Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was too late when I realized I was coming in way too fast, the parachute had opened too late to really slow me down in time for the landing. With no time to even make a sound, I hit the ground, and boy was it hard. At that speed, my foot I stuck out to catch my fall disappeared into the marsh. In a brief moment of panic, I tugged my leg. Perhaps I tugged it too hard and it caught on something under the muck, bush roots or something, but the next thing I knew I was hurled face-first into the mud, the blackened, bitter mud clinging to me and sucking me in, like the earth wanted to swallow me whole. Slamming my hands down, I tried to push myself up, but the ropes of the canopy had tangled me up in the fall and resisted my moves. For an honest minute, I truly thought that I was going to suffocate to death in rancid mud.

“Did you see that?”

“See what? There fog here is thicker than pea soup.”

“There it was again, a shadow.”

 “Bloody idiot.” Someone grabbed my hair roughly, wrenching my head from the mire as I coughed out muck, someone else cutting the rope, and more importantly me, free. The mud was everywhere, caked on my face and uniform, seeping inside my boots; I quickly wiped it from my eyes only to be met with Arthur’s dark glare as he still held me hostage by my hair. “I should shove your face back in there for your stupidity, but then I’d have to explain it to your mother.”

I spat out the bitter grime before swatting the Englishman’s hand away, “I get it, I did something stupid. Goddamn, I almost died.”

“Not that you’ll learn your lesson,” the Englishman sniffed, reaching for the sub machine gun slung across his back.

“Al, check your gun, the mud might have damaged it,” a voice suddenly whispered in my ear. I wheeled around, staring at my brother who had been kneeling beside me this whole time. He had his knife in one hand, gun in the other, having been the one to apparently cut me out.

It left a bitter feeling in my mouth, not having some retort to make back to Arthur, so I begrudgingly got to my feet, pulling my pistol from my hip holster, pretty certain my own rifle was fine. I landed on my face, not my back, a fact made even more obvious by the chill of the bog’s air seeping through the soggy wetness left on the whole front of my uniform. “It looks fine to me,” I mumbled, wiping the butt off on my clothing. Why not, I was already filthy.

 “Didn’t you hit him!?”

"Didn’t you see him fall?”

 “Arthur,” Matthew suddenly spoke up, jolting the two of us, “What exactly are we looking for?”

We had split up into several smaller groups and we had been trudging around the marsh aimlessly in a tense silence. Perhaps Arthur was honestly expecting something bad to jump out of the dense fog, but I was more intent on being bitter towards him. There was no information about this mission, just some basic recon.

“Above my pay grade,” he spoke softly. Only then did I start getting worried. Arthur was always a stern person, even when we met as kids he was the hard-nosed type who always had to be in control. Looking at him now, his green eyes seemed to glow through the gloom, flitting every which way with a tight grip on his gun. “Because of the weather here, we aren’t sure what to be looking for, just that something strange is happening and some important people want to know what.”I shrugged my rifle off my shoulder as well, honestly not too sure of my muddy Colt now that a firefight was a possibility.

“What sort of strange?” I asked, immediately regretting it as Arthur sneered at me over his shoulder.

“Getting anxious love? Don’t worry, I’ll be sure to return you to mommy dearest in one piece.”
“Dammit Arthur, just answer the damn question,” I growled through gritted teeth. Even if I was the youngest out of us three, I didn’t need the mocking.

He breathed a short laugh through his nose before turning away from me again, “Rumor has it a Russian unit wandered their way in here and vanished. No one has seen or heard a peep from them since.”

“Great, we’re here looking for some Reds, all you had to say.”

“I heard something about that,” Matthew interjected again, concern etched in his violet eyes, “Didn’t they disappear almost a month ago?”

“They did, since then there have been a few other oddities; none of our spies have been able to make it in here, regardless of infiltration, and several planes crashed in the area over the past couple months. This place is a vortex, things come in and nothing comes out.” I looked to Matthew, he looked afraid. He turned to me and, in the reflection of his eyes, I looked afraid too. Arthur had apparently glanced back at the two of us in our silence, quickly he spoke, turning his back to us once more, “I told your mother I’d bring you back safe. I meant it, so get that look- . . . “ His voice trailed off as he stopped, the two of us almost running into him from the suddenness of it. Peeking over his shoulder, his eyes scanned the mist. “Did you see that?”

I followed his gaze, not seeing anything and scowling, not in the mood to be jerked around. “See what? The fog is thicker than pea soup?”

He stayed quiet, making me more nervous and, in turn, angry. I opened my mouth to say something else when I saw it, or I thought I did. Just out of the corner of my eye. Arthur jumped as well, aiming his gun in the direction, “There it was again. A shadow.”

I held my tongue a moment longer, squinting into the haze when I saw it, a definitive shape meandering through the bog. “It looks like a person. They’re headed towards us.”

“Do you think he knows we’re here?” Matthew whispered, his voice steady, “Maybe he hasn’t noticed us quite yet.”

“I’d rather not take any chances,” Arthur muttered under his breath, “Alfred, deal with him.”

“Why me!?” I balked at the order, “What if he’s one of the Reds?”

Arthur turned on me, a dark look settling in his eyes, “Do you want to walk up to him and find out? Be my guest, but don’t come to me when he blows off half your skull. I, on the other hand, would like to save my bullets.”

I hesitated a moment, not liking either of these options, so I settled for not making the call. Shrugging Arthur out of the way, I raised the Enfield so as to look down the sight. I had never shot a person before, and while I had known I would have to sooner or later, I think the reality of it finally hit me in that second. Just for a moment, I questioned if I should be doing this, but at the end of that moment, I pulled the trigger.

The gunshot rang out and the definitely human-shaped figure crumpled to the ground, my palms were clammy and I hadn’t realized I was suddenly breathing hard, as if I had gone for a run. The rifle slowing lowered, the barrel facing the ground as it sunk in. I had just shot a man. Arthur clapped my shoulder, “Snap out of it lad; it won’t be your last. Don’t know how many are out here and who that might have alerted. Let’s keep moving.” I heard him starting to walk away, but I felt grounded in that spot, staring at where the man had fallen. Was he really someone I should have shot? We weren’t even really sure if there was anything particularly dangerous happening here. I might have just killed my first man in friendly fire. I took a step forward, compelled to make sure I hadn’t made a mistake when my blood suddenly ran cold. He began to stand back up, a guttural moan echoing across the empty marsh.

“What the fuck?” Immediately Arthur was by my side, hissing, “Didn’t you hit him?!”

“Didn’t you see him fall?” I’m not sure what was going through my head; thoughts, feelings, all of it is a massive blank. All I remembered was the distant sound of gunfire, closer to us the shouts of our friends, then the screams. All the while, a chorus of groans slowly rising in the background. Shadows began appearing all around us through the fog and multiplying quickly.

Arthur shoved me out of my stupor, the bark of his machine gun deafening as I covered my ear closest to him. “Matthew, take your brother and fall back!”

“But they’re unarmed,” Mattie shouted back. I glanced up at him, his violet eyes staring blankly as the growing hoard, not quite understanding what was going on. Looking back, he was right.

“Did I ask for your observations?! Now get your brother and get out of here - Fuck!” The bodies he had dropped began standing back up.

One didn’t look right, the way it was wavering side to side as it balanced stuck out among the other lumbering shapes, it didn’t look right as its arms flailed awkwardly, the shape growing darker, larger, much more quickly than the rest. “Arthur! He’s charging!”

The smell hit me first, rotting and festering meat. At first I thought maybe he had gone mad from an infection. Arthur turned just in time as it lunged at him; a man dressed in a long coat, his jaws gaping, the bottom one half hanging off his face as muscle and bone was exposed and any flesh left was blackened with muck and decay. I might have still considered it a man if not for the eyes; they glowed red. Arthur turned just in time, whipping out his own Colt and firing three bullets into the thing. They seemed to have no effect, the creature shrugging off two shots to the chest as nothing, it wasn’t until the third pierced its skull did it cumple to the ground. Arthur stood over the body, unloading more bullets into the corpse for good measure, it didn’t move to rise again.

“Matthew take Alfred and go! Now!”

I looked to my brother, waiting for him to do something, but all he could do was look between Arthur and me, conflicted. That’s when I realized that the only liability was me. “You help Arthur, I’ll get out of your way.” Before either of them could say anything, I ran in no particular direction, weaving between the lumbering figures.

It was stupid, I heard Arthur calling to me before it was drowned out by gunfire, the fog muffling the noise some. I wasn't crying, my eyes just stung from the smell. It wasn't that I was angry at my brother, that I felt like dead weight, that I felt that they were going to get killed because of me and I was scared. It wasn't that at all. I swiped at my eyes, the fog was too thick to see through, I couldn't see the ground fall away until it was too late. Yelling in surprise, I tumbled down a steep ditch, my rifle flying off somewhere and supplies from my bag scattering. I hit the bottom with a splash. I flailed, gasping for air, having landed in a puddle that tasted of death.

Once more wet, covered in slime and now seriously unsure of where I was. The fog had crept down into the hole, forming a thick curtain that surrounded me on both sides. It was colder, my breath puffing out in small clouds as I got to my feet, my boots quickly soaked through, the water sloshing with every step. I glanced to where I had fallen from, the walls of the ravine closed in, about an arm's length on either side, a rickety ladder half-encased in mud disappeared upward into the mist. Sighing, I slumped against the muddy wall, my breath coming out in a quivering cloud, my nose and ears burning from numbness, but feeling more safe than I had been. In the trench, I couldn’t hear anything going on above me and that maybe it hadn’t really happened. Maybe the bog was driving us crazy.

Then I heard the sloshing.

My head whipped towards the sound, but the mist kept me from seeing too far down the trench. I reached for my gun, but was met with dense air, the rifle still missing somewhere in the water. Even if I did find it, there was no guarantee it was going to work. Then there was my Colt. Having been caked in mud and now drenched, I was seriously starting to question if I should make a run for it. As the splashing got nearer I could make out the sounds of gurgling, but still nothing appeared out of the mist. I decided I really should get out of here, but as I made to take a step back, something caught my ankle in a vice grip, pulling it out from under me.

I landed in the water again, this time face-up as I sputtered, mildly dazed as to what had just happened. That’s when I saw the eyes under the water, glowing red. I screamed, my entire body trembling as I flailed, kicking at the thing that had not let go of my leg and now seemed very interested in keeping it. The bubbling from under the water became more violent as I fought to get away, finally kicking the thing’s hand off and scrambling backwards away, the red glowing eyes following after. I just managed keeping out of what I figured was its reach, not having time to properly right myself as my feet slipped in the mud in my panic. I couldn’t name one person who wouldn’t have pissed themselves in this moment, except maybe Arthur, not that I’m admitting to pissing myself.

Then my hand landed on something solid. Confused, I pulled it out to see my rifle, stunned that it had suddenly appeared at this moment. It was all the distraction it needed to catch me, clawing at my pants now, tearing them, cutting my skin. Its head breached the surface, the flesh swollen and black with those red eyes. I raised my arm to beat it away with the butt of the rifle, swinging wildly to try and make space between us. It was only then I realized my arm wasn’t moving. Mattie, mother, even Arthur; their faces flashed through my mind. It lunged at my thigh, water dripping from its jaws like saliva.
Explosions echoed around me and I instinctively ducked down, the strange trance I had been in crumbled instantly, but I had forgotten of the water. Choking, I sat back up, sputtering as I blindly wiped away at my face. The click of a gun cocking back and the sharp bite of metal pressed against my forehead woke me up. I didn’t know what I was doing. I didn’t know what was happening, just that I didn’t want to die.

Knee-high boots splattered in mud straddled with side of my waist, between them, the corpse of the thing that had tried to . . . eat me. Its skull was half blown away, a black sludge seeping out from the wound and into the water. Looking up higher, and I mean much higher, this man was like a giant as he loomed over me, the barrel of the gun aimed directly between my eyes. His clothes looked worse than me, torn and soaked through, half a sleeve missing and frayed threads unraveling the long jacket. I couldn’t see half his face thanks to the gun, but I could see his eyes, cold and dark, guarded as he scanned me over. They were this weird color, almost purple. On his head was a fur cap, a red star in the center.

I had never been so happy to see a communist in my entire life.

“You’re . . . You’re the Russians.” My hesitance was still from trying to catch my breath, not that I was cold, or even that I was scared. I had almost drowned myself damn it!

A dark eyebrow twitched up in, I think, interest, but not once did the gun waver as he stood over me. “Did you get bitten?”

“Bit . . .?” I looked back down to my legs without moving my head, not wanting to be any closer to the barrel of a gun. My legs stung, but I just figured it was from the scratching. Had it bitten me? I normally would have stood, but I was pretty sure he’d shoot me if I so much as wiggled my big toe. “I don’t . . . . think so.”

His grip tightened on the hilt and my blood ran cold. We were on the same side, weren’t we?! I went cold for a second, looking away with my eyes screwed shut, waiting for the bullet. What I got was an awkward clearing of his throat. Opening my eyes, his open hand had replaced the gun in my face. “We cannot stay here. Come with me, my friend will view your health.”

I don’t know what I should have been thinking as I took his hand and he pulled me up. Surprised? Surprised this guy had survived this long, that he had let me live, that he had thought about shooting me? Surprised that there were cannibals waltzing around a bog in various stages of decay? All I could feel was a wave of relief that I wasn’t alone anymore.

 “Quiet,” he hissed for the hundredth time as my footing gave out and and splashed in a puddle of sludge. I also glared at him for the hundredth time. He was tall, perhaps a little thin, but he moved through the swamp so easily, it shouldn’t have been humanly possible. Even Arthur hadn’t looked so graceful, and I admit even he made me feel like a village idiot. Muttering under my breath, he gripped me hard under my arm and practically dragged me after him. “For having been just rescued, you are quite ungrateful.”

“We were actually sent here to rescue you,” I bit back. Actually we thought they were all dead, but still, I was here because of them.

The right side of his lips twitched in a rueful smile, “I suppose you do not need to know how well you are doing.”

Wise-ass.

Perhaps I shouldn’t have been so envious about his ability to practically float over the marsh. The fog was still thick, though it had lightened some from when we had first arrived, and it felt like hours that we walked aimlessly in a sea of clouds, but it all seemed much shorter once I saw the shape of a building not too far in the distance. Pushed against the side of a slope, it’d be impossible to see from above and hard to find on foot unless one knew where they were going. Even with the second floor of the building having a gaping hole in the top, the concrete scorched as if shot by a tank or something, it looked relatively sound in structure. The wall closest looked like it was made out of bars, a small flickering light seeping through. We got nearer when the Russian forcibly turned my head to a hole near the ground.

“I’m not going to fit.”

“You are smaller than me, yes? You should fit just fine. Now, as much as I would enjoy to bicker with you, you can either stay here, or come in.”

He let go of my arm, and that was when I realized how tightly he had been holding me, I had lost some feeling in my fingers and I winced. He definitely bruised me. I went to shoot a glare in his direction, but he was already halfway through the hole, sliding in on his stomach. I couldn’t tell if he was being helped in by his “friend” or if he was crawling with his elbows, and like hell I was going to admit that getting stuck inside a little hole was actually more terrifying to me than staying out in this hellish swamp. My nose scrunched in disdain and I reluctantly got to me knees, then my stomach. After all, what was the worst that could happen, I’d get stuck. I sort of hoped the Red wouldn’t just leave me if I did.

The walls were thick, it was more a tunnel than a hole, which did nothing to ease my anxiety. A good three feet of solid concrete, my arms pushed straight out as the hole was too narrow to extend them much farther than my shoulders, using my toes to try and push me through. A two hands took each of mine as I was pulled the rest of the way through, more grateful than I would have admitted that I was out of the hole.

“You could have just told Ivan you’re claustrophobic.” My head whipped up at the heavy accent. Not that the Russian, Ivan I guess, didn’t have one, but that this one was distinctly German.

The man was just taller than me, but shorter than the Russian he stood beside, each of them having one of my hands. He was dressed in a long coat that had been torn into something more practical for the marsh, the white fabric stained a murky brown, except for the inside sleeve cuff. His blonde hair had attempted to be slicked back, but stray strands fell over his forehead, almost long enough to cover his blue eyes that regarded me with more interest than anything else. Rather, they made me feel like a bug under a magnifying glass. The red band on his left arm being the sun. I recoiled away from them both, my back pressed against the wall and the hole. I was totally unarmed and now, more or less, trapped.

The Red giggled at me, as if he found my face the most amusing thing. “You should relax, comrade. This is my friend I told you of.”

Had this guy led the Russians into a trap? Was he secretly working for the Nazis? Why did he bring me here? What were they going to do with me?

“Stand up,” the blonde man ordered, turning his back to me easily. There was a small fire in a fireplace, beside it were makeshift beds of clothing and blankets, as well as a box the other knelt beside. I could just make out the red cross on the front of it, a medical kit.

Apparently I was taking too long for Ivan, as he grabbed me again in that same bruising grip and dragged me up to my feet. “Get undressed. If you are well, you will die of chills.”

Under normal situations, I’d make a comment, but seeing as these looked way different from normal, I complied, pulling my arm away from the giant of a man and stripping off the soaked clothing. They hadn’t even began to dry. I knelt to untie my boots and kicked them off, along with my socks. the feeling of freedom from the clothing was a relief I didn’t know I desired. Standing in my long winter underwear, Ivan kept looking at me in an unnerving manner. I glared back, “What?”

“We have extra clothing that is dry, you may as well remove those. After all, we are all men here,” he smirked again at the last sentence, making my cheeks flare up more than my temper.

“Ivan’s right. Besides, I have to make sure you aren’t bitten,” the German spoke from the fireplace. Perhaps it was just my nerves, but even the quiet tone we had taken up sounded almost like yelling in the building.

Unhappy, I complied. “What is this about getting bitten? What is going on out there? Why are the two of you here, especially together? Don’t Commies and Nazis, like, hate each other?”

The German scrutinized my naked body, my muscles trembling from the cold and, maybe, nerves. My legs were all scratched up from that thing in the trench. The marks had stopped bleeding though, scabbing over a dark red that had yet to harden. “What happened here?”

“He was in a stupid panic with a crawler and had fallen down. It got quite close to biting him, but I could not be sure it had not.”

The German grunted in a form of thanks I think, before nodding to the Russian. Suddenly my vision went black and I stiffened, figuring out if I should fight or run, not that either would be of any use when I heard that damn giggle again and I pulled at the fabric over my head to find Ivan had thrown a blanket on me.

“Sit over here, “The German motioned, back to kneeling at the first aid kit and pulling out a flask and fabric strips, “Warm up and I’ll clean your wounds.”

“Are you a doctor?” I found myself asking numbly, still not quite computing the situation, but obeying nonetheless. I was out of the swamp and had a warm place to sit. I should just be thankful.

“Yes. Ivan, cover his mouth.” The bear of a man did so before I could ask why, but the second the alcohol hit the cuts, I writhed in pain, nails digging into the fabric of the blanket, swearing into the Russian’s hand. The cuts fizzed and began bleeding again. “He’s fine. The blood is red.”

Ivan let go, and no matter what he or anyone says, I didn’t whimper. “What do you mean the blood’s red?”

“Bite wounds bleed black and become badly infected, there’s nothing to be helped about them. You’re lucky Ivan showed up when he did, or else you’d be dead.”

He wrapped up my calves with an expert hand, and I felt myself relaxing, the panic from before finally dying down into a tired haze. I didn’t even care I was naked and under an itchy wool blanket. “And who are you?”

Blue eyes flickered up to me warily before returning to his hands. He seemed uncomfortable around me, which made me awkward around him. Once he finished, he put the rest away in the box. “Get some rest, you look like you’re about to collapse.”

Ivan smiled this weird knowing smile as I laid down on a pile of fabric, also getting undressed and leaving his clothes out in front of the fire to dry. He was a large man, but if those clothes were his from when he arrived, he had lost weight. They draped over him badly, hanging off where they should have been perfectly fitted. How long had Matthew said? A month out here? The Russian’s ribs were starting to show. He glanced back at me, and I awkwardly looked away.

“He thinks you will not last, little one. You are much younger than either of us.”

I sighed, finally allowing my eyelids to droop and exhaustion to hit me like a train, too tired to even put on the extra clothes they laid down beside me, a frown pulling at my face as those words slowly sunk into my hazy mind. They didn’t want to get attached to me.

“‘m Alfred.” My own voice sounded far away and horribly slurred, but after that, there was nothing.

Chapter Text

Wavering as my foot sank into an unseen puddle, I managed to just keep my balance, but notably slower than before, muck clinging to my boot and weighing it down. The cold air of the bog was searing my throat like liquid fire as the bitter taste of bile and blood coated my mouth. Matthew ran beside me, face pale and violet eyes wide. Behind us, a low groan echoed off the walls of mist that had lessened some, but still obscured our sense of direction. Glancing over my shoulder, the thing flailed its limbs as it chased us down, its head thrown back and mouth agape. We had been running for god knows how long, having dumped our packs in order to hopefully escape, but this one bugger wouldn't go, and by now, both of us were getting tired. Matthew was starting to lag, his lips were white as snow and every few steps he staggered, the thing coming that much closer every time

"Shit," I muttered, grabbing Mattie by his arm and all but throwing the lad behind me. I opened my mouth to say something, but nothing came out. Instead, I raised the gun, opening fire on the berserker. It seemed aiming for the head was the only effective means. The bark of the Sten set my nerves ablaze, even as the bullets riddled through the thing's chest and head. It danced a moment, the bullets tearing through before it collapsed to its knees, then fell face-first into the muck.

In the fog, the gunshots echoed for what seemed like an eternity, unnerving.

"W-we shouldn't stay here, Arthur," Mattie finally broke the eerie silence. His voice had always been soft, but it made me jump. Already I was straining for the sounds of madness and shadowy figures lurching through the fog. I paused a second longer before nodding my head, reaching out and gripping the kid's arm, giving what I hope was an encouraging squeeze before dragging him after me, turning our backs to the corpse.

The overcast clouds were thick, smothering the sun and sheltering the mist. It had lightened some, we could now see two meters ahead and some way through the murk, the silhouettes of shrubbery and uneven landscapes looming. The cloud cover made flying bothersome, but the fog seemed to encase the area in a thick blanket and obscured aerial observations to the point of them being unreliable. On top of that, it was not uncommon to hear of aeroplanes disappearing around the location. That was all I had been able to gather on the subject before the mission, but even if it wasn't spelt out to me, I could figure that the predominate suspicion was some sort of secret Nazi base. The weather was certainly dank enough for the likes of them.

"Arthur?" Matthew suddenly spoke, his little voice more startling than if he had shouted in my ear. Even though we were walking to the point our shoulders touched, I had all but forgotten he was here. I looked slightly up to him, both the boys had gotten tall, but their faces were still young and innocent, violet eyes marred with fear. "It got very quiet."

Mattie was not an obtuse boy, unlike his younger brother, but he rarely ever spoke plainly. Perhaps that was my fault, or his mother's, or both? It was quiet, our sloshing footsteps and tired breath overwhelmed my ears the moment he pointed it out; not a sound of birds or a breeze, everything was distressingly static. Above all else, there was no more gunfire or voices. How long had it been since we were attacked? I hadn't heard from any of our crew since the order to scatter was given, the thought of being the last ones started creeping up on me.

"Right now, we have to look after ourselves, and they need to do the same until we know what, exactly, we're dealing with."

Uncertainty coloured his face as he looked away. I opened my mouth to say something, hopefully encouraging, when he beat me to it. "Can you promise me you'll remember that . . . in the case we don't find Alfred?"

"Arthur, I want you to promise me that you'll keep them safe. Please. Swear to me, you won't come home without them. They're all I have left. Any more heartbreak, and I shall surely die.'

How like his mother he was, unknowingly cruel with his words. "How can you talk so darkly about your own brother, especially after all your mother has gone through." Chastising him was not something I did often, Matthew had always been a good boy, but it also didn't hold much weight with how little our age difference was.

He didn't even have the decency to look guilty, "I know mother has made things hard on you since father passed, but how realistic is this? Really? We're at war."

"Regardless of how fantastic it seems, my sister, your mother, has been through quite enough." I kept staring ahead, unwilling to meet the disapproving gaze directed at me. My legs already felt like lead, I didn't need this added weight, especially with that edge of pity. I didn't want him thinking such things, or allowing him to coerce those same shadows into my own mind. I attempted a smile, though I could feel the bitter ruefulness behind it. "Alfred has always been the lucky sort, knowing him, he's fine, though perhaps catching a cold."

Matthew wavered, I saw him turn away out of the corner of my eye for a moment before he stopped walking. I half stumbled as I tried to stop as well, having been moving more on inertia, now that I was still, I felt utterly exhausted, my legs like rubber under my body. "Then we should split up," he suddenly proposed, digging through the pockets of his jacket, producing a lighter, "The fog has lessened, and it is still quite dingy. W can walk several paces apart and show our location with the lighters. You have one right?"

I tsked my tongue, "In my bag, but lord knows that's bloody gone."

"Then you stay on this path and I'll follow the same trail, several paces to the south, just in sight of each other, if you lose sight of me, whistle and I'll flick the light on. If you can't see that, whistle again and I'll whistle back and head in your direction."

"And if you lose sight of me?" I muttered, watching him pull out his handgun. Mattie had been the fragile child, but perhaps he had held that face for my sake. I admit I have my own issues when it comes to the boys.

"I'll whistle, if I don't get a responding whistle, I'll clap. Clap back, or shout if you have to, I'll head back in your direction."

I didn't like the idea of splitting up, god almighty, I had already lost one of them, but I could hardly argue. Staying close not only made it harder to find where Alfred might have wandered off to, but it also made us easy targets. I would be focused on Matthew, and he would be focused on me. At least if we came into trouble apart, we would have less to worry about. At the same time, he was forcing me. "You come straight back," I barked, my fingers twitching against the metal of the Sten with uncertainty, "I don't want you alone at night, so come back when you feel the fog getting thick."

"I will Arthur." How could he speak so confidently? Even I didn't sound so assured in my own ears. Then he went. He didn't go far, I could still make out his outline, but it also unnerved me. He didn't look much different than the men, soldiers, creatures we encountered before from this distance. Sometimes he would weave out and vanish, then weave back in, coming closer, a few times I whistled out of nerves and the little flame illuminated the mist, not bright, but like a small, fuzzy orb of light. A few times I didn't see it at all and whistled again, the shadowy figure of my nephew appearing not long after. At least, I hoped it was him until I saw the flame. It felt like hours until I was comfortable enough to look away for more than a few seconds at a time.

If we were trying to look for Alfred's tracks, then were were fools, the marsh was uneven and ate up any evidence of life. There was no guarantee the fool had even come this way, we were grasping at straws, but even with knowing that, telling myself I was looking for Alfred made me feel hopeful. It truly was pathetic.

The fog slowly began closing in as the sun, wherever it was, apparently started to set. I looked around, Matthew was nowhere in sight, I honestly felt alone. I whistled, no little light. I whistled again, nothing. Panic began to rise in me like bile, my mouth going dry and tasting of copper. I couldn't lose them both. I couldn't go home without them, one missing was bad enough, but both? I may as well, shoot myself now than face my sister. I honestly looked down, seriously contemplating the matter when I heard the loud clap. "Blast that boy," I muttered, now angry that he would make me worry more than anything. I tried clapping back, but my hands had gone numb from the cold and anxiety, it was as though they weren't attacked to my wrists any longer. Instead I shouted, getting another clap. He didn't sound any closer.

Frowning, I cupped my hand beside my mouth, no longer worried about Krauts or beasts. There was a lull before I heard a whistle. At least he was getting closer, I refused to move so as not to accidentally get us both lost, the gloom getting thicker by the minute. I whistled again, becoming increasingly impatient, I expected to hear the returning wail of the boy almost instantly, but it never came. Instead there was the metallic click of a loaded gun behind me.

I turned to the noise, my heart pounding in my throat as I went for my sub-machine gun, my boot slipping in the muck and throwing me off, forcing my hands away from the Sten and into the air as I tried to keep from falling. I just caught sight of a figure in the haze, their arm raised at me as I fell to the ground, tracking me. I prayed that they didn't find Mattie, waiting for the shadow to pull the trigger.

It is a jumbled mess in my mind, panic and whatnot, being in enemy territory, you assume everyone is out to kill you, I didn't spare a thought that it could even be one of my own fellows. Somewhere in my mind I had already assumed their fates. But the next second I was on my rump in two inches of muck, staring at two people, entangled in one another.

"Who are you?"

I blinked, noting a strong French accent, getting to my feet and approaching the two. A blonde man, about my height, maybe a centimetre or two taller, stood in a headlock, Matthew behind him, holding a knife to the Frenchman's neck. He was dressed in a strange assortment of clothing, a French patch safety-pinned to the sleeve of a black German jacket, his pants were a standard brown. He looked like hell. As I came forward, he stared at me in surprise, lowering the German handgun. "However baffled you are doesn't even begin to describe how we feel. The fuck are you doing here frog?" I scowled, Mattie taking the cue not to let him go.

"Pardon me, I thought you were one of the swamp monsters," he stumbled over his words, eyes looking like an owl's, "Did . . . Did you pick up the SOS? Is that why you're here? Do you have a plane?"

Matthew and I looked between each other. He looked relieved more than anything, even letting the gun fall into the mud. I gave Matthew a shrug and he let the man go. "We were looking for a gaggle of Communists. We hadn't heard of the French getting involved in the area."

He hardly had the decency to look put out, the energy radiating off of him after such a trying day was only serving to irritate me further. "Then this is a rescue mission?"

"Answer me first, Frog. Why are you here? We have no information on you lot being in the area."

"I'm the only one. I got caught up at a bad time, the facility in the area was in the middle of collapse and I caught a strange radio signal and came too close, getting caught up in the blimp."

I stared at him suspiciously, "Why would you come closer because of some signal you picked up? Are you daft?"

He gave me a sneer, as thought he was somehow superior because he had answers, "Surprising as it may seem, the signal was not encrypted and it played on all channels. It was announcing some sort of emergency, and it was German. That meant someone had the radio rigged to bypass the encryption device-."

"Someone wanted help," Matthew interrupted, earning a displeased look from the Frenchman, "They didn't care who it was from."

"Or it was a trap," I barked back.

"Unfortunately," the man spoke, looking out into the mist, "it wasn't. I'd rather be a Prisoner of War than in this place. Seeing as you are paratroopers, your aircraft will be returning for you, right?"

I looked to Matthew, before looking away from them both, "No. Our job was recon, if we found the Reds, or anyone else, that was besides the point. We were to report back any base or facility and an aerial bombing would have occurred, then we would have been retrieved. It was supposed to be quiet, if we ran into trouble, we were on our own."

"... I see. So you're just as damned as the rest of us."

Matthew remained silent, apparently digesting the news. It wasn't supposed to get ugly, and especially since we didn't know what we were up against, I have no doubt the order was given to abandon the mission. I sighed, "It appears we are. I'm Arthur Kirkland, this is my nephew, Matthew Williams."

"A rather young uncle," he commented, stooping to pick up his gun, wiping the mud from it easily, "Francis Bonnefoy."

"You said the rest of us," Matthew interjected, "There are others? Not . . . 'swamp monsters?"

"Yes," he looked around, the fog dense as it was when we first arrived, "It isn't safe out here in the open, they have shelter, if you want to call it that, and rations." The thought of walking farther made my legs ache in protest, but the mention of food was more than enough to urge me on. Discarding our packs may have saved us at the time, but we'd be dead if it hadn't been for the damned Frog. "We don't have far to go, actually, you were on your way towards the facility before I came up behind you. I thought you were one of the irregulars, they have a tendency not to come back, but a rare few of them do. They are also more aggressive than the rest."

Francis led the way, not looking at all intimidated by the bleak wall of fog. I frowned, hesitating, but following anyway, if it meant some place to sleep and food to eat, I had little choice else. "How long have you been here?" I asked, thinking it a safer option. I didn't bring up Alfred, out of fear he had come across the boy. If he wasn't with him, then there was only one reason as to why.

"I'm unsure, to be honest," he spoke with a grim sort of smile, "Days seem to blend here. Soon you'll forget there even is a war going on."

Perhaps it was exhaustion, but I couldn't help thinking what an odd thing for someone to say. It wasn't just any war, it was the war, as great in size and conflict as the Great War. It was hardly something one could forget. Or perhaps Matthew and I were uncharacteristically lucky and hadn't experienced the worst of it.

Chapter Text

“A stubborn brat, isn’t he?”

“Indeed,” Ivan mused with a hint of a smile as he found a dry shirt to wear for the night, “But you can hardly fault a child.”

I stared at the sleeping boy’s face as he snored softly, he hadn’t even dressed after I bandaged his wound, the teenager naked under the blankets he had wrapped himself up in. “He won’t last long, you know. You should have let him go peacefully when you had the chance.”

“I thought so too,” the Russian spoke, looking up at the cracked ceiling, shoulders dropping as he did so, “but when he looked at me with those big blue eyes, I could make no use of my finger.” Violet irises focused then on his hand, which he curled the index finger experimentally, as if to make sure it still worked. “He has a fire to live, so I will give him that chance.”

Sighing, I dropped the subject. It wasn’t like we could change the fact the kid was here now. Looking at his pile of muddied clothes, I searched the fabric for a patch. There were no towns in the area and no reason for anyone to come to this place unless they were some kind of militant. Sure enough, he had a British paratrooper insignia on the left sleeve. “England is becoming involved in this mess. That just means there’s more out there, a whole new batch of fresh ones.”

“He had said that his group had come looking for my men.”

I frowned, straightening out the uniform on the space before the fire, settling down on my own bed of excess clothes, “If they hadn’t come, given a couple more months we possibly could have walked out of here okay, but with a new group, everything resets to zero.”

“They may send more after losing contact with these ones,” Ivan hummed as well, checking his gun over in the firelight.

“That would be the worst possible situation,” I scowled, running a hand through my hair and pushing back the loose bangs. “This has become such a mess. So many have gotten involved.”

“It has,” the soviet cheerfully agreed in a tone not much different than an amused child, “but saying it does not seem to change anything. Ah! If it was only that simple. But now that we have one more to feed, rations will hardly last another two weeks, we will need a means of resupplying.”

I glanced up to Ivan as he matched my gaze with an expectant look, making it very clear that it wasn’t just a comment. It was almost like he scripted these conversations in his head and I just didn’t get the copy. “There are two other outposts like this one which may still have supplies. Unless they were overran when the main facility collapsed. Then, again, there is the main compound. It was made to be as self-sufficient as possible since logistics movements in the area would draw attention to it, but since that was where the main outbreak took place…”

Ivan made a thoughtful sound as he took it in, “Well, we still have time until a decision is needed. We can think this dilemma over more later. I will take first watch.”

That was the sort of man Ivan was; overbearing. I don’t think even he realized just how domineering he was half the time, not leaving much open for discussion. It was probably what kept me in one piece, I had lost all sense of confidence in myself since this whole thing went south and I effectively released the single most dangerous plague Europe, let alone the world, had ever witnessed. The reminder of my blunder echoes around the marsh in low wailing moans, highlighted by the occasional lumbering shadow or glint of red eyes through the fog. Settling down in my mountain of fabric I called a bed, exhaustion caught up to me. I hadn’t slept in twenty-four hours and, while that normally wouldn’t have been such an issue, the rationed food makes it hard to will myself awake and I find myself dozing.

The creature inside the holding cell threw itself against the wall with such strength I winced out of reflex. The slam resonated in the block, a fresh coat of black smearing the concrete as the viscous blood splattered the room. This particular subject was much more hostile than the rest, faster and it refused to stop flinging itself against the walls and door; at this rate it’d either destroy itself or break the cell apart, and as it charged the door once again, both were highly plausible.

“This one exhibits stronger aggression than the others. Just attempting to get samples is proving to be a challenge.” I didn’t need to turn to know who it was, the shorter brunette matching my gaze through the observation window, an open manilla folder balancing on his slender fingertips. A brief silence fell between us; him watching my face from the corner of his eye as I stared intently at the monster in the room, more feeling his interest than actually seeing it. “Is this what you had hoped for?”

“Obviously not,” I sigh, finally looking away and acknowledging my senior doctor. “While the survival rate is up by sixty percent, not one of the subjects has any ability to reason or think.”

“Fevers do that, Ludwig; their brains are fried. The fact they survived at all is nothing short of miraculous.” Roderich closed the file with the elegance of a musician, his free hand pushing the frame of his glasses higher up on his nose. “With that out of the way, are you aware of anything between Elizabeta and Gilbert?”

“Not particularly,” I managed, hoping my face remained in the acceptable range of passive or confused.

Amethyst eyes scrutinize behind the clear lenses, my reflection looking less uncertain than I felt. Roderich sighed, “I see. They used to be so close, but for a while now I’ve noticed a distance growing between them.”

“. . . I would have thought something like that would have had the opposite effect.”

“I have never felt threatened by your brother,” he snapped back, taking me entirely off guard. Roderich had always been a rather meek individual, even his temper was exceptionally passive. He must have noticed it himself as he bashfully cleared his throat into a closed fist, “They have been friends since before you were born. At first I thought they had another one of their little squabbles, but nothing has truly improved since Gilbert’s return.”

I sighed through my nose, more out of relief than exasperation. “Those two have always had their differences, but I wouldn’t worry. Gilbert’s just been more busy with the defences. Apparently there was some activity to the north.”

Roderich frowned, “Is there a cause to be worried?”

“No,” I waved off his concern, walking away from the holding cell, the repetitive thumping from the room becoming irritating, “There are plenty of defences prepared in the area, the chances of some Soviets making it anywhere near us are slim, and by then they would hardly be a threat.”

“I see, that is reassuring. On all accounts.”

The holding sector of the facility was virtually empty, only the authorized personnel could enter, and that number was unrealistically small, but with the creatures we had made, one could hardly call them human, the mere sight of them could cause panic. Their skin was pallor, and eyes glassy with a strange sheen to them not too unsimilar to a wild dog’s. Their hair had turned brittle and dry, falling out in clumps. What was of more concern was their temperaments as we walked past. The echo of our footsteps drawing them out, screeches and growls alerting others farther down the hall. The walls of every room was speckled in blood, a viscous black slop that appeared more like oil under the harsh lights overhead. There was shattered arms to the point of being useless, the bone shards protruding from the skin, fingertips torn open from clawing at the doors and walls, even the ground. They were little more than caged animals thirsting for unreasonable violence.

“This cell is quiet.”

I barely caught Roderich’s voice over the tumult, following his gaze into the cell. “What subject is this?”

Roderich flipped through the folder, “A previous SA officer. He’s undergoing starvation tests.”

I frowned, kicking at the door; the others becoming louder the sound of retaliation, the subject didn’t move. Slumped in the centre of the room and what could only be described as skeletal, it was lacking lands, its thighs blackened with some kind of infection, even the genitals were missing. “It ate itself. Have it sent to the morgue for an autopsy.”

I didn’t wait for a reply, instead leaving the observation deck, stepping into one of the lifts. It wasn’t until the gates closed and the elevator made its way down, the grinding of gears a welcomed change from the sounds of the hall, I released a breath I hadn’t known I was holding. This was becoming ridiculous, but I didn’t know what else to do. I never should have gotten myself involved, yet even then I couldn’t blame myself entirely. I tried to distract myself with the glowing numbers over the door, watching the dial slowly glide over the ascending numbers despite the fact that I was going down.

The majority of the facility was underground to protect it from bombing strikes. The odds of one occurring was negligible, however; the area chosen for the geographical advantage. The bog would limit any invasion to some lightly armoured infantry, and the only pathways into the marsh were reinforced with minefields and outposts further in. Added with the perpetual fog, anyone who didn’t get lost or swallowed by the mud would be eliminated swiftly and with virtually no resistance.

A sudden jarring of the elevator coming to a stop startled me, not expecting this particular lift to pause for anyone, I still hadn't even reached the mess hall. The doors and gates parted and I felt my jaw instinctively tighten. “Ludwig. I wasn’t expecting you to be going down here so soon.”

“I could say the same for you.”

“Bah, this is my usual time to clock out, you boys just work strange hours.”

She spoke so easy as she made herself comfortable beside me, a little too close than I would consider appropriate of a married woman. Elizabeta, however, was by no means domestic-looking. Her wavy mane of chestnut hair was pulled back in a messy bun, stray locks tucked haphazardly behind her ears. Her green eyes shown playfully, making it hard to believe she was already approaching thirty.

“So how is my husband?”

“Which one?” My bitterness was laced like venom, thick on my tongue and making each syllable taste like vinegar.

Neither of us turned to look at each other, but I could hear her smile in her voice alone. “Pick one, you’ve been doing a good job keeping them to yourself.”

“You give me too much credit,” I managed through my teeth. “Roderich is the one supervising the experiments, I figured you’d be working with him regardless.”

“He doesn’t like me being on the third floor. He thinks it unsafe for a woman. Sometimes I think he forgets just who I am.”

“Is that why you keep toying with my brother?”

From the peripherals of my vision, I saw her finally turn to face me. “That’s cruel.” Her features were stern, full lips pressed in a tight line. She reached out, jabbing a finger into another button. “I’m not toying with anyone. I really do love them.” I didn’t respond as the elevator lurched, stopping on her floor. She stepped off as the grates rattled apart, the dorm hall empty. She spun on her toes to face me, one hand on the doors to keep them open as fiery emeralds branded themselves into mine. “If it wasn’t for your meddling, he’d believe that too.”

“I didn’t ask to be involved.”

Her lips twisted down in a frown, but she at least had the sense to look penitent. The burning temper cooled, turning not to stone but like melted wax, holding my gaze in a silent question. I felt a pull at my chest, as though pleading hands were fisting the fabric of my shirt despite how we stood an arm's length away. I was the one to turn away. In silence, she let go of the metal crossbars and stepped back, finally allowing them to shut and the elevator continue on its way.

The dining hall, on the other hand, was rather full as the shift changed over for the night, or perhaps the day. It had been over twenty-four hours since I had last had what could be called a proper rest. I actually spent more time coming down for snacks and coffee than anything else. It irked me how the cafeteria had turned more into a lounge as those off duty slacked off and took up space, but perhaps my soured mood and lack of sleep was having more of an effect on me than I wanted to admit.

“Whoa, what’s the scary face for?”

I fumbled my cup, the ceramic threatening to fall only to be caught halfway to its demise. The black leather of the glove cradling it a moment before the owner of the hand chuckled, “That was a close one.”

Glancing up at the smirking man beside me, I cleared my throat out of habit. He only grinned more before setting the class down on the bar. I decided not to grace him with so much as a thank you, his expectant face being much too smug for my liking. “When did you get back?”

“So cold. And even after big brother saved your coffee mug.” I shot him a weak glare, already too exhausted to entertain his cocky prattling. He snickered to himself, but continued regardless, “Couple hours ago actually. Figured you’d come down here at some point so I thought I’d wait. You like your coffee hot, so the sludge upstairs wouldn’t interest you.” Gilbert folded his arms over his chest, the black uniform crisp and freshly cleaned and pressed, so he had to have been here for some time. Glancing behind him, his hat sat on a table hosting a fair number of the nursing staff.

I sighed, turning back to the coffee canister, “You mean you decided to flirt.”

“You give me too much credit little brother, “he waved me off, “I was just telling them how the weather up top has been doing.”

“Oh, and how is it?”

“Shit. I think it’s even worse now that winter is approaching.”

I snorted, despite myself. “Now I know you weren’t discussing the weather.”

“There we go,” he cheered, lightly tapping my arm with a fist, “Now you don’t look like some harbinger of doom.”

“Now I’m worried. You don’t usually work so hard unless you have bad news.”

He shook his head, the peculiar white locks swaying as he did so, “No, not at all. Everything is still in place and there hasn’t been any real movement. Actually it seems like they had been planning to divert around one of our larger forces through the swamp and figured it too dangerous for the armoured vehicles. They may send in some infantry, they might not. At the end of the day we still have time and they have no clue we’re even here.” A wave of relief washed over me,not so much over the actual good news as much as the fact there was anything to be considered ‘good’. “And what about your work? I saw you put in an increase of security to floor three while I was gone.”

“We finally have some surviving subjects, but the results were not what I’d call a success. Just feeding them is a task in itself, tests are virtually impossible. Sedatives aren’t effective and communicating is impossible. The fevers have done too much damage to their brains.” I picked out a light meal that earned a sceptical look from Gilbert only for him to take the liberty of adding a slab of meat to my plate. “It is safe to assume their sense of pain is deadened, if not even gone. One subject cannibalized itself to death.”

“Gross.”

I allowed myself my own smirk as his nose crinkled in disgust at the information, turning away to sit at a table with my food. Of course he couldn’t leave his blasted hat behind, saying something to the women as he snatched it up. They looked disappointed. There was no way he couldn’t see their true motives, but then again this was my brother. By the time he situated himself across from me, his former table had been nearly abandoned, and yet he didn’t spare the ladies even a second glance.

“Have you considered allowing yourself a proper relationship?” I announced, changing the subject.

The fool had the audacity to look genuinely confused, scarlet eyes blinking owlishly at me. “Where did that come from?”

“There are plenty of women you could chase, yet you act entirely oblivious of them. I understand none of them are quite like her, but they’d be a better match for you. Someone stable.”

For a moment I saw him change, the upbeat persona cracking, his gaze downcast, even depressed. But it was just a moment, quickly replaced with a smile, albeit a weaker one. “You got enough on your plate, you shouldn’t have to worry about me on top of all this.”

I opened my mouth, about to chastise him. How could I not worry? But before the first word could form, the lights suddenly went out. The subtle hum of activity in the room instantly silenced, everyone still and looking up as though they would see anything. It didn’t last a minute, but thinking back it felt like an eternity. When the emergency lights came on, bathing everything red.

Gilbert was already on his feet and halfway to the doors when the siren blared over the intercoms.

“Emergency situation, level four. All non-essential personnel are to head toward the dormitories and stay inside until an all-clear is issued!” He shouted over the noise, knowing the security codes better than even myself. I responded faster than I could think, chasing after him down the hall towards the stairs, the elevators automatically locking during emergencies to limit movement.

“What’s happening on level four?”

“Not a fucking clue. How much trouble can a fucking morgue get into?”

Chapter Text

Fog is different.

Mist is thin like tissue paper, from a distance and layered upon itself, it looks foreboding, but as you penetrate it, you see just how vapid it is. Fog, on the other hand, is like a carpet, the way it rolled in over the bay back home like an army of ghosts. It is so thick it is like touching clouds; so dense that every breath is like drowning, your lungs being stabbed with thousands of freezing pinpricks. It clings to your body, cold and wet, it inches its way between your joints and settles like a ball of molasses.

I exhaled in a short burst, my ears on fire from just the cold of the November air. The sun had set, the clouds thickening and becoming colder, slipping through my soaked uniform anyway it could. We had been walking for what felt like hours, and I already felt as though I had been here for months. Arthur's words echoing in my head for the hundredth time.

"Our job was recon. We were to report back any base or facility and an aerial bombing would have occurred, then we would have been retrieved. It was supposed to be quiet, if we ran into trouble, we were on our own."

It didn't sound right. We were recon, but we were just supposed to scout the area out, but the rest of it was news to me. It didn't make sense, and every time I turned to look at Arthur, he never met my gaze. He was hiding something, and he wasn't being subtle about it. I glanced ahead to Francis's back, which had Arthur's fixation, before leaning closer to my uncle.

"You lied before. They may be on standby waiting for our response, but we're not completely abandoned. We can leave whenever, all we need to do is get out an SOS."

Green lightning flashed in my direction for a moment, such a severe glare was normally reserved to Alfred, never before had I been on the receiving end of it. "Let's say you're right," he whispered back, voice so low that I almost lost it, "I'm not leaving Alfred behind."

Understanding washed over me like an icy wave, leaving a frozen pit in my stomach. "You're angry with me."

His withering look didn't lessen, he simply turned away as if I were invisible. "Frog, how much farther?"

"I would appreciate if we could keep our voices down," Francis replied lightly, glancing over his shoulder, "We're almost there."

The shadow was first, a dark shadow the became more distinct as we got closer. The walls were a drab grey, as if to better conceal itself in the dense fog. I couldn't see any windows, but perhaps that was for the better, there wasn't much to the view. A metal fence encircled the compound, pillars of what I assumed to be watchtowers stood erect at intervals, becoming more and more vague until they were swallowed by the bog. It wasn't until the smell hit me did I realize the mounds of bodies against the wire. They had to have been there for some time, the cadavers ranging from pale with discoloured splotches to blackened piles of flesh. Taking a closer look, not all of them were human either.

"Through here." Francis stooped down to duck into a break in the fence, watching his feet as he physically stepped on the corpses.

Arthur's face screwed into a scowl of disgust, debating his options a moment longer before following after, "What the bloody hell happened here?"

"The fence was electrified when the generator was still functional."

Arthur snorted in response, sliding through the jagged hole easily, cautiously watching the bodies. I followed last, the charred bodies brittle and crunching beneath my boots. Stepping off, I tested the ground, the compound having been reinforced. It made things easier stepping off, I had just placed my foot when it was violently jerked out from under me. I instinctively cried out, trying to catch myself, I didn't even know what happened.

"Shit!" I heard Arthur swear. Twisting my head, a hand held onto my foot, dragging me towards a pair of glowing red eyes. My chest went cold, I froze. If you could see them, it wasn't like it was staring at me, it was staring into me. I heard a shot fired, then another. An inhuman scream, the fingers digging deeper into the leather even as the light faded to a dull glow.

An arm pulled me up roughly, kicking off the arm since I was still stunned, "Matthew! Dammit Matthew! Get a hold of yourself lad!"

"Quickly," Francis called back to us, having pulled out his own pistol, not facing either of us as he inched his way towards the large building. "Is he injured?"

"No," I choked out, my legs still feeling like jelly. I never knew any human being could have such strength, my ankle stung even as I denied it. It had pierced the cowhide and the sheer power when it grabbed me did something to my leg, just putting weight on it sent shooting pain up to my knee. Still, I shook Arthur's hand off.

"Like hell you aren't," he hissed back, not at all quiet.

I opened my mouth to argue only to be interrupted by Francis, "Make up your minds and run!"

I turned to see what he saw and my body went cold. Red eyes, dozens of them, but they looked nothing like the ones I just saw, they were brighter, closer to the ground and moving quickly through the fog.

"Good lord."

"Run!" Francis shouted back. I forced my feet to move, my right leg turning into a dull if constant throbbing as I fought to keep up, Arthur pushing me on from behind.

"Don't look back," I heard Arthur urge, his voice so clear it was as though he was speaking in my ear, "Keep running and don't look back."

I focused on Francis, not straying from his back as he sprinted towards a set of double doors. His head swivelled to the left and in a fluid motion he lifted the handgun and popped off several rounds.

The dog was the size of a typical Shepard, it's coat patchy and in areas completely bald. What fur was left was blackish and bristled. It let out something between a scream and a yelp as it slammed into the ground, skidding from the momentum. I jumped over the body, glancing down a moment as I did so. Where the fur was missing were gaping wounds, the animal's ribcage completely exposed, the organs visible and writhing through the skeleton.

I looked up and Francis was already at the doors, pushing one open with his shoulder. I blinked, my leg starting to give out, stumbling only to have Arthur snap me upright and practically dragging me as I started lagging behind. "We're almost there, don't give up!"

He looked pale, his lips had gone white and were chapped. He was on sheer adrenaline at this point, and even then he didn't let me go. Francis managed a crack between the doors, barely enough for a person to slip through. Arthur shoved me through the opening, following after and Francis came last. I didn't have the strength to even catch myself as I slid against the lino flooring. I felt hot and yet I was shivering, my heart racing in my chest as I fought to regain my breath.

"Dammit, close the fucking thing!" Arthur's voice growled. The dogs tried to rush the small opening at once, their jaws snapping at the other two as they struggled to push it closed. Debris was piled against it the doors, keeping them from just bursting in. Francis jumped back, narrowly dodging glistening teeth, the muscles exposed and tearing.

I rolled on my back, bracing against a large cabinet and kicking out with my closest foot. My shivers causing me to merely graze the corner and instead impact the side of the beast's head, stunning it long enough for me to kick again, this time pushing it back into the howling pack. I kicked again, this time finally hitting my mark on the door, I more felt than heard the crunch as my vision suddenly went black, my leg feeling like spikes had been driven through it.

"Matthew!? Matthew!" Arthur's voice sounded far away, I tried to focus on my breathing, refusing to pass out. "Jesus Christ, Mattie?"

I clenched my teeth, "My leg... the right one."

"The fuck happened?"

"We can't stay," Francis' voice cut in, "There are still some in the facility. We need to get to the safe room. It isn't far, and there is a doctor there."

As my sight came back, it was unusually blurry. I blinked a few times before I realized I was crying. Arthur hardly looked any better than I felt, I expected him to just keel over beside me. "Shit. Come on Mattie, come on. We need to get you up, we can't stay here."

He grabbed me under my arms, hoisting me up as bolts of agony shot through my limb. I didn't hear myself make any sounds, just agony. Still Arthur softly shushed me, wrapping one arm around my waist. I felt another arm as well, glancing to my left, Francis braced me as well, trying to alleviate the weight on my limp leg.

Every step was torture, the pain so intense that it left me breathless. I tried to focus on something else, anything else, but the building was more like a hospital, sterile and white. At least, it should have been, if not for the blackened splatters decorating the walls and the occasional slumped corpse in pools of dried blood. The harsh lights overhead were intermittently flickering or broken, dragging out the hallway longer and making it appear almost endless. The doors were all grey and metallic, some left opened, others tightly shut.

Oh god, the pain.

"He's going white. How much farther, Frog!"

"We're almost there, get him talking."

"Mattie? Mattie, you still with us?"

I groaned, suddenly too weak to even lift my head, instead staring at the white linoleum floor. I could vaguely make out each of our shapes, but they didn't have any detail to them, like I was back in the fog.

"Deep breaths lad."

"I'm sorry," I muttered, not even sure where it had come from myself.

Pause. "Sorry for what?"

"Because of me, Alfred-."

"Hush now. I'm not mad. I'm not. Alfred's always been the lucky one of the two of you, he's fine, I'm sure. Now don't think about it. Just focus on your breathing."

"We're here."

The door looked like all the others, thick and metal, but the square window at eye-level was peculiar. A hollow thumping resonated through the hall as Francis knocked, or maybe kicked, the door; his hands still holding me up.

"Francis?"

"We got a hurt kid here, hurry up and let him in."

There was a moment before something that sounded like a bolt was pulled away, the door cracking open. All I could see was a pair of black shoes and the bottom hem of overly worn slacks. Whoever it was wasn't any sort of soldier.

"Was he bitten?" A thickly accented voice responded, the same one that had called through the door just moments before. It was a man, maybe around Arthur's age, perhaps older.

I felt Arthur jerk back suddenly, jarring my leg. I swallowed a scream, biting my lip harshly to keep it in. "Fucking Kraut!"

Weakly I lifted my head, the man in the crack of the doorway was a brunette about the same height as my uncle, his face stern and a pair of cracked lenses perched on his nose. On his left upper arm was a red and black sleeve.

The man's frown deepened at the slur, but he made no response directly to it. "Was he bitten? Answer the question."

"No," I gasped, possibly interrupting Arthur as I did so. The pain was becoming too much and I couldn't keep standing much longer, "No. Just please… can we come in?"

There was a moment of mutual reluctance, the animosity emanating off my uncle almost palpable, but the door opened wider and a second later I was practically dragged inside.

"Elizabeta, bring the light over. Where does it hurt?" The German demanded, the door closing behind us and the bolt sliding back into place.

"His leg," Arthur snapped, his tone harsher than I had ever heard before.

My right leg was lifted suddenly and my head threw back. "It may be broken. I need you to keep him still while I take his boot off."

I felt someone brace behind me, holding me in a bear hug. "Deep breaths. On the count of three."

One.

Two.

Everything suddenly went black.

"Open up."

A constant throbbing in my leg pulled me out from a dreamless sleep. I didn't feel at all rested, rather I felt like I had been hung out to dry. At least I was warm. Opening my eyes, I had been placed under a thick wool blanket, the wiry fibres scratching at my chin. The room was dark save for a small lamp in the corner. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the strange lights and shadows. Beside me, Arthur laid sprawled out on the ground. He looked unusually peaceful for being in a strange building.

"We had to sedate him, don't worry, he'll wake up refreshed in the morning."

I looked back to the corner, a pretty woman with long brown hair tied back in a loose ponytail knelt beside the light. Her eyes were bright, as though they burned with their own flame somewhere within. She held a small tin in her hand with a spoon.

"What happened?" I asked, thoroughly confused.

She gave me a tired smile, "Your ankle was severely broken. It looks like it had a fracture that was then made worse. You managed to shatter the bone." I blinked, not sure how to respond to that. I was saved the trouble when a mound of blankets beside her shifted on their own, drawing her attention to them instantly.

A hoarse, broken laugh reached me, ever so barely. "Not bad kid."

"Shut up and eat," the woman snapped back, shoving the spoon at the pile. I sat myself up.

He didn't even look real. His hair and skin were nearly the same shade of white if not for the flushing to his cheeks. The pale locks were drenched in sweat and plastered to his forehead and pallid lips twisted in something between a grimace and a smirk. "He's lucky."

"Not really."

"Never mind him. He's sick," the woman cut in, even still I couldn't look away from the cadaverous man.

He laughed again, the sound turning into ripping coughs. She quickly set aside the tin, turning his head herself as he kept coughing harshly, something dark splattering against his lips and the floor. "What's wrong with him?" I asked, finding myself instinctively pulling away.

"He's not contagious," she assured me, slender fingers combing through unruly white hair. I glanced up to her face, but she was intently watching him. I looked between them and felt a bit of embarrassment at witnessing such a private scene. "The hardest part is getting this stubborn fool to eat."

"But what's wrong with him?" Something didn't feel right. She must have been saying something, but I can't remember it for the life of me. All I remember is him opening his eyes.

His eyes glowed red.

Chapter Text

Once upon a time there was a kingdom; a proud, strong kingdom. She was the pride of her peoples and the star of the land, envied and hated but respected by her peers. She became too proud, this kingdom, and set to war against her neighbours. Her friends were weak and her enemies numerous, the proud kingdom crumbled under the flames she had lit. There was no kingdom anymore. Then, one day, the Dark Man appeared. The Dark Man was small, but stood tall; quiet, but with a far-reaching voice; strong, but crippled. The Dark Man made all of the people blind. He shrouded their eyes in smoke, he covered the mouths and noses and slowly watched them suffocate willingly under his hands.

There was a princess in this kingdom, her hair made of woven gold. She lived in secret with her brother. They were always happy together in their little patch of sunshine, but when the Dark Man came, it all went away. Afraid, her brother took the Princess, leaving the little house where she grew up. Leaving the big tree in the yard and her little kitten in the window. She was spirited off to the Castle of White. The white walls reached the sky and the white doors were sturdy and strong. The white floors were polished and clean, reflecting the white lights hanging from the white ceiling illuminating the white desk with the lady dressed in white.

Her hands were stained red.

"This is to keep you safe," the princess' brother said, giving her over to the white soldiers with their faces of stone.

"Brother, no! I don't want to go!" she cried as she was dragged away, their nails pricking her skin. The princess became all alone, the reluctant monarch of the White Castle.

I'm scared. I'm angry. I'm so alone. They locked my door, I'm trapped. I want to go home. I don't want to wake up in the morning. The nurse hits me when I stay in bed. My arm is marked with her hand, she always goes for the same place. I'm hungry but I can't bring myself to eat. I'm sinking deeper in this place, like being buried in a snowstorm. I'm drowning in air. Brother, you abandoned me here. You left without saying if you'd ever come back. You're just like Father.

To be the ruler of such a dreary kingdom was exhausting to the Princess' heart. It became so heavy she couldn't bring herself to move for many seasons. The Princess would beg to simply not wake up as she fell to sleep night after night, but even that became too much for her soul. Years of isolation, no princess should ever rule alone.

He came during the snow, the noise rousing her from a dreamless sleep. The guards were in a scurry, the maids were in a tizzy. The commotion echoed through the halls. It was the first time her kingdom had ever been so alive. Gifts were given she could not see. Words were spoken she could not hear. All the while an agitation boiling inside her, how dare these people enter her kingdom without permission. Not one took a glance to her tower to give her such acknowledgement.

But he did.

They all wait for their "Prince Charmings". Their "White Knights in Shining Armour". Those are just fairy tales woven to placate the desperate soul. I know better. I always said, "No one will ever come and rescue me." But then you just had to come and prove me wrong.

He changed everything.

He brought life where there had been none. He brought laughter where there once was silence. Flirting whispers where there had been the sharp clacking of heels and coaxed smiles from stone itself. The Princess had not seen him since that day, but she could see him everywhere.

I never thought anyone could be more miserable than me.

They let her outside, the snow still fresh and barely touched, the cold soaking through the cloth slippers and thin gown. Everything was white. The walls, the garden, the trees. Her feet, her gown, her bare legs. Everything was white.

The Black Knight stood, his back towards her as he exhaled clouds of smoke. She felt herself drawn to him, through the window, the weeks and the snow. He turned to greet her.

Everything was white. The stone, the flowers, the leaves. Her feet, her gown, her bare legs. His skin, his hair and the smoke from his cigarette.

I never thought there was anyone more miserable than me. But I was merely miserable and wished to die. Your eyes were already dead, and yet they brought me life.

Chapter Text

I do not like the cold. I do not like the quiet also, but I have come to welcome it. Quiet means the Dead have not noticed us, despite the fire. Even as I followed a Corpse crawling along the open bars, gurgling more than breathing. The heat of flames. The smell of burning. They did not matter. The Corpse kept dragging itself along until it vanished in the thick clouds that hung to the ground, or just the eyes. They were the only life the Dead still had, glowing like the embers. It is a strange feeling, to be warmed by fire and chilled by fog. The clouds gathering the reds and orange of the flames like water, carrying the glow. In any other situation this would be a beacon, but the Dead were no better than the blind.

The motion was sudden and I reacted before I thought. The Little One sat upright from his sleep, unfocused and lost, his naked body exposed to the cold while I watched down the sight of my gun. His chest heaved in short, quick bursts, like a rabbit, blinking the world into existence. My Friend did not stir, he still had time.

"Am I awake?"

The question was funny. I put down the gun, my comfortable smile falling into place. "Yes."

"It's fucking cold." The Little One hugged himself as a chill crawled through him. I tossed the clothes he had forgotten to him. "Well aren't you the Chatty Kathy?"

"My name is not Kathy, but you know that." I relaxed again, keeping our voices low. Silence carries.

"I- Nevermind," the child sulked, roughly dressing himself in the dampened cloth. Until the sun came back, everything was touched with fog. It was simply so. "So this… This is all really happening?"

"I believe it is," I poked the dying fire, trying to keep it breathing a little longer. The sun would not be back yet, and that was if it broke the clouds as it rarely did. The coldest hours were still ahead. "It took me some time as well. But you may want to hurry."

His eyes were blue, like they had captured the heavens before descending to Hell. They were clear and I could read them like a book. "Hurry where?"

"To a decision," I said simply. He was a funny one, I would miss him when he dies. Not long of course. Children have that effect, you want to care.

My sisters had blue eyes.

He turned to Ludwig then back to me. "When is the Nazi waking up? He's better at this communicating thing than you are."

"You may wake him." He looked between us again, confliction. Much more fun indeed.

Instead, he rolled the blanket we had lent him and walked stiffly to my side before sitting heavily at my side with a groan. "Damn, that hurts. Okay, start from the beginning big guy. What do I have to decide about? The longer the answer, the better."

His shoulder rubbed against mine, he sat so close I could smell the swamp mud in his hair. "You are young and without experience. The longer you stay, the shorter your life will be."

"I don't think I really have much of a choice," he winced, his legs straightening into a more comfortable position.

Being hurt, he will not get far.

I dug out an extra set of clothing and let it sit over the fire until it burned before adding it to the ashes. "No, it seems you do not. We will be out of rations soon. With your injuries, you will not last long, but we can still leave this place. It is possible to walk in here, it is possible to walk out."

He was silent then, staring at the fire. "Then why are you still here?"

"My Friend."

"He's keeping you here?"

"He refuses to leave, and I understand. Returning to Stalin does not appeal to me. War does not appeal to me."

His nose wrinkled as though I had just spat on his shoe. "You'd rather be here? Are you kidding me? Don't you have anything to go back to?"

"No. But that does not stop you."

The Little One opened his mouth, then closed. Open. Closed. Sighed. He looked away to the swamp, the darkness and fog so thick it was a wall. In his eyes I could see him think. If he were leaving, he would leave alone. Alone was not much different from dead.

"So why won't he leave? You guys have been here, what, nearly a month?"

"I would not know."

He waved his hand in front of my face. "Just take my word on it. But why is he still here? What's he waiting for?"

"Maybe ask him. I can not speak for him."

I knew. I knew he was not waiting for anything but maybe death. He did not say much, but he blamed himself for the Dead. He had somehow made this, so he stayed. I had nothing left, so I stayed.

The child stared, not at flames, but at me. I almost did not notice, but the way he looked at me was not funny anymore. He could see I knew. I had not met someone who could see through me so easily, not since Toris.

No.

I sat up straight, rolling my shoulders to ease away the stiffness from the cold. Some bones popped and clicked, but not unpleasantly. "You can always leave is what I am saying. According to my friend, there is a small town to the southeast. It is Axis controlled however. That is something to think of."

"Oh golly gee, being some POW sounds like an improvement at this point, no offense." The Little One went back to the fire, not looking anymore. His own face so open to read. He looked upset, angry, before it slowly melted into distress, then a sad resignation.

"Who else is out there?" I felt my brow pull as I glanced up to My Friend. He looked just as tired, but some colour had returned to his face. Eyes more alert. His eyes did not look like the Little One's, more clear and pale, calculating and ungiving. I could not read him. Just like ice.

The Little One jumped visibly, caution in his body language as he wound his body tight, still in the war. That would end soon. "Why do you need to know?"

"I don't," My Friend hardened his features, even colder than a blizzard. I simply looked between them, their antics were a welcome distraction. "At the end of the day, you're stuck here, unless you would prefer to venture out alone. No one is stopping you."

The child's speckled cheeks flared angrily. Of course he knew he would not manage well alone, not injured. But if he stayed, our own travel would be slow. He was still able-bodied in every other way, and the wounds were just slightly more than superficial. He would eventually heal. In essence, an investment.

Now if only he would trust.

"So where will we go? Have to determined?" I interrupted their disagreement. It had been quiet. I did not like the quiet.

My Friend glared a little longer at the boy before ignoring him completely, the neutral mask returned. "The main facility would be the best choice."

"How have you come to that decision?"

He frowned. It was the only way to even try and read what My Friend was thinking. Poke him enough and he would give eventually. "By now, most of the creatures have made their way out to the surrounding area. That, and it would have the most supplies that we can take advantage of while they are still useable."

"What facility?" the Little One demanded.

My Friend looked down his nose at him, but spoke regardless. "What you and your comrades came to find. You're rather fortunate you arrived when you did, otherwise your aircraft would have been shot down and every one of you still alive would have been executed or used for experimentation."

"Experime-?"

"Yes," My Friend snapped, "How else do you think this happened?"

Understanding is like a flower, it blooms sooner for some than others, but watching it was always fascinating. This one was a rose, the thorns sharp enough to draw blood.

"We will leave soon then, yes? I will change watch to you, friend."

My Friend grunted a response, leaving the Little One to stare into the simmering flame. I did not understand the despair in his eyes. Compared to Stalin's war and famines and purges…

This was lovely.