Warning: AU –Second World War
M-Rated!Contains coarse language, violent imaginary related to the context of war, and sex.
I do not own South Park. I do not own anything. I wish I was that f* genius!
I must be crazy.
I'm risking everything! My reputation, my career, my life!
And what for?
For a fucking filthy Jew!
These were the thoughts that haunted Herr Cartamn's mind while he carried an unconscious feverish Jew on his back. He was horrified by the notion he was, firstly, being guided by a mere child; secondly and worse, by a Jew through invisible paths between the trenches of his camp. It was humiliating, it was confusing, it was absolutely surreal. But there he was. Herr Cartman, the child prodigy Nazi that wrote an 80 paged essay about all the different reasons the Jewish race should be destroyed. Herr Cartman, the Nazi that despised and loathed Jews above anything else in the world. Yes, this very same Herr Cartman, was now rescuing a Jew himself. And why? He didn't even know why. He couldn't think about one single reason to save this Jew's life. All he knew was he had to keep this damned cursed red haired kike alive. No matter what the consequences were.
Herr Cartman panted heavily. He puffed while running after the agile child, struggling to keep up with Ike's speed. Kyle was quite a light load, that wasn't the problem. It was all the running under a hot sun that was killing him. He didn't like sport as much as sport didn't like him. His whole body ached. His legs muscles burned, his chest felt like it was about to explode and his mouth tasted metallic. All this running around wasn't good for him. It made him sweat and burn calories, something that was unknown to his fat physique.
A sensation of relieve travelled through his body when he saw the edge of the forest. They ran into it and Herr Cartman welcomed the cool shades of the tall trees. He stopped when he was sure they were well hidden in the woods. Herr Cartman carefully placed Kyle on the cool ground, while he inhaled and exhaled deeply bending over, his large hands resting on his tights. Ike crouched so he could look better at Kyle. He felt his temperature and looked at the exhausted Nazi worriedly. Herr Cartman saw the look in the boy's eyes and too checked the redhead's temperature.
"Your brother is burning. He'll have to be put in a tub with cold water." He casually said, ignoring the tears that threatened to spill from the child's dark eyes. "Okay kid. You cannot go further than this. I know how to move from here without being seen." He picked up Kyle again and threw the boy over his shoulder. "During the rollcall, answer for him. Do this until you are instructed otherwise." The Nazi said. There was some paperwork he had to deal to explain the Jew's absence. He would have to figure out some new function for him to justify a transference, should he survive this illness. "Come on, go away now, before you are missed!" Herr Cartman yelled in his characteristic manner, making the child flinch of fear.
Ike gave one last heartbroken look at his unconscious brother, turned around and hurried back to the work fields. The boy told himself Kyle would be fine. But once he reached the edge of the forest, Ike suddenly stopped. He remained a while planted between the tall trees hesitating. His heart was heavy. He was divided. He struggled with the dilemma of secretly following the Nazi or returning to the camp. As much as he wished doing the former, he ended up doing the latter and obeying Herr Cartman. There was nothing else he could do for his brother. He uttered a prayer to God and hoped fate would be kind to Kyle. Ike ran back to the working fields, as invisible and unnoticed as he had moved before. When he arrived, his father looked expectantly at him, worry all written over his face. Ike nodded, indicating all was well with his brother. He would have one hell of a story to tell to his father. He only wished he wouldn't be scolded again for delivering Kyle a second time to the fat Nazi.
…
"Hello children…" A strong built dark man's deep voice greeted Herr Cartman, as he entered the kitchen through the back door. The man had his back to the Nazi and he was cutting some vegetables. He did not need to turn around to know it was his employer, for he was used to Herr Cartmans' sudden intrusions in his kitchen. But this time there was something different. There was a loud and heavy panting the cook wasn't used to hear. So he turned around. "Eric Cartman, what the hell are you doing?!" The cook asked shocked when he saw the unconscious body of a boy in prisoner's clothing hanging over the Nazi's shoulder.
"Shhhhhhhhh!" Herr Cartman urgently said with his index in front of his lips. He was afraid somebody would hear the cook's loud voice. "This Jewboy…uh…Ay! He's the musician from the last soiree! He's sick with whatever illness… and I need to keep him alive so he can play again in the next soiree!" The Nazi hastily said. The dark man stared at him clearly shocked, perplexed, mystified and above all, confused. This Jew had to possess a great musical talent otherwise, there was something very off with the SS. There was one thing, though, he knew for sure. This was a dangerous action.
"Oh Eric, what you are doing is really, really risky." He worriedly pointed out, finding the whole concept quite odd and uncharacteristic for Herr Cartman.
"Not riskier than keeping your black ass safe in my kitchen, Chef!" Herr Cartman angrily replied. "Now, help me bring him to northern guestroom. I don't want any of the other staff to see him."
Chef quickly obeyed his boss, left the cooking and took the load off Herr Cartman's back. The Nazi led the way, always checking first if the coast was clear and then gestured the cook to follow him. Chef rushed after the fat Nazi with Kyle on his arms, making the boy look smaller and frailer than he already was. They climbed up the stairs and reached the smallest and coolest guestroom unnoticed. Chef watched Herr Cartman hurry to the small private bathroom and fill the bathtub with cold water.
"Chef, the Jew." Herr Cartman said in an urgent voice and the dark man hurried to carefully deposit the boy in the cold water, clothes and all.
The moment Kyle's body sunk in the water and the chilly temperature painfully collided with his feverish skin, a horrible agonizing scream filled the bathroom. Kyle regained consciousness immediately and was now struggling in getting out of the bathtub. He had no idea where he was, what was happening and what force kept him from standing up, making him slip and drown in the freezing water. All he knew, all he perceived was this horrible feeling of thousands of knifes stinging his body. It hurt bad. It hurt like hell.
"Ahhh! Argh! What's going on? Help!" Kyle screamed panicked, pushing dark strong arms away, fighting them helplessly.
"Calm down! God damnit, Kalh! You need to calm down!" Herr Cartman yelled as he too clenched his fat fingers around Kyle's small shoulders, helping Chef keeping him down.
Kyle blinked several times. His burning eyes were blurred from fever and tears. He stared confused at the soft yellow tiles that covered the wall in front of him. His vision focused and unfocused several times. He could feel two pairs of strong hands pressing his body and keeping him down. Only then did he realize he was submersed. His sluggish mind finally managed to understand he was lying in a bathtub, but he couldn't understand where and why. Somewhere in the mist of his blurred thoughts, Kyle knew he wasn't supposed to be here, but somewhere else, doing something different, but he couldn't remember where and what.
His burning eyes distinguished two unfocussed faces. One looked oddly familiar, just like its voice, which seemed to want to comfort him, but instead only scared him the more. The other face was pitch dark, strange and scary. Kyle could feel the dizziness quickly shut off his mind, the coldness invade his too hot body, the pain spread under each cell of his skin. Green eyes momentarily locked on brown ones and for just a moment Kyle felt absolutely safe and terrified at the same time. And then his eyelids gave up and closed, so his world became dark. He could hear his name being called out, over and over again, but it faded in the distance until he heard nothing else than silence.
…
Kyle could hear low voices nearby. They were whispers. He couldn't discern what the whispers were saying, but somehow he knew they were talking about him. He felt exhausted. His body felt heavy and numb. But he felt comfortable. Soft, warm and fresh at the same time. His mind struggled to put its thoughts together and try to figure out where he was. He joggled his memory back to the arduous heavy work at the grove. Breaking stones, picking stones, breaking stones, picking stones. Under a hot sun. An unbearable hot sun. He remembered being sick. He remembered his breathless lungs stung, his throat was a dry desert, his limbs felt like jelly. He remembered thinking he could not bear it anymore. He remembered giving up. He remembered accepting death with a smile.
Kyle forced his eyes to open. They became less heavy, but burned so badly. Softly, his eyes opened and blinked several times. The world was a blur and the whispers died out. After a short while, his vision focused and he took a deep breath. Green eyes met a white ceiling with a dark brown lamp hanging on it. He sensed some movement from his right side and slowly turned his head. Kyle's eyes widened slightly as he recognized the faces of Herr Cartman and his butler Alfred. He opened his mouth but no sound came from it. He had no idea what to say.
"Here, drink some water." Alfred, who immediately stood up, said while he helped Kyle sit up and gave him a glass of cold water, which Kyle drunk voraciously. He was terribly thirsty and soon a second glass of water was going down his throat. The butler gently helped him lay back on the bed and smiled worriedly at the boy. Kyle had a sickening pale skin, his lips were white, his eye sockets were deep and dark. The redhead lay down with a sigh, grateful for the soft pillow and matrass under him. "Should I get him something to eat?" Alfred asked and Herr Cartman nodded silently. Soon the man left the room, the sound of his footsteps climbing down the stairs distancing, until silence filled the room.
"W-What happened?" Kyle finally asked in a weak and hoarse voice. He slowly turned his head to the Nazi, who remained seated and looked apprehensive.
"Your brother. He brought you to me…Well, actually it was the other way around." The fat Nazi mumbled the last part, while he rubbed his forehead. He sighed deeply and looked tired. "You were unconscious for one day and a half." Kyle's eyes widened in shock. "You had…uh…high fevers. Doctor said you have a pneumonia, or something of the kind." Herr Cartman said and grew more and more uncomfortable at the shocked and confused look Kyle was giving him. Why was Alfred taking so long with the damn food?!
"W-Why?" Kyle finally verbalized the one and only question that filled his mind right now. The fat Nazi lifted his head and looked lost for some moments. He has asked that same question himself over and over again, but still had no answer. He had no idea why. Or perhaps he had, but could not accept it. Would not accept the truth. He frowned upset.
"The only reason you are here, Jewrat, is because of my friends!" He angrily spat, his voice coming louder and harsher than he had expected. Kyle flinched and looked still shocked and confused, but also terrified and something else Herr Cartman couldn't recognize. "They loved you! Especially that whore of Bebe!" And that son-of-a-bitch Craig, from whom I'm still waiting for his fucking answer! But he omitted that part. He stood up and walked to Kyle's bed, rested his heavy hands on the edge of the matrass and bended slightly over the red haired boy, so they're eyes were locked. Kyle instinctively pressed his back against the matrass and swallowed dryly. "You see Jew…" Herr Cartman's voice was soft this time, a mere whisper, but he sounded now even more threatening than before. "…my asshole friends have important daddies. I have to keep them happy, so my goals remain in my reach. That's where you fit in, Jew. You stay alive, so you can entertain them during their visits and keep them happy. As long as they are happy, so am I. And as long as I am happy, your miserable family lives. Understood?"
Kyle nodded, looking even paler than before, if that was even possible. Herr Cartman read the terror in the Jew's eyes. He wondered if the redhead was too tired to conceal his emotions, or because he had just punched right in the Jew's weak spot. His family. The fat Nazi smirked maliciously. He took a step back and soon he was sitting down on his chair again. A heavy tension filled the room as silence installed itself again. But fortunately, the sound of footsteps heading to the room were heard and soon Alfred walked inside, holding a tray with a bowl of warm soup. He didn't notice the tension between the two teenagers and thought Kyle's paleness had worsened due to lack of energy, thus food. Again he helped the boy sit up and had to feed him, since Kyle's hands shook too intensely, making the spoon's contents spill back on the bowl. He ate more than he could, less than he wanted and, afterwards, lay down feeling completely exhausted.
"You're going to be just fine. The worst is already behind." Alfred said in an almost fatherly manner. "We thought you weren't going to make it, but boy, do you have life strength inside of you." Kyle smiled tiredly but sincerely at the compliment. He missed the way Herr Cartman awkwardly turned to the window and slightly fidgeted with his buttons.
"Thank you, Alfred." The Nazi spoke the words the butler knew meant his services in the room weren't required anymore and he left after politely bowing his head.
The room was filled with silence again. Herr Cartman dwelled in the words spoken by Alfred. Yes. This Jew had a unique will-power, an endless inner-strength, great surviving instincts. He knew it were these characteristics that made him consider this particular Jew interesting. Absolutely fascinating. And yet, he failed to understand how. If Kyle was a Jew, if he belonged to the weakest and filthiest race of all, how could he possess qualities that should be only reserved to the Aryan race?
He turned to face the redhead, the object of his musings and disturbing questionings. He turned to face the most peaceful and angelic sight he had ever seen. Kyle was asleep. Red curls gently resting on his creamy skin, painted by hundreds of tiny and almost invisible freckles. His face was sweet, his frame small and frail. And Herr Cartman wondered, how was it possible such a beautiful creature to be considered inferior?
The fat Nazi sat back on his chair, his brown eyes never leaving the Jew. He was distressed. He was confused. He was full of questions and doubts. For the first time in his life, the way of the world he believed to be perfect and ideal felt like one big mistake. And so he cursed and loathed this Jew for who he was. For being so amazingly stubborn, for being so irritatingly gorgeous. For making him want to save his life over and over again. For making him go against all rules and violate his own ideals. This Jew entered in his life, he shook it up and turned his world upside down.
And for this, Herr Cartman loathed him.