Feliciano could scarcely breathe. He didn't know what was going to happen to him, but he knew without any doubt that it was not going to be good. His arms were bound behind him, and the German soldier, the green eyed man who had arrested him marching him along. The soldier was taking him to Germany; that much Feliciano was able to pick up from the conversation around him. But it was a surprise to see that they were taking him on the public train. Now he sat in the car, hands now bound in front of him, but no other restraints and no enforcement other then a tall German soldier who had a sympathetic look to him. It seemed that Feliciano was not deemed as a threat, and rightfully so. Feliciano knew exactly how pathetic he looked. Luckily, the soldier escorting him to Germany had the insight to realize that Feliciano needed his medicine and oxygen machine, so Feliciano was sitting on the seat in the train, watching the occasional person walk by his seat, oxygen mask on his face to help ease his breathing.
"Excuse me, sirs?" The voice came from a rather small girl with aqua eyes and blond hair with a purple ribbon tied into the blonde locks. She stood timidly in the entrance of the compartment. "May I sit in here? Everywhere else is full."
Feliciano looked to his guard, who nodded in consent, and Feliciano scooted over a little bit, making room for the girl. The guard even stood and helped her put her trunk up on the luggage rack.
"What is your name, ragazza?" Feliciano asked, his words slightly muffled by the oxygen mask on his face, and the girl glanced down at the cuffs on Feliciano's wrists.
"My name is Lili Zwingli." She said, smoothing out her dress and twisting her hands in her lap. "I'm going to live with my big brother in Switzerland. Are you in trouble?"
With a small laughing cough, Feliciano answered. "I'm Feliciano Vargas. I'm going to Germany from my home in Italy. And yes, I suppose I am in trouble, even though I haven't done anything bad." He said softly. He was glad that Lili was there to talk to him. Otherwise this trip, which would last a few days just to get to Germany, would have been unbearable.
"If you didn't do anything bad, then why are you in trouble?" Lili asked.
Feliciano hesitated. He couldn't tell her about his brother being in Switzerland in hiding, because his escort would surely hear it, and the last thing Feliciano wanted was for his brother to be put in danger. Nor could he tell any of the limited information that he knew about La Resistenza's plans that Lovino had told him.
"They think I know stuff." Feliciano said with a vague air, trying to hint at Lili not to question it further.
"Are you in danger?" Lili asked quietly. "Could you die?"
Feliciano hesitated. "Yes." He said finally, firmly. Luckily, the younger girl took the hint, and for awhile they sat in silence, watching the scenery out the window.
"What is your brother like?" Feliciano asked eventually, trying to break the silence.
Lili smiled. "He comes across as kind of mean and scary, but he has taken very good care of me after our parents died. I was in Italy staying with a friend for a few weeks while my brother was moving our stuff to the new house, so now I'm going back."
"He sounds like a great guy." Feliciano said, smiling in return.
"Oh, he is!" Lili said happily, smiling wider. Then her smile melted away, and she touched the breathing apparatus. "Are you sick?"
"Yes, I am." Feliciano said. "I got shot when I was really little, and it hurt my heart and my lung. It makes it really hard to breathe sometimes, so I have to wear this."
"You were shot?!" Lili breathed, eyes wide. "Wow, I'm really sorry."
Feliciano shrugged. "It was a long time ago." He said, turning his gaze back out the window. Lili lapsed into silence as well.
.~*~.
The train ride, which had spanned several days, was coming to an end, and anxiety began to curl its cold fingers around Feliciano's heart once again. Lili had departed the day before when the train had reached her stop, and now, once again, it was Feliciano and the stoic faced German guard, who had not spoken a single word to the Italian hostage.
The guard led Feliciano off the train, loading him into a shiny car and driving him to… Actually, Feliciano was not sure where they were exactly. He was too busy trying not to look as panicked as he actually felt. He knew they were on some German base, and he when they walked him through the halls he could see other prisoners behind closed doors with a small window, before he was thrown into a similar small, shadowy room with orders to wait until interrogation.
"Yeah… Because I have somewhere else to go…" Feliciano muttered, though it felt like his heart was trying to beat its way out of his chest.
He paced the small room, weaving around the cot in the corner, and tried to control his breathing when he felt like he was on the edge of hyperventilating. Eventually he sat on the edge of the bed, hands fisted in the rather pathetic blanket on the cot.
Feliciano was not sure how much time he spent in the room, but after awhile he jumped in surprise as the door slammed open, revealing two strong looking men.
Within moments, Feliciano had been handcuffed and shoved out the door, taking him to a dark room with all sorts of grisly tools in it, and there were rusty stains on the ground that looked horribly like old dried blood. Feliciano was tied to a post in the center of the room, under a single bare light bulb, and could only watch in terrified silence as the infamous Gestapo entered the room.
.~*~.
"I swear I don't know anything! Ich schwöre, ich weiß es nicht!" Feliciano cried out as blood trickled into his eyes. He spoke the words in German as well just to get his point across.
"Where are the whereabouts of Lovino Vargas and Antonio Carriedo?!" the Gestapo officer bellowed at Feliciano, bringing the whip back down on Feliciano's bare back and making the Italian cry out.
Three days now Feliciano had been interrogated by the Gestapo. Three days of being beaten, whipped, even burnt and shocked and with six of his fingers crushed between steel bars used to tighten nails, and still Feliciano did not talk. Granted, if he had known anything, he probably would have been screaming it to the heavens by now, but all he could do was to insist in a steadily more broken tone that he didn;t know anything, not anything that the Gestapo wanted to hear. Feliciano was on his knees, his hands still bound to the post behind him, tears falling as the whip cracked across his skin again and again. All he could even think to do at this point was to pray for death, the only escape from the torture that his mind was able to think of under the stress and pain. Yet the days continued to pass in a haze of pain and periods of unconsciousness, and Feliciano was not given the mercy of death. He barely even noticed when two of his fingers were cut off.
On the day that Feliciano had been there exactly one week, the Gestapo decided to try something different to get Feliciano to talk. Feliciano was yanked to his feet, and his were untied only to have them retied over his head, so that Feliciano was all but hanging by a rope from one of the roof's horizontal supports. His toes barely touched the ground, all of his weight being held by the rope binding his wrists. His shoulders hurt terribly, like they were going to pop out of socket, and the position stretched out his body to a point where it was hard for him to draw air into his lungs, making him realize what was happening. He was being suffocated slowly.
The door to the interrogation room burst open suddenly, illuminating the room with a burst of sunlight. With the slamming of the door came another yelling voice, but this one was different. This yelling voice did not seem to be directed at him.
"What the hell are you fools doing?!" the voice was unfamiliar to the pain hazed Feliciano. "Haven't you noticed that this boy has heart trouble?! If you tie him up like this, it'll kill him!"
With a swift movement, the owner of the voice cut through the ropes holding Feliciano just as black dots began to swarm across the Italian's vision, and Feliciano crumpled. He would have hit the ground, but something stopped his fall. As he sucked in a deep breath that made his lung twinge, Feliciana peered through a mist of blood and tears to see his unlikely rescuer. It was the officer who had escorted him to Germany, the one that, to Feliciano, had had a kind light to his eyes. It seemed as though Feliciano had been right.
"Oh..." Feliciano murmured foggily, eyes squinting to see. "It's you..." And with that, Feliciano passed out.
.~*~.
When Feliciano came to hours later, his head was still foggy, and it took a moment for him to realize that he was back in his cell, not in the interrogation room. He lifted his hands and noticed the bandages, the spaces where his left index finger and middle finger had been cut off, the bruises from the ropes on his wrists. He could feel the whip marks and burns on his skin aching and stinging. Then, a voice made him jump.
"It is good to see that you are awake, Italian."
Feliciano turned his head to see the same soldier who had saved him in the interrogation room and had rode with him on the train sitting on a stool in the corner, a paperback book in his hands.
"Why did you save me...?" Feliciano asked, his words slurring together slightly. "Why can't I talk right...?"
"The Gestapo officers drugged you to try to get you to talk." The kind officer said. "And as for why I saved you, I'm friends with a certain Ludwig Beilschmidst who wants you back to him safe."
"You're going to take me to Luddy...?" Feliciano said in tired wonder.
"Ja, I am." The officer said. "My name is Lieutenant Furst, and I intend to get you out of here before the Gestapo can damage you anymore." Lieutenant Furst stood, and his voice turned cool. "I do not approve of what those men are doing. If they can even be called men."
"H-How long will they leave me alone…? Before they come back for me…?" Feliciano asked, stuttering a bit in his fear.
"I can not answer that question, Italian. I can only hope that I can get you out of here before they come back." Furst said ominously, closing his book. "I must go now, or it will place us both under suspicion. I will return with a plan once there is one."
"Thank you, Lieutenant." Feliciano said softly, giving a small pained smile and turning to gaze back at the ceiling, wincing slightly.
"One more thing before I go, Italian." Furst said, drawing Feliciano's attention to him once again. "There is a tray with food here. Granted, it isn't very good food, but you've been starved for a week, so please eat if you can."
"Yes sir." Feliciano sat up painfully and gave a shaky salute, making the German Lieutenant smile and raise his hand in salute to Feliciano before leaving, locking the door behind him and leaving Feliciano alone.
Left on his own, Feliciano examined the wounds on his body before trying to eat the gruel served as food, which proved to be quite an adventure when he was newly missing two fingers. After that, with absolutely nothing left to do, Feliciano lay back on the cot and closed his eyes. He daydreamed being reunited with Nonno Roma and Seraphino, Lovino and Antonio, and Ludwig. Ludwig, who even now was still trying to care for Feliciano, trying to help him in the only way he could.
Feliciano did not realize when he fell asleep and his daydreams morphed into dreams until the door to the cell opened and a set of hands was shaking him awake as gently as possible. Feliciano opened his eyes, head a bit clearer, to see Lieutenant Furst.
"Are you awake now, Italian?" Furst said, barely waiting for a reply before continuing. "Good. The Gestapo are coming for you again. We have to run now!"
