"Time and Again" Part 2
by Mrs Chang
Disclaimer: I don't own 'em, they don't own me... If anyone's makin' mony off this, it sure as hell ain't me...
Pairings: 6x9
Author's Notes: Yeah, I don't usually go the het route with Zechs-sama, but I couldn't help it, this just works. This is and AU fic, and is set in 1944(AD); the location is Aushwitz. (Nazi deathcamp... work with me, people...!) The only GW charas are Noin and Zechs; Noin is and Italian living in Germany, and was caught, along with her mother and sister, hiding Jews in their home. She is sent to Aushwitz, and Zechs is a Nazi supervisor in the camp.
Watch for POV changes...
And so, without further ado, part 2 of "Time and Again"...
[Zechs]
I am awoken by the typical raucus noise of my bunkmates.
"Hey, Zechs, I hear you have a little friend among the Jewesses. And she's a pretty one..." says Nikolae, the occupant of the bunk above mine; I recognize that look... the look the superiors have just before one of the women prisoners goes missing...
I suck in a breath, and wonder if they know about the girl. I would never hear the end of it if one of my comrades heard that I was considerate to a prisoner. "No, I know no Jewess." This is not a lie, the girl was not a Jew; she did not wear the star given to Jews.
"Oh, Zechsy boy, you scoundrel. You've gone and gotten a girlfriend and didn't even tell us," coos Nikolae, despite my protests. This is all a silly little game to them.
"I know no Jewess!" I shout, my temper temporarily out of check. "And I will hear no more of this idiocy!"
They back away, knowing I am taller, stronger, and smarter than them anyway. The men are quiet now, unnerved by my sudden outburst. I stalk out the door of the barracks. Sighing, or more correctly, hissing, in irritation, I sit on the hood of one of the trucks.
"Hey," says Josef, my best friend, who has followed my outside, "me thinks you protesteth too much." I roll my eyes, and smack him hard upside the head.
"I know no Jewess."
"Is that all you can say?" he jokes.
I snort. "Go away." He obliges, and as I sit in solitude, I cannot help but wonder where that girl is right now...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
[Noin]
"Get up! You must all get up and form groups of five!" shouts one of the German women in broken Jewish, which I understand. It is rutine now, for we have been doing this everyday since we arrived in this cursed camp; it seems as if it's been forever, and that my old life is lifetimes away.
We are all tired, but we know that if we do not prepare for roll, we will regret it. I join my usual group, and we huddle together, shivering against the cold. We have been here for several months now; how many, exactly, I know not. Time passes slowly, and I have given up counting the days.
But today the roll is taking longer than usual. We know what this means. Selection. The word ripples through the groups. The doctors are choosing who is being sent to the crematoriums. My number is called, and I step forward. The doctor -I believe he is the one they call Mengele- looks me over, and I can tell he notices how weak I look. I was sick, some kind of fever wrought of such close quaters and lack of food.
The doctor turns to the bookman and nods, and I see he is the blond man, the one who saved me from that supervisor weeks ago. He raises his pen to write my number, but when his gaze moves from my arm, where my number is branded, to my face, he stops. I looked at him pleadingly, but he writes my number anyway. As I walk away, and dead woman walking, I see him stealthily erase something from the book; my number, I think. No, I hope.
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @
The next day, those chosen in the selection yesterday are called by number. I flinch as each number is spoken; my best friend and her younger sister, a mere 14 years old, are taken away. And yet I remain.
Why? I think to myself. I saw him write my number. He really must have erased it... but why?
by Mrs Chang
Disclaimer: I don't own 'em, they don't own me... If anyone's makin' mony off this, it sure as hell ain't me...
Pairings: 6x9
Author's Notes: Yeah, I don't usually go the het route with Zechs-sama, but I couldn't help it, this just works. This is and AU fic, and is set in 1944(AD); the location is Aushwitz. (Nazi deathcamp... work with me, people...!) The only GW charas are Noin and Zechs; Noin is and Italian living in Germany, and was caught, along with her mother and sister, hiding Jews in their home. She is sent to Aushwitz, and Zechs is a Nazi supervisor in the camp.
Watch for POV changes...
And so, without further ado, part 2 of "Time and Again"...
[Zechs]
I am awoken by the typical raucus noise of my bunkmates.
"Hey, Zechs, I hear you have a little friend among the Jewesses. And she's a pretty one..." says Nikolae, the occupant of the bunk above mine; I recognize that look... the look the superiors have just before one of the women prisoners goes missing...
I suck in a breath, and wonder if they know about the girl. I would never hear the end of it if one of my comrades heard that I was considerate to a prisoner. "No, I know no Jewess." This is not a lie, the girl was not a Jew; she did not wear the star given to Jews.
"Oh, Zechsy boy, you scoundrel. You've gone and gotten a girlfriend and didn't even tell us," coos Nikolae, despite my protests. This is all a silly little game to them.
"I know no Jewess!" I shout, my temper temporarily out of check. "And I will hear no more of this idiocy!"
They back away, knowing I am taller, stronger, and smarter than them anyway. The men are quiet now, unnerved by my sudden outburst. I stalk out the door of the barracks. Sighing, or more correctly, hissing, in irritation, I sit on the hood of one of the trucks.
"Hey," says Josef, my best friend, who has followed my outside, "me thinks you protesteth too much." I roll my eyes, and smack him hard upside the head.
"I know no Jewess."
"Is that all you can say?" he jokes.
I snort. "Go away." He obliges, and as I sit in solitude, I cannot help but wonder where that girl is right now...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
[Noin]
"Get up! You must all get up and form groups of five!" shouts one of the German women in broken Jewish, which I understand. It is rutine now, for we have been doing this everyday since we arrived in this cursed camp; it seems as if it's been forever, and that my old life is lifetimes away.
We are all tired, but we know that if we do not prepare for roll, we will regret it. I join my usual group, and we huddle together, shivering against the cold. We have been here for several months now; how many, exactly, I know not. Time passes slowly, and I have given up counting the days.
But today the roll is taking longer than usual. We know what this means. Selection. The word ripples through the groups. The doctors are choosing who is being sent to the crematoriums. My number is called, and I step forward. The doctor -I believe he is the one they call Mengele- looks me over, and I can tell he notices how weak I look. I was sick, some kind of fever wrought of such close quaters and lack of food.
The doctor turns to the bookman and nods, and I see he is the blond man, the one who saved me from that supervisor weeks ago. He raises his pen to write my number, but when his gaze moves from my arm, where my number is branded, to my face, he stops. I looked at him pleadingly, but he writes my number anyway. As I walk away, and dead woman walking, I see him stealthily erase something from the book; my number, I think. No, I hope.
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @
The next day, those chosen in the selection yesterday are called by number. I flinch as each number is spoken; my best friend and her younger sister, a mere 14 years old, are taken away. And yet I remain.
Why? I think to myself. I saw him write my number. He really must have erased it... but why?
