Emilie stood at attention in front of her CO. He was seated behind his desk while Ehrlichmann spoke to him urgently, bending down in order to talk directly into his ear and stop her from hearing as much as possible. It irritated her; it wasn't exactly like what he was saying was a huge secret. Ehrlichmann's eyes flicked to her every so often, as did her CO's. She met their gaze calmly, while on the inside she was close to panic.
How had she been so stupid? Was Eugene really worth losing her duty as medic over?
She hadn't gotten any sleep so far that night. Straight after Eugene had left (he had offered to help her, but she had refused, reasoning that he couldn't exactly waltz in behind enemy lines; to that, he had reminded her that, as paratroopers, that was exactly what they did, and for once she hadn't had a witty retort prepared for that), she had barely managed to drag Eberhardt's body back to the village. It was strenuous, despite the fact she was quite strong. Once upon a time, she would have asked Zimmermann to help. He would have understood. But that was no longer an option.
Once inside the town, she had gone straight to the doctor, Ehrlichmann, knocking on his door relentlessly until he woke up and answered. That hadn't made her the most popular person, as a few men had yelled at her to shut up, to which she had yelled back at them even louder to mind their own business. They had known that tone of voice, and hadn't argued any further, disappearing back into the rooms they had claimed for themselves and their friends. She had hidden Eberhardt's body in an alleyway, and, luckily, it had been too dark for any curious men that were still up to spot.
Ehrlichmann had followed her down in his white bed shirt and blue pyjama pants, still wiping sleep from his eyes. But he had been instantly awake as Emilie had presented him with the body of the man that had tormented her for so long. She had explained what had happened and he had paced back and forth for a few minutes rubbing his face while muttering to himself. Finally, he had told her to follow him and had rushed to the CO's quarters. Emilie hadn't protested. She just wanted to get this over and done with. It was far better to tell the truth than to come up with some extravagant lie that would eventually unravel and leave her dead or in the stockade. Well, at least she hoped telling the truth was for the best. Because if things didn't go as she planned, she would be royally screwed.
And that was how she had ended up here, at three o'clock in the morning, feeling like a murderer on trial before a judge. Her CO waved Ehrlichmann away, who took a few steps back to stand behind the other man. Heaving a sigh, her CO turned to her, lacing his fingers together.
"Ehrlichmann has told me what you told him," the commanding officer explained in a low rumble, clearly trying to keep himself together, "And he has examined the body enough to know that Eberhardt was killed by a single bullet, which matches your story. I'm going to give you the chance to explain what happened in your own words, just in case Ehrlichmann got anything wrong." There was a look in his eye that made Emilie think he wanted Ehrlichmann to be wrong, that perhaps she hadn't done it. Well, sorry to burst your bubble, sir.
Emilie shrugged, making the officer narrow his eyes. "What he said was correct, sir," she replied simply, "Eberhardt attacked me and I defended myself. It wasn't cold-blooded murder, just plain, ol' self-defence, like we were taught in training." Her eyebrows quirked for a second pointedly, before relaxing once more. How she hoped her tough, care-free charade was working.
"And you, a much smaller female, managed to defeat a stronger, bigger male?" He asked sceptically, though it was more of a doubtful comment than a real question. "Are you sure you didn't have help?"
She snorted, tensing but not berating him for doubting her skills like she usually would have. "Like I said, sir, he was drunk and has never exactly been the brightest tool in the shed. His arrogance was his downfall. I managed to unarm him and used his Luger to… End it." She barely managed to suppress a shiver at the memory. She sounded like a fucking mercenary or something. Those blasted tears began to sting her eyes once more, but she blinked them away.
Her CO was silent for a few moments, resting his chin on his hands, eyes closed as he thought things through. When he opened them once more, she could have sworn she saw a glimmer of sorrow pass over his face. But it was gone just as quickly as it had appeared and she couldn't be sure. "We will tell the soldiers an American shot him."
Emilie's eyes flashed, and she hoped they didn't notice. "Can't we just tell them he accidentally shot himself or something?" she argued, taking a small step forward so she could grip the side of his desk. He stood his ground. "It happens, sir. Why should we make them hate the Americans any more than they already do for something they did not do, when the war is so close to being over? It will just create more unnecessary pain and anguish and a need for vengeance." She had no clue why she was even defending the bastards. Well, that wasn't entirely true. She had some idea.
Her CO stood up from behind his desk, the chair scraping against the polished floorboards as he did so. He now loomed over her, leaning over his desk. She swallowed uneasily, but made no move to retreat. "You are walking on thin ice, Demont," he growled in a low, menacing voice, "Do not fall through, or you will not be able to get back up. The Americans are our enemies. Perhaps once the war is over, our countries will be friends again, but, until that day, we will continue to treat them as our foes. And just because the war may be on its last legs, that does not mean we can start getting sloppy. Now I am tired, and this is the last I shall hear of it. An American shot Eberhardt, and it would be best for both of you," His gaze swept back to Ehrlichmann, who stiffened, "If you taught yourself to believe that. Do I make myself clear?"
She held his gaze unflinchingly, glaring up at him with her jaw set and fists clenched so hard her knuckles turned a ghostly white. But, finally, lest she wanted to stay frozen there the whole night, she was forced to step back and dip her head. Her CO looked rather pleased that he had finally gotten Emilie Demont to acknowledge he was in charge and calling the shots. It had only taken two and a half years. "Fine," she replied evenly with just a hint of a snarl. It took everything in her to not sneer at him. "Have it your way, and see how well it turns out." With that, she turned on her heel and stalked towards the door. Before she disappeared through it, she placed one hand on the doorframe and called back in an icy voice, not looking at them, "And don't pretend I didn't just do you a favour. He may have been a good soldier, but sooner or later he would have brought everything crashing down around our heads."
She had never felt quite as sick with herself as she did at that moment. What kind of a person said that? She wasn't who she used to be. She didn't even recognise herself anymore, like an outsider looking in. She had vowed to never become like this, so detached.
She had become everything that she despised about soldiers.
