Asche und Staub (part 3) (original) (raw)

Title: Asche und Staub (part 3)
Rating: PG-15 (for now)
Summary: In the medical ward of a concentration camp in eastern Poland, there's stationed Oliver, a neurotic little doctor fresh out of school and very eager to prove his prowess in the medical field. A strong soldier and SS-Obersturmführer, Günter Radulf, has a post there too as assistant camp commandant, and Oliver starts falling for him. However when Oliver begins to see his patients as real people, Günter will be the least of the young doctor's problems.
Characters: (Oliver Thorben. German doctor/age: 24/light blonde hair/pale blue eyes/5'6"/slim/friend of Gunter)
(Günter Radulf. German soldier, assistant camp commandant/age: 30/dirty blond hair/blue eyes/6'0"/muscular and broad-chested/friend of Oliver)
Previous Parts: part 1 part 2
Notes: English translation of the title – "Ashes and Dust".

Dr. Oliver Thorben's POV...

With the camp laboratory empty and quiet at night, one could just barely hear the buzzing of the electric lights. They were muffled by voices and footsteps during the day and went largely unnoticed except when a bulb burnt out. To conserve energy, I had dimmed down or turned off all the lights except for the ones above my workspace. I did not need too much illumination in the rest of the lab for I knew the sterilized complex like the back of my hand. On my work table, one of the beakers bubbled merrily, urged on by the heat of a Bunsen burner.

I had just started scribbling down factors in the reaction when I heard the steady tap-tap of boots behind me. I was about to turn, but strong hands gripped my waist, stopping me. In the hazy reflection of glass vials and measuring cups, I could barely make out that the man behind me was Günter. He stepped nearer and murmured a greeting, and I could feel the heat of his body. His tongue traced the shell of my ear, and I shivered and then shivered again as he reached for the buttons at the collar of my lab coat.

I clutched the table as he peeled the coat away from my neck, exposing my throat to his mouth. My eyes fluttered shut and I tilted my head to the side as Günter leaned in, nipping and sucking at my pale skin. His lips closed over the pulse point.

With his mouth thoroughly occupied, Günter's hands were free to wander underneath the other end of my lab coat. The pristine white cloth bunched at my hips as Günter toyed with the waistband of my pants. I let go of the table and started to turn so that I could embrace him...

...but I rolled into the embrace of the floor instead. Sheets tangled around me as I fell out of bed with a muffled curse. Already the dream was fading, its edges growing fuzzy.

Quickly my hands flew to my neck as if expecting to find some trace of Günter's touch, but of course, there was nothing; it had only been a dream and one of many. Since the last selection and my impromptu trip to the crematorium a week ago, I had not slept through a single night. I was either tormented by the looming shadows of the crematorium or haunted by the touch of a man I could not have.

And the day offered no respite. Seeing and working in the labs made me ill, and I found myself unable to keep much food down. I was reduced—and I noted this with some irony—to eating about the same amount of fare as the camp internees. The crematorium also continued to belch forth smoke and ash which always seemed to find me and cling to my clothes.

With effort, I freed myself from the sheets and flopped facedown on my bed. I could feel a headache coming on, and I was hard. Biting my lower lip and burying my face in the pillow, I willed myself to be calm. In my head, I work out the approximate volume of my room. Length times width times height.

At last, I staggered out of bed, and reached for the clothes I'd set out the night before. I didn't bother fumbling about for the light switch; like the lab, I knew my bedroom, and there was no risk of tripping on anything. My small room was dominated by wood shelves that lined the walls. If they weren't empty, they were full of medical books as well as more books of notes and journals, formulas and experiments carefully scripted and catalogued.

Lately I hadn't been so proud of my research. My projects in the medical ward lagged. I needed to do more testing, but I couldn't bring myself to do it; the guilt always stayed my hand it seemed.

I shook my head to clear my thoughts. Today. I would run the typhus experiments today. I would snap out of...whatever this was. Pulling on my lab coat, I gathered my clipboard and a few folders, the latter was a progress report I was required to turn in to the commandant's office for recordkeeping.

I walked quickly from my quarters to the camp's central command. I kept my eyes on the ground and did not look in the direction of the crematorium. My plan was to slip quickly in and out. Hopefully Günter wouldn't be here yet. Unfortunately I was not to be so lucky. Not only was Günter there, but he was searching through files at the secretary's desk.

"Guten Morgen!" he greeted me when I came in.

"Guten Morgen," I returned, forcing a smile. Walking to the desk, I held out the report file, and he took it. "This needs to go to the Commandant."

"I'll make sure he sees it. Hold on a minute though, Oliver," he said as I went to leave. "Are you alright? You don't look too good."

I offered him another forced smile. "What are you talking about, Günter? I'm perfectly fine."

With thumb and forefinger, he lifted my chin to see my face, and I was too tired to stop him. "Liar," he countered with a harsh laugh. "You've got circles under your eyes as dark as ashes."

I flinched at the analogy and turned away. "I'm fine!"

"Is it something I did?"

I stopped, glancing back at him. "What?"

He shrugged. "You seem to be...avoiding me lately."

I started to apologize—it was true, I had been avoiding him, but only because I had to hide what I felt—when I caught sight of the gypsy girl Günter had selected coming out of the commandant's office. "Maybe I just don't like the way you use people," I told him instead. It was a dangerous thing to say, foolish really. What would stop Günter from repeating such words to the Gestapo? How much was he really my friend?

He followed my gaze, and for a moment he didn't seem to know what I was talking about. "The girl?" And then he laughed. "What would I want with her? The commandant ordered me to get her for him!"

Somehow that made it worse that to Günter she was just a commodity. Angrily I headed for the door. "Hey!" Günter snapped, grabbing my arm and easily pulling me back. "Don't give me that high-and-mighty bullshit! At least I'm not the one using them like lab rats."

My jaw dropped open, and before I could stop myself, I took a swing at Günter. He stopped me easily though, and the next thing I knew he had me pressed against the wall, my wrists pinned above my head. My clipboard fell clattering to the floor, and the gypsy girl gave a startled cry before ducking into the next room over. I quivered fearfully as he held me there, the tips of my toes just barely touching the floor; Günter was every bit as strong as he appeared. I flinched and closed my eyes as he moved a little closer, waiting for him to belt me one, but the only thing that touched my face was Günter's soft breath as he sighed.

"Do you really think so little of me, Oliver?"

Tentatively I glanced up at him. He looked sad and sorry. And hurt. I looked away feeling ashamed. Squirming out of his arms, I went to the door. The weight of his eyes on me was uncomfortable, and I had to go. "Excuse me, I need to be at the labs." I darted out of the room without looking back.

My steps were rushed and fast toward the medical ward, and as soon as I got inside, I took a moment to lean against the door and catch my breath. I could do this. I just had to set up my work table, ready my supplies, and start the experiments. I set my equipment and notes up in their usual spots. Everything would go fine, and at first it did. Then I heard her.

"You, I remember you... You're the doctor who objected."

Awkward shuffling footsteps behind me. I moved the papers around and tried not to look. Surely whoever it was wasn't talking to me. I measured out two centimeters of my test serum into a beaker.

"You have to help me...please...I beg you..."

The vial trembled in my hand as I set it down. I turned. A haggard woman stood a few feet away from me. Her head was entirely shaved, and she wore one of the coarse gray uniforms of a medical test subject. Her brown eyes were bright, and if I had to hazard a guess, I would've said that she might not be quite sane, not anymore.

"You can see me," she gasped. "Where is my son? I'm not invisible to you. Where is my Elijah? All the others, they talk; they call me 2764," she showed me her arm with the dark tattoo on it, "and they do...things to me." A shudder. "Horrible things. I need to find my son."

I took a nervous step back, a table bumping into hip. A few doctors and one soldier came out of another room arguing. "There she is!" one of the doctors yelled. "How did she get out?! Grab her!"

The woman looked behind her, wild-eyed, and with a yelp, she darted toward me. I stumbled away from her, reaching for one of the work tables for support. My hand came down hard on a small vial, smashing it, the broken glass slicing into my palm. The woman clung to my lab coat, leaving dirty black fingerprints on it.

"Please, my son!" she cried. "Where have you taken my son, my Elijah?!"

Then one of the guards hauled her off of me, grabbing her throat. Someone else was behind me, pulling me away, and it was Günter (when had he gotten here?!), his voice tight with concern, "Oliver! You're bleeding!"

In front of me, the other soldier delivered a crushing blow to the woman's ribs, and I squirmed furiously to get out of Günter's grasp. "Wait stop—!" I called out, but the soldier didn't listen and instead kicked her again as she struggled. Günter had his arms around my waist, trying to keep me away from this crazed woman, but then she slipped free of the soldier's grasp, throwing herself at my feet and clutching my jackboots. The guard followed her, and a wet cracking sound echoed in the lab as the man's boot crunched down on the woman's neck.

Blood trickled out of her mouth as she looked up at me. I felt her grip on my ankle slacken as she died, and the bile rose in my throat. My vision swam. She had been a mother...with children...

I stared at the guard, transfixed by his apparent lack of concern. "

You monster," I breathed. "How could you?" I fixed my gaze on him, trying to understand, but I could not. "WHY?!"

The room was deathly silent expect for the bubbling of heated chemicals and Günter's voice. "Oliver!" he hissed, a warning I did not heed. I broke free of his grasp.

"How?!" I yelled to the room. "How can you do this? HOW?! These men and women aren't animals! They shouldn't be treated like this! They're people!" I stared at them all, the doctors and the soldiers, but they all looked blank. They were less human than those they held prisoner.

One of them stepped forward, and it was Dr. Marten, all the others were hesitant to approach me. When he finally spoke his voice was infuriatingly calm. "Dr. Thorben, you don't know what you're saying. These internees are nothing important."

"They're PEOPLE!!" I screamed in his face.

"Alright, you little shit, I've had it with you!" The guard who'd killed the woman snatched me by the collar of my white coat, but before he could do anything, someone's hand was reaching to knock him back. The man lurched away and released me.

Once he'd gotten the soldier out of the way, Günter grabbed me and shook me, pushed me up against the wall. Condemnations and accusations continued spilling from my lips, and nothing Günter said could quiet me; I barely even heard him. I think I was still babbling something that didn't seem to even matter anymore when he finally lost his patience and slapped me.

That shut me up.

Slowly I lifted my uninjured hand to my cheek. I could feel that there was no blood—probably not even any bruising—but it stung. I stared at Günter, stunned. Silenced now, I could only blink up at him.

He just sighed in exasperation, scooped me up in his arms, and carried me out of the medical ward. I made no protest. I hardly paid attention either as he walked across the camp grounds and then into another building, and it wasn't until he sat me down in a soft, cushioned chair that I realized he'd taken me to his office.

"Oliver...?" he said warily, looking at me as if I was a wild animal about to lose it. When I didn't reply, he started rifling through one of his desk drawers until he'd unearthed a first aid kit. "Give me your hand."

Once again, I complied. I felt removed from myself, like a spectator watching everything unfold from the sidelines. Gently Günter took my hand and wiped the blood off, and I flinched a little as he pulled out a few shards of glass. After smearing on some ointment, Günter wrapped my hand in white linen bandages.

"So," he began, voice perfectly schooled an unemotional, "do you want to tell me what happened back there?"

I said nothing. What could I possibly tell him? The truth?

Günter's face softened, and he asked again, "Oliver, what's wrong?"

I looked down at my jackboots that were always scuffed, even when I polished them. "Me," I told him finally. My voice sounded louder in this small room than it had in the labs. "There's something wrong with me."

"What? I don't understand. You completely lost it back there. Why? That Jewish woman was just a—"

Lightly I put my hand to Günter's mouth and he fell silent. It was the most intimate touch I'd ever given him. "An inferior, I know. Like me. Günter," I whispered, "I'm a homosexual."

I wrapped my arms around myself. Jews were subhuman. Life unworthy of life. Homosexuals were inferior too. So what did that make me? Well, if one merely followed the logic, the answer was quite obvious.

Günter sighed and raked a hand through his short hair. "Ja, I figured as much."

With eyes as big as saucers, I looked up at him and asked in a small voice, "Are you going to report me?"

"What?! Jesus, Oliver, no!" His voice softened, and he added, "You, you haven't done anything wrong."

I curled up in the chair, not quite sure I agreed with him. Maybe there really was something wrong with me. So many people seemed to think there was so how could they all be wrong? Part of me didn't even care. I laid my head against the chair's plush back; I was so tired.

"C'mon, Oliver," Günter cajoled, picking me up again, "you need to sleep." I was surprised that he didn't mind touching me, especially now that he knew what I was.

I wriggled in his arms. "In-in the middle of the day? I have to—"

"Sleep," Günter commanded, bringing me into an adjoining room. Blushing, I realized it was his bedroom. "Here," he said, setting me on the bed. "Rest now. I'll go back to the medical ward and tell them I took you to your room. I'll tell them you're not feeling well."

I listened to the sound of Günter's footsteps as he left the room and then his office. Still fully clothed, I snuggled down on the bed and shut my eyes.

tbc...