Official Report

British Intelligence

Code: 3986

Kathleen Winfred

Freidrich did not reprimand Schwab for the man’s treatment of his office. He didn't scold him for the way he ran the prison. He simply walked Schwab to the door, and Schwab left. He did not even respond to Schwab’s jabs at his character.

However, when Schwab, on the tail end of an insult, slapped him on the back, he flinched, his eyes filling with pain and his teeth clenching.

Schwab, realizing this, made a personal effort to knock into Friedrich, or clasp his shoulder, or slap him on the back, as much as he could before he left.

Finally, he was gone, and Freidrich was returning to his office as quickly as he could, his posture stiff and his hands clenched at his sides.

I followed, having a sinking feeling that I knew what Freidrich’s superiors had done to him.

I reached the outer office, and his door was closed.

I knocked, only to receive no response.

But I knew he was there, so I only continued to knock.

Finally, he spoke, his teeth gritted. “Go away, Ilsa,” he said. “Please. Leave. Take the day off.”

I only knocked again.

“Please!” he said, his voice sounding desperate.

I sighed, sadly, but left then. However, I only went to the prison’s medic and retrieved bandages and a wet washcloth. I had a feeling that Freidrich could use them.

I returned to the office and knocked once more.

“Ilsa…” he said, his voice sounding like more of a moan. “I really don’t…”

“I’m not leaving, Freidrich!” I said, putting as much force into my voice as possible.

Silence.

He seemed to have realized that his efforts at an argument were futile and I heard him sigh.

“Alright then,” he said. “But you’ll have to find your key and unlock the door. I…I’d rather not get up again for a while.”

I already had my key in hand and the door was unlocked in no time.

Freidrich was sitting at his desk, but he was leaning forward, avoiding the back of the chair as if it were the plague. His elbows were resting on the desk, and his face was in his hands, his fingers tangled in his hair, white from the tightness of his grip.

“Freidrich…” I said, quietly.

He shook his head slightly.

I came to stand next to him and hesitantly touched his shoulder. He flinched, slightly, but didn’t pull away completely.

“Punishment?” I whispered.

He hesitated a moment before nodding once.

“Tell me,” I said.

He turned to study me, frowning. Finally, he shook his head. “No,” he said. “You don’t need to know. You shouldn’t concern yourself with this.”

I was tired, however, of his avoiding telling me what was wrong. I knew he hadn’t told anyone else either, because that was Freidrich. He wouldn’t tell anyone, not even when the pain grew too great to bear alone.

“You can’t just hide everything from everyone!” I said, my voice a bit louder than I had intended it to be.

Freidrich looked angry. “Can’t I?!” he said, the anger evident in his voice.

“No!” I said. “You’ve been discouraged and upset for a good while now and I want to know why. You’ll never help yourself if you continue on like this! Maybe you think it makes it easier for you to hide everything, and to keep it away. Maybe you think it’s safer and less complicated not to trust people. You put up all these walls, Freidrich! And you think they keep you safe, but they don’t! All they do is keep people away!”

“This is none of your business, Ilsa! It is none of your concern!” He appeared to only be growing more angry.

“You may not think it’s my business, Freidrich! But we’re friends. You don’t just let your friend face troubles on their own! If you keep everything to yourself, all you’re going to do is destroy yourself from the inside!”

Freidrich slammed a fist on his desk, startling me momentarily. He immediately looked as though he regretted it and he had to take a moment to let the pain it seemed to cause him to abate. By the time he looked up again, he was fuming. “I’m just fine,” he said angrily. “Fine. I don’t need anyone.” His voice was cold. If I hadn’t seen the hurt and pain behind the anger in his eyes, I would have been hurt. However, I looked into his eyes and knew that he did not really mean it.

“Everyone needs someone,” I said, more calmly.

“I don’t,” he said. “It’s better to rely on yourself! At least when you rely only on you, you can’t hurt yourself! Other people…they’re the ones that hurt you!”

“You don’t mean it, Freidrich!” I said, taking a step towards him.

“Why do you care, anyways?” he demanded. “You might as well give up! I’m telling you now that caring for people causes nothing but pain!

I was angry. More than that, I was determined. “No!” I said. “I won’t give up, Freidrich! I won’t give up…because I care about you! Whether or not you care about me, I care about you, Freidrich.”

“Don’t,” he said, seeming to deflate a bit, some of his anger leaving him. “Don’t care about me.”

“You won’t stop me,” I said, crossing my arms.

He shook his head and looked at the ground. “I don’t want you to care about me.”

“Why not?” I said, my voice demanding. “What is so horrible about letting someone through all your walls, Freidrich? What is so terrible that you run from it as though the very thought might kill you? What are you so afraid of?”

“Enough!” he shouted, banging his fist on the desk again. The room was silent for a few moments, and he put his head in his hands. “Enough, Kathleen,” he said, his voice sounding sad and broken. “Enough.”

“Freidrich…”

He held up a hand.

“I’m sorry…” I began to say.

“Don’t,” he said. He looked up at me. “You can’t care about me, Kathleen,” he said, sadly.

“Why not?” I said, again. “Please, Freidrich. Tell me why on earth not.”

He closed his eyes, before sitting up a bit straighter. “Come here,” he said. “And…help me…” He began to unbutton his uniform jacket, his posture remaining stiff.

I came forward, hesitantly, and helped him shrug out of his jacket. As his jacket fell away, I couldn’t help but gasp.

“Freidrich,” I breathed, gasping. The back of his white shirt was stained with the red color of blood, some darker and already dried but a few spots remaining wet and scarlet.

“This is why you can’t care about me, Kathleen,” he said, quietly. “Because anyone close to me is at risk of being hurt. And…I can’t have that. It’s why I don’t write to Maddalyn. It’s why I haven’t spoken to my aunt in almost a year. It’s…It’s why I’m pushing you away. Because…because I care about you. I’m already doomed. They’ll decide to be rid of me eventually. I’ve only been realizing it more lately. When they do…I don’t want the people I care about to be hurt. This is...it's why I can't care about people. Because it will only pain me. Because I will only spend every waking minute of every day fearing what could happen to them because of me.”

I touched his shoulder, hesitantly, as if I were trying to see if this were really real, and he was really there before me, bleeding and hurt. His breath hitched and he pulled away slightly.

“Freidrich,” I said. “You need to go see the medic.”

“No,” he said, stiffening even more. “I at least have my pride. I’ll take care of myself…later.”

“Freidrich,” I said, my tone matter of fact. “You aren’t going to be able to get it clean, if you do it yourself. You can hardly move without pain. Imagine trying to tend to your wounds yourself. If you won’t go to the medic, I’ll get him for you.”

“No,” he said, his voice tired, but sure. “I’ve always dealt with whatever they’ve given me. I can deal with it this time too.”

I shook my head. “Then let me,” I said.

He shook his head, holding up one hand in protest. “Kathleen, don’t…”

I took hold of his hand, holding it in both of mine. “Don’t fight me, Freidrich,” I said, softly. “Please don’t.”

He held my gaze for a moment, before finally looking away. “Very well,” he said. He held up a hand as I retrieved the washcloth I had brought. “But…gently…” he said, pain in his voice as he shifted to unbutton his shirt.

I nodded.

“Al…Alright…” he said, nodding one final time, and removing his shirt.

Knowing exactly how much pain he was in only made me feel for him all the more. I remembered my own times of torture, and I could almost feel the sting of the wounds I would be left with on the worst days.

Freidrich’s back was crisscrossed by six fresh wounds, some seeming to be, for the most part, fine, but some others still oozing sticky red blood. As I began to clean his wounds, being as gentle as I could, I noticed that, beneath these newer wounds, there were old ones, as if this had happened once or twice before.

“I would have been fine,” said Freidrich, through gritted teeth. “If that bastard Schwab hadn’t figured out exactly what they’d decided to do to me and tried to make it as bad as he possibly could.”

“I hate that man…” I muttered, loathing Schwab even more than I already did.

After a while more, I had finished cleaning the wounds, which I proceeded to bandage, wrapping the white cloth around his back, trying not to hurt him too much, even though he flinched every once in a while and I could tell, from the whiteness of his grip on the edge of the desk, that it pained him.

I finished, and he let out a breath of relief. His eyes were still closed, however. After a few moments, he seemed to relax a little, as if, now that his wounds weren’t being touched, they felt a bit better. “If you could…” he said. “In my suitcase…I have another shirt…”

I nodded, going to his small suitcase, which he had left near the door when he returned earlier, and opened it, retrieving another shirt and bringing it to him.

He put it on, slowly, and, once finished, he leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes again and taking a deep breath. “Thank you…” he said, his voice almost a whisper. He shook his head. “I’m sorry, Kathleen…” He added.

“Don’t be sorry, Freidrich,” I said. “Everything’s going to be fine.”

He shook his head again, opening his eyes. “It won’t,” he said. “But I’ve accepted that.”

He was right; it wouldn’t be all fine. We were in a war. It couldn't.“I won’t let you have to face it alone,” I said, gently.

There was pain in his eyes, almost more than there had been when he had been hurting because of his injury. This was a different kind of hurt. “I don’t want you to get hurt, Kathleen,” he said, quietly. “I couldn’t bear it. I…I…” He fell silent, as if he were struggling to know what to say. Finally, he just shook his head. “I care about you too much, Kathleen,” he said. “I...I...Ich liebe dich. I...love you.” He looked up at me, helplessly, his face sad. “I love you too much to see you hurt.”

I shook my head, tears threatening to fall from my eyes. “I love you too, Freidrich. And…that’s stronger than any fear I have of any pain that I could possibly face for loving you.”

He was standing now, and I took his hands, my grip tight, almost desperate. I didn’t want to lose him.

“I love you too much to let you go…” I said, my voice finally breaking. I almost fell forward, as I wrapped my arms around his waist, being careful of his back. “Please don’t make me leave, Freidrich. That would hurt me more than anything.”

I felt him put his arms around me, holding me tightly. “Alright,” he whispered. “Alright.”

I looked up at him, bringing my hands to his chest. His arms were still around me.

He looked down at me, meeting my eyes, his own gaze questioning. I gave him a small smile.

“Kathleen…” He glanced away, almost sheepishly, before looking back at me, seeming almost embarrassed. “Is it alright…I mean…would it be alright if I…if we…”

I laughed softly, blushing, before I smiled and nodded.

Freidrich kissed, me, hesitantly, at first, then as if he were a bit more sure.

Eventually, he just held me, resting his forehead against the top of my head. I laid my head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat through his shirt.

“It’s going to be alright, Freidrich,” I whispered. “Somehow…” My voice broke, as I thought about what could happen to him, any time his superiors decided that he was no longer of any worth to them, or that Roderich’s word no longer stood for anything.

“Shh…” he whispered. “Don’t think about it right now.”

“How can you not think about it?”

He sighed, his breath ruffling my short hair a bit. “I have to tell myself not to. I distract myself…with work, usually. Until lately…Then I…I think about you. I’m sorry. Does that sound as though I’m some sort of perverted person?”

“With the number of times I’ve thought of you in the recent days, I could probably be mistaken for the same.”

He chuckled softly.

I smiled, laughing against his shirt. “Do you know I broke into your office with Pirot just to find out when your birthday was?”

“You what?” he said, sounding incredulous.

“Well, I found out, anyway.”

“I feel…violated!” he said, feigning horror.

I laughed, and hugged him more tightly. 

At that moment, the air raid sirens went off.

 Freidrich groaned. “It had to be now, didn’t it?”

As we walked out of the office and towards the basement, hand in hand, I felt that I was on top of the world. I felt as though I were coming alive.

And as Freidrich let go of my hand to go supervise the people entering the basement, and he smiled at me, and I went to save him a seat, I felt that everything was right. Things weren't perfect. There were still things to worry about. Things weren't going to immediately right themselves just because things suddenly felt right. 

The world was still broken. Freidrich and I both still had parts of ourselves that were still broken.

But, after all, in this world of broken people, it isn't about finding the person to fix us. It's about finding the person who cares for us enough to love us for the broken things we are.

***

Dedication to Kittencatten for being a lovely person and a loyal reader. :)