July's heat let his clothes stick to his skin. Few droplets of sweat trickled uncomfortably down his neck as he descended the familiar stairs to the riverside in a hurry.
If someone had told him that he would return to the same site where everything began, he wouldn't have believed them in the slightest. Maybe he'd have laughed it off awkwardly, denying the possibility for it to happen twice at all. After all, people weren't salvaged from the Rhine on the daily.
It turned out even a policeman like Dorn could be sorely mistaken when a certain call had made him hurry out of his office to drive his car down the road faster than the law allowed.
Dorn couldn't believe his eyes when he found himself yet again in front of Dieter Kühn's cutter for the very same reason he was called in three months ago. It was like the imperfect re-enactment of the incident, a haunting déjà vu of some sorts.
"Long time no see, Junge."
Voice as raspy as the first time they had met, it took Henning a moment to recognize the person leaning on the banister. When the maroon-bearded man took a pull on his cigarette to blow smoke into the air, the name Dieter Kühn popped up in Dorn's mind.
Henning suppressed the need to cough. Ever since he was a kid he had despised the stench of tobacco. First off, it was irritating to the eyes and secondly, he certainly wouldn't participate in any activity hazardous to his health. In fact, it was so irritating that it almost went past him that Kühn had casually addressed him as just a 'boy'.
"Almost three months," Dorn got to the point immediately, "And today I'm here for the same reason."
"Somewhat true," Dieter shrugged, scratching the back of his head with his free hand that could be described as a bear paw rather than actual human hands, "This time's not as tragic, though."
Dorn secretly admired Kühn's ability to stay that unbothered and calm in this situation. It made his job a great deal easier than having to deal with and rely on a freaked out person's testimony.
"Follow me, Herr Dorn." Kühn turned around, threw the cigarette to the ground and stomped it with his foot. Then, he began to climb the stairs up the hoveller's deck, hands clenched into fists.
After giving it a quick thought, Dorn concluded it was maybe because of the cigarette that the boss of the salvage team managed to act so composed. He respected the man's desire to keep the conversation as short as possible.
Without wasting any more words, he followed, but couldn't refrain from letting his hands trail along the wobbly banister for support.
𝕹 𝕴 𝖃𝕰 𝕿 𝕺 𝕽 𝕰 𝕿𝕰𝖄
Henning shivered, despite the heat.
Just how could this be possible?
On the deck in front of him, next to a coffin, stood a young, thin man the same height as Fräulein, his pale body covered by a blue maritime blanket with anchors imprinted on it. Golden curls bounced around his slick jaw, perfectly framing his oval face in a paradox combination of sharpness and softness.
Compared to Fräulein's azure blue orbs, his were several tints darker, royal blue so fierce as if to represent the Rhine's very abyss he had been salvaged from. But just like hers back in April, the blue, filled with a mixture of confusion and fear, sought help in Dorn's presence, like a lost puppy abandoned in the street begging the first person it came across to take it with them.
He was the spitting image of her down to the core, a male equivalent to mirror her distinguishing features. If they were to stand side by side, most people would confuse them for siblings or twins, Henning assumed.
Hesitant, the unknown man looked around, fiddling anxiously with the blanket's ends.
"W- what happened?" For a man of approximately Dorn's age, his voice sounded surprisingly soft-spoken, or better put, melodic. Rare to come across a guy who sounded a bit feminine.
Dorn noticed the young man's fearful gaze fixed on him. Even the shy demeanor was the same.
"Ah, my apologies. My name is Henning Dorn, police department Sankt Goarshausen." Dorn pulled out his identification badge from his pocket. "Herr Kühn was so kind to inform me of your condition."
He glimpsed towards the vacant wooden coffin right next to the male but his gaze shifted back to the visibly confused person in front of him. No matter how shocking it was for Dorn to face him, he still had to question him and report back to his superior.
Once it served its purpose, he slipped the badge back into his pocket. The man seemed to be relieved and a bit less tense than before.
"My colleagues will take over investigating this place, but for the time being I'd like to ask you to accompany me to the police station, so we can record your testimony as to what series of events exactly let you end up in a coffin."
He intentionally avoided to speak out what every policeman would think in a situation like this and instead voiced his suspicion in his mind – attempted murder.
"Testimony?" The blond cocked his head to the side. "I don't know what to say ..."
"Anything you remember is helpful. No need to be worried. Details for now would be -"
When Dorn saw how the victim shook his head, it dawned on him in an instant. Oh no. Please no. If his hunch was right, then -
"... I- I'm afraid I don't remember what really happened ... My memory's so blurry ..."
The blonde touched his forehead with his fingertips and with each word he spoke his voice had become gradually quieter, probably because of the policeman's grumpy expression.
Dorn's eye twitched. Things could never proceed smoothly, he should have known. It took him effort not to exhale a frustrated sigh. His eyes searched for the salvage team's boss, only to spot him a short moment later.
Meanwhile, Kühn had taken the opportunity to light another cigarette, as the latter dangled from his mouth, watching from a meter away, hairy arms crossed. He had raised his eyebrows in what Dorn assumed to be amusement.
The policeman turned around again to speak with the man from the Rhine. He did his best to conceal his frustration.
"We'll work with what you can remember, no matter how inconclusive your memories may be. But first, you will get medical treatment. Speaking of, the paramedics should have arrived here before me."
Dorn wanted to turn around again, but he noticed Kühn had already taken place next to him – his orange reflective vest was too flashy for his presence to go unnoticed and the heavy steps too loud to ignore.
"Paramedics?" Confused, the middle-aged man scratched his beard.
Henning raised his eyebrows. "Don't tell me you didn't call any, Herr Kühn."
The salvage team's boss shrugged, but avoided the policeman's stern gaze.
"Didn't see the need for that. That man looks unscathed and very alive to me."
Dieter suspiciously eyed the blond, who had kept quiet during the entire conversation, only his eyes dancing around from left to right, from head to toe.
"Besides, last time I called the police the rest of ya took care of all what needed to be done."
Oh for crying out loud.
Dorn ran his fingers through his hair. The better part of him knew Kühn had a point to some degree – it was the police's job to take necessary precautions. But calling medics for a person who has been salvaged from the waters, unscathed at first glance or not, was something you'd do immediately under normal circumstances, wouldn't you? All of a sudden, he wasn't that sure anymore.
"I'll let you handle this, Junge." When he spoke, Dieter Kühn sounded optimistic.
The policeman had a hard time not to roll his eyes. What else was he supposed to do? Stand around and do nothing? Or even worse, go away?
"I guess we'll see each other in three months again once I salvage the next one from the Rhine," Kühn bantered, one of his ursine hands resting heavily on Henning's shoulder.
Dorn couldn't force himself to even smirk at a joke as macabre as his.
"Let's just hope it doesn't turn into a habit," Henning retorted with a shake of his head, suddenly tired, longing for the taste of black coffee.
He watched Kühn leave, his hand waving in the air as a sign of goodbye, the other holding on to the lit cigarette. Dorn typed in the number for the medics and his superior's next.
Once those calls were made, he sighed heavily, his focus on the blue-eyed individual standing helplessly in the middle of the deck. The male gave him an awkward smile, putting his hands up in defense.
"I'm fine, I don't think I'm hurt anywhere. There is no need to - "
Dorn shook his head and crossed his arms.
"I fear I have to insist on you undergoing a medical examination. There is no way around it."
The words came out harsher than he had expected, but Dorn figured it to be necessary for his opposite to truly understand his condition. He wouldn't allow him to refuse treatment because of inappropriate modesty.
With few options left to argue against the policeman's merciless insistence, the male slouched his shoulders, visibly defeated, but nodded in compliance, blanket still wrapped tightly around his frail body.
Henning had a vague premonition this poor man would be Arzt's next protégé and a victim of Schneider's desperate advances – the latter he might actually benefit from for once.
As for the rest, the policeman was certain the blond's appearance would be quite the opposite from beneficial – whatever was salvaged from the Rhine had the tendency to prompt more questions rather than it solved them.