A/N: Another chapter in (rather) quick succession!

Prussia took over again. He wasn't satisfied with contributing sad stuff only and insisted on writing this chapter, too.
That is to say, I wrote this in Prussia's first person point of view despite my resolve to stick to third person perspective. (goes into hiding …)

...

14: An Invitation to Dinner

Starting off where I left off last time, I think I should answer a few questions that I left open. Maybe you've asked yourselves whether I felt revengeful, or why Latvia and Estonia were allowed access to the solitary confinement cell block. Both questions are easy to answer. I didn't have any feelings of hatred or revenge at all. I really didn't; I was simply glad to be alive.

Latvia told me that Estonia was so worried about me he was close to freaking out when he realized his plan was going wrong and I wasn't released. He felt so guilty that he spent most of his free time in front of the solitary confinement cell block, begging the guards to let him see me, but they only laughed at him.

Estonia would often be accompanied by one of the others to help him persuade the guards. The day Braginski finally showed up, for instance, he was lingering at the entrance together with Latvia. When they heard Braginski call for the medic after he'd seen what condition I was in, they feared I had died. It wasn't before the medic appeared and asked them to assist him that they dared to hope again. Still, they were quite shocked when they saw me.

...

Three days after I was released, I wrote my confession, basically repeating what Latvia and Lithuania already had admitted.

"It seems they punished you so severely to discourage us from any further actions," Estonia surmised. "Let's hope they'll leave it at that."

He proved right. The authorities decided that our squad had been punished enough by solitary confinement and halved food rations and closed the case.

On the eighth day after my release I took up work again. As I was ready for change and didn't want to go back to that lame job in the forest (edit: he was still too weak for forest work), I asked for a different job. The officer of the day realized that I could do better than cut wood (edit: he knew that Prussia was still recovering) and assigned me a job in the laundry.

I felt victorious about having gained myself a better job; one where I wouldn't have to work out in the cold all day. The laundry was supposed to be a warm place. Plus, this job wouldn't burn up as much energy, as I was spared having to march the several kilometres to the forest and back again every day. In short, this new job would increase my chances of survival by many times. I was happy and determined to do my best at it.

As I had expected, the work was easy. I spent the first days on my new job collecting the officers' dirty clothes, washing them, hanging them out to dry, ironing and folding the uniforms and returning the freshly washed clothes to the officers' apartments.

I loved every part of it, with the exception of washing maybe, and I believe I must have worked with a constant grin on my face during the first days because I couldn't help but think of how much better my new job was than my old one. My work environment was warm and clean, and when I returned to my cabin in the evening, I wasn't all done in and frozen as I had been before.

...

Several days into my new job, I was once again ordered to help distribute the freshly laundered uniforms that I had ironed. Accompanied by a trusty, I pushed the laundry cart along the corridors of the apartment building where the officers lived on camp. The trusty opened each door with his keys so that I could go inside and put the uniforms in the wardrobes. When I had finished, the trusty locked the door again. Thus, we worked our way through the entire building.

We had finally reached the top floor where the higher ranked officers lived. I was stooped over the laundry cart, taking up a pile of clothes when I suddenly saw a shadow being cast over me and the cart. I spun around and almost dropped the clothes when I saw myself face to face with Braginski, who stood a few inches before me.

"Commander Braginski!" I blurted out in surprise, involuntarily taking a step back.

I bumped backwards into the laundry cart and set it rolling. Almost losing balance, I quickly groped for the pushcart behind my back for support, clutching the pile of clothes in my other arm. All the while I didn't turn my back on Braginski. My hand finally found the handle and brought the cart to a standstill.

"Let me have a look at the clothes," Braginski smiled when I had steadied myself again. He picked up the topmost blouse from the pile of clothes I was carrying and unfolded it.

The trusty watched him in terror.

I, however, though taken by surprise, was not afraid of Braginski. His build and appearance might seem intimidating to some, but I had met him before, and he had seemed friendly and well-meaning. On top of that, I knew that he hadn't punished me because he held a personal grudge against me, but because the camp's rules demanded it of him. He might be a nice guy after all. So I watched with interest as he inspected the uniforms.

"Who ironed the uniforms?" Braginski asked the trusty, who was trembling with fear now.

"One of the prisoners working in the laundry," the trusty answered with a wobbly voice.

His answer made me curious. He knew very well that it was me who had ironed them, so why didn't he say so? He seemed frightened, as if he feared some sort of punishment.

As I was certain the trusty was misjudging Braginski and I myself had no reason to be scared of him, I took a chance and said, "It was me who ironed them," looking him in the eyes, wondering how he would react.

He looked up from inspecting the clothes and cast me an astonished glance. I could tell he wasn't used to prisoners speaking to him unasked.

"It's good to see you up and on your feet again," he finally said; friendly, but distanced.

That was all he had to say? I wanted to drag him out of his shell a little, so I said, "You should feel honored to have someone as awesome as me do the ironing!"

Braginski turned his full attention to me now and surveyed me with a mixture of amusement and curiosity.

After several seconds, I began to feel uncomfortable under his creepy stare.

"What's the matter? Why are you looking at me like this?" I alerted him to the fact that I could hear and see and feel.

"You have changed," he replied, still not averting his eyes off me.

I stared back at him, unsure what he meant by that.

"Ten days of solitary confinement, and yet he can iron so well," he finally broke his gaze, approvingly looking at the freshly ironed uniforms instead. "There isn't a single crease."

I triumphed inwardly. It had been worth the risk to disclose that it had been me who ironed the uniforms. Braginski approved of my work and was praising me! I couldn't believe my luck. Finally someone recognized my awesomeness!

Braginski turned to the trusty. "He broke our record. He was the first to survive ten days of solitary confinement."

He was talking about me.

"Last year, we had a similar case where a prisoner spent ten days in solitary confinement. The guard dragged him out dead on the tenth day."

Turning to me again, he said cheerfully, "Thanks to you, I won ten bottles of vodka. I had a bet going on. One bottle for me for every day you survived. If you had died, I would have lost all the vodka to the captain."

He patted my shoulder in an attempt at an appreciative gesture.

The touch of his heavy hand almost sent me to the ground, strong as he was and me being thin as a twig.

"Ha, ha," he laughed as he saw me stumble and brace myself against the laundry cart once again. "You could do with some food, couldn't you? I guess I owe you that much. See me in my office tonight after work."

Having said that, he left.

What a freak he was, I thought as I looked after him. The fact that he had betted on my life made me doubt about his character. I needed to find out more.

"Why are you so afraid of Braginski?" I asked the trusty.

"Well," he answered, "before you were assigned the job in the laundry, we had another prisoner do the ironing. However, about two weeks ago, the commander checked the uniforms on the laundry cart, just as he did today. But it didn't turn out as well." He grew nervous even at the memory of what had happened. "He found a crease in the uniform, at which he had the prisoner fired from his laundry job and severely punished by diminished food allowances.

"What's become of him?"

"He survived and works in the forest now."

I felt even luckier about having passed Braginski's check of my ironing skills.

As I resumed my work, I wondered whether his invitation was a good or a bad thing.

I should be glad about his invitation, I thought, as I was in desperate need of food and should happily take advantage of every chance to eat. This would also be a good opportunity to snatch some of the food and take it home to my fellow inmates. I could already picture their astonished looks and their joy about the food. I would bathe in their admiration, and they would have to acknowledge my brilliance.

Also, I had no reason not to trust Braginski. I would be cautious and not let my guard off, but I would give him a chance. Even more reckless than accepting the invitation would be to reject it, because that would probably make him mad.

A small voice in the back of my head reminded me that it had been more of an order than an invitation, but I quickly discarded that thought. I must not get too worked up about it. After all, it would most probably be just a short meeting to say thank you and to feed me on the occasion, I supposed.

I wondered how I should act in front of Braginski. Everyone seemed to be scared of him, not looking him in the eyes, speaking in a submissive voice, or even trembling at his sight like the trusty. I had made a difference today when I had spoken up to him, confident and without fear. He seemed to have liked that for a change.

The invitation was a chance, I concluded, and it would be stupid not to go solely on the basis of the few doubts I had.

...

A/N:

I had originally written this in first person POV. When I became aware that POV changes can be confusing and are considered non-standard, I rewrote it in third person perspective. But fact is, I didn't like it, and I ended up switching it back to first person.

Read and review, please!