Day 25 – Confused/Disoriented

The birds singing in both visions were different. The air was hot in one, and bitterly cold in the other. Dietrich walked in one, and was lying on his back in the other.

He was conscious enough to know that the vision he was having of looking up at the cloudless, hot sky wasn't real—well, it was real, in a way. Something was telling him it had happened, but his memories of it had been extremely blurry. Here, they were crystal clear. Things he had long forgotten were now playing out in his mind, and they felt real. Too real.

The warmth of blood running down the side of his head cut through the cold as he wandered aimlessly, bombarded with a cacophony of sirens. The sound of the sirens was painful.

Abruptly, they stopped, and he was staring up at the blue sky again. He was lying in hot sand. He moved his head slightly, pain pulsing through it, and blood flowing freely from a wound on the left side. All he could hear were birds and his own labored breathing. No sirens.

The sirens suddenly returned. Dietrich staggered a bit. "Esther?" he said. Where was she? Was she okay? He remembered she was in the car with him. He was driving and she was in the passenger seat. All they were doing was driving into town to look at things for Christmas. He remembered her screaming, panicking, when another car slid on ice, plowing right into them. He remembered trying to throw himself in front of her, trying to protect her as best he could.

That was all he could remember. He wasn't sure how he had gotten out of the wreck. Everything that happened between the accident and now were gone, lost in the recesses of his brain.

Suddenly, he was back on the ground, staring upward. "Esther?" he murmured.

He heard boots crunching sand. A familiar face was standing over him. Back then, it wasn't exactly one he wanted to see, but it was familiar. For some reason, that familiarity was all he cared about.

"Dietrich? Captain Dietrich? Can you hear me?" Sergeant Troy was kneeling by him. The American's ice-blue eyes were full of concern.

Ice. Snow. Cold. The cold air and sirens returned. The sirens were deafening. Dietrich kept walking, though he wasn't sure why, or how. He only felt partly in control of his own body. "Esther?" he said. The blood was starting to freeze to his face.

Suddenly, it was flowing again.

"Moffitt! Moffitt, he's got a head injury!" Troy shouted. "Hitch, get one of the canteens from the jeeps! Tully, grab a stretcher! Now, both of you!"

It was hard to swallow. Despite his dry throat, Dietrich said again, "Esther?"

It was all he could say, and it was all he could think of, regardless of which vision he was in. He wanted her. He wanted to feel her touch, hear her voice, simply know she was there, and that she was alright.

He was cold again. Snow had begun to fall, gently swirling, dancing around him. He held out his hands, catching snowflakes in his gloves.

His hands were bare in his view of the incident in the past, but he had held them out anyway, like he was about to try making snow angels in the sand. There was nothing falling in them.

"Stay with me, Dietrich," Troy said. "You're gonna be okay. Stay conscious. Come on."

"What happened?" Moffitt asked.

"I don't know. Hitch and I saw smoke, came around the hill, and—" Troy gestured to Dietrich. "His vehicle's history. I'm not letting him become history."

"Is he responsive to anything?"

"Not really. He keeps mumbling something. I can't make out what it is. Look—" Troy waved his hand in front of Dietrich's face.

Suddenly, Dietrich was back upright, walking, stumbling, staggering. His legs were shaky, yet he kept going. The sirens were getting louder, and still he said, "Esther?"

Why couldn't he find her? He wanted so badly to find her. He wanted to scream, call out to her, but for some reason, he couldn't. All he could do was keep saying her name.

The heat bathed over him once more.

"His eyes are open. No response. His pupils aren't dilating normally." Moffitt's hand found Dietrich's pulse on his wrist.

Reflexively, Dietrich pulled his hand away.

In the cold, his coat sleeves fell. His gloves had pulled up a little, revealing the scars on his wrists. Instinctively, Dietrich covered them.

"I don't think he liked that very much," Moffitt said. "I wonder why. His hands aren't injured."

"Try his neck," Troy said.

Moffitt pressed down gently on Dietrich's neck. "Got it. It's a little on the weak side."

"We can save him, can't we?"

"We need to know if it's safe to move him first. Check his spine."

"He's on his back. I don't know what to do…" Troy sounded on the brink of panic. A rare state for him.

In the cold, Dietrich couldn't walk anymore. He swayed, and became dizzy as the world turned on its side. His fall was cushioned by soft snow, and he found himself staring up at a dreary gray sky. Snow continued falling, and it was staining red next to the left side of his head.

The sand, too, was stained. His vision was becoming stained with fuzzy black spots. "Esther?" he whispered.

"Captain, I don't care if you talk nonsense, but keep talking. Stay conscious," Troy said.

"He's just been saying the same thing each time?" Moffitt asked.

"Yeah, but he's mumbling and I can't tell what exactly it is. We need to get him out of here, or he's not going to make it. Tully, help me get Dietrich on the stretcher."

Dietrich was limp as he was lifted up. Troy stopped.

"What's wrong, Sarge?" Tully asked.

"He's… so… light…" Troy swore. "How is he this damn light?"

Moffitt's arms appeared under Dietrich. "I'll keep his back supported. Easy now. Lower him slowly."

"Esther?" Dietrich said.

Moffitt looked at Troy. "'Esther.' He's saying 'Esther.' That's a name."

"A woman's name, too," Tully added.

"I don't care," Troy said. "We need to get him back to base and treated now."

In the cold, the voices over him were German. Dietrich didn't recognize anything of them. A bright light was shone in both eyes, and suddenly he was back in the desert again.

A British medical officer turned off his light. "He's got a pretty serious concussion, but we'll do what we can."

The cold returned. German paramedics were carrying Dietrich to an ambulance. Through the commotion in the vehicle, Dietrich heard himself whispering, "Esther?"

He could hear himself whispering her name again in the heat of the desert. His left hand was outstretched again, trembling.

Someone took his hand, but he knew it wasn't Esther. It was a bit bigger than Esther's, and far stronger.

"You're okay, Dietrich. Just hang in there," Troy said. "You're okay. They're patching you up."

The hospital tent was dark.

The ambulance stopped. Dietrich's senses were quickly overwhelmed by shouting, the harsh, sterile smell of a hospital, and the bright lights that lined the hallways.

"Esther?" he whispered again.

He heard someone say "sedation" in both visions.

"Esther? I must… know… where… Please, Esther…" His heart began beating faster and faster. The sound of its rapid thudding filled his ears.

His vision alternated between light and dark. English voices and German ones. He felt the slight prick of a needle. He was filled with terror, and focused on the first familiar voice he heard—Troy's.

"You'll be okay, Dietrich. Everything's going to be okay, buddy."

The last sensation Dietrich was aware of was Troy squeezing his hand, and the last sound he heard was his own exhaling. Then his senses dulled to nothingness.

He wasn't sure how much time passed, but as his senses came back, Dietrich felt the tight sensation of a bandage around his head. The scent of powerful cleaners was strong, and he was dimly aware that he was in a hospital room. He wanted to panic, but all he could get out was a twitch and a grunt.

A hand gripped his. It wasn't Troy's. It was too small, too soft, and too gentle. A woman's voice said, "Hans? It's alright. Relax."

Dietrich continued trying to wake up. A dull ache wrapped his head, but he managed to say, "Esther?"

"Yes. Take your time waking up."

Dietrich squeezed her hand. "Please… do not… let go."

"I will not. I promise."

More time passed. Dietrich's vision was blurry as first, and gradually sharpened. For a moment, he feared he would be pulled back into his frightening memories. His hold on Esther's hand tightened. She placed her other hand on top of his, stroking it and whispering that everything would be okay. When more of his strength finally returned, Dietrich tried to sit up in order to hug his wife. His throat closed, and tears began rolling down his face. A sob escaped him before he said, "Are you alright?"

"Miraculously, yes," Esther replied. "I have some pretty ugly bruises on my legs and arms, but the doctors were telling me that things could have been worse if you had not put yourself in front of me."

"I would put myself between you and a bullet if I had to." Dietrich didn't want to let go. He continued hugging Esther, and began stroking her hair. "I love you."

"I love you, too." Esther kissed his cheek, then took a tissue to dry his tears. "We still have each other. I was worried until they brought you here."

"I was worried as well. Vaguely, I remember calling your name while I was wandering away from the wreck."

"How you managed to get out of the car and wander away, I doubt I will ever find out," Esther said. "At least the paramedics found you." She kissed him again. "Rest, so they can let you come home sooner."

The same day Dietrich was allowed to go home, he still had a lot of questions on his mind about what happened. He waited until Esther was upstairs and taking her shower before going into the kitchen and taking his telephone off its hook. While waiting for Troy to pick up, Dietrich wondered if what he saw had been a strange, concussion-induced dream. He will think I am insane.

Finally, Troy's voice came through. "Hello?"

"Troy, I… have some questions for you," Dietrich replied.

"Well, hello to you, too, Dietrich. No, 'how are you?' Just right to the point?"

Dietrich sighed. "Troy, I have a concussion, so, could you please… not be yourself for a few minutes?"

"You have a concussion?" Troy's tone quickly became worried. "Are you okay? Did you need me and Shauna to come over and—"

"No. I was just released from the hospital. Esther has everything under control."

"Still… what happened?"

"We were in a car accident. Esther is alright. I sort of… bore the brunt of it by managing to put myself in front of her."

"You're not much of a cushion, buddy, but I'm glad you and her are okay. Did you let the others know?"

"No, not yet. I figured I would let you know first."

"Okay. You said you had questions for me. What about?"

Dietrich drew in a breath. "During the war, did you and your team ever help me with a concussion or similar injury?"

"We did, actually. Your Kübelwagen crashed and you were thrown from it—at least, that's what it looked like. We got there some time after it happened. You were in really rough shape."

"I had no recollection of that until just a couple of days ago. Somehow… I managed to get out of the wreck, and wandered aimlessly away, having very vivid flashbacks of the incident in North Africa. The whole time, I was calling for Esther."

Troy was quiet for a moment. "I do remember Moffitt saying that it sounded like you were saying 'Esther' when we were helping you. I didn't think much of it because I was more concerned with you, you know, not dying that day."

"So… that did happen?"

"It did."

"Back then, I was calling for Esther?"

"Yeah. You can call Moffitt and ask—actually, no, don't call him yet. I think it's dinnertime for him."

"I am content with your answer, Troy. I just… wonder… how that was possible."

"I don't know. Ask Anah. She might know. Or she'll just give you a really confusing answer and expect you to figure it out on your own. I mean, maybe there's no complicated meaning behind it. Maybe it just means you were always destined to be with Esther."

Dietrich smirked. "Who are you and what have you done with Troy? That was… quite profound."

Troy sighed, and Dietrich could sense him rolling his eyes. "Anyway, I don't think it's a big deal. People experience strange things in instances like that all the time."

"I take it you are speaking from experience?"

"Yeah. Look… I'm glad you're okay. I'm glad your wife is okay. Just… take it easy and don't do anything too crazy, buddy."

"I am not you, so you have no need to worry."

Another sigh. "I know. Get well soon."