Chapter 79

"I heard what you did for me."

Lithuania didn't turn, every muscle in his back tensing to the sound of the voice coming from the doorway. He nodded simply, keeping his eyes down on the plate of toasted bread and cheese, leaning on the counter. He shivered as he felt Russia walk up behind him. He looked up, straight ahead, trying to hide the fear in his breath.

"You didn't have to do that…"

Lithuania winced hard, shrinking away from Russia's hand on his shoulder, turning towards him, shivering, looking up into his face, shaking.

"Litva… what did he to do you?" Russia asked, deeply concerned, putting his hand on Lithuania's shoulder again.

Lithuania pulled away again, shaking.

Russia took his hand away from Lithuania, looking at the smaller country whose knuckles grew white as they gripped the counter.

"Litva?"

Lithuania hadn't taken his eyes off of Russia's face, "He's proud of you," he whispered finally, keeping his eyes on the other man's.

"What?" Russia asked, confused and still worried. Lithuania still hadn't stopped shaking.

"I said, your… General Winter said he's proud of you. He said I should tell you…"

"Proud of me? Toris, I don't understand…"

Lithuania wrapped his arms around himself, looking away, angry, "Yes. He said he was proud of you when he saw my back… he said he 'couldn't have done better' himself… He said it was 'beautiful work', and that he was proud of you…"

"He really said that?" Russia's eyes lit up, and a smile curled itself on his lips, "He really said he couldn't have done better?"

Lithuania nodded, looking away. He felt sick.

"He's proud of me?" Russia whispered, trying to believe it. Trying to believe the words Lithuania said. They couldn't be true. General Winter actually proud of him? He hadn't ever dared to hope for that. He looked back at Lithuania, upset to see him trembling, looking away.

"Toris?" he asked carefully.

Lithuania looked up at him.

Russia jumped. Lithuania's eyes were full of pain, fear, and anger. He wasn't used to seeing anger there. "Did he hurt you?" he asked carefully.

Lithuania nodded, "Yes. He did…"

"What did he-"

"Looks like you really did learn from the best."

"Toris what did he do?"

"Do you want ideas?"

Russia slapped Lithuania hard, grabbing the man's face and turning it towards his own, "Remember your place! I've let you spend too much time with GDR. Go back to your room, now. Stay there until I call for you. If I see you before that I'll add more scars, and Latvia will watch, da?"

Lithuania nodded carefully, turning and running up the stairs as soon as his face was free. He slammed his door closed behind him and pressed his back into it, sliding down to the ground. He pulled his knees to his chest, leaning down over them, trying to breathe normally, trying to stop shaking. He had to stop shaking. He covered his ears, trying to drown out Poland's screams in his mind. Screams of pain when he couldn't get to him. It was almost as bad as the sound of the knife.

…

Poland winced as he felt the wet cloth press against the bandages covering his chest. The gauze stuck to the wounds. He'd waited too long to call Hungary to help him. He bit his lip, closing his eyes tightly, turning his head to the side. He didn't want Hungary to see how much pain he was in.

"Am I hurting you Feliks?" Hungary put her hand on his shoulder gently.

He nodded, "It's ok."

Hungary brushed his hair out of his face kindly and turned back to the gauze. Carefully she started to lift it, dabbing on more water in places where it stuck to the healing skin.

Poland kept his face turned away, trying to think about something, anything, other than the mark in his chest.

Feliks hit the floor. He stayed down, barely glancing back at the door behind him as it closed. He brought his hand to his chest, pressing against the healing wound. It had been three days since that… man… had left him alone in a tiny locked room. Three days to give him time to heal enough for the others not to ask questions. Slowly, he wrapped his arms around his ribs able to feel all of them through a shirt that had fit four months before. He brought a hand to his face, still not moving from the ground. He felt sobs rise into his chest. He didn't want to stop them. He jumped, turning to look behind him as he heard a step, bracing himself for a kick to his back. He looked up at the older man, his breathing slowly in relief to see it wasn't a guard. He relaxed, sitting up on his arm, wincing in pain. He looked up at the man still, his eyes drifting to the piece of cloth tied to the man's clothing: a yellow star. He looked away, glancing down at the mark he wore himself. A different color, and a different shape. The only thing proving any kind of distinction among the prisoners, what color mark they wore. For everyone, it was a triangle in one of several colors, all except one, yellow. Yellow stars.

Feliks turned to look up at the old man again, surprised to see that he was still there. The man was skeletally thin and his face was worn and wrinkled with hard work and age, but his eyes glittered with something like hope. Feliks stared at him, surprised as the man knelt beside him, putting his hand on his shoulder gently.

"Can you walk?"

Feliks shook his head. The cell he'd been kept it was too small to stand in. His legs were numb. He couldn't move them, let alone walk. He turned away again.

"What's your name?" The man asked gently.

"I don't have one anymore…" Feliks whispered, looking at the numbers barely visible from under the edge of his sleeve.

"Of course you do… don't forget it. Please. I am Mendel."

Feliks turned back to look at him, "W-why are you talking to…me?"

"Is it wrong to talk to a man who needs help?"

"I thought…?"

"I don't care what you've done to end up here. Some have done terrible things. Some have done nothing except be what they are. Who am I to deny a man help for any of those things?"

Feliks smiled a little, just a little.

"Where do you sleep?"

Feliks looked back towards the rest of the beds in the bunkhouse. Almost everyone was out working unless they were too old or sick. He pointed towards his bed weakly, "There."

"Wonderful, up you go then," the man carefully slid his arms under Felik's back and knees. He paused for a moment, gently lifting up the very weak man.

Feliks bit his lip. He could feel the man's arms shaking under him, and could hear his breath catching with exhaustion.

"Please, you don't have to…"

"Oh, shush. Let me do one more good thing, if I may?" The man smiled sadly, laying Feliks down in his bed, carefully pulling the covers over him, "There. Now you don't have to sleep on the floor."

"This isn't much better…" Feliks smiled, half trying to make a joke.

Mendal smiled a little again, "Ah, but even a little better is better than the floor?"

Feliks nodded, "Tak (yes)," he smiled back, "I… I'm Feliks."

"I'm glad to meet you Feliks. Shalom."

Feliks smiled, "Shalom."

"Do you know what that word means?" The man asked kindly, sitting on the edge of the bed.

Feliks shook his head. He knew, but he wanted to hear the man say it. His voice was frail, but somehow comforting. He pressed into his chest again, trying to releave the pain.

"It means 'deep peace'. And so that is what we wish upon those we meet, deep peace…" Mendal whispered, the look in his eyes far away for a moment, and glossy with tears.

"Mendal…" Feliks whispered, "You… you can't work… can you?"

Mendal sighed deeply, "No. No not anymore… when I came here, I was stronger than most of the young men… but, eh, life changes… doesn't it?"

"How can you be so… positive? How can you say it's nothing… Mendal they'll… they'll…"

"It's because I know the secrets, little one. I'm old enough I think I can call you that?"

Feliks just smiled.

"I know the secret, that's how I can still be happy."

"Happy? Here? Happy?"

"Yes. Very happy."

"But it's wrong! It's wrong and I'm sorry… I'm sorry…"

Mendal clicked his tongue sadly, "Oh, there's nothing for you to be sorry for! You're stuck here too after all."

Feliks said nothing, looking up into the man's face, confused.

"I am happy," the man continued, "Because I know that love is stronger than hate, than fear, than pain… than anything else in this world. And that, is a happy thought indeed."

"Hate is winning…"

The man shook his head, "No. Hate doesn't get to win. Not in the end. I believe that. And it keeps the smile on my face," he grinned, "See? Much better than tears, isn't it?" He reached down, gently wiping the tears from Felik's cheeks.

Feliks nodded, smiling softly. He couldn't keep the tears back. His chest ached, but not from the wound.

"I should let you rest," Mendal smiled, slowly pressing against the wood of the bunk to help him stand.

"Wait…" Feliks stopped him, "Please… keep talking? Tell me about yourself? Tell me… something? I don't know any Jewish stories… maybe…?"

Mendal smiled knowingly, "Now there you don't have to ask an old man for stories just because you pity him…"

"No. Please… I…" Feliks looked down at his shirt, "They hurt me… I… a story might keep my mind off… pain?"

The man nodded, putting his hand on the little country's shoulder, "All right, little one. If you think it would help."

Feliks nodded with a soft smile. He watched the man's face as he listened. The way it lit up as he told stories of his childhood brought a choke back into his throat. He let the tears fall, glad Mendal was too wrapped up in his tale to notice them on his cheeks.

Feliks looked out the thin windows at the top of the barracks, the faintest hint of light starting to break the dark sky, the starts barely visible. He looked up into Mendal's face as the man stopped speaking finally.

"Ah, well… I've talked all night it seems. I hope I didn't bore you, little one?"

Feliks shook his head, "Not at all."

"Good," Mendal smiled again, a warm, happy smile that Feliks determined to never forget, "I'll see you in the morning for Appell (roll call) then?"

Feliks nodded slowly, trying to smile, trying to bite back the tears. He didn't want to cry. He wanted to smile at him. He wanted so badly to smile…

"Mendal…?" he whispered?

"Yes, little one?"

"dzięki…(thanks)"

Mendal smiled.

"Feliks?" Hungary's voice drifted into his mind.

He turned to look back at her but didn't speak, tears slipping from the corners of his eyes.

"I'm finished…" she motioned towards the new gauze she'd taped over the wound with a gentle smile, "Are you all right?" she whispered, noticing the tears on his face.

"Yeah. Just… memories."

"Good memories I hope…?"

Poland nodded slowly, a faint smile on his lips, "Tak… tak, good memories…"

Hungary touched his face gently, "If you need me to stay here…"

Poland shook his head, "No. I'll be all right… I just… I like, need some time… if that's ok?"

Hungary nodded with a soft smile, "Of course."

"Eta… will you make sure Liet is ok again? After what General Winter did to us… I… I'm worried about him…"

Hungary nodded, biting her lip. She was worried too. "I'll check on him."

Poland nodded with a smile.

…

Lithuania jumped, hearing a knock at his door, "Da?" he asked, hoping it was Russia.

"It's Hungary…"

"I'm fine. Russia asked me to stay in here…"

"Ordered, actually."

Hungary jumped, turning to look at Russia standing right behind her, "Hey, let him out! Come on…"

"Get out of my way, Hungary."

Hungary looked up into the violet eyes, crossing her arms over her chest. She wasn't scared of him, "Don't. Hurt. Him."

"Get. Out. Of my. Way."

Hungary stepped to the side but didn't leave, watching Russia. She wasn't sure why. She didn't think she could stop him if he used the pipe.

Lithuania took a step back as Russia entered his room, leaving the door open behind him. He looked into Russia's face for a moment, then turned around and knelt, moving his hair out of Russia's way. He braced himself, waiting for the pipe to strike his back.

Silence.

Lithuania held his breath, biting his lip, then forcing himself to stop so he wouldn't bite through it.

"Litva…" Russia's voice was almost gentle.

Lithuania didn't move except for the trembling he couldn't stop.

"Litva, stand up."

Lithuania looked up, moving even less, trying to breathe normally.

"Stand. Up."

Lithuania obeyed, turning to look at Russia, holding out his wrist to be led downstairs. He trembled more, turning his eyes to the floor. He felt Russia's hands close around his.

"Litva, I'm not going to hurt you."

Lithuania looked up at him, shocked, slowly pulling his hand away, surprised as Russia let him.

"You protected me from my father. You didn't have to do that. Consider sparing you my forgiveness for your actions earlier. Don't do it again, da?"

Lithuania nodded slowly. He wasn't sure he trusted it. Russia, being kind? While he was sober? He didn't think he could believe that…

"One more thing. To show my thanks," Russia smiled, "My sister can stay with you tonight."

Lithuania would have smiled if shock hadn't overtaken his expression, "You… really?"

"Da," Russia smiled an almost normal smile, "I told you, I need to thank you. You did help me."

Lithuania nodded again, not sure what to say.

"I'll send Bela up to see you then." Russia turned and walked out of the room without another word.

Hungary stepped through the doorway and up to Lithuania, who hadn't moved, "Are you all right?"

Lithuania shook his head, "I don't think so…"

Hungary looked at him quizzically.

"Russia… Ivan… was just nice to me?" he looked up at her, "I don't… know… how I'm supposed to react to that…?"

Hungary watched Russia disappear down the stairs through the open door, "I think I have some ideas…"

A/N: It's late and I am quite tired... so short authors notes! This chapter was really sad... though the scene with Mendal was actually quite sweet... contextually... contextually it hurts. It hurts a lot. As always, I intend to portray this incredibly difficult subject with the utmost respect. I hope I have done so. I certainly made myself cry.

Russia being nice... hmm... there are historical reasons for this. But I won't spoil them here. I will elaborate on them later in-story! YAY! :D

Thank you for all the lovely reviews on the last chapter! I can't wait to read more of your thoughts on this story! YAY YAY YAY! So... I made WAY too many mashed potatoes today for dinner, so I will share with all of you! Also candy. Because candy. It needs to explination. And hot cocoa. And considering this chapter... also hugs.