1915:

Raoul De Chagny nervously reported to headquarters in the late evening. He'd been a lower rank infantry man since the beginning of France's involvement in the war, and while he had not moved up in rank, had survived longer than many French infantrymen in the Great War. He'd stayed rather nondescript in his regiment aside from being reliable and trustworthy. Why he had been called into headquarters, and been ordered to tell no one of this meeting was beyond him.

He was called in.

Two men waited for him. A man of clear high rank, and a man out of uniform, seemingly a doctor.

"De Chagny!" the officer said cheerfully. Too cheerfully, Raoul thought. "Good to meet you. My sincerest apologies for the sudden calling, but we wanted to give the news as soon as possible."

Raoul frowned. "News, sir?"

"You've been promoted, by Clemenceau himself."

The young infantryman started. "Promoted by the Prime Minister?" What is going on? "May I ask what position I've been honored with?"

The officer nodded briefly to the doctor standing behind him, and he approached Raoul quickly as something flashed in his hand. "Human weapon."

"Wh –" but before Raoul could finish he felt a sharp pain in his thigh and collapsed. His last thoughts before he blacked out were of his fiancé waiting back home for him.

The Doctor and the officer looked at the collapsed man on the floor in front of them. "Will he do, you think?" The officer asked.

"We've been observing him for months. He's the perfect candidate for replacement, a black slate except for the fiancé…" the doctor replied.

"Don't worry about that sir," the officer replied. "As far as she knows, De Chagny died in the line of duty four months ago."

1917:

"It can't be. It's not possible. He's dead."

Christine was fighting down the quickly rising panic in her chest. Flashbacks of her time with Raoul raced through her mind. Kisses, tears, a red scarf, a newly pressed uniform, funeral attire…

Lottie. No one ever called her that except Raoul. Not even her father called her that name. His light colored roots, blue eyes, his movements and gestures, Lottie, Lottie, Lottie…No!

Christine was suddenly pulled out of her memories by her patient's sobs. He was sitting up, curled in on himself, hands clawing into his hair.

"Eri – " what do I call him? "Please, stop – " Christine gently untangled Erik's fingers from his hair and brought them down to hold in her own small ones. "Shh, it's alright, you're okay. We'll figure this out…"

'Erik' felt like he was going insane. He felt like he had two lives pouring into his brain at once and he felt like would die.

He was Raoul. That was the only explanation for the abhorrent amount of memories assaulting him. But at the same time, his memories as the man he had thought he was remained and felt almost real, almost whole, almost, almost…

Saying goodbye to Christine, love letters read in filthy trenches, first kisses and a red scarf, and a different father, but no less abusive. A huge old house and fear, he remembered pain, doctors, needles and syringes, and not being allowed to eat, and darkness and piano wire with weights on the end, and a different man, an older version of himself, with blond hair and a strong brow calling him a sparrow…He remembered being promoted and having blond hair and a mustache…

He whined pathetically and tugged on his hair, as if the pain of doing so would halt the memories.

Even as Christine brought his hands into her own, whines, sobs, and gasps emitted from the man. Despite how overwhelmed and frightened he was, his hands in hers comforted him as did her voice, and he eventually quieted to small sobs and whispers.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I didn't know, they gave me no choice…Christine…"

Christine grimaced as she heard her fiancé's intonation in the spy's voice, but his words caught her attention. "It's alright," was it? "It's okay. I'm right here, I'll be right back." She pried her hands as gently as she could from her patient's, and pulled the curtain around the bed for privacy. While patients having flashbacks or panic attacks weren't uncommon in the hospital, she could tell that the other nurses were starting to stare, and aside from that, Christine needed as much privacy as possible. To hell with her orders. She had to know who the man in front of her was.

The moment Christine sat down, the spy grabbed her hands again, as if they were a lifeline. As long as he had her hands, he was calmer. After a few minutes, she spoke. "Erik, I need you to roll over on your side. I'm not going to hurt you, I just need to check something. Can you do that for me?"

Erik nodded, and rolled to his side, his back facing Christine.

The nurse lifted his shirt to expose his back. The side of his back had a white patchy scar, as if badly scraped skin had healed years ago.

"I fell out of tree a last year…father was so angry with me…but I got a cool scar, look!" "Do you still have that scar from when you fell out of the tree, Raoul…?"

"Oh my god…" Christine muttered. She quickly pulled down the shirt. Her bluntness returned. "Speak quietly. What do you remember? Who gave you no choice? Can you tell me?"

"Officers. Doctors. I was promoted. I was, I was –"

"Do you remember your name?" Tell me, please God…

He squeezed his eyes shut.

"Please…" Christine begged, grabbing the spy's hands again.

"You will not believe me, and I don't know what they will do to me – to you – if you know."

Christine squeezed his hand. "I will do everything in my power to help you, I swear it, and I will believe you." She no longer cared what he had done as a spy, she didn't care if he had lied, she didn't even care if what she was doing was treason. She just wanted to know if Raoul was indeed alive.

He barely whispered, almost mouthed the words "Infantryman De Chagny, Raoul."

Christine closed her eyes and squeezed the man's hands, and she knew what she had to do. "I believe you."

"Oh God Christine…"

"We have to get you out of here."