Disclaimer:

The Silver Sword does not belong to me. I don't even like it, really.

School project that someone dared me to post. jellyJ, it's your fault!

The young man lay on the white sanatorium bed, breath coming in shallow gasps, punctuated by hollow coughs. His hands gripped the mattress' edges, knuckles gone blue-white from the effort. Frantically he tried to signal the white-clothed nurse whose job it was to patrol the ward, forcing the words out between gasps and coughs.

The sixteen-year-old's eyes were clouded with pain. He spasmed as the nurse finally noticed, running over to her charge. She took one close look at him, and began to call for a doctor.

One of the other patients called his name…

'Edek! Edek! Edek…'

'Edek!'

Ruth was shaking him awake. He'd fallen asleep in the sun, and his older sister was shaking him awake. He shook his head slightly to clear his mind of drifting sun-dreams, and said, in an annoyed tone of voice, 'I was asleep, Ruth!'

'Exactly, sleepyhead,' she said, and smiled. 'That's the reason I woke you up!'

'Bronia and Jan put you up to this, didn't they?'

'Jan's got food!' Bronia piped up, golden hair fanned around her face to form a halo.

'Of course he does,' Edek sighed. 'We're in Switzerland, with Mother and Father, in peacetime. Of course we have food!'

'Why are you so grumpy?' Bronia asked in her childish clear piccolo-voice, hurt evident, and Edek immediately felt sorry.

'I don't mean to be,' he said. 'I'm sorry. I was just asleep, and you know how it is when you're having a really good dream…'

'Yes!' Bronia chirped. 'Like when I dreamed of cream… and cupcakes…' and she skipped away to find Jan, and hopefully cupcakes.

Ruth, on the other hand, was not so easily placated.

'You had the cough, didn't you?'

Edek nodded slightly, almost imperceptibly, so that if Jan or Bronia happened to glance over they would not see the gesture. And coughed, covering his mouth carefully and quickly as a reflex action.

Ruth's eyes filled with worry. 'Edek—'

'Ruth, what could we do? It's just a cough. It'll go away eventually.'

The older girl wasn't convinced, concern shining clearly in her eyes. 'A sanatorium—'

'I won't leave you. Not when I've just found my family…'

Ruth understood how her brother felt, but was still worried. 'Edek, you need help!'

'I've managed for three years with this; don't you think I'm able to cope with it!' Edek was panting a little, a result of overexerting himself.

'No,' Ruth said plainly, and sighed. 'But I won't tell Mother and Father; even though I should. You're an adult now, and I suppose you have to make your own choices.'

'Thank you,' Edek said sombrely.

'Don't thank me, Edek. I wish I was strong enough to tell someone…but I don't want to lose you.' With that, Ruth turned on her heel and left.

Edek stared after her, despair welling up inside him.

Edek lay in his bed in the Polish house, listening to his parents' explanation to Jan of why he should not throw rotten turnips at the German house-children.

Normally Edek would have been amused, but he knew somewhere, deep in his heart, that things were not going well. He'd lied, yes, lied, saying his cough was gone after a few months, but it had been necessary.

How could he leave his family so soon after finding them? Even Ruth, who really should be in university learning to be a teacher, clung to the safety and security of their home.

Why should Edek be any different?

He curled into a foetal position and coughed, covering his mouth and muffling the sound as much as possible. He heard Jan swear, and Margrit scold him.

He coughed again, and, trying to distract himself, thinking of the time when he saw his parents after their journey to Switzerland, of moving into the Polish house. It didn't work. The agony was intense, spears of fire digging into his abdomen. He should have been used to this by now, he thought mildly through the pain, but he wasn't.

Pain…

Jan stormed up the stairs, angry. Why wouldn't Margrit and Joseph understand! The Germans deserved all he did to them, for what they had done to Poland.

And now he had been sent to bed early.

He trudged along the hallway to his room, next to Edek's, fully ready to pull open Edek's door and have a good long sulk session with him. Edek wasn't particularly understanding, but Karl was angry with him and would probably kick him out if he tried to whinge to him.

Edek would have to do.

He pulled the young man's door open, saying, rather loudly, 'I can't BELIEVE—'

Then he stopped, suddenly and abruptly, shocked by the figure on the bed.

Edek was curled up on the bed, breath coming in harsh gasps regulated by hollow hacking coughs.

'Edek?' he whispered, utterly and completely terrified. 'Edek?'

He stared at the figure on the bed, utterly and completely out of control.

'Ruth!' Jan screamed, immediately reverting to the person he would always consider his mother. 'Ruth!'

He took one last glance at Edek, and bolted down the stairs, calling for Ruth.

Ruth was sitting in the kitchen, hands around mug of tea, looking at a picture Bronia had drawn earlier. It was good. Ruth's little sister showed talent, and lots of it. She'd have to go to art school later…

This train of thought was interrupted, however, when Jan rushed down the stairs to her, taking them three steps at a time. Before she could admonish him, he said breathlessly to forestall her, 'Edek's had a coughing fit. Isn't he cured? He's coughing upstairs. It looks bad.'

It took a few moments for Ruth to absorb this, as she sat at the kitchen table, staring at Bronia's picture with a warm mug in her hands.

Edek? Coughing?

Reality hit.

'Jan, get Mother and Father. Tell them exactly what you told me. Tell them to hurry.'

Ruth ran up the stairs, the picture of the soup-kitchen forgotten.

Nurses were crowded around him, eyes fraught with worry. They all noticeably relaxed when they saw him eyes open. He heard one of them mutter worriedly, 'Third time this month…Poor darling.'

He sighed. Ruth had been right, and it had only been hers and Jan's quick thinking that had saved him that night. The doctor had been able to come and save his life, and soon afterwards he'd been bundled off to the sanatorium, where he at least he had a chance of survival…

He heard an older nurse correct the first. 'He's getting better, Lela. His fits used to be four times a week. There's still hope…'