To Burn and Burn [Belarus + Germany]

[Belarus - Natalya Arlovskaya]

Natalya wasn't a stranger to smoking.  She'd smoked for much of the late 20th century, stopping only when it became inconvenient in the 1990s.  Still, at times like this, standing outside the conference center where diplomats stood with their cigarettes, she wished she'd kept it up, if for something to do while she waited if nothing else.  There was going to be a meeting and she'd forgotten to bring lunch.  Funny how now that was a problem when she had gone days without food in the past.  Not that she would trade this for that in any sort of situation.

When she saw Ludwig, she nodded at him, not paying him much mind until she caught a glimpse of the other dropping a folder full of papers.  She bit back a sigh and walked over, picking up the file folder and walking after him.  "Beilschmidt," she called to get his attention.  "Don't forget these."

It was mere social duty that called Natalya to give him the papers back rather than any actual feeling of amity.  It wasn't that she hated him so much that she simply couldn't care less about the other.  He would live his life and he would die one day, hopefully without causing her any more trouble.  It was rare that anyone got justice in a world that was ruled by the strong.  She was one of the small fries, she had long since accepted that.  There was no justice or glory for people like her.  As she handed the file back to the other, their hands brushed and Natalya flinched, feeling the world start to spin and bloom before her eyes. 

What was happening?  But before she could ponder the question for too long, her senses flooded with white and she melted.

JULY 8TH, 1952

As the world settled back into place, Ludwig was greeted by a world of off white, from the paint on the walls to the dull glow of the lightbulb overhead.  There was a small window, and by the looks of it it was a nice day outside, but the window was barred, either to keep someone in or someone out.  He was in a hallway, the entire place neat if not poorly maintained.  Much more pressing, however, was the sound of beating and things breaking inside the next door.  A nurse hurried down the hallway, stopping only to get a good look at Ludwig.

"You're sent by Mr. Braginsky to check on his sister, right?" or at least that was a good enough excuse for her.  She looked at him with sympathy.  "Sometimes she gets into moods where she throws anything she can get her hands on."  The nurse winced at the sound of feminine screaming from inside the room.  "You don't need to look so frightened, she's only psychotic.  Doesn't mean to hurt anyone who's actually here."

[Germany - Ludwig Beilschmidt]

As was typical of Ludwig on a break between meetings, his mind was everywhere at once. On many occasions he'd find himself scolding another nation for being unprepared when it was their turn to speak, and he held himself to the same standard. Over lunch he'd been skimming a few relevant files for his next meeting to ensure that the information was fresh in his mind, and as he approached the conference center he was mentally sorting through it to put the points he wished to make into a logical order. So he was quite distracted when he came near, nodding absently to those who acknowledged him almost reflexively.

What drew more of his attention was the scent of cigarettes. Though he didn't really care whether or not others had the habit, it's one that he'd never picked up himself so the odor was unpleasant to his senses. So he shifted his path slightly to keep the smokers further away, but apparently someone behind him wasn't prepared for him to change course, and bumped into him. He was too busy trying to identify the culprit and trying to decide whether or not to do anything about it, and what to do if so, to notice that one of the files he'd had tucked underneath his arm had fallen until he heard his name being called.

He turned, and the stern expression on his face immediately vanished when he saw that it was Natalya speaking to him. Instead it's as if someone hit the pause button on the German for a moment before he reacted. "Oh... Danke schön," he said hastily, quickly taking the file and looking away just as fast. It wasn't always the case that Ivan's sister made him uncomfortable, but it was now and for different reasons than most nations. Though it was perhaps his haste to thank her and end the interaction quickly that caused his hand to graze hers as he took the file.

Suddenly the world around him started to shift, and when his eyes could find focus again he quickly tried to regain his bearings. Where was he now? And, just as importantly, when? This would probably be Natayla's past - he couldn't be immediately sure because there were other nations around, but given the timing it was probably hers. But not too far into the past - he quickly noted the design of the light bulb. He abruptly realized that he'd never thought to look into her past very closely, so he felt like he was going in a bit blind here.

Fortunately, a nurse was quick to accidentally orient him to the situation he'd ended up in. "Yes," he replied immediately, willing to let her be right until he saw a reason otherwise. Lucky for him that he'd been wearing a business suit - the style of which hadn't changed much for many, many decades. The fabric and cut might be slightly off, but probably only enough to make him seem foreign.

He made a quick tactical assessment of the situation. He could hear very clearly the damage being done and the screaming, and the nurse's words indicating that Ivan's sister wasn't in her right mind. However, he also knew that she was smaller than him and also weaker - it didn't matter what time period this was, it would be true. And even if she was insane, he's been fighting his entire life. So even if she decided to outright attack him on sight, he liked his odds here. "I am not frightened," he replied, letting confidence fill his voice.

Though even as he said that he realized that the statement was much less true than it would usually be coming out of his lips. He doesn't scare easily at all, but abruptly being snatched away to an unknown place at an unknown time, facing Natalya of all nations being in this kind of state... well, this was a bit much. In fact, he abruptly remembered the recent discovery that death takes you right back to where you should be in time. He may be curious about other times and places, but this isn't exactly a tourist destination so perhaps he should just leave. However, just as that thought occurred to him, he realized that he didn't have his gun on him - those are frowned upon at meetings so he didn't have it on him. So leaving this place without getting his hands at least a little bit dirty wouldn't be a quick and simple matter.

He let out a sigh and set aside the files he'd been carrying. "I vill stop her," he stated, stepping toward the door and pausing for just a moment to see if the nurse objected or if she seemed to think that was what he should do as well. If he saw no indication otherwise, he would open the door. He wasn't sure what to expect, so he tried to be prepared for anything. That meant being prepared to dodge, deflect, or talk, depending on how she reacted to the sight of him. If she tried to attack him and was close to the door he would immediately move to restrain her. Otherwise his goal was to simply enter the room without getting either himself or the nurse hurt.

[Belarus - Natalya Arlovskaya]

The nursed nodded; there was little procedure for times like these except to keep her mostly safe and from hurting anyone.  Perhaps seeing a familiar face would help her, god knew little else short of sedation had.  It seemed like it only got worse the more invasive they got.

When Ludwig entered the room, Natalya stood in the center, wearing a thin collared shirt and a knee length skirt.  Her hair was cut to her chin and her arms were covered in bandages, one of which had fallen to reveal what looked like an old burn scar.  At her feet was the remnants of what was perhaps a bedside table, smashed into small pieces.  There was a large cut on one of her bare feet from what looked like a nail or perhaps one of the wood pieces.

Her eyes grew wide as she saw Ludwig, although not with any recognition.  She walked over to him quickly and grabbed onto his suit jacket.  "Please!  Sir!  Get me out of here!"  She had to leave, had to go somewhere, anywhere, somewhere where people didn't know her and she wasn't one of them.  She couldn't stand it anymore.  With desperation in her eyes, she pleaded, "It's too much!  I can't take it!"

Seeing the look on his face, she swallowed thickly and tried to speak clearly, "They took me from my home, and they made me into a trophy piece.  Something to be tossed around without any thought!  I thought they were kind, but they weren't, they all just wanted to show how powerful they were!  That's all I am, I'm a doll like they said!" she wiped tears away from her eyes.  "I can't live like this anymore, I can't stand having my words and my music and my pride stolen from me!  Not by Felek, not by Vanya, not by any western European power!"

The look on her face turned even more desperate as she buried her face in his jacket.  "Won't you help me?"

[Germany - Ludwig Beilschmidt]

Ludwig quickly glanced at the contents of the room, though he only noted what was there and where it was located. After noting that he let his full attention go instead to Natalya. He was slightly alarmed when she immediately approached him, but he saw no intent to harm in her movements so he didn't try to keep her away.

Though that didn't mean that he liked the way she grabbed him - in fact his expression was just slightly alarmed, though he forced himself to remain calm. "Of course, I vill do everything I can," he replied instantly, surprised by the amount of sincerity in his own voice. What can he do? Literally nothing - this was the past and anything he did here would be erased from everything but his own memory the moment he left.

But just because this was but a shadow of the past didn't mean that her words had no effect on him. In fact, they were quite the opposite - though his expression remained steady, he blinked as he processed what she was saying. Was she talking about him? It certainly sounded like she could be talking about him! She didn't seem to recognize him, which was strange because this was surely a time when she would have known him, but with that being the case she could be talking about him without knowing who she was speaking to. The old guilt tugged at his mind...

After mentally floundering for a moment, he tried to focus - what did he need to do right now? He could ponder the past and future at his leisure later. What he needed at this moment was to calm her down. "My authority is limited on this, you understand," he added, trying to continue on the same vein that he'd started on, "But I vill do absolutely everything vithin my pover - you have my vord." It was not a difficult thing to say - it's what he wanted to say. He wanted it to be true - if anything about this situation was his fault then he would wish to fix it if he could.

Feeling all sorts of unpleasantness in his chest, he added, "Do you mind ansvering a few questions first?" He may not be able to actually do anything to help her, but he felt that perhaps the closest he could come would be to at least find out what he's walked into. And he certainly can't do that if he doesn't know where he is. "Do you know vhat year it is?" he asked, as that would help him out a lot in one answer. And it would hopefully seem like a trivial question - he knew it was a standard question in basic psychological tests just to see if the person had some grasp on reality. Of course, according to the nurse, Natalya was having a psychotic break, so perhaps she would have the wrong answer. Then again, it actually matters more to Ludwig what year Natalya thinks it is than whatever the actual year is in this pocket of time.

[Belarus - Natalya Arlovskaya]

Natalya wiped at her face again, trying to conceal her shock that someone would actually agree to help her; she had begged and pleaded and screamed but no one would help her.  Perhaps no one could.  "The year..." she muttered.  "It's 194-  194-" she scratched at her head for a few moments before remembering, "It's 1952!  It's been 3 years since I came here!"  That was almost as upsetting as the rest of the facts.  "Vanya said that coming to the south would help, to be away from reconstruction and in the warm weather..."

Natalya let go of his jacket and walked over to sit on the bed, paying no attention the debris, knees pressed to her chest like a child.  "I can't take this anymore..." she repeated it over and over to herself before glancing back up at him.  "Sir, you don't understand," she mumbled, "I'm going to live!  No matter what I do, I can't leave here!  If it takes a hundreds years, I will still be here!"  She had tried to die, that's how this whole thing had started, how Vanya had found out she was unwell.  He had looked at her with those eyes that were so sad, those eyes she couldn't resist caring for, and said, 'Natya, I'll make you feel better'.  She should have never trusted him, for those were the same eyes that had greeted her when he said, 'Natya, let's go home'.

"You're one of Vanya's friends, right?" the blood from her foot was soaking into the sheets.  "You must tell him that I have to be cut into small pieces and buried in multiple places, or else I shall never know peace.  They will fight over my lands like starving dogs."  She stood again, pacing before walking up to Ludwig again and peeling the bandages from her arms to reveal large swathes of what looked like fresh burn scars, already several years old.  "Look!  Vanya fought for me and then burnt me so that the others could not have me!"

"There is nothing sacred to them!"

[Germany - Ludwig Beilschmidt]

As Natalya began to guess a year in the 1940s, Ludwig felt his heart twist sharply. And he didn't realize that he'd been subconsciously holding his breath until she not only finished her guess but amended it to place it in the early '50s instead, prompting him to silently sigh in relief. So at least he was not here having to see things that were directly his own doing - if Natalya was still suffering so badly at this time, it was under Ivan's watch.

Not that he let himself completely off the hook - after all, it was his conflict with Ivan that turned her land into a warzone, and when he managed to steal her away from her brother for a time he'd been far from kind. Still, this was a full eight years later - if she was doing so poorly now the blame can be placed on her brother alone. And he found himself to be rather bothered by this. He'd had decades to come to terms with his own feeling of guilt for what he had done, but it struck him as even more deeply unfair that she'd had to suffer under the hands of someone else as well. Especially Ivan - he couldn't recall ever liking the Russian to begin with and learning more about things like this only made that worse.

So when asked if he's a friend of the man's, Ludwig was quick to answer, "Nein." Figuring that he should offer some form of explanation, he was quick to add, "I am a friend of your sister." Which was true in the present, or at least he'd categorize their relationship as such. It was tricky to quantify such relationships when he had to be careful about not stepping on Ivan's toes while attempting to get along as well as possible with his sisters.

"And nein, you vill not be cut up. You vill endure your brother for forty more years, but then you vill be free of him completely. You vill still remember your language and your culture - because he can force you do and say other things, but he cannot force you to forget, ja?" he added as he calmly stated facts, though he averted his gaze slightly when she peeled off the bandages. The scars they hid were no surprise to him, but he suspected that she wouldn't have shown them to him like that if she'd been in her right mind so he feels like it's better to not pay them much attention. "No one vill have you because you vill have yourself."

Having said that, he added almost as an afterthought, "And you ought to let the nurse take care of your foot. The blood loss vill not kill you, only make you feel vorse." Something he knows from a lot of personal experience. But also something that just isn't very high on his list of priorities right now. After all, even if this Natalya of the past were to die, it wouldn't effect the one of the present. So it would only really be a problem if it ended up cutting this conversation short.

[Belarus - Natalya Arlovskaya]

Natalya stared up at him, as if all the air had been let out of her.  His words were comforting, if not inexplicable.  How could he know what the future held for her, especially if she would be on her own so shortly in the future.  There was a long pause as she stared at him, before asking, "Who are you?  You know Katyusha?"

She glanced down at her foot slowly, as if it was occurring to her to the first time she was injured.  Instead of calling for the nurse, she sat back down and ripped a strip of fabric from her skirt before wrapping it around the cut tightly.  Natalya stood again before bending to collect the pieces of broken table.  "There's a song named like her now, a partisan song.  Расцветали яблони и груши..." she began to sing the song to herself softly as she picked up the broken pieces.

"Tell Katyusha that I'm in good health and that I shall return within the year."  Katyusha had been told that several times already, but at least the first part was mostly true.  "Where are you from?  East Germany?"  She made a face.  "Prussia is a smug bastard."

[Germany - Ludwig Beilschmidt]

Ludwig watched her reactions carefully, though he was careful not to stare. And it seemed that his words had the effect that he had been hoping for - to pull her out of the dark and self-defeating line of thought she had fallen into and direct her instead to a better one. And what better way to do it than to tell her the truth? Though he could have tried telling her any number of other things and she would have been just as able to verify what he said, if the fact that he knew he was speaking the truth made him sound even a little more believable then he might as well use it.

"Ja, I know her," he replied, allowing his head to dip slightly in a somewhat humble fashion as he added, "But I'm nobody important, really." He was quick to dodge that particular question simply because if she didn't recognize him already then he didn't want to help her. For all he knew it would take only a slight jog of her memory for her to realize who she was talking to and he preferred to avoid that.

If he were not in the past he would have insisted that she let the nurse take care of her foot so that it could be more properly bandaged, but as it was he didn't see the point. Though everything seemed to be going smoothly, he certainly didn't expect to remain here for long enough for it to matter - it would either end or he would end it himself. And he took it as a good sign that the next thing she did was notice the mess that she'd made and start cleaning it up. He's not a psychologist, but that seemed to be a good sign. He went over to help a bit himself, putting the smaller pieces on top of the largest so that everything could be easily picked up at once by the time he was finished.

As he did so, he nodded to her request. "I vill be sure to tell her that," he said quickly. His response to the questions that followed came a bit slower as he still wished to dodge personal questions, though even as he was deciding how to answer she mentioned her opinion of his brother. And it immediately prompted two rather different reactions. The first was a twinge of sadness because he was keenly aware that he was in 1952 and he remembered what had been going on for him back then - he'd been separated from his brother for just over a handful of years at this point, but it had been the longest separation he could remember and it would be a seemingly long time later until he would be together with him again. Even now he doesn't think he has quite gotten over it.

But the second reaction is a hit of humor. Because he knows his brother, including his many faults, and he wasn't expecting to abruptly hear them articulated here. His lips twisted in amusement, "You're right, he is." Straightening his features, he added, "But nein, not East Germany, but near there."