Dietrich had done his best to avoid going to a hospital unless it was absolutely necessary over the last fifteen years. Going for routine exams was often anxiety-inducing, as it was far too quiet, perfect for his memories to surge and show him flashes of when he was sitting upright in a bed, shocked that he was still alive after trying to end his own life. He remembered how empty he felt, emotionally. He remembered constantly walking the edge between wanting to live and wanting to die. He would only eat the bland porridge served because he didn't want to be force-fed. The blandness seemed oddly appropriate. It kept him alive, but provided not much else. He was alive, but not truly living. He wasn't sure he had choices anymore, but he also didn't think he could make any decisions for himself.

Regardless of how he felt about how Anselm had been raised, Dietrich didn't want to see him go through something similar. He couldn't imagine how Anselm had been feeling over the last several hours, as he tried to look at everything from Anselm's perspective. Anselm had fled a living hell, expecting to stay with a like-minded uncle, only to find that uncle wasn't at all like how he was taught. Anselm's whole world was being turned on its head, and Dietrich could understand how shocking that could be to anyone. He didn't think it was right to leave Anselm to suffer. The young man needed guidance.

The panicked feeling emanating from everyone prevented Dietrich from dwelling too much on his own circumstances from fifteen years ago. Markus had hardly stopped the car before getting out and urging Dietrich and Moffitt to hurry. Dietrich was still cautious when taking the unconscious Anselm out of the car. The young man was very light, and Dietrich found it concerning, though unsurprising, that he could feel many of Anselm's bones. Now I understand why Troy would get so anxious when dealing with me. He carried Anselm into the hospital, listening to Markus talking frantically with a nurse about everything he knew about Anselm. Dietrich adjusted his grip on Anselm, and noticed his nephew's eyelids fluttering. He stared at Dietrich for a moment, looking greatly confused, and somewhat defeated.

The nurse that Markus had been talking with gave instructions to one of her colleagues, who dashed off and returned with a wheelchair. Anselm was gently taken from Dietrich and made to sit in the wheelchair. Once he was taken away to be examined, an anxious quiet filled the lobby. Dietrich turned when Moffitt touched his shoulder. "What?"

"Does this bother you at all? Being in a hospital?" Moffitt asked.

"No. Taking care of Anselm is more important."

"I feel like I did something wrong," Markus said, quietly.

"You didn't," Moffitt said. "This was probably bound to happen sooner or later. We all noticed he didn't look well."

Markus nodded a little, but he still looked distraught. "I should… call Liesel, and tell her what's going on."

They all found a place to sit after Markus let his wife know what happened, and remained there for quite some time, not speaking to each other. A nurse came out on occasion and asked if they wanted any coffee or tea. Dietrich would anxiously look at Moffitt and hope he didn't begin ranting about how bad hospital tea was, but Moffitt's expression remained solemn as he politely declined. They were offered food as well, but none of them were interested, despite it being well past lunchtime.

Dietrich wasn't sure how much time had passed before a white-coated man with dark, almost black hair tinged with silver stepped into the room. He held a large folder, which he used to motion to a hallway. "Are you the gentlemen who brought the young man in?"

"Yes, Doctor," Markus said.

"Alright. I'm Doctor Traube. You are… Markus Dietrich, right? One of Doctor Neubauer's patients?"

"As a matter of fact, yes. Is he not in today?"

"Afraid not. He is on a well-earned vacation. May I ask what your relation to this boy is?"

"He is a nephew I did not even know I had until last night." Markus gestured to Dietrich. "Hans's nephew as well."

"And him?" Traube looked at Moffitt.

"A friend of mine visiting from Britain," Dietrich said.

"Alright. All of you can come with me." The three were led to a small room down the hall. Traube opened the folder, and took out a series of radiographs. "Anselm is a classic case of malnourishment that I have come to expect with many people who flee East Germany. He is not the worst that I have encountered, but he is in much rougher shape than most, as it is combined with evidence of quite horrendous physical abuse."

Dietrich had seen countless injuries in his lifetime, both to himself and other people. That didn't mean he was desensitized to them, but he was able to keep his expression in check despite feeling disgust and sadness at Anselm's condition as Traube pointed out and described what was found in his examination.

"Blimey, he's got fractures all up and down his ribs," Moffitt said. "Is that one on his sternum?"

"It is," Traube replied. "There are a great deal more on the back of his ribcage, directly below several bruises. My theory is that someone—or many people—were kicking him. There were also some curious injuries on his back. Very small burns."

"Bloody hell. It's starting to look like I was right about him being tortured."

"Every East German I have treated told me that being suspected of trying to flee the country is never a pleasant experience. Anselm is fortunate to have gotten out. I cannot say whoever he left behind—if anyone—will get so lucky."

"That's been our problem all day. He has refused to talk about what happened," Markus said.

"You will have to be extraordinarily patient with a case like this. I can treat his physical wounds. I cannot help him mentally or emotionally."

"We will do our best to help him in that regard. When will we be able to see him?"

Traube stood. "I will take you to him right now. All I ask is that you not disturb him if he is sleeping."

The group was quiet while being led down to where Anselm had been situated. He was by the window, at the end of a row of beds separated by off-white curtains. Dietrich was a little surprised to see he was awake, but at least Anselm didn't look quite so angry anymore. Then again, Dietrich wished he didn't look so scared.

"What are they doing to me?" Anselm asked when he saw the men approaching. "Get me out of here! I don't want any of this! Please!"

"Unfortunately, you must stay, at least for now," Markus said. "Do you remember what happened before you came to?"

"Is this all you do? Ask questions like this?"

"We are trying to help. I… I am at a loss of what will convince you to see that."

"If you want to help, please, get me out of here." Anselm's plea sounded more terrified than demanding.

Moffitt turned to Traube, saying in a low voice, "When is the soonest we can take him home? I think doing what he wants will be of benefit."

"Is that wise? Giving in to demands like this will not teach him that there are unpleasant things that must be done for one's own good," Traube replied.

"This is different. He's scared, not angry. We all saw it on his radiographs, Doctor. He was probably tortured. Keeping him here unnecessarily will hinder his healing process, not just emotionally. That sort of stress won't help him physically, either. He needs to be able to have people he can trust."

Traube gave Moffitt a rather grim look. "You sound like you are speaking from experience."

"Perhaps." Moffitt didn't elaborate.

Dietrich looked at the floor, unable to decide what the right thing to do was.

Traube folded his arms over his chest, letting out a sigh. "I want Anselm here for two days for observation. You all are free to stay and keep him company."

"Alright." Moffitt looked over at Anselm. "Two days, the doctor says."

"It is to make sure you are on track to heal properly," Traube explained.

Anselm didn't look like he was going to accept that answer. He turned to face the window, and Dietrich heard wet sniffling. When Traube left, Anselm began murmuring, "I'm going to die here… I don't want to die here."

"You are not going to die here," Dietrich said.

"Of course you would say that! It is your fault this happened!"

Dietrich bit his tongue. He sighed, and turned to Moffitt and Markus. "I am going outside for a cigarette. I will be back in a little while."

It was a bit of a walk from the room to get back to the hospital lobby. Dietrich went across the street to a bench near a bus stop, lighting a cigarette and watching traffic. The sound of church bells marking the hour helped to calm him. He took his time, deep in thought, wondering if it had been a mistake to get involved with this.

He wasn't alone for very long. Dietrich pulled himself from his thoughts when he saw the lanky form of Moffitt approaching the street, looking both ways before jogging across to get to where the skinny German was sitting. "Well, I apologize if I'm disturbing you," Moffitt said. "Anselm doesn't like me very much, either."

"So you left poor Markus to deal with him?" Dietrich asked, taking his cigarette out of his mouth.

"Markus insisted on it," Moffitt replied.

"Bless him, then."

"Indeed." Moffitt sat next to Dietrich, letting out his breath. "This is a bloody fine mess we're in."

"I was just thinking that perhaps I never should have gotten involved."

"None of us had any way of knowing this would happen."

"Fair point."

"Anselm needs help, too. Just like you did."

"I think the way I needed help is drastically different to Anselm."

"There's still a similarity of immense stubbornness, and I'm not saying that to be funny. You were drowning in your depression and it was difficult to get you out. Anselm is also drowning in whatever shoddy upbringing he had, combined with living in a terrible place. You both have habits that are difficult to break."

Dietrich sighed. "Why do I think this is going to be more like getting Troy to break some of his habits?"

"Troy is at least a good person, despite his… oddities. Anselm needs help."

"He does, but I doubt I am the right person to help him."

"If anything, you're perfect."

"Moffitt, this is not like trying to help you or Troy or anyone else we know. Anselm has made it clear he hates my guts."

"But you don't hate him in return."

Dietrich shook his head. "No. I feel sorry for him." He took a draw on his cigarette, exhaling smoke into the gentle breeze passing by. "I just wish I knew his story. I think I might be able to help if I know a little more."

"We'll have to try a less direct approach," Moffitt said.

"That makes sense." Dietrich hesitated before asking, "How did you… heal, after you were tortured?"

"After which incident?"

He should not have to ask that. "All of them, I guess."

"I don't think I ever really did. Not completely. There were several things I had to manage, namely with touch. I'm sure you've heard Troy joke about the amount of times I hit my head—he's not wrong. I either hit my head or was struck on the head several times. When I married Vanora, I knew… I knew there were going to be some challenges. I'm grateful that she was willing to work with me, and was patient with me while I learned to trust her touching my head. It's very enjoyable now. The nightmares are a bit more difficult, because there's no way to really confront them."

"Troy has his own set of issues relating to when he was tortured in a POW transit camp," Dietrich said. "I think he still has most of them, but he is… normal. As normal as he can get."

"Perhaps we shouldn't compare ourselves to Anselm, then. You are right, and it is hard to ignore that Anselm was not exactly raised or surrounded by good people."

"Despite that, I firmly believe he needs guidance, not shunning. I just do not know how to begin doing that."

Moffitt nodded in agreement. "You and me both. We already know to take it slow." He thought for a moment. "It might be wise to simply include Anselm in what we do. Invite him to the dinner table, or to have tea. He might be skeptical at first, but as long as we don't push or make our actions too deliberate, he could still being more reciprocating."

"My concern is whether or not he will actually eat. Doctor Traube's results on Anselm's blood samples did not exactly look good. You were right—he is anemic."

"We will cross that bridge when we get to it. I think we need to be patient for now."

Part of Dietrich didn't want to be patient, and a sense of bemused shock came over him. "I never thought I would see the day I would be thinking like Troy."

"Oh?"

"I am not looking forward to taking this so slow."

"I can't exactly blame you."

"Promise me you will not tell Troy."

Moffitt grinned. "Your secret's safe with me."


The men agreed to take shifts with Anselm. Sometimes it would one of them alone, or two, or all three together. If Anselm was asleep or wanted to be left alone, they would leave. Dietrich was on a shift late in the afternoon, reddish-orange light pouring into the window from the setting sun, pondering whether or not to leave when he assumed Anselm was asleep. Not much conversation had been made with Anselm over the course of the day. He did eat what was brought to him, but, as expected, it was bland hospital food. Dietrich kept his comments to himself about his experience with hospital food, and instead occupied himself with a book while Anselm ate.

Things remained quiet after a nurse came and took Anselm's dish. She asked if he wanted anything else, but he quietly refused. A few minutes after the silence fell over the room, Dietrich noticed Anselm shivering. Without a word to the boy, Dietrich stood to get a nurse, and asked for a blanket. He returned, still quiet, and unfolded the blanket to drape it around Anselm's shoulders. Anselm tensed at first, then pulled the blanket tighter around himself. He said nothing, and Dietrich wasn't about to pressure him into saying thanks. Instead, he returned to his seat. Once more, silence dominated the room.

"It's so cold," Anselm murmured.

"I can request a heating pad, if you wish," Dietrich said.

Anselm didn't look sure he wanted to respond, so he remained huddled under the blanket.

Dietrich looked down at his book to avoid letting Anselm see his expression. Do not ask questions right now. Just continue being calm, courteous. He let out a quiet sigh, then turned when he saw Markus enter the room.

"Hans, we were told to leave for the night," Markus said. "Jack saved us a table at a restaurant."

"Alright." Dietrich closed his book, and stood. He looked at Anselm, then handed Markus his book before taking his jacket off.

Markus raised an eyebrow. "What are you doing?"

"Letting him have it," Dietrich replied before draping his jacket around Anselm's shoulders.

"It is going to be on the cold side tonight."

"I know, but he needs it more than I do."

Markus sighed and shook his head. "Alright."

Dietrich watched Anselm for a moment before turning to follow Markus out of the room. Once they were in the hallway, Markus turned to ask, "I am guessing he said nothing to you?"

"All he said was that it was cold," Dietrich replied. "Nothing else."

"He said nothing to me as well, which is odd because I expected him to go off on me getting along with you."

"I expected him to go off on me simply for existing."

"Well, he's going to have to get used to you being around."

"Does he have to, though? Maybe it would be best I do not visit frequently if you are going to be taking him in."

"Hans, don't be absurd. Everything he was taught about you is completely wrong."

"You would have believed it at one point."

Markus's expression hardened. He acted like he wanted to say something, but instead looked down at the floor as they kept walking. He didn't say anything until they were outside and in the parking lot by the hospital. "I have no desire to be reminded of that."

"Is that why you have not made any suggestions on how we can help Anselm? He reminds you too much of how you used to be?"

"He reminds me of Konrad. Given how Konrad treated you, I am shocked you have been so kind to Anselm."

"Konrad's sins are not Anselm's. I will not treat him poorly just because of who his father was."

"Anselm is running the risk of turning into Konrad, though."

"As long as he expresses a willingness to change, it is not too late. I will help until it becomes clear he does not want to change."

Markus gave him a confused look. "I think it is quite clear right now."

"We will give him a chance."

"I think we are going to wind up wasting our time."

Dietrich wasn't expecting his brother to be so pessimistic about the situation with Anselm, but he also wasn't surprised that this was stemming from Markus's memories of Konrad. He decided to leave the topic for another time when they arrived at the restaurant and went inside to find Moffitt. They found him in a booth, nose in a menu while occasionally sipping a cup of tea.

"At the risk of sounding rude, Jack, you are allowed to try other drinks," Markus said.

Dietrich clamped his hand over Markus's mouth. "Do not utter such blasphemy."

Moffitt stared at both of them while bringing his cup to his lips again. "Well, excuse me for wanting to be the only one capable of driving after dinner."

"One glass of wine is not going to leave me inebriated," Dietrich said. "You know that."

"What about him?" Moffitt pointed at Markus.

"I do enjoy a good beer, but I know how to limit myself," Markus said. "You won't have to drag me outside to the car."

"Still. I will drive."

"Suit yourself."

All was quiet apart from soft music in the background for a little while. Dietrich glanced over at Moffitt to ask, "Did Anselm say anything to you while you were watching him?"

"Other than the occasional muttering about my role in defeating Germany and allowing the Soviets to ravage the eastern part of the country, not much," Moffitt said.

"Did you say anything in return?"

"Not really. I didn't think it was worth it."

"Do you mind me asking something… a bit personal?"

"Go ahead. I have a feeling I know what it is."

"Alright. How are you going to respond if Anselm brings up the air raids in Britain?"

"Honestly, I don't know. It might be best I just leave the room."

Markus looked confused until Dietrich said, "His brother was killed in an air raid."

"I see," Markus said. "I… I'm so sorry—"

"Don't," Moffitt said. "It wasn't your fault." He didn't add anything more to that, leading to a heavy silence between the three. Dietrich knew delving into that topic was a nasty minefield, so he didn't contribute anything, and he prayed Markus didn't, either.

Fortunately, they left it at that, and turned their attentions back to their menus when a waiter asked if they knew what they wanted yet. After placing their orders, the silence returned. A shiver passed through Dietrich. He rubbed his arms in a vain effort to generate warmth, then noticed Moffitt looking at him.

"What happened to your jacket?" Moffitt asked.

"I left it with Anselm," Dietrich said. "He was cold."

"You could have gotten a blanket or something from a nurse."

"I did, but he was still feeling cold. I even asked Anselm if he wanted a heating pad. No response, of course, so when Markus came to get me, I gave Anselm my jacket."

Markus picked up his beer mug. "I told you it was going to be cold."

"I will agree, it's quite cold in here," Moffitt said. "I do hope that this is the start of things changing with Anselm. It wouldn't surprise me if he hasn't been shown any sort of kindness before."

"Pretty much everything would have been against him from the start," Dietrich added. "Being raised by a rotten person, in a place where he was likely looked down upon by his neighbors and the authorities because of his connection to the SS. Kindness is probably a foreign concept."

"Or a sign of weakness," Markus said. "A detriment to survival."

"In Anselm's situation, I can see how that would make sense. All of these are just guesses, though."

"Reasonable guesses," Moffitt said. "Who knows what it'll take to get Anselm to explain everything."

"If at all." Markus looked down at the table. "I am starting to wonder if this is even worth the effort. If Anselm is not going to accept any of this, it… might be best to let him go. He is old enough."

"That's the worst thing we could do."

"Just let him go wandering around on his own?" Dietrich glared at Markus. "He needs help."

"He needs to be slapped in the face with reality," Markus said, sternly.

"We have barely even tried—"

"It's not worth it, Hans! Anselm is no different than his father—"

"He is a different individual! I already told you, I am not going to toss him aside just because of Konrad!"

"Then you do that. To me, Anselm has made it very clear what type of person he is, and I want no part of it. I have spent far too long trying to distance myself from what we were raised by—"

"The fact that you were able to change is all the proof we need that Anselm can change as well!"

"You know what happened that made me start to change! I lost almost my entire squad in Norway, and had to deal with Mother telling me to just forget about them! I was forced to disarm mines in France, and watched other prisoners being chased around like animals just to see if there were no more bombs lying around. In both cases, I saw parts of people strewn about where they didn't belong. I still, to this day, have nightmares about seeing human arms on my bed, because that was what greeted me when I went into the barracks in Norway to help rescue the soldiers trapped in there. Do you want to see Anselm go through that? I don't!"

"You had started to change even before that," Dietrich said. "You cared about those men in your squad, did you not?"

"You are missing my point. The entire process of rethinking everything did not happen in one night. It took a great deal of suffering and wondering 'what next?'"

"It does not have to be that way for Anselm. Frankly, I think he has suffered enough."

"Could we stop arguing, please?" Moffitt said. "This is not going to help anyone."

Dietrich glanced at Moffitt, then back at Markus. It seemed they were both expecting the other to continue, as they said nothing and wore tense expressions. Meanwhile, Moffitt's gaze was switching rapidly between them. He looked afraid to speak, and kept sipping his tea.

Their food was eventually brought out and set on the table. Moffitt put his cup down, continuing to watch the brothers while spearing his food with his fork. "I'm not as good as Tully as solving problems between people, but I can see that you are both being extraordinarily silly. I already told Dietrich earlier that we can't compare ourselves to Anselm. We've all been through some horrid things over the years, and we've all done our best to heal and move on. We don't know where to start with Anselm. We can't give up before we even know his story."

Dietrich was tempted to say that he agreed with Moffitt, but kept quiet while turning to start his meal.

"I agree with Dietrich that we can't punish Anselm just because his father was someone you both had a bad history with," Moffitt continued. "I've done… something similar in the past, and it's… it's cruel, to say the least. Casting Anselm off and just leaving him to fend for himself makes us no better than Konrad."

Markus looked down at the table. "This is still an immensely frustrating experience."

"No one said it isn't going to be, but at least you're not tackling it alone."

"Exactly," Dietrich said. "Besides, would it not feel good to help Konrad's own son become the exact opposite of his father? You are raising your children well. I am not raising Gunther like our parents did us. We do not have to let that persist into another generation."

Markus nodded. "That is a worthwhile goal." He let out his breath. "Alright. We can… We can do this."

Dietrich looked at Moffitt. "And you think you are not as good as Tully."

"I'm really not," Moffitt replied. "Tully's much better with people in general."

"That does not mean you are bad with people."

"Oh, we'll see. I reckon he'd be better at helping Anselm than I am. I will try, though, as best I can."


Dietrich had a feeling Markus still had some lingering reservations about Anselm, but he decided to leave that conversation for another time. It was dark by the time they returned to Markus's, and Dietrich was colder than he wanted to admit. At the same time, he couldn't imagine how Anselm was feeling. He had a last cup of cocoa for the night while talking with Markus and Liesel, occasionally glancing over at where Ludwin and Sophie were getting acquainted with Moffitt in the living room. Sophie was snuggled up with him on the couch, while Moffitt helped Ludwin with his geography homework. Dietrich's heart ached at the thought of either his niece or nephew in danger. He knew he would stop at nothing to help them, and he definitely knew Markus wouldn't stop, either. He knew Markus would put everything down to help if Gunther was in trouble. Now, they were both trying to help a nephew, but the situation was different, more complicated. Dietrich didn't like how they both felt like quitting at multiple points in the first day alone.

Markus and Liesel had tried to switch to more lighthearted topics, but Dietrich's thoughts dwelled on Anselm and he couldn't get them to stop. As it was quite late, Markus offered to let Dietrich and Moffitt spend the night, which they accepted despite not having any changes of clothes. Dietrich was grateful for a hot shower, after having gone without his jacket for much of the night. He hoped it had provided some comfort to Anselm, but a voice in the back of Dietrich's mind was telling him not to bet on it.

He went down to the living room to find Moffitt sprawled out on the couch, already asleep. The house was quiet. A little too quiet for Dietrich's liking. The kids had been in bed for the last couple of hours, and Markus and Liesel had retired to their bedroom before Dietrich had finished in the shower. He got in the recliner with a blanket and pillow, opening the footrest with as little noise as possible. After adjusting himself to get as comfortable as possible, Dietrich stared up at the ceiling, free to let his mind wander for the rest of his night. That wasn't what he wanted, though. He would rather sleep. At least Moffitt does not snore like Troy. He tried to turn his thoughts to other things, but to no avail.

Sleep eventually came, but it wasn't restful. Fortunately, the smell of coffee was present when Dietrich had woken up and was making an attempt to rise from the recliner. He noticed Moffitt wasn't on the couch anymore, and that the smell of tea was mixing with the coffee. He also heard Liesel saying, "Sophie, you and Ludwin need to keep getting ready for school. You are going to make yourselves late."

"But we're learning how to make tea!" Sophie protested. "Doesn't that count?"

"As much as I wish it did, it does not. Come along now so I can fix your hair."

Sophie gave a very disappointed huff before following her mother upstairs.

Dietrich entered the kitchen to find Moffitt stirring his tea while Markus was turning over slices of leftover bratwurst in a pan. He watched Ludwin come downstairs in his school clothes, and sighed. "Well, this is one thing I do not miss about being a child."

"You mean apart from the fact that Konrad and I would hide your work around the house? Or in the garden?" Markus asked.

"That, too, but I was referring to having to dress in uncomfortable clothing and wake up early." Dietrich turned to Moffitt. "Are you showing my niece and nephew the way of tea?"

"I didn't plan on it," Moffitt said. "Sophie wanted to know what I was making. She was greatly confused at the fact that adults can drink something other than coffee with breakfast."

"Ah." Dietrich took a mug out of the cabinet to pour himself some coffee. "When are we going to the hospital to see Anselm?"

"We may as well go after breakfast," Markus said.

"Perhaps we should bring him something."

"We could get in a lot of trouble. Plus, he might not be ready for regular food yet. I doubt it would help his mental state if we gave him something that made him sick."

"Certain biscuits shouldn't be too rough on him," Moffitt said.

"If you are referring to British biscuits, they are not much different to what the hospital is offering," Dietrich replied, smirking.

Moffitt's expression soured, and Dietrich had a feeling that Anah would be hissing at him if she had come along. "We have more than just Rich Teas and digestives."

Markus gave both Moffitt and Dietrich a confused look, then decided against asking and said, "The only thing I can think of that we could bring is a shortbread cookie. Easy to sneak in, shouldn't be too much for him."

Moffitt nodded. "As much as I hope doing little acts of kindness will help Anselm see things differently, I have a feeling it's going to take a lot more than just that."