Title: Lost and Found
Author/Email: Icywind icywind378@yahoo
Rating: PG-13
Content/Warnings if needed: Allusions to the violence of war (spec WW1 and WW2) and the Holocaust. Eventual Slash content as well.
Summary: A disenchanted Russian Immortal from the Imperial days meets a man made Immortal by the horrors of the Holocaust. Together they learn how to live again.
Feedback: please!!!
Disclaimer: The characters and story belong to be, Icywind. The Concept of Immortality belongs to Davis/Panzer prod.
Archive rights: Hub8 (my page), ff.net, Ask otherwise.
Any sort of author notes: I must thank Jenn and JP for their support and feedback, and Fran for the Beta.
There is some use of a few non-English langs in this. It is roughly correct but not fully so. My apologies on that.
Lost and Found
Prologue
Poland; January 27, 1945
A thick snow was falling as the Soviet troops marched into the city of Oswiecim, Poland. They had little to no trouble taking the city, most top Nazi officials and troops had already left - seeking to reach their mother country, hoping to stop the Machine of the Red Army from taking her.
Colonel Nikolai Mikhailov, known at birth as Ivan Nickolaev, paid little attention however. Nothing much phased him anymore. He had become disenchanted with life, Immortal life. Who wants to live forever when all life is War and Death? Calmly he glanced around the city from his vantage point in a downtown building, and lit a cigarette. He puffed away at it slowly while reading the latest reports from other Units in the area. A young Private entered the room and stood at attention.
"Yes?"
"Sir, we are ready to inspect the camp Auschwitz. Preliminary reports say it is the largest of the 'Exterminations camps' we have found so far. Reports also say that most of the prisoners were marched out a 10 days ago…" He nodded and stood gesturing with his hand for the Private to lead the way.
He had thought he would be ready for the scene ahead of him… thought that years of war had burned any sense of emotions in him… he was wrong. He looked on in mute horror as they toured the large camp. You could still smell the scent of death, feel the pain and torment in the walls and the ground. How any person to do this to another was mind boggling yet just the same it had happened…and he was seeing it first hand.
"There are survivors," the Private was saying as they exited one of the buildings. "They must have been dubbed too weak or sick to evacuate."
"They might have gotten the better part of the deal," he heard himself say as they continued onward towards one of the barracks. Then suddenly as they reached the door it hit him, something he hadn't felt in five years. A Quickening… one so faint it had to be fairly new and the person whom in belonged to must be near death. He entered the building and looked around, trying to pinpoint the location of the other Immortal. Numerous pairs of sunken eyes stared out at him from their sockets, skeletal bodies lying everywhere struggling to breathe, it was sickening. Then when he thought he could no longer stand searching he found him.
He would be a tall man, if he could stand. Faint traces of brown hair adorned his head, and what once must have been rich mocha colored eyes, now became dull brown orbs staring out of sunken depths in defeat. He was so thin Ivan could count the ribs by sight alone. Slim hipbones barely held up coarse pants and a rough shirt with many holes covered his chest. He looked half-dead and Ivan suddenly wanted very much to cry. 'He must have been beautiful when he was healthy… now he looks like the walking dead…' Gently he turned the man's arm to get a look at the tattoo. The high number confirmed his suspicions, an Italian Jew.
"Non si preoccupi. Sono qui aiutarlo. Ora siete sicuri." He said in uncertain Italian. The man just looked at him blankly and Ivan wondered for a moment if he was even the least bit coherent. Then suddenly he nodded at him.
"Cosa è il vostro nome?" he continued. The man turned his arm and pointed weakly at the number tattooed there. '150862.' Ivan shook his head and asked again.
"Cosa è il vostro nome?" This time the eyes locked with his and comprehension dawned in them.
"G...Giovanni Bassani," he managed to croak out. Ivan smiled at him in encouragement then signaled the Private over.
"I want this one brought to my room back in the hotel. In fact, ready my car, I will take him myself."
"But Sir…regulations…"
"I do not care for regulations Private, just do as I say. I need this man for questioning and I would rather he be under my care than that of a doctor I do not trust…" The younger man nodded and did as he was told.
For a week Ivan cared for the young Italian, helping him gain more strength and health. Even his Immortality had been sorely pressed to cope with the harsh conditions of Auschwitz. Finally 10 days after having entered Oswiecim Ivan left the city. Heading back for St. Petersburg now called Leningrad. And with him the Italian went.
Tbc...
"Non si preoccupi. Sono qui aiutarlo. Ora siete sicuri." Do not worry. I am here to help you. You are safe now.
"Che cosa è il vostro nome?" What is your name?
