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!

"Stan and I were best friends since Elementary School."

Kyle told with a small smile. "When Hitler came to the power and Jews started being deported, his family helped mine into hiding during three and a half years. But somehow, the Nazis discovered our hiding place and we were deported to Dachau. Stan joined the Nazi Party short afterwards, so he could find me and my family, which he did. His plan was since the beginning, to save as many lives as possible by having Jews working in his factory, which he bought with the help of the Party's funds. That's the real reason behind this transaction. One that saved many lives, including my family's. " scribbled something down on his paper and then looked up at Kyle with a neutral expression.

"And yet, you did not go with him." Kyle swallowed dry. He knew it was a question and not a statement.

"I…I could not go." The redhead said in a whisper, which was true. But not for the reason Mr. Cooper thought. The red-haired boy casted his eyes downwards, but Mr. Cooper had already read the pain.

"Your recount matches the others." Mr. Cooper said while he put the papers back in his small briefcase. "The different Jewish families' reports, including yours; already pointed out to Mr. Marsh's role in the war, but I needed to confirm this with the person that prepared the documentation for the transaction." He stood up and stretched his hand, smiling for the first time. Kyle quickly stood up and shook his hand. "I will deliver this rapport to the War Council. Your friend will be soon cleared from any war crime charges."

Kyle smiled widely, his heart warming up to the though his best friend soon could live a free life again. He was glad the truth had surfaced and Stan would be recognized as the hero he actually was. He glanced in Kenny's direction who smiled back at him, while he gave thumbs up. Kyle could feel his heart want to burst from rejoice and had to restrain himself from jumping and laughing from sheer excitement. He walked Mr. Cooper to the door, hiding all his bursting happiness.

"Thank you." Was the only thing he could imagine saying. Mr. Cooper stepped out of the apartment, but before Kyle would close the door, he turned around, suddenly remembering something important.

"I also have information about Eric Cartman that may concern you." Mr. Cooper said while he turned to face Kyle. All the happiness from the Jew's young features disappeared to be replaced by tension. could only imagine the wrongdoings the Jew had to live under the SS's domination. He was certain his news would bring some peace to the young man. "A few weeks ago, he was found hiding in Mexico by Simon Wiesenthal. He's one of our finest Nazi hunters. A Jew, just like you. According to his reports, a last confrontation between him and Eric Cartman found place at Rio Alsaseca. The SS was last seen falling from the 128-feet Big Banana Falls. His body wasn't found. But don't worry, nobody could survive such a fall."

Mr. Cooper saw the haunting shock in the young Jew's face. He gave a small bow with his head, before turning his back to the redhead and walk down the stairs. He left believing he had freed the redhead from a terrible ghost from the past. He left believing this young man could now go on with his life without fearing ever facing the author of his torments in Dachau. Little did he know he that had left a heartbroken soul in the flat.

When hearing 's words, Kyle paralyzed. His ears deafened. He did not hear Kenny call for him. He did not hear his desperate pleas. All he heard was the man's voice echoing in his head… nobody could survive such a fall…A hard noise of wild falling water filled his head. His vision was blurred by involuntary tears that cascaded freely down his face. His vision went unfocused. He did not see Mr. Cooper leave, he did not see the door close, he did not see Kenny's worried face right in front of his. All he saw were liters and liters of ferocious water falling from high up. All he saw was the endless abyss of cruel tumultuous water. He felt himself sink to its cold bottom. He was drowning in agony. His breathing had stopped. His heart had stopped. Something in the core of his soul cracked and he died. He did not feel Kenny's hands grasping his shoulders, he did not feel him shaking him. All he felt was his being dying. All he felt was coldness. Cold chills running down his spine, cold sweat sweeping through his body. And then the pain came. Cruel and merciless. In wild tremors. In coarse gasps. The air was caught in his throat. His breathing became uneven.

His vision returned and he could see Kenny's widened blue eyes. His earing returned and he could hear Kenny screaming out his name, over and over again. His senses were back and he could feel the fingers grasping his shoulders hard, while he was being shaken. He could feel nails digging his hands' skin till it met flesh. It hurt, but nothing compared to the piercing pain in his chest. Like a dagger stuck in his heart and slowly deepened, torturing him with increasing pain.

"He's dead." Kyle murmured in a soft numb whisper. "Eric's dead."

Kenny halted with his screaming and shaking to look at his friend's eyes. For a moment he thought he had lost Kyle. He was quiet. Too quiet. He had lost all color from his face. He wasn't breathing. He wasn't moving. And although tears sprung from the green eyes, they were deprived from life. Forest orbs were filled with void, with nothingness, with darkness. He tried to wake up Kyle from this strange trance but as much as he called his name out and plead for him to come back to his senses, nothing happened. Kenny could feel panic fill his heart. He could feel darkness envelop his friend. And then he spoke. The doomed words. And his green eyes were on his. Filled of pain, of agony, of torment.

"They didn't find his body. He may have survived, Kyle." Kenny said, trying to grasp to that little hope that still existed, as vain as it felt, as improbable as it was. Because Kyle needed that little hoop to live on.

"D-Didn't you h-hear what he said?" Kyle said in waves of gasps. His throat was burning. He could only taste fire. "128-feet high! N-Nobody can….nobody can…" Kyle cut his own words, while he put a trembling hand in front of his mouth, muffing the shaky sobbing. His eyes burned as hot salty tears cascaded silently. He blinked as the world around him crumbled down. His legs wanted to give away. They were too heavy and numb. His chest burned from the piercing pain. From the sorrow. From the agony. He could feel the fire spread in his veins like deadly fever. He felt Kenny hold him, supporting him not to fall and dragged him to the couch. He felt himself being laid down… nobody could survive such a fall… Eric Cartman was dead. Was gone. And they would never meet again. Ever. "I cannot remember his face!" Kyle's voice was high-pitched from the panic. "I c-cannot r-remember!"

Kenny tried vainly to tell him there was still hope. He tried to tell him nothing was definite until a body was found. He stroked the red curls while he murmured the soothing words. But he knew it was all in vain. Who could survive such a fall? Kyle was too rational to believe in such ungrasping realities. And he had already sunken in the deepest abyss of pain. But there was nothing else Kenny could do, so he murmured the idealistic words and spoke of unrealistic dreams. He wanted, he needed Kyle to still have some hope in his life. Because if hope died, what else was over to live for?

What should have been a day to celebrate, became a mournful one. Kyle was sure he was living a nightmare. Nothing he ever experienced in his life hurt this bad. It was a new kind of pain he wished he never would have to feel. It was a kind of pain that took away all the will for life. All he could taste was loss and death. All he could breathe was sorrow and misery. All he could feel was sadness, a bottomless pit of sadness. Kenny's words sounded hollow. They were hollow. They were words deprived of any truth, weaving a beautiful lie, painting a hopeful world. They didn't reach him….nobody could survive such a fall… Eric was dead. And that was that.

"Please, don't give up." Kenny weakly whispered. Kyle would lose his life lust. He would chose to die. Whether it was of sickness or suicide, he would die. The blond could not allow this. But what could he do? His words did not reach his friend's heart. "It's not what he would have wanted."

Kyle's eyes widened as his heart panged. Kenny had finally given up. His hand that had rested on the redhead's arm, left it, so his limb became cold. He stood up to leave the room, to let Kyle be. Kenny gave up, unaware he had spoken the right words. It's not what he would have wanted. Kyle's eyes instantly dried out and he begun panting, as his breaths came in deep gasps. The words sunk in his mind. He could imagine the Nazi speaking them. He would never have allowed Kyle to give into his misery. Because Kyle was not to type to give up. He was stubborn. Kyle was a survivor. He quickly sat up to stare wildly at the blonde. It's not what he would have wanted. Realization hit him like a cruel punch and Kyle knew. He could not give up life. He could not give up and be defeated by death. Because the moment he chose to, he would dishonor Eric's memory. The Jew swallowed painfully. Eric would never allow him to give up. Not even after death.

…

Weeks passed by and Kyle woke up every day to a bitter and tormented reality. The world had become a greyer and lonelier place without him. Kyle realized those two years he lived separated from the Nazi were bearable because he believed so deeply they would see each other again, someday. It didn't matter when. It didn't matter how long. As long as they did. It had been this belief, this certainty, this hoop that had given him patience. It had driven him to follow his dreams. But this all died away with 's words.

Now, it was Eric's memory that kept him going on. Kyle fought back his despair the first days by telling himself he would never want to see him in a depressive state. He would never want him to succumb to his misery and be defeated by life's cruelty. He told himself this, over and over again, till the day Kyle came upon the realization that there was a way to keep Eric alive. He understood he had the power to immortalize the Nazi. Eric Cartman would live on through memory. And through his violin. Because the Jew had many, many compositions that were written together with Eric Cartman. Since the day they were separated, he refused to play them. He couldn't, the memories engraved in them were too painful. But that was back them. Now, it were these very memories that kept Kyle's sanity intact. Now, he played them every day, incessantly. He needed to play them. To honor his memory. To keep Eric alive in the music they once created.

As for Kenny, to say he had been surprised with Kyle was an understatement. There was a moment he truly believed the redhead had given life up. But then, the next day, Kyle simply went on with his daily life. Sure he looked ill, he looked like if all life's energy had been sucked out of him. But still, he went to music classes and, afterwards did his accounting work. The blonde had hated to arrive home so late that day, but his boss had held him back with piles of work. Kenny had been the whole day worried with his friend. But that night, he peeked in Kyle's room and sighed of relieve. The red-haired Jew was sleeping peacefully. Kenny took the habit to check on his friend every day. He made sure he ate, he made sure he slept, he made sure he always had something to think about than solely the Nazi's death. And so, in just a few weeks, he witnessed Kyle slowly, but gradually, come out of the depressive pit. He started smiling a little, he talked more, he ate more. And he played the violin. Beautifully. All the time. Music had become his sole passion. His reason to live. His drive to live a life without him.

The academic year finished in end June. Kyle concluded his first year in the Manhattan School of Music undeniably as top of the class with unsurprisingly the highest scores. It had been years ago since such a talented student came to this school. His fame had meanwhile spread out through the entire school. He was already a legend there and his teachers were determined to bring his fame outside the walls of the school. Following the tradition, the end of the year was celebrated with a concert given by students. Family and friends were invited, but most important, tickets were sold to the general public. Kenny, who was Kyle's guest of honor, was not surprised to notice many compositions gave more accent to Kyle's performance. His violin stood out the rest of the violins and when his solo moment came, he definitely shined the most brilliant as musician.

Kenny helped Kyle in any way he could and wrote a favorable review in the newspaper about the concert, giving a small but clear hint, that Kyle Broflovski was a violinist with a promising future. It was also Kenny who convinced Kyle to get out of the apartment, during their days free (Kyle worked now in a supermarket), which were most of the time in the weekends. The summer weather allowed them to have picnics in Central Park. Kenny loved socializing with his roommate. They had bonded strongly in a short time and, despite his extravert manners, the blonde had few friends. It was the dying thing.

One day Kyle decided to take his violin and play a bit in the park after they lunched. Playing outside, under the shade of the trees, with his naked feet touching the grass, was much more pleasant than inside an old and grey apartment. So the next day he took the violin again, and the following one and those that followed it afterwards. By mid-way summer, people came to the park, knowing a young violinist would be there playing, so they could chill in the freshness of the park and enjoy the music. At a certain point people came to talk with Kyle, most out of curiosity, others just to compliment his talent.

"You're becoming famous." Kenny said with a wide smile, after a couple had come by the boys and thanked Kyle for the wonderful performance.

"Ah, I'm just glad they enjoy the music as much as I enjoy playing it. At least nobody sends me away or tell me to stops." Kyle jokingly said.

"They would be crazy if they did." Kenny barked a laughter. "Did that ever happen, by the way?"

"No, never." Kyle said with a grin that reflected his pride and a little bit of mischief. "You know, you could be famous too with that tenor voice of yours." The redhead pointed out.

There was this one time when Kenny joined the Jew and sang a few operettas. Kyle had been beyond surprised and marveled with the blonde's powerful voice. He learned that day Kenny was autodidactic. He had taught himself to sing as a child, because he wanted to work in a circus and be the background music. He quickly had become famous, labelled as a wonder child. He went on a tour in Romania, where he performed as the country's star. But then he died and so did his career. Kenny never wanted to pick it back. It wasn't his passion in the first place. Besides, he was afraid of becoming more well-known for his deaths than for his performances.

"Nah! If I'm gonna be famous, it will be for my writing."

"Are you going to write a book about Mysterion?" Kyle asked. "You could write it in the first person, since you're so good in getting inside this vigilante's head." The Jew said with a knowingly look and Kenny laughed nervously. His friend had been starting to become suspicious about Mysterion's secret identity and the strange "understanding" Kenny had to his persona.

"Who knows? Maybe I will one day!" Kenny said in a nervous laughter, his hand behind his head. Kyle was about to retort when somebody approached them and interrupted their conversation.

"Your style is really cool!" Kyle and Kenny both looked up, as they were sitting on the grass. A dark young man was staring at Kyle with a smile on his lips.

"Thanks." Kyle said, while he and Kenny looked at the stranger with curiosity.

"I am Token. Token Black." He introduced himself. Kyle stood up to shake his hand and Kenny snickered.

"Are you really?" Kenny said in a chuckle. Kyle stared shocked at him for his humorless joke, but Token seemed to be used to people making fun about the irony of his name. He ignored the blonde and turned to Kyle instead.

"I work at a Jazz night club and I have a proposal for you."