Chapter 15

/"Tell me would you kill, to save a life? Tell me would you kill, to prove you're right?/

The first time he saw them together he was, to say the least, surprised-shocked even. He would have assumed that the first time he saw Kyle and the Commandant they would be fighting, and at each other's throats; he definitely wouldn't put it past his son to throw a punch like he had been known to in school. Gerald had heard Kyle multiple times tell Tweek how much he hated the Commandant and how they could never get along and that during their dancing sessions they did fight quite often. But what Gerald had seen in the Villa with his own eyes told a completely different story.

Whenever Gerald saw the two together they actually looked-happy; that was a true shock to Gerald. A Nazi smiling around a Jew, and a Jew smiling around a Nazi? Perhaps the world really was spinning out of control. Not only was Gerald shocked by their demeanors, he was shocked by his own as well. Gerald had assumed that seeing them getting along he would have been angered, infuriated, and would want to immediately put a stop to it. However, the very moment that he saw the smile on his son's face there was no anger or animosity towards the Commandant.

He hadn't seen his son genuinely smile in so long he had almost forgotten that his son knew how. So when he would sneak a peak during their dance lessons and see Kyle and the Commandant laughing and smiling, Gerald felt hopeful again. But what hopefulness he felt, he could not say specifically, he just felt hope. During the lessons, in fact even when the Commandant wasn't attending a lesson with Kyle, Gerald saw a side of Cartman he had never expected to exist. He saw, dare he even admit it, a softer side to the Commandant, a side no doubt Kyle helped him bring out. Kyle had always been one to see the good in people and was always humble. How in the world he ever saw any good in a Nazi, let alone a man like the Commandant, he may never know and he wasn't sure he wanted to know. Nevertheless, the Commandant did have a softer side to him.

Too often while he worked around the Villa he would see Cartman coddling and baby talking the cat he kept inside; that cat was definitely being spoiled by the Commandant. Gerald had also noticed that the nights before he was to meet with Kyle, he would sit in his music room and play the piano until Kyle would show up. He wondered if he did this on purpose, as if he knew Kyle loved music and wanted to play for him but in a secret way because as soon as Kyle would walk in he would stop playing and get to the lesson. From all their interactions Gerald had to accept that Kyle and the Commandant had become friends, however impossible that sounded in this time of war and despair.

November passed into December and from the looks of their lessons, the Commandant had improved greatly, his dancing now looked more professional and not like an amateur; Kyle really was a great teacher. Gerald began to see their lessons shorten the second week of December, so much that some nights they would not even practice but instead just sit and talk. The first few times the Commandant was across the room in his chair, but as the days went by Gerald would find Kyle and the Commandant sitting on the couch together.

One night Gerald had made some tea for the both of them and when he brought the tray into the living room to give to the boys, he was astounded at what he found. Not only were Kyle and the Commandant sitting next to each other, rather than opposite sides of the couch as they normally would, but the boys had fallen asleep on each other. Kyle had his head on Cartman's shoulder, and Cartman had his cheek buried in his sons red curls. In that moment it occurred to Gerald that the Commandant and Kyle had become something more than friends. He then wondered if they both had realized this yet, but he doubted it for he knew both of them were equally stubborn. Not to mention a Nazi and a Jew in love? Surely that was some type of taboo.

Knowing that the Commandant and Kyle had to work this out themselves, Gerald chose, for the moment, to leave this discovery alone. With a smile on his face Gerald grabbed the quilt that always remained on the couch, wrapped it around the boys and then took his leave back to the kitchen.

/

He blinked his eyes awake and for a moment was confused. What were these wild red things tickling his nose? When his surroundings finally made sense he realized they were Kyle's curls. Kyle's curls? Cartmannow realized they had fallen asleep against each other and that Kyle was practically using him as a pillow. The Commandant knew that had it been not too long ago, everything would be screaming inside him to shove Kyle away, to reprimand him for being so close to him, even for touching him; but he found he was no longer able to hear those voices, not as loud or clear anyway.

You really have become friends haven't you, Eric?

Yes, they had become friends, he could admit that to himself now. Never in his wildest dreams would he ever have imagined becoming friends with a Jew, yet here they were. Whenever he would see Kyle he felt happy, rather than his day to day resentment and anger he felt and projected.

Does being happy scare you, Eric?

If it was anyone else he would say yes, but not with Kyle. Though he would probably never admit it to Kyle, he trusted him. Yes he understood that trusting a Jew went against everything he and the regime stood for, but Kyle was different. Oh so very different.

He enjoyed his lessons with Kyle and now looked forward to each and every one. Cartman really did like hearing Kyle talk and had learned so much about the red haired Jew in just a short time. Kyle had asked Cartman to open up to him about his life but he would always deny him access to his past and Kyle would leave it alone; he was thankful he wouldn't pry. While he trusted Kyle, he wasn't ready to open up about his past.

More than spending time with Kyle, Cartman had grown accustomed to their physical contact, be it the dancing, or a random hug from Kyle, or even a brush of his bony hand. He was used to the contact so much he had begun to crave it, so when their dancing became more intimate he welcomed it and took advantage of any chance to hold Kyle in his arms.

Every step of the way there was a battle inside himself, telling him to just be rid of the Jew, but as the days went by Cartman was overcoming the screaming voices so much that now they were barely whispers in his ear. He knew that without Kyle, he would no longer be able to feel the happiness that he would not allow himself to feel in twelve years.

Allowing himself to have just a moment of indulgence, Cartman nuzzled into Kyle's curls, even inhaling his scent. It occurred to Cartman that this may not be his natural scent, but a mask created by the labor of the camp and the scented soaps of the Villas shower. Would Kyle smell different if they met under normal circumstances?

Knowing it was useless to wonder, he remained in the here and now and continued to indulge in the fiery curls. More than anything Cartman wanted to run his fingers through these untamed locks, but did not want to risk waking the Jew. He did not think Kyle would mind the intimate closeness, but still would rather not risk it. Unfortunately his indulgence was short lived because his bladder was screaming for relief. As easily and carefully as he could, Cartman wiggled out from Kyle's weight and eased him down fully on the couch. He adjusted the quilt up to Kyle's neck and made sure he was securely tucked in. After brushing his curls back one last time he departed for the restroom.

After relieving himself he made his way to the kitchen for a drink, he realized after getting up that he woke up with a parched throat. When he reached the kitchen he realized he was not alone. "Up early Mr. Broflovski?" Cartman groaned sounding groggy. Gerald halted in his movements around the kitchen to give the Commandant his undivided attention.

"On time to start preparations for your morning breakfast sir. Shall I start the coffee early?" Gerald asked, moving towards the canister containing the grounds.

"You mean it's almost sunrise? So then Ky-" but the Commandant stopped himself before he could finish that statement aloud. Almost sunrise means him and Kyle slept through the night, together. Without realizing it was happening, a blush crept up on his cheeks.

"Sir, should I wake and dismiss my son?"

"No, let him sleep for now. He can eat breakfast here and we'll go down to roll call together. It'll be fine," Cartman said and then let out a yawn. "Coffee please Mr. Broflovski," Cartman finally answered as he sat down at the table. Gerald nodded and started brewing the coffee immediately. Not too long after he handed the Commandant a mug of coffee with the perfect amount of creamer. "You know Mr. Broflovski, I have to admit you do make a better brew than that asshole Clyde," he said after taking his first sip.

"Thank you sir." Gerald turned back to the kitchen to prepare breakfast.

"Just oatmeal this morning," Cartman ordered and Gerald nodded with compliance. Minutes past in silence while Gerald cooked and Cartman nursed his coffee, but the silence was short lived when Gerald cleared his throat.

"Commandant, if I may speak freely?" Cartman glared in his direction, almost offended that he dared to even ask the question.

This is Kyle's father. Behave, Eric.

Cartman took a collective breath, or rather several, and nodded to Gerald. "You may, Mr. Broflovski, though I can assure you I can and will take back this leniency at any moment I so choose. Speak smart and fast." That was being nice wasn't it? Gerald nodded in understanding and turned to face the Commandant at the table.

"Do you have a girlfriend, you know, outside the camp?" Cartman found that a very odd thing to ask, not to mention completely out of the blue.

"I don't. Don't really have much luck in that department," he said like it wasn't a big deal at all. Cartman had dated one girl in his life and that was in high school after he had joined the regime. Her name was Heidi and apparently her rotten friends had dared her to date him to humiliate him. It was a straight up joke.

"I see, what about a boyfriend?" This rattled the Commandant's feathers and he instinctively went on the defensive.

"What type of question is that you stupid Jew! I'm not gay!" But Gerald only smiled from across the room. I could wipe that stupid punk ass grin off his beardy little face!

"Sir, with all due respect, that is not what I asked. I simply asked if you have a boyfriend back home." Cartman pushed his hair out of his face and gave a small pout while sipping from his mug.

"I don't have a boyfriend," he mumbled so softly it was a miracle Gerald actually heard it. With the way this conversation had been going, Cartman should had expected and been ready for the next question, but he was severely blind sided.

"Have you ever been in love?" He wanted to act in anger, to again retaliate and to put this Jew in his place for daring to ask such a thing. He wanted to, but that was not how his body or mind reacted. He was calm, but his brows were furrowed, he was doing his best to keep his emotion in check.

"I have been told that I am incapable of love Mr. Broflovski. You've seen the things I've done, you've seen the man that I am. Wouldn't you agree?" Gerald showed no signs of backing down, he held his ground strong in front of the Commandant.

"That is the second time, sir, that you have avoided my question rather than giving me a straightforward answer. Since you will not answer me directly, I will answer you. Yes I know the man you are around the camp, but I've also seen another side of you and so has my son." Cartman could have sworn that his stomach turned inside out. What was this elder Jew getting at? "You're a different man around my son, sir, and sometimes I feel like it is because of my son that you are a different man, a good man." Cartman felt his heart leap, but good or bad he could not tell. A good man. The words played repeat over and over in his head for several minutes, several hours, or just several seconds he did not know.

"But still not good enough for your son is that it?!" Cartman snapped in hostility. There was no way a Jewish father was about to give a Nazi his blessing for loving his Jewish son. Cartman froze in panic. Did he just admit to himself that he loved Kyle? No! No, absolutely not, that's not what he meant at all.

"Sir, if you'll just hear me out-" But the Commandant would not listen. He stood so fast from his chair that it fell over backwards, and he slammed his hands onto the wooden table.

"Not only have I been told that I am incapable of love, but I have also been told that no one could ever love me. So you don't have to worry about your precious son loving someone as disgusting and despicable as me, got it? I swear not to taint your pure son! This conversation is over!" Cartman started to storm out of the kitchen when he nearly collided with Kyle.

"I can't believe I stayed here all night, why didn't you wake me?" But Cartman ignored him and continued to shove past him in a rage.

"Cartman?" Kyle whispered in worry, watching him brute all the way down the hall until he disappeared. Kyle now glared and entered the kitchen to see his guilty looking father.

"Papa what did you say to him?" he asked placing his hands on his hips. Gerald merely shrugged his shoulders.

"We merely tried to play a game of twenty questions and he's not very good at it." Gerald grabbed a bowl and scooped some oatmeal into it. "Now eat, my son, before you're late to roll call,"

/

"God damn it's cold," Ike cursed hugging his shovel against him in the freezing cold. The snow began just at the beginning of December, it wasn't a blizzard or anything, just a few inches and unbearably cold.

"Language Ike. I know it's cold, but we have to try to bear it. Be thankful we have these gloves." Ike pursed his chilled lips and rolled his eyes. The prisoners were not permitted extra clothing just because the temperature had dropped, not even extra socks. However, Kyle and Ike were "fortunate" enough to be given a pair of gloves, courtesy of the Commandant; Tweek had his own pair of gloves that he had to assume were because of Craig. Gloves weren't the only thing that the Commandant had given the brothers, he also sent Kyle back one night with two extra blankets and extra socks, and Ike had refused at first to use any of it.

"Kyle I won't! They are from him. I don't want to use anything that comes from him," Ike whispered with venom lacing his words. Kyle simply rolled his eyes and placed the blanket on Ike's lap.

"Do as I say Ike, you will use the blanket," Kyle demanded, keeping his hand firmly on the blanket so Ike wouldn't throw it back at him. Ike could not believe how much Kyle had come to sound like their mother the more time they spent in the camp; sometimes it infuriated him, other times he welcomed seeing a bit of his mother even though she wasn't physically here.

"But Kyle how can you stand to accept something from him? He's a monster, the whole camp knows it." And there was his mother's glare staring back at him through Kyle. God damn that's terrifying.

"He's not a monster Ike, and I will have enough of you calling him so." This irritated the teen.

"And what would you call him if not a monster, Kyle?" His brother didn't even seem to think about his answer, he smiled and spoke immediately.

"Damaged." Ike didn't understand. What was he missing? Lately Kyle seemed to defend the Commandant at every turn, with family only; had he said something to the other men they would think he was crazy and most likely rally to end him. Prisoners turning on prisoners was common, it wasn't anything new. "Now go to sleep Ike," Kyle said tucking him in with the extra layer of fabric.

"Kyle."

"Yes Ike?" Ike blushed and readied himself for what he was about to say to his brother.

"There's been talk around the men. They say that the Commandant-" he paused unable to say what he really needed. He fisted the blankets and bit his lip, willingly himself to go on. "They are saying that the Commandant is making you do things, inappropriate things and is really hurting you. Is this true Kyle? Please I'm old enough for the truth," Ike pleaded with his brother to be honest with him. If the Commandant was keep his family safe by doing inappropriate things with his brother he would beg his brother to stop-they weren't worth it. For a brief moment Kyle seemed to be shocked, perhaps that the other men had formed such conclusions about him, but he relaxed and smiled at his brother, even gave him a pat on the head.

"Ike, I promise the Commandant isn't making me do anything like that and I promise he isn't hurting me." Ike returned his smile, after all his brother would never lie to him.

"Okay, good night Kyle."

"Good night Ike."

Ike shoveled a mound of snow into a pile, most of the prisoners tasks was to make sure the yard remained free of snow, which was hard because it kept snowing. If these "gifts" weren't due from some twisted fantasy of the Commandant's then were they genuine? Did he actually care about Kyle and his family? Why? Ugh this is too confusing! Ike groaned and picked at the snow. There was something he wasn't seeing, but he wasn't sure if he wanted to see it. Was he really so jaded?

"Hurry up Jews! All that snow has to be cleared before roll call!" a soldier yelled at them from the sidelines. There was a group of soldiers huddled together with layers of coats and scarves, even woolen hats, smoking and drinking something Ike assumed was alcohol. Everyone in the yard worked while the soldiers kicked back and got drunk, it was becoming a normal occurrence; probably because of the festive season coming up.

Roll call was minutes away and the prisoners scampered to finish the last of the shoveling and then lined up. Half way through roll call he realized he didn't put away his shovel. Shit! He prayed silently that no one would notice, and if they did he would not be reprimanded. As soon as roll call ended, Ike ran through the crowd of people to quickly put away his shovel; he wasn't about to get caught with it because he knew the soldiers would assume he was stealing it. Yeah because I need to sleep with a shovel under my pillow. He made it back to the shed undetected and let out a sigh of relief after he successfully put it away. He was about to turn the corner to make his way back, when someone grabbed him by the shirt and yanked him back roughly.

"What's the small Jew doing away from his flock?" It was a soldier, a very intoxicated soldier it looked and smelled like to Ike.

"I forgot to put away my shovel sir. I'm sorry, I'm heading back now." Ike tried to push past the soldier but the man shoved him back against the wall of the shed.

"You're not going anywhere kid," the soldier slurred and then touched Ike's face with a flimsy hand. Ike jumped at the contact. "Scared of me, Jew? You should be," the soldier purred, grabbing ahold of Ike's chin roughly and yanked him forward. Knowing what was coming, Ike sealed his lips shut just moments before the soldier made contact. "You little punk open your mouth!" the soldier demanded trying to pry Ike's mouth apart with his tongue; the smell of alcohol was nearly overpowering Ike's senses but he kept resisting. The soldier hissed as he grabbed Ike's wrists and shoved them above his head, then pressed his knee in between his legs; Ike's eyes went wide with panic.

"Let me go, let me go!" Ike pleaded, wiggling as much as he could in the soldiers iron grip; which was surprising for a man so drunk.

"Not until I have my fun, little Jew." Ike closed his eyes while the soldier trailed his hand down Ike's chest, to his stomach, and then-he stopped? Ike opened his eyes just in time to see the soldier yanked off him and thrown to the side by the collar like a rag doll. While he was catching a breath he didn't realize he was holding, he watched as the Commandant lifted the man by the collar, shoved him against the wall of the shed and punched him several times. When the soldier's face was covered in blood and he fell to the ground against the shed, the Commandant pulled his pistol on him.

/

"Let's get out of the cold, come on Ike," Kyle said, turning to his brother about to head into the mess hall together. "Ike? Ike? Tweek, where's Ike?" Kyle asked his friend in a panic and they both looked around.

"Gah! He was just here beside us!" His body started shaking, clearly worried about "his" younger brother.

"I have to find him."

"Go, I'll sneak you both some bread," Tweek assured him and then Kyle nodded in thanks and ran off before everyone disappeared into the mess hall. He ran and searched for Ike, not daring scream his name as to not draw soldiers attention. After a few dead ends, he heard commotion around the corner and followed it. He arrived just in time to see Cartman beating up one of his own soldiers and Ike against the wall looking horrified; it didn't take a genius to put two and two together.

"Ike!" Kyle screamed, running to his brother's side. "Ike are you okay?!" He probably sounded hysterical but he didn't care, his little brother had been attacked.

"Kyle, Kyle I'm fine. Nothing happened, the Commandant showed up in time." But the worried look on Kyle's face said he didn't believe his younger brother. "Kyle I promise I'm fine, but I don't think he is." Ike turned his head to face the Commandant, not the soldier he was beating up. Ike was right, he wasn't okay at all. The Commandant seemed…lost. Kyle hadn't seen that look in his eyes since the day of Tweek's whipping. He looked crazed and lost.

Cartman then pulled his pistol on his soldier and readied it to fire. "Cartman no!" Kyle yelled running to his side and gently laid a hand on his arm. "Don't do this, he doesn't need to die!" Kyle yelled trying to get Cartman to come to his senses.

"You didn't see what he did Kyle! He attacked your brother and if I hadn't stepped in he would have-"

"I know," Kyle said firmly, squeezing his arm. He didn't need to finish his statement, he knew what would have happened. "You arrived in time, you saved Ike. No one needs to die, the killing needs to stop." But Cartman didn't lower his gun, instead it began to shake from his hand. Kyle noticed and gently covered his shaking hand with his own pale one. "Prove to me you're not the monster they think you are." That struck a cord and he heard the Commandant lightly gasp. "Sparing a life, is much harder than taking one," Kyle whispered in his ear and then finally Cartman lowered his pistol to his side. Seemingly relieved the soldier fell to the side unconscious.

"Luckily I know this particular soldier and I know he blacks out when he is drunk. He won't remember anything when he wakes up. Tend to your brother, Kyle, there will be no lesson tonight." Without even looking at Kyle, he took off in the direction of his villa; Kyle's eyes following him.

They arrived back at the mess hall just in time so that Tweek wouldn't have to steal them food back to the barracks. "Ike are you okay?!" Tweek panicked pulling Ike into a bear hug.

"I'm fine Tweek, as I've tried to tell my stubborn brother but he won't listen," Ike said, rolling his eyes.

"Ike you don't have to pretend for me," Kyle told him, placing his hand on Ike's shoulder but Ike shrugged him off.

"For heaven's sake, Kyle, I said I'm fine and I meant it. To be honest, I'm-I'm more worried about the Commandant. He saved me, but there was something wrong with him. Kyle…" Ike placed his hand on Kyle's and gripped it firmly. "I understand now." Kyle was confused, what did he understand? "Go to him Kyle." Kyle's heart began to beat faster.

"But Ike, you need me." Ike shook his head and squeezed his hand.

"He needs you Kyle, go to him." Kyle blushed, but was proud of how grown up his brother was becoming every day.

"Thank you Ike," Kyle said giving Ike a hug and then turned to Tweek.

"Go Kyle," Tweek said giving him a pinky promise that he would watch over Ike. Kyle hugged them both and then left the back way out of the Villa and headed towards the Villa.

There was no shower tonight, he needed to see the Commandant immediately. When he entered the Villa, Clyde told him that Cartman was in his study. "Be careful, he isn't himself," Clyde warned him. Kyle merely gave him a fearless smile.

"I know." And Kyle walked on to find Cartman. He did not knock on the door to his study, but he did open it slowly and announced himself. "Sir, it's Kyle." But there was no answer as he came in. When he stepped inside and closed the door behind him he noticed that almost everything was thrown from his desk and there were glasses shattered against the wall beside them. I should have followed him immediately. But there was no changing it now.

Cartman stood with his back to Kyle, hands placed on his desk and hunched over it. Realization hit Kyle like ice water to the face. The reason he looked so lost was because Cartman was not mentally in the here and now, he was in another time, his past; and it seemed to Kyle that it was a painful past. Kyle slowly walked up behind Cartman and carefully placed his hand on his back between his shoulders. When he did not push him away, he hooked both his arms under the Commandant's and rested his cheek on his back. "Come back to me."

Minutes past in silence with neither of them moving and for once, Kyle allowed the silence; he knew Cartman would speak when ready. Finally Kyle felt the Commandant gently place his hand on one of his. "I will always come back to you Kyle," Cartman whispered and Kyle stepped away slightly with a blush on his pale cheeks. Cartman turned to face him, at the same time lacing his hand with Kyle's and kissing it. "Thank you Kyle." He was sure his face was now on fire, but he had to ignore his fluttering heart. Cartman still needed him.

"Let's sit down," Kyle suggested and pulled Cartman over to the couch that sat in front of a roaring fireplace. They sat down together, very close, their hands still locked. On the table in front of them Kyle noticed a picture frame with the glass smashed inside it. "Do you mind?" Kyle asked, motioning to the picture frame. Cartman shrugged, but nodded.

"You're about to find out anyway," he said and Kyle could have sworn he heard his voice crack. With the hand not holding Cartman's, he reached for the broken frame. Being very careful not to cut himself, he turned the frame over so all the broken glass fell on the table and then turned it back over and brought the frame closer. In the glassless frame was a black and white photo of a young chubby boy who didn't look at all happy to be taking the picture, Kyle knew immediately it was Cartman. Behind Cartman, leaning down to his height and smiling at the camera was a girl with long dark hair; she looked to be a teenager.

"She's very pretty, who is she?" Kyle asked looking back to Cartman. Kyle watched as tears began to form in his eyes.

"Her name was Irisviel. She was my sister, and she was killed."