keep Alfred's voice down. They had been very lucky not to come across any wanderers or patrols this deep into the network, and Lukas wanted to avoid confrontations at all cost.
While he was longing to see his countrymen again, he didn't want the frighteningly strong American hurting them...and he was beginning to care about Alfred's wellbeing as well. The American reminded him a lot of his Leutnant. He bet the two would have gotten along very well, even despite the language barrier.
The thought made him miss the Leutnant even more, and he decided not to think about comparing Alfred to him again.
In an attempt to keep his mind off of it, Lukas decided to try again to converse in English. "I think you...should see Biebrich, wo ich herko - ...ah...where...I come from."
Alfred turned to look at him, still carrying Arthur on his back like he hadn't been for the past several miles, and smiled. "Beeb-rick, huh?" Alfred replied, making Lukas frown as he butchered the name. "That sounds like a cool name. Is it a city?"
Lukas thought about it for a moment, trying to remember what a 'city' was, and then shook his head. "Est ist...ah...village. It is a good size, and on the Rhine...it is in...Preußen area." He hoped that made sense, he still felt self-conscious about his English speaking abilities.
Alfred knew what a village was - though in America they called them townships or just towns. He knew that the Rhine was a large river somewhere in Germany, and Prussia (since he guessed that's what "Preußen" meant) was a massive part of the German empire. However, as for being able to visualize these things...he honestly couldn't. Again, his lack of worldly knowledge and travel was showing and it made him a little sad. He had been pretty much an isolationist since the Revolution, even more so after the Civil War. He had sealed his boarders from anything more than trade for a long time, and he never had any desire to leave North America unless he was forced. This was the farthest he'd ever been into Europe and it was pretty much the equivalence to backpacking it underground.
Well...not that Arthur was a backpack, but the experience was pretty much the same.
"How long have you been away from home?" Alfred asked.
Lukas's expression dampened, but he still managed to answer, "Little more then one-half Jahr."
Alfred seemed surprised that the kid had been there longer than he had. He and Pershing had only arrived in June, and it was now...what, September? It had to be by now, they had just been wrapping up the tail end of August and the weather was getting cooler...or well, it had been the last time he'd seen it. Still, the boy had been here for what Alfred considered a long time...he felt bad for him.
Didn't his parents miss him? ...Maybe it wasn't wise to pry.
"I know you said your rank before was...uh...a 'grenadier'? ...So, what is that, exactly? Are you an explosives specialist or something?" Alfred seemed very interested in that. How insane (and cool) would that be if the kid were a bomb expert?
Lukas flushed at that and quickly waved an arm in a gesture of frantic protest, "Nein, nein! Uh, G-Grenadier ist...uh...pawn?" He replied, though he seemed to question his English translation.
Alfred's eyes widened. "...You mean like in Chess?"
The German smacked his forehead and groaned. "Nein, nein...bad...word use," he said, trying to come up with an English equivalent to his rank. "Uh...-! Oh! Infanterist- er, Infantryman!" He said suddenly, proud he remembered the word.
Again Alfred seemed surprised, but at least that rank made more sense than 'pawn'. "Wait...you're in the infantry?"
Lukas nodded, pretty sure he'd chosen the correct word, and smiled. "Ja, like wie meine Brüder. Und mein Onkel ist Erster GeneralstabsoffizierLudwig Beck...um...I...do not know this in English," he ended shyly, his earlier pride and enthusiasm dwindling a bit.
The American looked like he was trying to decipher Ancient Egyptian and just stared at the boy with a stupefied expression. Lukas could have given him his entire family lineage and the only words he would have understood were "like" and "um".
Ugh, that's it! When he got out of this war he was learning another damn language.
"S-sorry..." Lukas said, picking up on Alfred's distress.
"Oh, no, don't worry about it," Alfred quickly responded, giving him as big a smile as he could to reassure him he wasn't upset with him. "It's just...in my country we have people from all over the world who live there, Germans too, but our most-spoken language is English. I'm afraid that I never really took to learning any languages beyond that...but, hey, it's cool that you know more than one," He said, praising the boy. "I think that's awesome!"
For the first time since these two men came into his life, Lukas gave a real smile and could actually admit to himself that...he liked this American. He was odd, only spoke one language, talked a lot in high volumes and was technically his enemy...but he wasn't a bad person.
His smile was contagious and his personality was warm. Lukas felt a lot better and at that moment realized that he had almost completely forgotten they were in a war against one another.
He wished they weren't...he could use a friend like Alfred.
"Danke...that means thank you, in German," he replied.
Alfred gave a comical expression and tried his hand at the word, "Donkey."
Lukas's eyes widened before he threw his head back and laughed until his sides hurt, grabbing them as tears suddenly flowed from his eyes. It was hard to walk like that, but eventually he heard Alfred laughing too before a stuttered 'shh' on Alfred's part tried to quiet him down...even though he was still laughing too.
"Shh-hh-hh! Hey, aren't you always on me about being quiet?" The American struggled to get out through his chuckling.
The German wiped his eyes, still laughing but trying to stifle it, though an ungraceful snort on his part sent him back into a fit.
Through it all, Arthur remained unconscious against Alfred's shaking form, something that amazed Lukas as he breathed out the last few giggled and dried his face.
He hadn't laughed like that in ages.
"We need...to work on your German," Lukas finally said, giving Alfred a smile before glancing back down at the map.
"What, you didn't like my donkey?"
Trying hard to keep from laughing again, Lukas shook his head. "Its danke, not 'donkey'."
Alfred gave a dramatic sigh for effect and rolled his eyes. "Very well. Say, how much longer do we have to go? My 'rucksack' is getting heavy," he said referring to Arthur, but not looking strained in the least. He was just trying to keep the kid's cheer going.
Lukas looked back at the map and followed the trail with his eyes...then bit his lower lip. The decision he'd made when he first started leading Alfred was looking less and less...right.
He hadn't planned to take Alfred and Arthur to Arras...he meant to lead them to Cambrai, where the Germans firmly held the key supply route and had the strongest presence in this area south of Belgium. Lukas would be among allies there and could turn over the butcher of his comrades and his accomplice before informing the commanders there of what happened. He would be safe and the Allied agents would be taken into custody and likely executed.
It was the perfect plan, given Alfred seemed more gullible than the ever-suspicious Arthur (who knew much more German than Alfred, and thus would be harder to fool)...
"Hey, there's a fork up ahead," Alfred's voice came, breaking his thoughts as he looked up at the duel paths before them. "Which way should we go?"
There was a suspended moment of silence as Lukas made his second decision since being rendered commander-less.
The young man turned and began heading down the right path, "Follow me...we have time...I can teach you more German."
Alfred smiled, and fell in step beside the boy-soldier.
To Be Continued…
Notes from the Author:
Woooooow…that only took me like, forever and a day 'n a half…=^_^;= I actually meant to finish this up and have it sent out to my Beta on Sunday…buuuut…well, if you're American or know anything about American Football…8DDD LAST SUNDAY WAS SUPER BOWL XLV! *stops screaming in awesomeness for a moment and blushes at the cricket chirping* =_= What? DX I'm an NFL fan, so sue me. I know my team didn't make it this year (*sigh* Oh my Philadelphia Eagles, why must you disappoint me every year?) but my Dad's team made it and so I cheered on the Green Bay Packers (who, ironically enough, crushed my beloved Eagle's Super Bowl dreams). I am pleased to report; Green Bay fought a hard game against the Pittsburgh Steelers and won (sorry if you're a Steelers fan, just know that MY team didn't win the Lambardi either XP…again). Oooookay, back to apologizing for my tardiness…SORRY THERE ISN'T MUCH ACTION IN THIS CHAPTER! After the slaughter fest of the last one, I figured a tinsie-bit of a cool down period was in order. So I started ya'll off with a light and sweet appetizer, then followed up with a heavy hot plate of juicy angst beef (lol), and ended with a fun filled dessert…with an after-dinner mint of cliffhanger thrown in. X3 No charge.
AS ALWAYS, THANK YOU SO MUCH TO MY GLORIOUS BETA EDITORLady Hedervary! You rock my world!
Alrighty, before I get into the notes, I'd like to say that this chapter is dedicated to my German advisor MelodyofStarshine. XD She's been so wonderful and patient in correcting my rusty 'ol German for ya'll to enjoy, and I cannot thank her enough for all she does. So, THANK YOU AGAIN, MELODYofSTARSHINE! This one's for you! 3
Now…ON WITH THE NOTES!
Alright, first I wanna say…I had to rewrite that flashback scene no less than 3 times before I settled on this one (and even then I'm not 100% happy with it, but I feel I can do no better at the present time). There is a lot of foreshadowing here as well as relevance to the current events (something I try to do with all of the flashback scenes to give voice to the things Arthur and Alfred won't say to each other in their current relationship). SEE, THERE IS A POINT TO IT! As to the meaning and what connections there are to be made…I leave that to my readers who often make more impressive assumptions than I do; XD I positively LOVE reading them. Anyway, the flash back is in the time period at the tail end of the North American Theater of the Seven Years War. There are several Hetalia versions out there (including the cannon), but in mine this is a glimpse of how it ended. The original kick off (to use an American Football expression) had been between British American/Colonial troops vs. a small unit of French soldiers at the Battle of Jumonville Glen (which ended with the British American troops –lead by none other than the man who would become our first president…some 30 years after). Because British American troops were the match that exploded the flammable atmosphere, Britain was obligated to do something about it…aaaaaand happily declared war on France/New France with the design for ultimate continental conquest. Go England; such a peace-seeker. Now begins the Seven Years War/ French-Indian War (as its called in America) that would determine which empire reigned supreme in North America. (HEY! 10,000th word of the chapter! XD WOOT!) The war lasted for…well…seven years, but ultimately ended with Britain gaining control of all French holdings in modern day Canada (with Louisiana going to Spain), Spain forked over Florida to Britain (I always chuckle at that), and the rights to explore lands west of the Appalachians were granted to said victor (…this has to be the most abridged version of the Seven Years War ever; for a more complete version, here's another shameless shout of for KitakLaw's "After the Conqueror" ). Needless to say…this caused a lot of stress and tension with the people of New France/Canada, and while the American Colonies were livin' up the victory…yeah, that didn't last long. Anyway, in regards to Hetalia…X3 I'm gonna be cheeky and save it for next chapter ;). But let's just say if you remember 6 you'll know why Arthur is so upset.
Yes, America is a land of Freedom of Religion, but at the time I imagine Alfred (like most colonists at the time) was a Protestant Christian. (The battle between Protestants and Catholics in North America around this time was one of the big reasons Britain was so worried about Canada rebelling against then; most French-Canadians were Catholic unlike their Protestant British counter parts.)
Sorry for the um…gross anatomical lesson…BUT, you know me; I always do my best to explain the wonders of the human body. Osseous tissue is the hard compact material that makes up the outside portion of the bone. Inside of the bones is a really spongie collection of porous tissue that the veins, blood vessels, and arteries run through…another reason why breaking a bone hurts like bloody HELL (take it from someone who's done it…in 4 areas; always wear protective gear and helmets, kids…just saying). Now, the rib cage is actually a really cool thing, 83 its like armor for your lungs, heart, and all that good stuff in the upper and mid torso. It attaches in two places, at the spine in the back and the sternum in the front. Both connections are made with flexible…uh…suction cup like cartilage that allows movement…XD so you can inhale and exhale, thus expanding and compressing your chest. When you break a rib, ya gotta worry about the jagged fractures puncturing the soft tissue it normally protects (which, in Alfred's case, happened). This is really dangerous. Also, the ilium is the wing part of the pelvis (or hip bone, if ya like) and breaking that…sucks balls and takes a loooong time to heal. Alfred's got a shizbotnian load more injuries, but I think I'll pause it here since going through the muscle and other tissue damages would take up like…a couple pages. =_= … =_= Poor Alfred. 8D BUT AT LEAST HE'S UP AND MOVING! Yay! And don't worry, Arthur will be up and at'em too! …=.= Eventually…
Okay, California mines! If you don't know much about the States, then know now that each of the 50 States has an official nickname – California's is "The Golden State", and there's a reason. GOLD RUSH! The Gold Rush was a huge draw for people to move from the east to the west, and mines still liter the State. So, when Alfred makes that reference to "California mines", that's what he's talking about. RANDOM FACT: New Jersey (where I come from) is known as "The Garden State" (even though the only real gardens you'll see are in the southern part), Florida (where I currently live) is "The Sunshine State" (and aptly named…much to my displeasure…=-_-;= I hate the heat), aaaand my FAVORITE State, Pennsylvania, is "The Keystone State" (because it was the "keystone" of the original 13 colonies and Philadelphia was ACTUALLY our first capital! 8D).
Ta-da! Our little German boy has a name…even a lineage! While Lukas is 100% my own original O.C. (*sweating bullets* You have no idea how difficult that was for me to add in here) his lineage is real. Any WWII buffs out there will know the name Beck, so I'll leave that to either your imaginations or to tantalize your historical taste buds. X3 Up to you: keep him a secret or look him up. Either way, my lips are sealed as to why my brilliant (*coughs-not-coughs*) self did that. As for the notes on him, Lukas is experiencing something called "shell-shock", or the modern day term of "acute traumatic stress" and "survivor's guilt". His emotions are a little haywire as he's torn between a million different inner conflicts and a massive external one all at the same time. Couple that with the fact the kid just got out of the first stages of puberty, this is all very difficult for him to deal with at the moment. ): I feel bad for him…and to think he was originally suppose to die in the previous chapter…=_= Oops, that totally slipped out there. XP
Alfred doesn't know another language, at least not fluently. Sadly, not many Americans are fluent in another language either, =T_T= *sigh*. Anywho, the most spoken language in America is English, the second most spoken language in America is Spanish, and rounding it out at number 3 is a surprising tie between German and French. Contrary to popular belief, the United States does NOT have an "official language", meaning the federal government has not declared a national language. While nearly all business and all government is run in English, it's mostly because it is our founding language and the most spoken. Just more fun facts…and the reason Alfred is so Germanly-uninclined. XD "Donkey". *Giggles*
Cambrai was a French area occupied by the Germans and held from the start of the war until the end. Allied attempts to take the city all failed, however they were able to gain the grounds around the area and eventually used that land to penetrate the Hindenburg. Cambrai was also where the respective sides took the most number of British and German prisoners at one time. The Germans utilized their "Storm Troopers" (as opposed to the "Shock Troopers" the Germans dubbed the Canadians) to surprise exhausted troops under the cover of darkness, and in small groups that stealthily flanked units while their attention was focused on the front. Cambrai was an area not terribly far from Arras (within 52.9km or 32.8705 mi), and given the city's history as a German strong hold (not to mention a prison camp) I thought it a good place for Lukas to keep in mind if he…well…ya know, goes through with plan one. DX I'm kind of hoping he doesn't, but ya never know with O.C.s, especially after ya'll got to see what's going through his head right now. He likes Alfred, but he's not a fan of Arthur (for obvious reasons)…*biting nails* We'll have to see what happens. =.=
TRANSLATION TIME! Thank you again MelodyofStarshine for checking these over for me! As always, YOU ARE WONDERFUL!
1.) "Er ist verletzt, nicht tot! Nicht tot!" ("He is injured, not dead! Not dead!")
2.) "Mein Name?" ("My name?")
3.) "Grenadier Lukas Beck...um...E-es freut mich, Sie kennenzulernen." ("Grenadier" is the equivalent army rank to an Infantryman or a Private in America. The last part was a German greeting I remember that was something like "It is very nice to meet you". XD He might be freaked out by Alfred, but at least he's polite)
4.) "Im Süden des Arras." ("South of Arras")
5.) "...Ich weiß nicht..." ("I don't know...")
6.) "Oberleutnant" (The English equivalent to this in the American Army is "First Lieutenant", which is pretty up there on the food chain)
7.) "Leutnant" (This is like our rank of "Lieutenant", which is just below "First Lieutenant" in the American Army)
8.) "Bitte Schön" ("You're welcome", in a very formal way)
8.5) "Jahr" ("Year")
9.) "Ach du grüne Neune" ( XD Okay, I know this makes no sense in English, but it is a common German expression my German advisor suggested and I just HAD to add it. Literally translated it's "Oh you green nine", but the English equivalent –metaphorically speaking- is "Good God". XD See, even I'm learning things in this RP!)
10.) "Biebrich, wo ich herko-" ("Biebrich where I come-" He cuts himself off in saying he comes from Biebrich...which was part of Prussia at the time. XD)
11.) "Ja, wie meine Brüder. Und mein Onkel ist Erster Generalstabsoffizier Ludwig Beck-" ("Yes, like my brothers. And my uncle is First General Staff Officer Ludwig Beck-")
Alrighty folks, and that's all I wrote! XD LOL! Chapter 12 HAS been started and I hope to have it up by the end of the week…or…well, at least by this time next week. =T_T= I'm trying to keep my updates consistent, but its getting tough. XP Promise I'm trying though! As always, I wanna thank everyone who reviewed, faved, subscribed or just dropped by to read. I know I owe several of you review replies, D8 I HAVE NOT FORGOTTEN ABOUT YOU! Please know that I really do read every review and try to reply as soon as possible. Thank you all so much again and I hope this chapter was to your liking. TILL NEXT TIME!
Sincerely,
General Kitty Girl