Chapter 12
"In the end everything collides, my childhood spat back out the monster that you see,"
There were times when he was so hot that he was sure he would spontaneously combust, and there were times when he was so cold that he was certain he would freeze to death. He was in and out of consciousness, but never enough to realize his surroundings; the constant coughing and shakes were just too much to handle when conscious. Kyle felt so incredibly weak and wished he could sleep for days just to make the pain go away; if it wasn't for the nightmares. Every time Kyle slipped back into unconsciousness, the monsters of the abyss plagued him. He did all he could to keep them at bay, to wake up, but it was so hard to keep his eyes open. There were even times he didn't know reality from his dreams, many times he thought he was hallucinating when he was awake; if he ever was awake. Somewhere in the back of the abyss he could hear something, something familiar, something-beautiful. Kyle concentrated on the sound, fighting the shadows of his nightmares until he got closer to it and he could make it out. Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata? How was he hearing this? Was this in his dreams? Was he awake? Kyle decided it was too much effort to try and figure out so he just gave in, surrendered to the beautiful sonata that he had danced to so many times before. And when Kyle gave in to this gentle melody, the monsters seemed to retreat to the shadows and in its place was a dim but soft light that shaped itself into a green lush meadow where Kyle could finally relax.
/
"How is he Dr. Wyatt?" the Commandant asked with bitterness instead of the concern that he actually felt for the Jew. After listening to his heart and lungs, Dr. Wyatt removed the ear tips of his stethoscope, placed it back in his bag and turned to his Commander.
"Early stages of pneumonia, had he gone a few more days forcing himself, and without treatment, he may have died." That was a sting to Cartman's heart that he did not expect, a sting that angered him. "I can give him doses of antibiotics, and with a few days of bed rest he'll be perfectly fine. However, I would need your permission to do that Commander." Dr. Wyatt gave Cartman a challenging look, a look that he didn't appreciate. A look that told Cartman even if he said no, he would still fix Kyle anyway.
"Just get him healthy," Cartman ordered bitterly.
"You don't wish for the Jew to die? I could rush the process if you'd like." The smirk on Dr. Wyatt's face caused Cartman to bite his lip in anger. Just what was the doctor playing at? Was he testing him to see just why this Jew was so special to him? That him, the Commandant of a concentration camp, actually wanted a Jew to live? The doctor was too noisy for his own good, luckily he was under strict orders to never repeat what goes on in this Villa.
"Do your job Doctor, get him better. The Jew and I made an arrangement that I won't let him back out of." Almost as if he was satisfied with Cartman's answer, he smiled and started going through his medical bag.
"I'll give him a starting dose of antibiotics now and I'll come back in a few hours to administer another dose. For now, I'll also give him a light sedative to help him sleep. He's in a lot of pain right now and the coughing will keep him awake, but he needs to sleep." Cartman nodded in understanding and watched as the Doctor loaded two syringes and injected them into the sick Jew; seeing Kyle being stuck with the needles actually made Cartman feel so uncomfortable that he had to look away. After he gave Kyle the shots, he loaded his medical bag back up and closed it. "He is running a high fever that he needs to break, the antibiotics will help, but depending on his strength I don't know how long until he breaks it; and it may come back. Find him a blanket and wrap him in it so he can sweat it out, at the same time keep a cool cloth on his head." Cartman looked completely offended by the Doctor's orders.
"You take care of him! It's your job! You're the Doctor here!" Cartman yelled all at once, a little panicked at the thought of having to take care of Kyle, a Jew. He wasn't supposed to take care of Jews, he was supposed to cause them misery!
"That's right sir I'm a doctor, not a nurse. I received a call just before you sent for me that I am needed for an emergency at a nearby location, so I will need to leave the camp for a short time. If I am not back in twelve hours, you will need to administer his next round of antibiotics." Cartman's face flushed, in embarrassment or anger he wasn't sure which.
"You're seriously?! I'm not a nurse or a doctor! You're post is at this Villa, Dr. Wyatt, you can't just leave!" But the Doctor was unpacking a few syringes, needles and two vials of medicine.
"If I am called away by an emergency I must, and will leave sir," Dr. Wyatt said sternly, so sternly as to let Cartman know the argument was over; he was leaving. Cartman fumed, breathing through his nose but tried to contain his temper; the Doctor smiled, knowing he won the battle. "I do hope you don't have a phobia of needles." Cartman huffed.
"No. Now how much of the dose do I give him if you're not back?" Cartman asked seeming highly annoyed, which he really was. The Doctor showed him the amount he would need to inject and then showed him where to stick Kyle. The Doctor then finished packing his things and stood, ready to leave.
"Take care of him Commandant Cartman." Cartman didn't see the devious smile the Doctor gave him, even still Cartman rolled his eyes.
"Suck my balls," and the Doctor left. When he was alone with an unconscious Kyle he let out a heavy sigh, ruffled his brown locks and plopped down in a nearby chair. "Why me?" Cartman rubbed at his temples with his fingers, feeling a headache coming on. "Clyde! Bring me a cup of coffee!" he shouted, knowing Clyde was around somewhere within yelling distance. While he was waiting on his coffee, Cartman looked everywhere but the sleeping Jew lying on his couch.
After a while, Clyde came into the living room carrying a hot cup of coffee for the Commandant. He placed it down on the table beside Cartman's chair and was about to leave until he noticed Kyle on the couch. "What happened to Kyle?" Clyde asked in genuine concern. Cartman picked up his cup and rolled his eyes.
"The Jew allowed himself to get sick, probably just wants out of the dancing lessons," Cartman said with a shrug as if the whole ordeal was one huge inconvenience; which it was.
"Poor Kyle, I warned him." This got Cartman's attention.
"The hell are you talking about Clyde?" Without looking at his Commander, and still at Kyle, he answered him.
"The other night when Kyle ran out on your first lesson, I caught him just before he could run out the door. I told him he needed to change out of the clothes he was in but his uniform was still wet, it hadn't been dried yet. He left here in a wet uniform." Cartman rolled his eyes, his foul mood worsening.
"So he'd rather get sick and risk dying than be a part of these lessons with me?" The question was rhetorical and he hadn't meant to speak it aloud, but Clyde still answered him.
"Wouldn't anyone?"
"Get the fuck out, Clyde." He hadn't yelled, but the authority and bitterness was there. Clyde nodded with a smile on his face and gladly left the living room.
The Commandant picked his porcelain coffee mug up and sipped it, still refusing to look anywhere but Kyle. This was just an unfortunate set back, that's all it was, and this setback was Kyle's fault. If Kyle hadn't run out on his first lesson then his clothes would be dry and he wouldn't be here lying on his couch sick as he was.
Then why are you blaming yourself?
Blaming himself? Why in the hell would Cartman blame himself? He didn't do anything wrong! Kyle was the one who stormed off like he had sand in his britches! He brought this upon himself. Cartman took another sip of his coffee to try and calm the raging thoughts in his head; he didn't want his headache to turn into a migraine. "I guess I could have demanded that he stay." He could have, he should have used his status of power to make Kyle stay the other night, and neither of them would be in this predicament.
But that's not why you're blaming yourself, is it Eric?
Cartman slammed his mug down on the side table, the contents splashed his hand but he was too riled up to notice. I'm not blaming myself god damnit! And even if I was, that's what happened, I should have made Kyle continue the lesson! There was nothing more, nor nothing less to it. He should have demanded, he was the flipping Commandant after all!
Eric, why do you even try to lie to yourself? You're not very good at it. If you weren't like this, a monster, then he would have wanted to stay with you.
"Shut up, shut up, shut up! I'm not a monster!" Cartman yelled aloud, standing from his chair and storming from the room; his coffee forgotten and his headache worsening.
/
He hadn't slept, not a single wink. He spent most of the early hours of the morning lying in bed unable to move with a migraine. Luckily for him his migraine finally slacked off sometime around 4am and he found that his body was demanding water. Cartman left the comfortable confines of his room to make his way to the kitchen for an ice cold glass of water. On his way to the kitchen he noticed a lump lying on his couch and he squinted his eyes in the darkness; Clyde must have turned the light off before he went to bed for the night. "Oh, the Jew," Cartman said under his breath; his migraine may have caused him to be a bit forgetful. The more Cartman stared at the Jew in the darkness, the more he noticed movement.
With a curious look on his face, Cartman turned on one of the tall lamps and half of the room lit up. Immediately he noticed that Kyle was shaking horribly in his sleep as if he had been outside in a snowstorm. Cartman walked up to his side and gently placed the back of his hand against Kyle's forehead. "Shit," Cartman cursed under his breath pulling his hand away quickly. Kyle was burning up with a fever, most likely the same fever the doctor said he had earlier; he must never have broken it. Seems like his migraine also made Cartman neglectful towards Kyle's health.
Remembering what the Doctor instructed him to do, Cartman went in search of a blanket. He looked in every closet, even stepping into Clyde and Craig's rooms but neither of them had an extra blanket; lucky for him they were heavy sleepers.
"Damnit," Cartman grunted, knowing what he had to do, that he had no choice. The only other extra blanket was a quilt, a quilt that his grandmother made for him when he was a child, a quilt that was currently folded neatly and stowed away on the top shelf of his closet. Even though he hadn't used it in years, he still made sure to bring it whenever his assignments took him; it was a keepsake, after all.
Cartman reached up into his closet, took down the quilt, and then shook it out several times to shake away any dust that coated it. Even though his grandmother made it for him when he was a child, the quilt could still fit the queen sized bed that Cartman had at the time; his mother always made sure he was comfortable. After it was dust free, he draped it over his arm to look at it, to really look at it; something he hadn't done in years. The border was black, and around the inside border were splashes of dark colors like reds, oranges, and yellows that gave it the illusion of a sunset. In the middle of the sunset was a grey cat, nestled in a heap of Iris blossoms with fireflies all around it.
For a single moment Cartman traced the purple outline of an iris blossom with a soft smile. But before the feeling of nostalgia could fully consume him, he stopped and tucked the quilt under his arm, grabbed one of his pillows from his bed and then left his room to return to Kyle. When he returned to Kyle he was still shaking and Cartman wondered just how long he was down here shivering. Well he does deserve it.
Eric...stop.
Cartman rolled his eyes and finally covered Kyle with his quilt, making sure to tuck in the sides so he was tightly, but comfortably, wrapped in the quilt and lifted his head carefully to place the pillow under it. After a few moments Kyle's heavy shaking subsided to light shivering. Now he needed a cool cloth. He made his way to the kitchen where he grabbed a wash cloth from a drawer, ran it under the tap with cool water, wrung it out and returned to Kyle. He sat himself down on the free spot of the couch at Kyle's side, Kyle was so skinny he barely took up any space on the couch. He leaned over to push his red locks back from his forehead to lay the cool cloth gently over his pale, sweating forehead. Knowing Kyle would be okay for the time being, Cartman went back to his sitting chair and picked up the book on his stand that he had been reading for the past few nights.
He had no idea that he had fallen asleep in his chair, or even at what time, but he woke up to talking, or rather incoherent mumbling. Cartman sat up from his laid back position, his book falling from his chest to the floor, and looked at the source of the noise. Kyle. He was twitching in his sleep, mumbling words Cartman couldn't hear and even if he did he was sure he could not understand them. Right before his eyes he witnessed Kyle's light twitching turn to thrashing and his mumbling turned into actual words. Every few words belonged to someone in his family. "Ike", "Mama", "Papa" and he even heard Tweek's name in his mumbling. Cartman instantly knew what Kyle was going through, he knew the signs, for he had went through the same years ago. Nightmares.
Why was Kyle having nightmares? What were they about? What did he have to fear? From the first day he met Kyle, the Jew had made it seem like he was fearless; it was one of the reasons he liked Kyle.
So you do like him?
Cartman glared and rolled his eyes. It wasn't that he liked Kyle, he could just tolerate him more than any other Jew. He could admit that, just maybe not to Kyle, or anyone for that matter. He could also admit that seeing Kyle struggling with nightmares, looking so weak and helpless, pained the Commandant. It wasn't Kyle, not the fiery Jew he knew and he wanted to help him. The most logical thing would be to wake Kyle, but not only did he know that he was sedated and knew he would not fully wake, but also knew if woken from a nightmare he could become violent; he had been a few times. "Maybe…"
Cartmanstood from his chair and walked over to a door that connected to the living room and entered it, leaving the door wide open. Once in the room he turned on a standing lamp and under the light of the lamp was a grand piano; this was his music room, a room that was off limits to everyone; he would not even allow Clyde to clean it. Cartman sat down at the piano and lightly traced his fingers over a few keys. It has been a long time since he played, but he could still remember every note, he didn't even need sheet music. He took a deep breath, hovered his fingers over the keys and then started to play. A smile curled from his lips when he realized not only did he remember every note, but every key and played the piece flawlessly; the piece he played was one of his favorites, Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata.
While he continued to play, his gaze drifted out into the living room until he found Kyle, still thrashing and mumbling in his sleep. "Listen and find it, Jew," Cartman said softly while still playing the sonata. It took so much control for Cartman to not return to another time, to resist returning to the past where someone else would play this sonata to chase away his nightmares. He couldn't go back there. He had to repress it and concentrate on playing, in hopes of chasing away Kyle's nightmares.
After a minute or so Kyle's body stopped thrashing, his mouth ceased its ramblings and his face actually seemed to relax. The more he played, the more he saw Kyle's body submit to relaxation and a better slumber, he could have sworn he even saw the Jew smile. Cartman continued to play for a while longer, he didn't keep track of time, but it felt wonderful to play again; despite it helping Kyle calm down. After a half hour, maybe a full hour, Cartman was starting to fall asleep at the keys and decided he should try again to sleep.
He left the music room, making sure to close the door behind him. He re-wet the cloth on Kyle's head and then made his way back to his room to get some sleep. God this day has been hell. He thought changing into his pajamas, having not even realized earlier he never changed.
That was kind of you, Eric.
With a mumble and a groan, he laid his head on a pillow, pulled the covers up to his neck and was out instantaneously.
/
"You didn't put enough cream in my coffee, Clyde, it's too bitter," Cartman snapped, turning his lip up at his cup. Clyde walked out from the kitchen carrying the creamer and poured more into Cartman's mug.
"Sorry sir." Cartman sneered and waved him off.
"Is Dr. Wyatt back yet?" Clyde shook his head.
"No, he is still gone and he has sent no word of when he will be back." Clyde went back to the kitchen to continue cooking the Commandant's breakfast. From his spot at the dining room table Cartman looked at the clock on the wall, it was almost 10am and Kyle was do for his second round ofantibiotics.
"God damnit. I should fire that doctor. Clyde! How much longer on my breakfast?"
"Technically sir, this is now brunch."
"Shut your smart ass mouth, Clyde, and answer my damn question."
"A bit, sir." Cartman sighed and got up from the table. With Dr. Wyatt still gone he knew he'd have to give Kyle his next shot and he really wanted to get it out of the way. He grabbed a needle, syringe and vial the doctor left and readied it. Once it was set he sat down on the couch beside Kyle's sleeping form and pushed the arm of his sleeve up to his shoulder. Cartman held the needle up and flicked the syringe to make sure the liquid would come out and then looked down at Kyle. He was awake. For a second their eyes met, both wide and Cartman's showed panic, whereas Kyle's showed fear.
Kyle screamed, shoved Cartman backward where he fell off the couch and dropped the syringe, the needle breaking off. "Ow! What the hell Jew?" Kyle shoved the quilt off him and darted to a nearby corner, backing up against it as if he believed he could disappear into it.
"What the hell were you about to do, fatass? Drug me? Take my blood for some sick twisted experiments? Kill me? Which is it?" he asked screaming erratically at the Commandant. Cartman got to his feet and picked up the broken needle and syringe.
"Try none of the above Jew. Believe it or not I was trying to help your ungrateful ass and here you went and broke one of the needles. Dammit, these are a pain in the ass to load and now I have to do it all over." Kyle looked in horror at the broken syringe and then at the others that were laid out on the table in front of the couch.
"You're not coming anywhere near me with a needle fatass!" Cartman snapped a glare to the Jew in the corner.
"You'll want me to unless you want to get sicker and possibly die Kahl!"
"What?" Kyle gasped softly, like he was confused. Did he not realize just how sick he was?
"Do you not remember passing out last night? You were so sick the Doctor said you had early stages of pneumonia. Here I was trying to help you purely out of the kindness of my heart and you scream and run away like I'm some-"
"You are a monster! Nazi's aren't kind!" Cartman saw red.
"You know what, get sicker and die for all I care!" With that, Cartman stormed into the kitchen.
/
After Cartman stormed from the room he heard him yell, "Get the fuck out Clyde! I'll make breakfast!" Kyle's eyes followed Clyde leaving the kitchen, met his in a brief warning, and then he continued on to another area of the Villa.
For a while Kyle was a little too terrified to move, he could admit that. But damn, he had woken up a ruthless Nazi holding a needle over him! Who wouldn't be a little traumatized by that? But Kyle knew that he had to calm down and get his bearings straight. For starters, why was he here in the middle of the day? The middle of the day? Kyle had noticed now the sun coming through the blinds and then found a clock on the wall. Just a little after 10am. Did he really sleep here all night and missed morning breakfast, missed morning roll call? And if he missed morning roll call what did that mean for his family? Were they punished because of him? But the Commandant was here…
Kyle walked back over to the couch to sit down, the endless questions swimming around his head was making him dizzy. A rush of cold air brushed past him, the AC must have kicked on, and Kyle grabbed the quilt beside him to cover up. A quilt? Kyle looked down at the quilt in his lap, confusion wiped all over his face. He hadn't remembered this blanket on the couch last night, or any other night. He also noticed at his head was a pillow, a very comfortable pillow that he was also sure wasn't there the previous night. On the floor by his feet he noticed a wash cloth and picked it up. Cartman said he had helped him, but surely he was lying, wasn't he? The Commandant would never help a Jew if they were sick, especially Kyle whom he knew he loathed entirely. But then, how would be explain the quilt, the pillow and the rag?
Cartman had mentioned a doctor. Did that mean he called one in just to check out Kyle and give him the help he needed? Kyle did feel better, he didn't feel one-hundred-percent by any means, but at least he didn't feel like he was going to pass out again. Had Cartman really wrapped him in this quilt, and allowed to him rest here on his couch to recover? As much as he hated that it happened, a smile curved from his lips. Even though he didn't want to do it, he owed Cartman his gratitude. But first, he really needed the bathroom.
After he had relieved himself, Kyle walked to the threshold of the kitchen but did not enter. He watched as the Commandant stirred something in a pot, added a few spices, and then tasted the concoction. It was then he saw Kyle standing there. "I would have thought you went running away screaming by now," Cartman said nonchalantly, and went back to stirring what he was making.
"I'm not afraid of you, sir." Kyle didn't miss the way his shoulders tensed when he said this and wondered briefly what that was about, but Cartman answered.
"Could have fooled me with the way you woke up screaming as if you saw the boogeyman." Kyle rolled his eyes but chuckled.
"I haven't believed in the woogeyman since I was 7." Cartman put down the wooden spoon he was using and faced Kyle.
"It's called the boogeyman, Kahl." Kyle gave a nod of understanding.
"I know, but when I was learning how to talk I couldn't pronounce the "B" so I just always said the woogeyman and it just stuck as a family joke. Besides my name is Kyle, yet you still insufferably call me Kahl," Cartman actually laughed at this.
"Duly noted Kahl," he said on purpose and turned back to the pot. Kyle rolled his eyes with a sigh.
"Look, I just wanted to say that I'm sorry for screaming and shoving you, but I woke up to you holding a needle ready to poke me. Wouldn't that be even a little terrifying to see when you first wake up, especially being a little disoriented?"
Cartman did not answer, he just stood there hovering over the pot, looking very tense and stressed and like he would rather be having any conversation but this one.
"Are you hungry Kahl?" Kyle blinked, a bit confused.
"What?"
"Don't tell me you're losing your hearing from being sick. I asked if you're hungry."
"Oh. Yes actually." But being hungry was nothing new to Kyle, he was always hungry; everyone in the camp was always hungry. Cartman nodded and went to a cabinet to grab two bowls.
"Go sit back on the couch and I'll bring you something." Kyle's jaw actually dropped. The Commandant was actually being-kind.
"Close your mouth, Kahl, didn't you learn that you'll catch flies that way? Let me tell you, not full of protein as people lead you to believe." Kyle suppressed a chuckle and went back into the living room; he didn't dare ask details about that statement.
When Kyle sat back down on the couch he covered his lap with the quilt since he was a little cold. After a minute or so Cartman came out carrying two bowls with spoons and gave one to Kyle. "Thank you," but Cartman only sneered in response and took his own bowl with him to sit in his chair across from Kyle. "Soup? You-you didn't make this because I'm sick, did you?" Kyle saw the slight rush of color that appeared on the Commandant's cheeks.
"I was just craving soup, and I always get what I want." Kyle smirked, left it at that and they both proceeded to eat their soup in silence. Awkward silence. Minutes past and the silence was just becoming too much for Kyle to handle, he needed to fill the void somehow.
"It's delicious, thank you sir," but Cartman said nothing, his only response was a grunt. Kyle rolled his eyes and tried again. "Would you mind filling me in on some details that I'm still a little confused on?" Cartman gave an exasperated sigh, as if this was such a huge chore for him.
"Look Kahl, it's not hard to figure out on your own I'm sure. You collapsed last night because you were so sick. I put you on the couch and called the Doctor. He said you had early stages of pneumonia, which I already mentioned, he gave you a shot of antibiotics and a light sedative so you'd actually sleep. So, there you slept," he said motioning to the couch Kyle was currently sitting on. "Anything else, Kahl?" Kyle blushed, taking in all the information and looked down at the quilt.
"And this quilt and pillow? They weren't on the couch yesterday, did you have Craig cover me up?" Craig was surely a more logical person to tuck him in rather than the Commandant. Cartman gave a sneer and looked away as if the assumption actually insulted him.
"No, Kahl. The quilt and pillow are mine. I woke up to you shivering like a chihuahua and I so graciously lent you my quilt." Kyle's eyes widened as he looked back down at the blanket that was keeping him so warm. His? "Yes that's right they are mine, go ahead, toss them away like I know you want to. I'm sure you don't want to catch any monster cooties." Kyle was actually shocked by his words, he hadn't even thought of it like that. Kyle had not even considered that he was touching something that belonged to a Nazi, but rather that he was being covered by an act of kindness. Did he just really mean that about Cartman? Maybe he was still sedated. The look he saw on Cartman's face was a look of hurt, possibly even self loathing, but why? Well, Kyle couldn't dwell on it now.
"It's just very warm, thank you." Kyle didn't miss the look of shock Cartman gave him, clearly he thought Kyle would agree with him. Cartman cleared his throat and took another bite of his soup.
"Yes, well, don't spill anything on it, my grandmother made it for me," this peeked Kyle's interest immensely. He examined the quilt even more, this time really noticing the patterns.
"It's beautiful. Do the patterns have any specific meanings?" again Cartman blushed, perhaps a little uncomfortable talking about something from his past.
"I like cats, I had a gray cat when I was a kid. Her name was Mister Kitty." Kyle chuckled.
"You named a female cat Mister?" Cartman shrugged.
"She was a kitten when we found her and didn't know until we took her to the vet that she was female and I had already named her Mister Kitty; we kept the name." Kyle gave a look of "oh" and traced his pale fingers along the pattern of the cat and then a firefly.
"The fireflies?" Cartman blushed even more.
"Me and Mister Kitty liked chasing them." Kyle actually bit his lip so he wouldn't laugh or dare he call his story "cute".
"And the iris blossoms?" Cartman went from blushing in embarrassment to red with anger.
"This conversation is over." Kyle dared to not challenge him; not this time. The two continued to eat their soup in silence. Once they were done eating Cartman took both their bowls to the kitchen and placed them in the sink. "I really should give you your second shot of antibiotics, Kahl." Now that Kyle knew what had really happened, he felt a bit better about the shot.
"Okay." Cartman narrowed his eyes as if he had been waiting for Kyle to fight him on it. Cartman shrugged it off and then got another syringe ready and sat down next to Kyle on the couch.
"I'm surprised you didn't fight me more on this." Kyle raised his sleeve up to his shoulder.
"Hey, you can't let me die, you need me to teach you to dance, remember?" Their eyes met briefly, Kyle smiling and Cartman looking astounding, but something else Kyle couldn't place.
"That's right. We had a deal Kahl and you won't be getting out of it by dying," and with that, Cartman stuck Kyle's arm and plunged in the medicine. Kyle didn't even wince and when it was done he pulled his sleeve back down and Cartman disposed of the needle and syringe in the kitchen. "Lie back down and get more rest. You can stay here until you're better. I don't need you pushing yourself to the point of blacking out again." Kyle nodded and did as the Commandant ordered. Cartman returned to his chair and picked up a book.
"Aren't you supposed to be out in the camp?" he asked out of pure curiosity. Cartman opened his book to where he last left off and kept his head down.
"I didn't get much sleep last night, I had a migraine. Even the Commandant of a camp can have a sick day, now be quiet, I'm trying to read." Kyle rolled his eyes, laid back down and snuggled his face in the pillow.
"Moonlight Sonata,"
"What?" Cartman asked looking up from his book.
"Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata. I heard it last night while I was asleep, or I think I was asleep. It's all kind of fuzzy, but I distinctly remember hearing Moonlight Sonata on the piano and it calmed me down, helped me sleep. Was someone playing it last night?" Cartman gave a look of disinterest and he scrunched up his face.
"Must have been a side effect of the sedative." Kyle nodded. That made sense. He couldn't even imagine Cartman playing the piano like a normal person, he should have never even thought it in the first place. The idea was just too absurd.
A few minutes past and Kyle spoke again. "You know, I don't even know your name." Cartman snapped his head from his book.
"What?"
"I've been giving you personal lessons on dancing and we're going to spend a lot more time together. Can't I at least call you by your real name?" Cartman was searching Kyle's eyes for something, but what that something was Kyle did not know. Maybe Cartman thought Kyle was messing with him. Finally he closed his book and placed it in his lap, giving Kyle his full attention.
"Since I know that you won't let this go, why don't we make a game out of it," of course he wasn't about to make it easy. Then again why would he, this was the Commandant after all. "You get three guesses." Kyle admitted this was a bit more fun than him just telling him.
"Elliot?"
"Nope, one down,"
"Stephen?" Cartman chuckled.
"Nope, perhaps third time's the charm." Kyle tried hard to think of names that would fit the Commandant.
"Hm, Clarissa?" Cartman looked offended and Kyle tried not to laugh.
"That's a girl's name you damn Jew." Now Kyle was laughing and couldn't help himself.
"Hey you named your female cat Mister Kitty, thought I'd give it a shot," Cartman glared at Kyle.
"Smartass Jew."
"Secretive fatass." Cartman held his hand up as if he was saying "you got me" but said nothing and only laughed.
"Tell you what Kahl, each lesson I'll give you three chances to guess my name. How does that sound?" It definitely intrigued Kyle to say the least.
"And if I can't?"
"Then you'll never know," Kyle smirked but nodded.
"You got yourself a game," Cartman placed his book on the table and leaned forward in his chair.
"Good, now since you're so persistent on talking rather than resting, I have a question for you." Kyle actually sat back up giving Cartman his full attention. "Why did you become a dancer? You said you started dancing at eight, why?" This question surprised Kyle to say the least and he looked down at his lap searching for the right answer.
"Because someone said I couldn't do it."
"You're gonna have to give me more than that Kahl." Kyle sighed.
"When I was eight, I was playing in the park with one of my friends, I was trying to show him some dance moves I had seen on TV. I was god awful, but of course I was I was eight. Anyway, this kid came by the park that day, a kid I had never seen in the park before. He looked so smug, like he was better than everyone even though he was my age. He said to me, "Jews can't dance, they have no rhythm," and I was so close to taking that blue hat of his head and shoving the yellow puff ball in his fat mouth, but some older woman with black hair led him away before I had the chance to. My point is, he said I couldn't do it because I was a Jew, so I set out to prove him wrong. He's probably a Nazi by now, but I sure showed him that he was wrong because I can certainly dance now," Kyle said sounding very proud of himself, but when he looked back at Cartman, the Commandant looked horrified. "Sir?"
/
Cartman, eight years old, had run away from home for a second time that month, this time not paying attention to the path he was taking. He didn't care if he couldn't find his way back, he didn't want to go back. Eventually he came upon a park where other kids his age were playing. He straightened his blue beanie with a yellow poof on top and then walked in the park and sat down on one of the free swings to watch his fellow children play, but he wasn't about to ask if he could join them; no kids would ever let the fat kid play.
His eyes fell on one kid that he could just tell he was a Jew from his features and Cartman glared at him. How he hated them. Then the kid started to dance, horribly, in front of one of his little friends. Didn't that kid realize how stupid he looked, especially in that stupid green ushanka. Cartman got off the swing and approached the two friends just as the Jew fell right on his bottom. "Didn't you know that Jews can't dance? They have no rhythm." The glare the boy gave him was priceless and it really made Cartman smile; he loved getting their feathers all riled up.
"What did you say fatso?!" the boy shouted, his hands making fists at his sides. Did this kid really want to fight him? Because even though he had more meat on him than the two boys he would still win in a fight.
"You heard me, you Jew rat, you can't dance and you'll never be able to dance! You people can't do anything!" just then she appeared at Cartman's side and led him away from a fight that was about to ensue.
"Let'sgo home Eric." Behind him he heard the boy shouting.
"I'll show you! I'll be a great dancer! Just watch!" but he would never see the boy with the green ushanka again…
/
Until now…
Cartman snapped out of the memory with a gasp, his breathing was a little erratic. "Sir are you okay?" Kyle asked in legitimate concern. Cartman did not answer, he was in too much shock at the revelation he just had. Sitting across from him was the boy in the green ushanka, the boy he told would never be able to dance, the boy who vowed to prove him wrong; and he had. His heart dropped into his stomach at the revelation that Cartman was the reason Kyle was a dancer.