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No. 2709
Days turned to weeks and weeks into months, and soon enough the snow began to melt away and patches of green grass poked out through the frosty white. Spring had come to the quiet countryside, posing as a bigger issue for the heavyset Russian on keeping his friend hidden. He had never thought of any relation to hiding a Jew from the Nazis compared to hiding a Nazi from the Russians, but if he did it would strike him as ironic. The doctor had no longer held any doubts towards him, and had given up his loyalty to the Reich (or so he said) giving him more the reason to keep him out of harm’s way. More-so, he had grown rather close to the doctor… well… heterosexually he hoped, despite how friendly Medic had become with him.
The doctor had made awkward advances towards him now and then, but Heavy just passed it as another example of weird German behavior, such as fretting over small injuries such as splinters, full massages every night and offered sponge baths, all in which the Russian declined as polite as he could. He tried his best to think otherwise of the man, that he was not particularly fond of the man in that way, but he couldn’t help but begin to grow a similar like to the doctor. Perhaps it could just be another effect of cabin fever from being cooped up for so long. Yes, that had to be it.
Heavy had worked inside of the barn often during those winter months, crafting specialized munitions.
Previous to the war, his father had been a gunsmith. Picking up on things and often helping out his father’s business, he had been working on his own weaponry as a hobby. It was always a thrill to wield a weapon to match his own physical power, small artillery such as pistols and revolvers proving to be too small for his hands and broke easily if he wasn’t too gentle with them. He had been working on making a minigun, a multi-barrel machine gun for ages. The weapon was never known to be used un-mounted due to its immense weight and recoil, boding well with the titanic Russian. If he could handle such a gun with ease, perhaps some of the pride lost in his childhood being called “Fat” and “Obese” would be returned, instead to now to be known as “Strong” and a “Giant”.
The German man would keep him company, often bringing him food or just simply being there. At first he was weary at the fact that the Russian had actually been working on munitions as he had previously predicted, but upon the realization that no harm would befall him remedied that worry.
“You are very close to zis, ja?”
Heavy looked up from repairing the gun’s motor to see the doctor wearing a cat-like grin on his face. He smiled, jovial as always. “Da. Very much,” he replied, chuckling, “I even gave her name”.
The very thought of the man naming his weapon and referring it to ‘her’ amused Medic. The love between a man and his weapon that went to the point of giving it a name always seemed like something that would occur in books, no-one in the Reich having the gall to do such a thing to their own weaponry.
“Well then, vat is her name?”
“Sasha”
“Ah… Sasha… Why is zat?”
At this point Heavy seemed to grow a little shy of the conversation. “Ha ha… vell…” he began, “Zere in village eez most beautiful girl, name Sasha. Ven I was leetle, I vas alvays made insult to, being called fat and hideous! But not Sasha. She vas alvays so kind to me.”
Medic almost felt touched somewhat from the person’s kindness until what came next, his amusement dying in an instant.
“Da, I love her,” he said, sighing happily, “Perhaps ven winter eez over, I vill ask her to marry.”
Despite feeling hurt, the German hid his emotions and bit his lip, nodding as though Heavy never made that statement. “… Vhat does she look like?” he asked slowly.
Heavy chuckled and leaned back in the chair he was working in. “Ah…she eez very lovely. She has long brown hair and deep blue eyes.”
“Deep-blue eyes… ja…”
Yes. ‘Deep-blue eyes’ looking up at him pleadingly as he stood over her, the woman strapped to a medical table. He would look into them and smirk, putting on a pair of medical gloves and pulling them with a snap to see those eyes widen.
“Her skin eez like snow… I can only imagine how it feel to touch it.”
“Hm. Like snow”
Yes… soft pale skin… being pierced by his trusty bonesaw and sliced to ribbons with his scalpels. Perhaps he would be merciful and let her off with a warning about getting between his Heavy and himself.
“Da. And her body eez slim but well fed. Good hips, you know?” he says, his hands motioning the woman’s proportions.
Maybe only remove one of her limbs… just one. He could imagine her hobbling off in horror, a trail of blood staining the snow, disappearing forever in the distance.
“She vould make good wife,” he sighed cheerfully. “Come Summer, I think I vill propose. Is good idea, yes?”
Medic’s fantasy of taking the Russian’s dear Sasha out of the picture was demolished by the imagery of a happy family living out their lives in the Ukrainian countryside. Perhaps they would have a few children, a newborn baby in the woman’s arms or both.
His anger had had died down, feeling more depressed than anything. If Heavy truly wished for a life like that, he shouldn’t try to get in the way of it. The man probably didn’t share the same feelings that the doctor had for him whatsoever, and perhaps never would. He felt almost betrayed, kicking himself for falling for the man who had rescued him. He had been enticed by other men back in his homeland, but if any feelings were shared, he would be surely thrown away in jail or sent to the ovens. But this, this had felt different.
Whereas any man right in their mind would simply execute or turn him into the Russian authorities, Heavy had done the opposite and took care of him. He was a cold blooded killer; not on the field of duty, but in his lab, along with many other doctors as they conducted horrendous experiments on the Jews, many ending in life-long injuries, and many more in death. He had always felt somewhat guilty, despite the fact that they were filthy Juden to him. But still…what did he deserve to have this man?
“Doktor?”
Medic snapped to attention as the large man loomed over him with a slightly worried expression. “Vat are you thinking?” he asked.
“… Nozzing,” Medic said, shaking his head and smiling, “I just got lost in ze moment, Herr Heavy.”
Pleased to see that his friend was alright, he gave him a hearty pat on the shoulder. Eez alright, Medic. Besides, eez late. Time for sleep, yes?”
“… Ja.”
In the bed they would always share together, Heavy noticed that night that his friend had slept on what little there was on the other side of the mattress rather than leaning against him for warmth.
The German was such a confusing man.
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