Chapter 15

17.2K 588 2.6K
                                    

Spring passed in a haze of pain and confusion. White sheets, cold hands, cool cloth that turned warm on burning skin. Faces drifting in his dim, cloudy vision - Lovino, Grandpa, strange people he did not know. Water that tasted of metal, food he could not swallow. Someone praying; someone crying. The clean, warm scent of flowers and herbs from the garden. And always the dreams. Dreams of Ludwig, of oak trees and fireplaces, of winter afternoons that Feliciano could not be sure were real. But now, he could not be sure if anything was real.

When Feliciano woke, summer had already begun. With the Germans gone from the village, Grandpa and Lovino worked again in the fields. Feliciano spent the days sitting in the garden, sometimes reading, sometimes remembering. Occasionally Antonio joined him. Feliciano was grateful for the company, but Antonio coughed so much it made conversation difficult. Usually they just watched the sky silently for hours, but Antonio always looked like he was in pain. Very rarely, if it did not hurt too much, Lovino would help Feliciano walk to the oak tree. But when Feliciano spoke of Ludwig, Lovino just looked away.

Feliciano did not remember the hospital. Did not remember the bullet being dug from his skin. Did not remember being brought home, barely conscious. All Feliciano remembered was seeing Ludwig's face, feeling his arms, hearing his voice as that piercing pain tore through Feliciano's body. All he knew was that Ludwig was gone. All he attempted, day after day, was to suppress his anguish, and ignore his fear. It was not until autumn that Grandpa Roma sat Feliciano down in the kitchen and tried to explain.

"Feliciano. I want you to listen to me, and I want you to be brave, okay?"

Feliciano's gaze drifted away from Roma's sad, concerned eyes. He listened to the clock ticking like thunder in the silent room and watched the autumn leaves float leisurely into the garden outside the window. "I don't think I want to hear, Grandpa."

Feliciano did not resist when Roma reached out and took his hand across the warm, wooden table. "Please, Feli. I've waited too long to tell you this. You've waited too long to hear." Feliciano did not respond, but neither did he tear his eyes from the dancing leaves outside. "Feliciano... do you remember Alfred? Your American friend, the pilot?"

"Yes." Feliciano ignored the ache in his chest, the irregular pounding of his pulse. He did not want to feel. He had tried for months not to feel. Feliciano was so sick and tired of feeling.

"You do know how Lovino and I were able to rescue him, don't you?"

"L... Lud..." Feliciano squeezed his eyes shut. He could not say the name. If he said the name, it would be too real, and it would hurt too much. "He told you."

"Yes," said Roma quietly. "I thought you might know."

Of course he knew. Although Roma and Lovino had stayed mostly silent, it was not hard for Feliciano to put the pieces together. True, he did not know everything. But from what he had been told, what he had overheard, and what he had determined himself, Feliciano knew enough. How Alfred had been shot down and captured. How Ludwig had told Roma about Alfred's position and arranged an escape. How Roma and Lovino had picked up the American pilot and taken him to an American base. How neither his grandpa nor his brother would tell Feliciano any more than that.

Roma spoke softly, as though afraid to break the silence, or something else. "Feli. The night Ludwig brought Alfred to us... just after he handed Alfred over..." Roma took a deep breath and delivered the next words evenly. "Feli, what Ludwig did was very noble, and very brave. It was also against military law. That night, Ludwig was arrested by the Gestapo."

The words tore into Feliciano's heart like another bullet. He could not longer contain the feelings, fears, and suspicions he had tried to suppress for months. Once again he couldn't breathe, his skin turned cold, the room spun like the falling leaves outside, and all Feliciano could think was... "Gestapo... the Gestapo had Antonio... oh God..."

Auf Wiedersehen, Sweetheart - GerItaWhere stories live. Discover now