Miserably trying to find more August Diehl/Schöne Seelen content... (Aka more pictures of August Diehl) It's hard :( He seems so happy in that movie haha.
Summary: Léon thinks about the time he had with Hans, and how the days went.
Warning: Misgendering of the main character.
Word count : 2661
Remembering the Week
Léon is lying in bed, unable to sleep. He is thinking about Hans. Not only was he handsome but he was also proving to be a kind-hearted and soft person. The past two weeks went so well, they fell into a comfortable routine. In the morning Léon would go to the neighboring farms and bring back what he could find, and Hans would help him with tasks around the house; cooking, cleaning, killing chickens…
Their relationship was growing, and Léon didn't know what to do about that. Hans was slowly getting closer, always polite but flirty. Léon was guilty too. He wasn't as flirty as Hans but he would often linger a bit longer than necessary when changing Hans dressings; just a few days ago he started to massage Hans’ shoulders and torso to relieve him of the pressure.
This morning Léon made the mistake of meeting Hans’ gaze during the massage. Hans was staring at him with such hunger in his eyes, it left Léon torn. He didn't mind the hunger; to be honest it was reciprocated. But at the same time Léon was incredibly uncomfortable with the idea of anyone seeing his body.
Thankfully the man never made a move on Léon, so the young man could rest easy and avoid the subject for now.
He had noticed the little gestures here and there, or the lingering touches. Léon was not immune to that either.
They also built a special habit. The third day of their cohabitation, Hans came to Léon with a book. “Le fantôme de l'Opéra”
He had asked Léon to help him understand the book because it is in French.
So Leon and Hans sat together at the table, first at a reasonable distance but soon touching each other in their closeness while working on the book. Hans was proving to be a very serious student, he was quick to understand and learn. Sometimes Léon found Hans distracted, looking in his direction; the closeness didn't help. But day by day they were making progress and Hans was always wanting to learn more and more about the language. He was sometimes trying to speak in French with Léon, but more often than not, still more comfortable with English to communicate. Hans was slowly trying his newly acquired skills and any book he could find. And often he would make a point of using it to practice his French, one way or another . Like that time he read a chapter to Léon, hoping to improve his pronunciation and his understanding of the language. It had been a long evening but they laughed a lot.
One thing Leon liked particularly was that, during those lessons, he could use the cover of observing Hans’ pronunciation to watch his lips without being too obvious.
Hans was also eager to know Léon’s past and used their new found excuse to talk as the basis for learning more personally, questioning him about his childhood, a childhood spent among books and playing with his siblings. They talked about the changing of his brothers and mother when Hitler’s ideology started to rise, and their departure to join the German side of the war. Léon could vividly remember this conversation.
They were eating, the night was falling.
And suddenly Hans asked,
“Tell me, why did your mother go back to Germany? Moving from here to Germany when Hitler was on the rise is a special decision.”
Léon felt cornered but at the same time Hans seemed sympathetic.
“Not that weird when you share his opinions… My mother was raised in Germany and she met my father before the 14-18 war. She always regretted not going back for the war effort, she was badly treated as a German in Belgium and she felt really lonely, especially since our father was away fighting. She maybe felt that it would be an occasion to punish Belgium for her past treatment. My Father resents her for that.”
Hans looked sorry.
“And what about your brothers, why did she take them, too?”
“She saw in them the perfect little soldiers for Germany. By now I wouldn't be surprised if they are fighting for Hitler… perhaps they are SS now. She wanted us to be extraordinary and thankfully, I didn't make the cut. And my sister preferred my father.”
Hans looks at Leon with a very intense look.
“I'm so sorry for you, I can't imagine how it was to be separated in such a way.”
“It was hard. We used to be so close… but after the war it changed. My mother started to tell them in secret how great Germany was and how legitimate the war was. They started to prefer Germany and asked to be referred to as their German names… Johannes and Friederich Müller…I never could do it. They weren't my brothers anymore after that… they started to be less empathetic, and harsher. Frédérique kept being nice to us, he just wanted my mother’s approval. He knew all my secrets and never turned his back on me or judged me for any of them, I could bear Jean’s departure but Frédérique’s was more complicated, sure he was a prefect asshole who followed the doctrine for everyone else but the family, yet he never changed how he saw my sister or me. And after all they did, I still miss them now…”
At the name of the brothers Hans raised an eyebrow. Feeling Léon’s sadness he put his hand on Léon’s hand.
“I can imagine, it must have been so hard. Do you speak German then?”
“Yes, it was hard. Seeing them becoming strangers to us. There was a lot of tension at home then… and yes I do speak German, our mother only spoke German to us. And we used to go to Germany quite often…”
Hans smiles.
“What a polyglot, French, German, English you could be really useful in this war !!”
Léon seemed embarrassed.
“I know… I would love to fuck over those pigs but I prefer to keep a low profile. It's less risky.”
“I understand, SS are ruthless, they would break you if they found you spying on them… I'm afraid I told you everything special about my own family. I hope I can find them again once everything is over.”
Léon said nothing but was looking intensely at Hans’ hand on his own.
But also Leon had doubts; a farmer who could speak French and English ? Sure Hans seemed to struggle more with French as he quickly asked to switch to English. But it was still odd to Léon, so he asked about it.
“Talking about languages, I’m curious… As a farmer, how is your English so good? And your French seems pretty decent, even if it's lacking.”
Hans smiled as if he knew that question would come up.
“As I said the day we met, I always wanted to leave the farm. My parents didn’t want me to do any farm work before I was a teenager, so I went to school. Then, I wanted to become more than a mere farmer, I wanted to see the world. My teacher noticed it, he gave me books and cultivated this desire to see the world, either through what I could read or conversation. Also he was adamant I knew English to travel. He taught me the basics and I would practice with travelers passing through our village. We had a little place near Salzburg, a little cottage on my uncle’s land. He had inherited our grandpa’s farm that was very successful and kept housing available so we could come visit anytime. I was sent there every summer as a boy and there I met a girl whose parents were British. Her German wasn’t good yet, and I wanted to show off my English so we struck a deal. She would help me with my English during the summer and I would help her with her German. Of course, each year she needed less and less my help but we still spent our summer together. Unfortunately, when I became a teenager, I had to work on the farm and her parents moved again. So, eventually we lost contact… but since then I never stopped studying.”
This answer made sense to Léon, who then became curious about Hans' own childhood.
“And you mentioned you were five siblings, and that you were the youngest. How was it ?”
Hans face darkened a bit.
“Yes, we were five when I was young. My parents had six kids but it’s only 4 of us now I think.“
Léon felt pained by what Hans said. He couldn’t imagine the pain of losing siblings.
Hans continued,
“One died before I was born, in a freak accident, working in the field. My parents never wanted to talk about it, but I guess that’s why they never wanted me to help in the field. I was a weak child. They were hoping I would take the business part of the farm only, until my oldest brothers went to war. Then I lost my oldest brother, Christoph, and the one who came back, August, never was the same after that, so my father decided that I would inherit the farm. My oldest sister was already married and my second was about to get married, too. Even if they stayed in the village with their husbands, my father wanted me to continue the work at the farm. Unfortunately I was enrolled in Hitler’s little army two years ago and that’s where I learned French.”
Seeing Hans' face closing off, Léon preferred not to dwell on the subject and moved to literature, a passion they had in common.
Something else comes to Léon's mind as he replays the various memories:
One afternoon Leon was laying in the grass looking at the clouds. One of the rare days of sun since they had met. He was alone at first, then he was joined by Hans, who sat next to him.
“Enjoying the sun, are you ?”
“Yes, it's so rare around here. You have to enjoy it when it passes by. I guess you are used to that, right?”
“I'm not… I mean, it's been awhile since I have done it. It was pretty busy at the farm and at the military school.”
“I can imagine, I haven't had the occasion to do it a lot since I was a child, either.”
“I don't watch you! I just like to watch my surroundings and you are often part of them. It's nothing personal.”
Hans moved to be in Léon’s view, staring at him.
“Really nothing to do with me?”
“Come on, you are the only human being around ! Of course I watch you once in a while. I have no one else to watch.”
Hans shook his head.
“You are also the only one around and I don't stare at you like that either.”
Léon scoffed.
“But you do stare at me ! All the time. That's why I started staring at you, I thought you were scheming something,” Lied Léon.
He had noticed Hans looking at him rather quickly, but he never thought he was scheming something.
Hans held his arms up and surrendered.
“You win, you win.”
Then he lies next to Léon to watch the sky.
After a short silence Hans asks him.
“What do you want to do? When this is over.”
“The war ? I went to live in England. Perhaps work with animals. Something a bit manual to be honest. I love working with my hands.”
“Really ? It's not very ladylike.”
“I am not very ladylike.”
“That's true, but I thought you would have more refined dreams…”
“I don't, I'm good with my hands and hard work doesn't scare me. Also, I want to be useful and I think I should be helping with my strength.”
“But you are such a cultivated and intelligent lady. You could be a teacher or a scholar.”
“I'm not sure if I can teach much, and I don't have money for an education.”
“I understand but you should explore that. I'm sure you would be great at it ! And you help me so much with my French !!”
“Perhaps. And you ? What will you do when the war is over?”
“I guess I will find a farm and work there, keeping a low profile. Perhaps you could come with me if you really want to work on a farm. Why would England be better than Switzerland?”
“It's tempting but I would have to think about it. I was told to never blindly follow strangers.”
“It's a good policy but by then I will be your… friend…? And you can trust a friend !”
“Still it's something to consider …”
Leon gets up.
“I think I will go have a drink, I'm thirsty.”
Hans felt it wasn't just about the drink but that Léon wanted some peace too.
And Léon left to get some space.
As he falls asleep, Leon reaches for one last memory.
An evening spent stargazing, as if the war didn't exist. Two souls lost in the ocean of life. Léon opened up about his life before leaving home,
“In the summer, we would get out and see the stars. There was a tree we would climb on to see them. It felt like an adventure! Frédéric wanted to study the stars… that didn't please our mother… it wasn't great enough for her. Poor Fred, I hope one day he will be able to do it.”
In the dark Hans nodded.
“We used to do that, too. Then I was sent to war and it never was the same anymore.”
Léon felt sad for his companion in misfortune.
“ I'm sorry. I hope you will find the pleasure of stargazing again.”
Hans chuckled.
“I’m actually enjoying it tonight. How could I not, with such company!”
Léon smiled shyly but said nothing.
Hans filled the void,
“I have noticed that you rarely mention your brother by their German names and said you never could. Why do you avoid those names?”
Léon sighed,
“Because I kind of lost my brothers when they adopted those names. They didn't really ask for that change, they were just trying to be my mother’s golden children. And that, of course, was through being Hitler's little soldiers. So I prefer not to mention them like that.”
“I understand. Do you think they will ever go back to their old selves?”
“I don't think Jean can, he loved the Nazi’s ideas too much… Although Frédérique was more there to please our mother than for the ideas… but I don’t know that he will ever go back to the sweet boy he used to be. At least not as long as my mother is in his life. But I still hope Frédérique can get out of this whole mess.“
“Yeah, that seems about right. There are a lot of people who love power, following Hitler to get their share. I find it stupid. But from where I was standing, I couldn't say; power would never be close enough to tempt me.”
“I guess it's something then. Be proud you never tried to seize it, you could have tried to get closer to it and you didn't. That's great. Anyway, I'm going to sleep, it's getting late.”
As Léon stood to leave. Hans put a hand on Léon’s shoulder.
“I hope you sleep well, and see you tomorrow.”
Then there was a pause, but Hans still held Léon’s shoulder.
He continued,
“And if you need anything. Don't hesitate to come find me”
“Thank you very much, good night and see you tomorrow.”
Hans let Léon go and went back to stargazing. While Léon wondered if he was sincere in his invitation. Léon would never know as he never dared to take it.
Summary: Léon and Hans spend their first day together.
Warning: Misgendering of the main character. Death of a chicken.
A.N : I realize I used the summery and warning of this chapter for the last one sorry. this is the good one this time.
Word count : 3042
First Day Together
Léon is up early. Staying in bed seems pointless. He gets up and binds his chest before leaving the room as quietly as possible. Hans is still hopefully asleep. He slips out of the house and goes to sit on a bench placed next to the door. The morning air is chilly but it helps wake him up. . He thinks about the situation, he was supposed to leave for another place to hide, but now his goal has changed; he doesn't want to leave until Hans feels better. It's silly, being worried for an older man, but Léon can't help it. He tries to reassure himself, he would have done it for anyone. The fact that the man is attractive and friendly has nothing to do with his change of plan. He knows there are a few farms around that are empty, too. Perhaps he can find some food there? There are some livestock left in some of them, perhaps he can use them for food; after all, no one is there to take care of them anymore. Léon stretches and goes back inside to take his bags, he already has his handgun on him and some bullets, it never leaves his side. He decides to leave a note for Hans.
“I went to get some food and supplies. I’ll be back as fast as I can”
Once he is sure everything is ready for the trip he gets on his bicycle and leaves for a farm he had seen earlier in the week.
Fifteen minutes later he arrives in the farm's courtyard. The sound of him approaching startles a chicken that runs inside the barn. The place seems relatively empty, a few animals have been left to fend themselves on their own. Léon lays his bicycle against a wall and enters the farm itself; it's quite similar to the one he stays at. Like “his” farm, this one has a tall, narrow stone house with tall skinny windows. The grass is already quite tall, it must have been a while since someone was here, tending the place. Beside the barn is a rusty tractor, Leon can’t help but consider seeing if it will start… bicycling everywhere certainly takes its toll. Despite the fact that the place seems long empty, Leon feels that familiar feeling in his gut as he slowly walks toward the door of the house. The door is closed but not locked. Leon pushes it open with a creak. Inside, it’s a familiar sight: a plain kitchen area with a few random jars sitting on open shelves. A large planked table stands in the middle with the chairs pushed away; one is turned over on its side. Leon takes a quick look around to reassure himself that he is indeed alone. Leon is immediately drawn to the homemade canned goods. It’s all things that are luxuries now, vegetables of all sorts. Clearly no one had been here yet. He gathers the jars and sets them on the table. Next he sets out to find any sort of disinfectant for Hans’ wounds. As if someone had left it to be found, Leon finds a jar of mercurochrome in a cabinet. There are also a few candles there; he sets his treasures with the food on the table.
After another sweep around the house, Leon thinks that it might be worth another visit so his load isn’t too heavy; you never know what or who might be along the road. Leon hears a bit of clattering outside, he is immediately tense. He steps silently to a dusty window and looks into the courtyard. As if it were doing the same, a chicken peeks its head just beyond the barn door. Leon is audibly relieved. With a chuckle, he decides that he’s going to catch that bird. He’s rather fleet of foot so he decides to creep slowly towards the chicken and suddenly lunges toward it. The bird darts out from the barn and a chase ensues. Around and around they go, with the chicken even chasing Leon for a moment. At last though, Leon doubles back and catches the chicken, surprising them both! Carrying the now flapping and clucking fowl, Leon looks around desperately for a container. Voila, he finds a cage just for the purpose near the side of the house. He stuffs the bird inside and flops down next to it to catch his breath. Time to transport all the goods home at last.
When Léon returns to the farm, he sees Hans outside waiting on the bench, wearing the shirt he washed the day before. Hans waves at the young man.
Léon stops near Hans, unties the cage with the chicken and gives it to Hans.
“Here, hold Dinner for me”
Hans seems surprised.
“Oh how unexpected ! ! Where did you find that?”
“In a farm nearby. It's us or the foxes… and I love wildlife but I want to eat, too”
Hans smiles wildly.
“What a catch… young, pretty, resourceful and with such wit… you are full of surprises Léonnie.”
Léon smiles awkwardly, he is clearly uncomfortable but he doesn't want to show it too much.
He focuses on his bags and recounts his adventures at the neighboring farm to Hans before bringing the bags inside.
“I'll take care of that and then I will have a look at your wounds. How are they, by the way?”
“Thanks, I will help you. And it's going well enough but I'm sure it will feel better once you have taken care of it.”
They unload the “groceries” and then Léon takes care of Hans
Léon heads upstairs to find more pieces of clothing he could use for makeshift bandages. He could use his own bandages, the ones he binds with but, deep down, he doesn't want to share such a precious resource with a stranger. After some digging he finally finds a thick shirt that is missing most of its buttons. Hurrying downstairs, he finds Hans already boiling some water to sanitize the strips of clothing. Léon feels a bit embarrassed Hans that beat him to it.
“You didn't have to do that ! I was on my way!”
“It’s no problem, my darling. It’s the least I could do”
Once he reaches the kitchen, Léon starts to tear the shirt into strips and lets them simmer in the boiling water.
“So you learned all that from your sister?”
“Yes, she taught me as much as she could before she had to leave for Bastogne. She is working at the military hospital.”
“Tell me more about her.”
Léon watches the strips rolling in the water while Hans removes his shirt.
“Well, what to say about her. Her name is Anne. She is my little sister, she is around 21 by now… We were always close, she stayed with my father when my mother left with my older brothers. She wanted to be able to take care of him, he was never healthy after the last war. When I left the house we kept in touch. In secret. She understood me more than most people. Now she is working for those pigs. She is too kind for her own good. She says they are ‘human too’ and that most of them aren't that bad. As if it were possible…” Léon pauses in thought about his sister.
“Anyway, she was a ray of sunshine, always wanting to see the good in everyone and everything. She didn't judge me when I left. She still thinks there is hope for our family, she says they are ‘misguided.’ I’m not sure I agree. Or at least not for all of them…”
“You left your family?”
“Yes… it was two years ago, I was 25. I don't want to talk about it.”
Léon feels Hans’ gaze on him and removes the pot from the fire. He takes it to the table in the center of the room and sets it down, using a long wooden spoon to fish the fabric from the boiling hot water. He hangs them from the back of a kitchen chair.
“Those will need a moment to dry, let's get your dressings off and see what’s there today.”
Hans leans back in his seat a bit, seeming to give access to his chest. It’s clear even at a distance that the bandages are badly in need of a change. .
“Good news for you,” Léon says, “I managed to find some disinfectant in the neighbors’ farm. It’s not going to be pleasant but it will speed this along.”
Léon unwraps the dressings and it’s clear the gunshots are healing slowly and need a thorough cleaning.
“I’m going to use some of this cloth to scrub these out. That’s not going to be pleasant either.”
Hans nods silently, bracing himself for the incoming “treatment.”
Léon goes to his cache of goods from the other farm, rummaging until he produces a glass bottle filled with disinfectant. . He takes a strip of cloth and thoroughly dabs it, a bit of the brownish liquid runs down his arm. He cups his hand under the cloth and approaches Hans.
“This is going to sting.”
He quickly begins his work, earning a sharp inhale from his patient.
“Be patient.”
“You know, I’m not a very good patient. When I was still a boy, I had scarlet fever. My mother was beside herself, it’s so contagious and there were five of us kids. I was to stay in my room away from the others. But being a rather mischievous boy, I used the tree just beyond my bedroom window to climb out. She never once saw me but she figured it out when everyone was suddenly sick. Including the girl down the road. It was her mother I believe that gave me away.”
Léon chuckles a bit, looking up at Hans from his crouched position on the floor.
“I think it might have been worse had you shot her.”
Hans chuckles, too, feeling a bit of the tension release between the two.
“I was the youngest, my parents always treated me as if I was made of porcelain. It wasn’t until I was a teenager that I was allowed to help on the farm.”
Léon nods as he works.
“I had the opposite experience. My brothers were always into trouble and my sister was the baby. I was mostly left to my own devices as a child.”
“What did you do all on your own?”
“I read. My mother wasn’t much of a mother but she did care if her children were educated. Any book we wanted, she made sure we had it. It’s how I learned English.”
“My, my, you must have been an exceptional chi…” His sentence is cut off by a particularly sharp pain from his chest.
“Sorry about that, this last one is a bit infected I’m afraid.” He takes more disinfectant to better clean the wound.
“No worries. I’m very grateful you found time to become such a good nurse in your childhood studies.”
“I mostly learned from my sister. But our mother wanted us to study medicine. She wanted her daughters to be nurses.”
“Why didn’t you?”
Before he realizes what he’s saying, Léon starts,
“Well, it’s just that you don’t often find a b…” He cuts himself short. A moment passes while he struggles to find what to say next.
Hans looks down at Léon.
“You don’t often find what?”
“Uh, you don’t often find patients who stay quiet when you’re trying to heal their gunshot wounds. Sit still.”
Hans makes a bit of a confused face but he does as he’s told, sitting upright and very still.
With everything clean, Léon goes about making his bandages. It’s a much quicker process now that he’s done it a few times. Hans also seems to be acclimated to the arrangement, raising his arms to give Léon access around him to tie the long bandage in a knot. Increasingly, despite the efficiency, the two seem to linger in their close moments together; Léon thinking at his hesitant affection toward Hans, who seems to quickly warm up to him.
“There. Sorry I don’t have any treats for you, next time.”
Hans chuckles a bit as he watches Léon gather his things, taking the pot and the disinfectant to the other side of the kitchen, next to the sink.
Hans suddenly remembers they are now three in the house.
“Ah, what about our new resident, la petite poule?”
Léon turns around and looks toward the open front door.
“Well she’s named Dinner now. So, farmer boy, surely you know what to do. I think I saw an axe by the barn yesterday.”
Hans swallows, a bit uncomfortable.
“What, are you afraid to do the deed?”
“No, no… I’m… just a bit worried I won’t be able to do it cleanly with my freshly debrided wounds here.”
Léon narrows his eyes at Hans, feeling a bit surprised at his reservations.
“Well, I’ve never done it. Perhaps you can talk me through it. The only one I want wounded here is that chicken.”
“There isn’t much to talk about, you use your axe and think of Marie Antoinette.”
Léon lets out a chuckle that’s a mix of genuine amusement and genuine nerves.
“I suppose there’s no time like the present.”
Léon slowly walks toward the door, looking towards Hans hoping for some encouragement. Hans gestures toward the door with a look of “you-can-do-it” approval.
Outside the chicken quietly sits in its cage. Léon surveys his options. A large round stump a few paces away seems to have been used for this purpose before, the top of it sliced with several blade marks. He grabs the cage and sets it next to the stump before making his way to take the axe from the shed. On his way back, he sees Hans in the doorway shielding his eyes from the sun. Léon approaches him with the axe and offers it upward to him.
“Do you think this will do?”
Hans takes the axe, looking it over knowingly.
“It doesn’t look very sharp. Did you see a stone for it over there?”
Léon looks a bit confused.
“It’ll be a small grey block, haven’t you ever sharpened a blade?”
“Oh, all the time, there wasn’t a moment I wasn’t working on my swords…”
Léon rolls his eyes and walks back toward the barn. In the shed, he looks all around and on a shelf above the work bench outside he sees the exact item.
“How did you know?” Léon shouts across the yard as he returns to the house.
“Just an intuition.”
Léon stands silently for a moment looking down at the whetstone in his hands and at the axe, trying to connect the dots for the next thing to do.
“Would you like me to do it, dear?”
“Since you haven’t done anything for this little operation, I do think it would be nice.”
Hans smiles and takes the stone with him into the house. He sits at the table and perches the blade on his knee. He takes a bit of water from the jug on the table and wets the stone. Slowly, he grazes the blade to make it sharp again. Léon is standing by, watching intently.
“I don’t suppose a nurse has much need for an axe.”
“I wouldn’t know, you’d have to ask my sister.”
“When was the last time you saw your sister?”
“I couldn’t say, it’s been quite some time. I send her letters occasionally but I never have an address for her to reply to.”
“What do you tell her?”
“Mostly not to worry. I’m doing well and someday she won’t be caring for these animal invaders.”
Hans turns the axe over and begins sharpening the other side of the blade.
“I do miss my family from time to time. I’m not sure where they are today. At least you can write to your sister even if she can’t write back. I’m sure any letters sent to my home would be in the hands of whatever officer lives there now.”
Again Léon finds himself feeling a bit of sympathy for Hans, even if he is an older man he still has the sentiment of a vulnerable orphan. Sitting and quietly working on that blade, Hans seems quietly very sad and nostalgic. Léon’s gaze toward him is broken suddenly when Hans looks up with a smile, holding the axe out for Léon to take.
“There! Like new again. Certainly ready for our dinner in a cage.”
Léon takes the axe and inspects the blade, nodding in agreement. Léon turns toward the door and anxiously walks outside. Hans follows him. Looking down at the bird, Léon takes a deep breath and sets the axe beside the stump. He lifts the cage up to him to make eye contact with the bird.
“No hard feelings, eh?”
He opens the little door and grabs the bird.
“I’ve got it, what do I do now?”
“Lay her on her side and hold her down so her wings won’t flap.”
Léon does as he’s told and the chicken seems to be cooperative.
“Take your other hand and grab the axe. Hold it up near the head so you don’t have to swing it too far.”
Léon takes the axe in hand and takes another deep breath.
“Mind your other hand and let ‘er have it.”
Léon winds up and strikes the chicken with remarkable precision for a first attempt at killing dinner. The head of the chicken is now separate and Léon feels a bit of relief that the whole ordeal is over. Hans walks into the house for a moment and returns with a ball of twine.
“Here, we will need to hang that bird up and let it drain for a bit.”
He takes the hen and ties a loop around its leg and ties the other end of the string around a nail near the front door of the house.
“Congratulations my dear, you have officially become a farmer.”
Léon sighs and looks over at the bird hanging still against the house.
“I never want to do that again. You better be healed before we’re hungry again.
A.N : Sorry for the length of this chapter. I hope you will like it.
Word count : 3258
The Story Begins.
When Léon finally gets back to the farm, he finds Hans asleep in the bed situated in the living room. Léon puts the bags on the table and silently heads upstairs, where he settled earlier that week, a simple room with some toys left behind and two plain beds, likely a room for kids. There he has a look at his belongings. Everything seems in order but he can’t help but feel uneasy at the idea of Hans looking into his things. Quickly he hides some documents under the mattress along with his sister’s letters.
The bandages around his chest are hurting him, so he decides to close the door to rearrange them. His chest isn’t the biggest, his sister’s was what some would call more gifted in this area, but it bothered him still. Knowing that a stranger was now living in his surroundings was unnerving. The stranger was attractive and polite for sure, but won’t he bring trouble? Won’t the Nazis come for him? After all, Hans is a deserter. Is Hans lying? Léon wants to believe he was being truthful in their first meeting, but what if? Léon wasn’t going to execute an innocent man just in case that man might be a Nazi. It isn’t his place to take such drastic measures.
Léon sighs heavily while sitting on the bed. He should have left the man where he was; a German, even a well mannered one, couldn't be trusted in these times. But deep down this lifestyle was starting to get lonely, so perhaps some company wouldn’t hurt. Plus, what could the man do? Even if Hans is a Nazi, has no possessions on him; he is hurt and needs care. He is at Léon’s mercy and Léon could end his life at any given point. The young man tries to reassure himself, telling himself he has the handgun and the advantage. Léon stretches and sighs a last time and goes downstairs, hoping to see the man gone. But Hans is still there, sleeping. Léon takes the opportunity to take a closer look: his traits are sharp, he must be a man in his early forties. His breathing is deep and he seems peaceful in his sleep. Léon feels a sudden urge to kneel and touch him, just to check his temperature. After all, he’s received some rather serious-looking wounds. As Léon lays his hand on Hans’ forehead, the German man opens his eyes suddenly. Startled, Léon withdraws his hand immediately. This must have amused the older man, as he smiles and looks at the younger man with a look Léon isn’t sure how to interpret.
“I was wondering if you had a fever. After all, I haven’t treated your wound correctly…”
“Oh don’t worry, how could I mind being touched by such a gentle lady?”
Léon isn’t sure how to react and clears his throat.
“Hmm, well, it’s getting late. Perhaps we could eat, you must be hungry after all that.”
“I could do with some food, that’s right.”
Léon gets up quickly and starts gathering the little food he has, and adds some of the food he found among Hans’ bags. Tonight the dinner is composed of: stale bread, some eggs, smoked sausages that were way too expensive, and some cheese on the side.
Hans watches his every move, as if to check that everything is up to his standard. What could be the standards of a deserter Léon asks himself. Once he is finished with the preparation he hands the bigger portion to Hans.
“Eat that, I will try to get something better tomorrow.”
“Thanks, If you cook as good as you look it must be delicious!”
“Well, you will see, I guess.”
As they eat, Hans seems compelled to break the silence that is hovering above them.
“So you have a sister, don't you?’
“Yes, she is currently in Bastogne”
“Oh, where? I heard there are some SS there.”
“In a hospital. And yes there are… the bastards.”
“I take that you don’t like them very much, either.”
“No, I hate them and everything they represent.”
“That’s fair… I’m not a fan of them myself.”
Léon, unsure of what to add next, doesn’t really say anything else. They eat in a silence heavy with questions.
After an extended pause in the conversation, Hans looks up from his plate and sees Léon quietly staring at his own plate.
“You know, it wasn’t my first idea.”
Léon looks up from his plate, a bit confused.
“What wasn’t your idea?”
“This little adventure I’m taking in your country. My father wanted me to stay on our farm, he raised cows there. But I didn’t particularly like the thought. I hated the smell. It always smelled there.”
Léon looks a bit surprised.
“I was born in Austria and we had a place not far from Salzburg. We would go there when I was small for little trips. We didn’t have a lot of money, but I certainly liked seeing the sites and wishing I could be there.”
Léon looks off to the side and then back at Hans.
“We lived in the country, I rather liked it. My father was wounded in the Great War and he couldn’t tolerate the noise and the pace of living in a city. My mother hated being in the country.”
“My mother was always most content in the city but she was happy to have a home.”
Léon looks a bit indignant.
“Mine left. I was 21, and one day she told us that she was going back to Germany. She told us she would be ‘much more important’ there.”
Hans lowers his head a bit, expressing a quiet understanding. Léon shrugs and returns to his food.
Silence falls again. After several moments, Léon mutters into his plate,
“She took my brothers.”
“How many brothers do you have?”
“I had two of them. Frederique and Jean. They were close in age, always together. For a time, they were my favorite people. …But my mother changed them.”
“She changed them?”
Léon looks up, almost annoyed by the question.
“Just what I say, she turned them into people I didn’t know. And then they were gone. There’s nothing else to say about that.”
Hans nods and seems to be content with the information.
“We were changed, too, you know.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re not the only one to lose their family to our German neighbors.”
Léon goes to question the meaning but suddenly knows what Hans is saying,
“The anschluss you mean?”
“That’s right. It was like a windy night: calm and then a sudden rush that sweeps everything away. I was younger, healthy, and strong. It didn’t take long before I was noticed and taken from the farm. I always wanted to leave, but I didn’t picture it happening like that.”
Léon shows a bit of sadness in his face, no longer half-listening, half-eating.
“So you didn’t choose to become a soldier?”
“No. No, Léonie, they came and they chose me. That was years ago and I haven’t seen my family since. You know, I enjoy the smell of the country now because it smells like home. I wish I had understood that before it all changed.”
Léon is a bit lost for words. Maybe there is some truth in the notion that this wounded man really is just an innocent bystander in the conflict. Though, how much can be judged from one conversation hours after meeting; it is certainly a convenient story for the circumstances.
However, there are more pressing matters at hand. Here is a wounded man, food has quickly become scarce, and night is fast approaching. With the fading daylight, Léon is increasingly aware of his precarious situation; this isn’t his farm and the enemy is sitting across the table slowly eating stale bread and cheese. It’s more than a moment that he considers leaving quietly as soon as his surprise guest is asleep. Despite being somewhat fit and his masculine attire, Léon is ultimately aware that Hans views him as a woman. Léon wonders if this charming persona is really a front for a much more dangerous man who might take what he wants, when he wants. The thought is nearly overwhelming. Suddenly, it seems the inside is as dangerous as the outside. Then, a very practical consideration comes to mind.
“It’s soon to be dark and the lamps in this house are nearly empty. We need to find more fuel.”
Hans looks up and surveys the room.
“Let’s see what we have at our disposal here. Have you checked the barn?”
“I haven’t been in the barn yet. The door has been open since I arrived. I didn't want to get too friendly with the place until I was certain it was safe.”
“Have you seen anyone around? Aside from me, that is.”
“No, not a soul. If it wasn’t wartime with the Germans knocking on the door, it would be a very nice place to live.”
Hans smiles and slowly stands from the table, letting out a bit of a pained sigh as he hoists himself to his feet. Léon starts up to help him.
“Don’t worry for me, I am okay. I must remember to move slowly, like a man who has been shot.”
Léon continues to stand, walking to the kitchen pantry where the small quantity of lamp oil sits in a greasy metal can.
“This can has enough for perhaps one full lamp. I don’t see any more around.”
“One thing we certainly learned on the farm is to make do with what we have. Don’t fear, Léonie, I will keep your pretty face well-lit.”
Internally, Léon rolls his eyes but also is slightly amused at the corny sentiment.
“Come on, let’s go explore this barn.”
Léon feels a twinge of nerves.
Hans vainly tries to put his shirt on, he can’t lift his arms to pull it over, nor bend over to reach the collar of the old, dirty undershirt.
“Wait, I believe I saw an old nightshirt with buttons upstairs.”
Léon quickly climbs the creaky steps. Among a small number of clothes left behind is a blue and white striped nightshirt with two or three buttons missing.
“Here, this will keep you from having to stretch.”
Léon holds the shirt behind Hans, reaching each sleeve towards his arms.
“See, you’re a resourceful young lady, we will surely find everything else we need here.”
Outside, the last of the year’s crickets are slowly chirping in the cool evening and the grass is wet with dew. The barn is only a few paces from the house but it somehow seems endlessly far away.
The two approach the open barn door on the front but find it piled up with equipment just inside. They’re forced to walk around the side. At the sight of the side entrance of the barn, it’s clear that no one has been in here for some time. Tall grass has grown right up to the door, making it difficult to reach the latch. Léon tries stamping down the grass but Hans leans past him, brushing him gently, and grabs the latch. With a bit of effort, the door creaks open into a dark, largely empty space. Hans surmises,
“It’s clear that no one has been farming here for quite some time.”
“Maybe they knew it was time to get moving, I wish I had.”
Hans looks back at Léon and then back towards a workspace on the far side of the room.
“Perhaps over here we will find what we seek.”
Léon decides to remain on his own.
“I’m going to see if I can find some more firewood, it’s already rather chilly and I’m down to two small logs.”
Léon steps back out of the barn to search a covered area just beyond the door. There are various rusty farming implements shrouded in cobwebs. A rusted saw-blade sticks up from a table saw, a promising sign that perhaps wood is nearby. Much to Léon’s relief, a large stack of dry-looking wood is piled alongside. He reaches down and begins to assemble a stack in his arms when a large spider begins crawling up his bare hand. Startled, he tosses the wood he’s gathered which knocks over several metal tools, making quite a rattling thud when it all settles on the ground. Hans quickly appears after hearing the commotion,
“Are you alright, my dear?”
Léon is still shaking himself like a wet dog, still crawling with the feeling of the spider’s presence.
“Yes, I’m quite alright. I hate spiders and this place is crawling with them.”
Hans smiles and brushes a bit of imaginary dust from Léon’s face.
“I rather admire them. Quiet, efficient. Undervalued. You know, sometimes we hate those who are just trying to help us in their own way.”
Léon looks rather suspiciously at him; what a strange thing to say.
“I’m not sure how crawling on someone is helpful, but I’m sure grateful to have found some wood. The only way a spider would be helpful is if he could lend me six more arms. Here, carry some wood.”
Léon bends down to pick up the dropped wood, offering each log out to Hans who slowly takes them until his arms are full. Léon also takes a load and the two walk deliberately back toward the house, trying not to drop their haphazard stacks.
Once inside, Léon walks ahead toward the large wood stove in the corner of the kitchen. He kneels down and unloads his arms into a pile on the floor. He turns to Hans who squats down to bring his load within reach. Léon grabs the logs two by two, adding to the pile. As he takes the last one, he notices a bit of blood on the front of Hans’ shirt.
“You’re bleeding. It’s time to change that dressing. I shouldn’t have made you help.”
Hans looks down at his chest, pulling the shirt outward to inspect.
“So you’re right. You were also right to ask for help, you need help here if you’re going to stay for any length of time.”
Léon points toward the table,
“Go and sit. Once I’ve made a fire, I will clean you up. I need to boil water anyway to do a better job. Did you find more lamp oil?”
Hans dutifully sits, making a bit of a show of being an attentive patient.
“No, I didn’t find any oil. I did see some tallow in a can out there, we can use that for light, but it may smell rather unpleasant.”
With a bit of effort, Léon manages to stoke the embers in the stove back into a small fire and adds some of the new wood. Before long, the stove is warm and he pumps a bit of water into a pot, setting it on the stovetop. Meanwhile he readies a few more strips of cloth and washes them in the boiling water. Back at the table, he motions for Hans to remove his shirt. He takes the stained shirt and tries to wash some of the blood from the fabric. The stains are permanent now. Léon drags a chair over to the stove and hangs the shirt on the chairback to dry. As he does this, he quietly, stealthily observes Hans. He’s got a slightly hairy chest, muscular. His shoulders are fairly broad, also quite muscular. Léon also sees the wounds which Hans is slowly uncovering, wincing at the perceived pain of each tug of the fabric.
The older man lifts his head up and meets Léon’s gaze, a smile creeps on his face as Léon looks away. Léon silently removes the strips of cloth from the pot and wrings the water out of them. When the pieces are as dry as he can have them he turns himself toward Hans who is still looking at him.
Léon clears his throat softly.
“Are you ready?”
“Sure, but rather I should ask you if you are.” replies Hans jokingly.
“Right.”
Léon takes the remaining part of the shirt he used to make the strips and dips it into the warm water and starts cleaning the wound once more. He can feel Hans’ gaze on him, it makes him uncomfortable. He tries to focus on the task ahead, telling himself that he can’t let himself be distracted by some budding attraction. The more the time passes the more Leon is aware of the man’s attractiveness. It feels so intimate, touching someone else's skin, even for a medical act. Once the wound is clean, Léon switches to the makeshift bandages. As he takes them he feels a hand on his, his skin tingles on the contact. Léon reassures himself: it’s surely because he hasn’t felt the contact of another person in so long.
“Let me help, my dear.”
“it’s better not to move your arms too much, I will handle it. Sir.”
“Please, call me Hans, and I promise you I will be careful.”
“if you insist, Hans.”
Hans smiles at hearing his name from on Léon’s lips.
Léon starts his task, while Hans secures the bandages on his chest, Léon focuses on his sides and back. He can’t help but notice how soft Hans’ skin is.
When the bandages are in place, the shirt is still wet. Léon looks apologetically at Hans.
“I’m sorry I’m afraid you will have to wait a bit before you can wear it again”
“It will be fine, I’m not too cold anyway.”
“I think there is an extra blanket upstairs, I will get it for you.”
“I assure you it’s not necessary, …”
“You will be glad to have it tonight.”
“If you think it’s best.”
Léon hurries upstairs and, in one of the bedrooms, one he assumes belongs to the parents or grandparents, he finds a chest with three blankets left. The others must have been taken when the family fled the farm. Léon takes one, not too heavy but thick enough for the evening temperature and goes back downstairs.
“It reminds me… there are a few bedrooms upstairs if you want. I took the one on the left but the others are free. Or you can stay downstairs if you prefer.”
“Oh, you are not going to watch over me while I sleep? I thought you were a dedicated nurse!” Hans chuckles.
“I’m sorry… I don’t really feel comfortable sleeping around strangers, and you seem to be well enough to sleep without being watched over.”
“That’s fair, but it was worth the try.”
Léon hands him the blanket.
“Actually, talking about sleeping, I’m going to take care of the fire.”
“It’s still quite warm enough in here. Thank you for everything, I will repay you for all of this, Léonie.”
Léon shudders at the sound of his old name. He makes sure the fire is extinguished before going upstairs.
“Good night …Hans… see you tomorrow.”
“Goodnight dear, sleep well.”
Léon doesn’t sleep that night, he spends the whole night wondering if he fears a visit from Hans or if he actually hopes for one. His hand is near his handgun nonetheless. Alone with his thoughts, he listens to the night. He listens attentively for Hans' footsteps, his heart racing at first, but then, as the night passes and no footsteps are to be heard, his heart calms down. Sleep is still eluding him. Before he has an occasion to sleep, the sun cuts through the curtains of his dusty, borrowed room.
Summary: In 1940, Léon is hiding in the Belgian Ardennes, he is trying to reach France in hope to go to England when he meets a mysterious man.
The man is hurt, and Léon decides to help him. How will that turns out? Is the man really who he pretends to be ? Will their path cross again?
Warning: Misgendering of the main character.
A.N : First chapter of a first fanfiction. Written by 2 people who never did that before. We don't support Nazis but one of us (me) have a soft spot for Christoph Waltz and August Diehl. English isn't my first language. The main Character is trans and will be misgendered often as he is in the closet and won't come out of it for obvious reason.
Word count : 2160
The meeting.
The day is grey, as it often is in the Belgian Ardennes. Léon is watching a man from a distance. The man laying on the ground struggling to crawl, wounded and stripped of most of his clothes, the few he has are bloodied.. It’s hard to guess his allegiance because of the lack of distinctive signs. As Léon withdraws himself, the ruffle of the leaves betrays him.
The man turns to him and waves.
“Bonjour?”
“Hello?”
His German accent is evident and Léon hurries back to his bicycle he left nearby.
“Attendez, revenez jeune homme. Je ne vais pas vous faire de mal ! Je suis blessé.”
“Wait, come back young man, I won’t hurt you, I’m wounded.”
“Je n'ai pas le temps pour les nazis!”
“I don’t have time for Nazis !”
“Oh Désolé jeune demoiselle, je n'ai pas l’habitude de contredire les belles dames mais c'est là que vous avez tort. Je ne ne suis pas un nazis. Je suis juste un soldat. J'ai essayé de fuir mais j'y ai presque laissé ma peau. On est du même côté !”
“Oh sorry young lady, I’m not usually contradicting fair maiden but that’s where you are wrong, I’m no nazi. I’m just a soldier. I have tried to flee but I nearly lost my skin there. We are on the same side !”
Léon feels conflicted, he isn’t sure what bothers him the most, being called a young lady, a fair maiden or being taken for a fool. A thought comes to his mind, what if he really is on the same side as Léon? The man looks unharmed and badly wounded, what would be the harm in having a look. Léon comes closer, his hand on his handgun. Or rather the one he got his hands on a few weeks ago at a hefty price. The man moves slightly to sit on the ground and raises his hands in the air to prove his harmlessness.
“Vous voyez je ne suis pas une menace!!”
“See, I’m no threat”
“Donc pas un nazi, mais un couard?”
“So not a nazi, but a coward? ”
“Malheureusement oui, que puis-je dire je déteste tuer et les allemand.”
“Alas yes, what can I say I loath killing and Germans”
“Quel excellent français pour un simple soldat.”
“What an excellent french for a simple soldier”
“Je n'étais pas assez fanatique pour aller plus haut dans les rangs, ma demoiselle. En parlant de français, je crains d'avoir atteint mes limites. Est ce que vous parlez anglais?”
“I wasn’t a fanatic enough to go further up in ranks, my young lady. Speaking of French, I’m afraid I have reached my limits. Do you speak English?”
“I do, my mother wanted me to have great English. What’s your plan now? I guess there are no places for people like you around. Last time I looked we were in occupied Belgium. And people with a German accent aren't welcomed here."
“That's very good English indeed, what an educated lady you are. And I know, that’s why I hope to make it to Switzerland… I hear they are neutral.”
“Seems like a good place to hide, indeed. What happened to you?”
Léon comes in closer to have a look. Most of the wounds have soaked through the clothes. The man’s face is bloodied, but he is nonetheless handsome. It isn’t the face you would expect of a coward: sharp, with an engaging expression and pretty dimples. Staring back the German soldier offers his hand to the young Belgian man.
”How rude of me, sorry; the name is Hans !! And what's your name, my charming lady?”
Léon rolls his eyes and sighs.
“Léonie… anyway you need care. I found a farm nearby, let me help you get in there. Shall we?”
“Léonie what a…”
Léon cuts short the comment and his counterpart seems surprised.
“Let's not waste too much time ! ”
Taking the older man on his shoulder Léon starts walking slowly, being careful not to stumble; the weight is rather heavier than expected. He leaves his bicycle behind, deciding he will get it back later.
The wounds don’t seem as serious as Léon first thought, as Hans seems to keep a decent pace.
They walk in a silence periodically broken by a grunt or a whine. It takes what feels like forever to reach the farm. Unlike some of the smaller farms in the area, this one feels substantial, more established. The house is very charming indeed. Rough stone walls rise around large windows looking out into a courtyard in front. Across the yard stands a large barn with a wooden loft setting atop the stone-walled first level. The doors were left open when Leon found the place initially. In finally approaching the front door, Leon takes hold of the squeaky doorknob and pushes the door open. He guides Hans into the kitchen and settles him on a chair.
“Stay there while I fetch you some clothes, after that we will take care of those wounds”
Léon leaves in search of clothes for Hans. One upside of wartime is that people usually leave with only what they can carry. The place was probably raided first considering the mess left behind. When Leon first discovered the farm, it was indeed chaos inside; belongings strewn around, drawers open, picture frames shattered on the floor. It’s a good thing that Leon is on the short side; the ceilings are rather low and the hewn-wood door frames are lower still. The house has a permanent scent of firewood from the stove in the kitchen and the corners have grown fuzzy and gray with cobwebs. Directly back from the kitchen is a stairwell that makes a steep climb to the second floor. The bedrooms are small but cozily lit with large windows. The afternoon sun catches the dust floating in the air. Despite the fact that this is a temporary lodging for Leon, he has tried to re-sort the mess inside. He placed dropped books back on shelves, put what linens he could find on the beds, even setting up a comfortable washstand in his bedroom. Because he has taken stock of his lodgings, Léon is able to find some clothes that look like the right size for Hans. Léon quietly comes back to the kitchen and Hans, who is already stripped of his shirt. The blood and dirt is caked in. He looks quite in shape.
Léon puts the clothes next to him and leaves again to get some water he can boil, and some soap.
Léon is uneasy; Hans is surprisingly attractive and yet a total stranger.
While the wounds aren’t very deep, they are still dirty and need dressing. Léon takes a tattered shirt he found in a basket and tears it into strips. Carefully he takes one to dip into the hot water waiting in a bowl nearby. As he slowly dabs the wounds, the pain is visible in Hans’ face. He tries not to show it but it’s there.
“Are you doing ok?”
“Yes, yes, you’re a very good nurse.”
“My sister is a nurse.”
“Why didn’t you go into it yourself?”
“I wasn't a fan of patching up people. It's ok, but I wanted something else from life.”
Hans smiles a bit through the pain.
There are three wounds across the chest, obviously a shot that didn’t hit directly but scattered.
“How did this happen?”
Again, Hans smiles,
“It turns out these Germans you speak of aren’t terribly amused when you try to leave their company.”
Léon raises an eyebrow to look up at Hans.
“You left their company?”
“I told you this before, I’m just a soldier. And, personally, I’m not necessarily tied to the German side… I'm not the biggest fan of the way it’s going.”
Léon looks at Hans suspiciously as he goes about readying his supplies. Hans takes a moment to look at Léon more closely.
“So, perhaps you’ll indulge me in a few questions to keep my mind busy?”
“A few questions?”
“Nothing too personal, but I notice you dress rather… plainly. A bit masculine perhaps for your delicate features?”
Léon looks down at himself and back at Hans. There’s a pause while he thinks about a question he hasn’t been asked since the start of the war. Léon does indeed have a nice physique; to be a small person, he is solid and trim. Perhaps the most delicate feature is his soft, smooth skin. Leon also has rather intense features with large, expressive blue eyes. He directs them back to Hans,
“Not too many clothes just laying around for people these days thanks to a certain group of visitors. Besides, I like the comfort. It’s easy to throw on a shirt and some pants.”
“But why not search for some more… flattering options?”
“Flattering?”
“You wouldn’t want people to think you’re… an antisocial woman, would you?”
“Antisocial? Am I not entertaining you to your satisfaction here?”
Léon, pretending not to understand the reference, reaches over and pulls a small table closer to him; he's now very aware of how he looks and tries to put the table between him and Hans.
“Now… it’s time to get your wounds covered up. Here. Hold this.”
Léon hands a long strip to Hans and mimics placing it across the chest. Hans looks down and stretches the fabric to cover the series of wounds. Léon grabs a long strip and leans forward to cinch it around Hans’ back. There’s a definite moment of close contact. As he leans into Hans, Léon is very aware that he’s being observed, almost critiqued. Amid the smell of dried blood and a bit of sweat, there is a faint smell of cologne.
Léon pulls the bandage around and ties the two ends together, tightly. Hans lets out a pained grunt.
“Is it too tight?”
“No, no. You’re very skilled at this.”
Léon steps back and observes his work, adjusting the strips to fully cover the wounds.
“This isn’t going to heal very nicely, you need some actual disinfectant. We will need to find that.”
“I’m sure with your care it will be much improved very soon.”
Léon is wary of the friendly tone of someone that doesn’t seem inclined to leave. He slowly walks to the door of the small living room to breathe a bit. Hans leans against the table in the center of the room, looking at Léon. Léon senses he’s being watched.
“It’s going to be dark soon, I take it you have no other place to go from here?”
“No, I am at your mercy.”
Léon, still with his back to Hans, feels a look of “of course” flash across his face. He takes a deep breath.
“I need to go get my bicycle, will you be alright here for a while? There’s not enough food for two people, I will need to find more.”
“I believe I will find a place to lay down. And I believe I may have some food with my bags.”
Without showing his reaction, Léon finds himself intrigued at an opportunity to spy a few of Hans’ belongings without the risk of being caught as a snoop.
“I will check. You should try to sleep for now. I will return as soon as I can. You can take the bed in the living room.”
Without looking back into the house, Léon descends the few steps to the yard and heads toward his bicycle and all of Hans’ belongings. A small amount of fear rests in the back of Léon’s mind. Perhaps this is a ruse to catch him unaware, a chance for some unwanted visitors. Once again, he reaches down for a reassuring reminder of the handgun by his side.
After a few moments’ walk, he sees the handlebars of his bike peeking up from the tall grass. It’s at the edge of a clearing which reminds him of how unguarded the whole situation feels. He looks around at the tree line for any movement, any sign that he’s not alone. Aside from some birds, it seems empty.
Walking quickly, Léon comes upon his bike and sees a small bundle and a closed satchel lying nearby. The bundle does indeed look to have perhaps some bread in it, maybe a bit of something tinned. The writing on the food container is German. Léon takes a moment, trying to decide if he wants to unlatch the clasp on the satchel. Hans did tell him to look for food. Maybe there’s more in the closed bag? Lifting up the bag to open it, it’s very clear that it is empty. A quick peek inside indeed reveals an empty bag. Of course it’s empty, Léon thinks, who would lead the enemy directly to something valuable. Léon tosses the strap of the satchel over his shoulder and grabs the bundle by the string, cinching it shut. He grabs his bike and gets on for the ride back to the house.
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