Archive of Our Own ^beta

Kat practically collapsed as he entered Eguisac. The Maxim MG 08 he spent a good hour lugging through the trenches slid from his aching shoulders with a thud . Kat didn’t register the lost weight, but rather the water pump resting undisturbed in the middle of the walkway. He blindly stumbled to the water source before falling onto his knees and frantically yanking at the handle until water began to emerge. He greedily drank the water, ignoring its metallic taste and that it soaked his muddy clothes. After some time, he forced himself to pull back with an audible gasp before hastily wiping remnants from his mouth. He wasn’t given another opportunity to drink more, as the incoming stampede of fatigued soldiers approached the pump before replicating his actions to a near tee. Kat, not wanting to end up crushed, crawled away from the pump.

He spent a minute on his knees trying to ground himself back to reality. It was the first time, in who knows how long, where he was actually able to remain still and breathe. He didn’t remember closing his eyes, but the sound of glass shattering forcefully yanked him back into reality. Eguisac -- or, rather, what was left of Eguisac -- was spacious, big enough to fit the remnants of the entire company. Unfortunately, none of the soldiers were interested in taking in the beautiful architecture or the fact that, after hours of retreating, they were being offered a moment to rest. Instead, those who were not gathered around the water pump --  like animals surrounding a watering hole -- were tearing down the foundations of buildings and scrapping ruined furniture and wood in order to build bonfires that would illuminate the night’s sky, as well as combat its incoming chill. Those who destroyed were succeeded by scavengers who searched through abandoned buildings in an attempt to find rations. Kat couldn’t help but shudder at the almost barbaric destruction his comrades were conducting, and the nearly maniacal glee plastered on a few of their faces. He knew that, at some point, this was once a home to many people -- a place with meaning, value, and sentiment. Now, in the span of minutes, it was being literally torn apart as if it were nothing.

“Katczinsky,” the sergeant from the trenches began, “bring whatever weapons and ammo you were able to carry to the center of town.”
Kat nodded, wiping away the sweat that coated his forehead, before standing up with an audible groan. He retrieved the discarded machine gun he’d dropped minutes earlier and heaved it onto his shoulders once more. As the adrenaline began to fade from his body, the soldier began to almost drunkenly stumble deeper into the town, barely maneuvering around the incoming crowd of soldiers who either had just escaped the trenches or who were emerging from ruined buildings with their arms filled with spoils. Eventually, he made it to the center of the town and not-so-gracefully placed the heavy weapon onto the ground, in front of the sargeant’s feet. 

“Where’s the ammo?” Kat, still trying to recover from the retreat, merely blinked in confusion. “Where was the boy with the ammo?”
“The…” he began distantly.
“The one who cried for his friends? Where is he? He had-”
Kat didn’t even register the remaining inquiries. Instead, he turned around a few times and expected to be greeted by familiar brown hair and sharp blue eyes. He had become so accustomed to the younger man being practically glued by his side, both on and off the battlefield, that he automatically assumed that he somehow managed to regroup with him. When Kat realized he was alone, it was as if someone had knocked the air out of him.

He ignored the sergeant's prodding and only barely managed to dodge the incoming crowd who were placing their own weapons and ammo onto the pile. Kat began to stride back towards the point of entry, heartbeats growing increasingly louder as a surge of panic coursed through him.
“Paul?” he shouted. “Paul?!”
As he retraced his steps, Kat frantically scanned the groups of men huddled around the water pump, growing bonfire, and main archway. Despite the uniformity of the men’s appearance -- all of them covered in grime, sweat, and blood -- he had the capability to distinguish the faces of his friends from the entire company. He could find neither Paul nor Tjaden nor Franz. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he continued to make his way back towards the way he came from.
“Franz? Tjaden?? Paul?!”
He continued to call their names as he scanned through the crowds, desperately looking for anyone familiar. 

He found himself at the surrounding walls. He waited as more men ran or limped towards the town. Still, there was no sign of Tjaden or Franz. There was no sign of Paul. 
“PAUL!!” he screamed, his voice managing to overpower the chaos around him.
Beyond the gasps and exertion noises from his fellow soldiers, Kat’s only response was the sound of more bombs and gunshots in the far distance. There was a brief, all-too familiar sting in his eyes that was alleviated when a new coat of wetness momentarily trickled down his cheek. 

Eventually, the immediate chaos inside and around died down. There were still echoes of drunken cheers and cries from deep within the town, but they were overpowered by nearby idle chatter, as well as occasional hooting of an owl obscured by the shadows of the night. As the quietness penetrated the disarray from earlier, the sunset was replaced by the rising moon, which was replaced by the sparks emitted from roaring bonfires. Regardless of these shifts of time and scenery, Kat remained stationed at the entranceway. To any passing comrade, the older soldier was on unofficial guard duty. While there was truth to that explanation, secretly, Kat was hoping to see at least one familiar face from his distressingly thinning group of friends.

After standing against the wall for an unmeasured amount of time, his hunger and despondency managed to overpower him. Slowly, he removed himself from the entrance and began to sullenly walk towards the rumored location of the food rations. Before he disappeared into the depths of the town, Kat spared one last look at the now quiet horizon. 

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d experienced such a silent night. There was no chance of an ambush from the sky or the ground, as he knew the enemy were undoubtedly just as depleted as they were. He should be basking in the rarity of these moments by taking enormous swings of vodka or puffs from his cigars. Instead, he only felt a coldness that wasn’t brought on by the seasonal weather. It was an all-too familiar feeling that still managed to tear him apart every time. 

It wasn’t the first time Kat ended up alone. Usually, after a certain point, he would manage to reunite with Tjaden or other members of his party. It was a given that, in the end, he somehow managed to find someone to latch onto. He leaned onto Tjaden, and now Paul, and had grown to expect (but never devalue) their constant companionship. However, the prolonged conflict and the growing number of casualties subtly fractured those assumptions. 

Tjaden was seasoned in the battlefield who somehow always managed to navigate his way back to Kat. Paul, on the other hand, was still young. Even after spending nearly two years fighting, he still was discovering new challenges and hardships to overcome. Kat attempted to offer guidance and support whenever Paul grew adrift or disheartened. However, there was only so much he could rationalize and teach. How could he justify those enormous monstrosities plowed through nearly three quarters of their army, or why one of his closest friends died in one of the most disturbing displays of cruelty both soldiers had ever seen? If Paul managed to survive the attack, how could he have managed to retreat from a battlefield that was undoubtedly occupied by French soldiers in the trenches or the sky? Kat never taught Paul how to survive behind enemy territory because he (silently) vowed to remain near the younger man, as long as possible. In his panic, he broke that promise and remained within the safe confines of Eguisac, while Paul was somewhere out in the freezing cold and corpse-littered battlefield. Kat couldn’t begin to imagine how terrified Paul must be…if he were even alive, that is.

It was this separation, as well as his perceived failure, that awoke Kat from his prolonged wishing thinking. Deep down, he knew that they were losing the war, and that his friends were no-longer guaranteed to miraculously appear by his side. He could no longer promise to keep them by his side.

With a heavy heart, Kat slowly disappeared amongst the remnants of the company. Had he remained at his post for a few minutes longer, he would have noticed the approaching shadow of a young man, with familiar brown curls and sharp blue eyes, numbly stumble towards Eguisac with an equally heavy heart.