Isn't it confusing, what first love does to a man?
Story where Alexine is Soldier Boy's first love and rekindle after many years apart.
[UNGOING]
[Warnings; smut, angst, torture, mention of torture, trauma, physical abuse, mental abuse, verbal abuse...
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As Alexine sat on the floor in front of the old TV, flipping through channels, she froze when a news segment flashed about France condemning former Nazis from the war. Her fingers halted on the dial as the screen displayed a series of names and faces from the past. Her heart raced as she saw individuals on trial.
It had been twenty years now and yet her heart was speeding up in her chest.
The father's voice cut through her mounting anxiety. "Oh, finally. They had it coming," he said, a grim satisfaction in his tone as he sat on the couch.
She knew Frederich Reiner had died years ago, but the sight of the condemned brought a wave of dread. Without another thought, she sprang up and dashed to the phone, her movements frantic.
Benjamin watched, from the couch too, his brow furrowing in concern as he followed her hurried actions. Alexine picked up the receiver, her voice trembling with urgency as she spoke to the operator on the other end.
"This is Alexine Dubois. I need immediate access to Frederich Reiner's court case records. He was an SS officer at Dachau in 1941 and was executed in Lyon in 1944. I need all available information on his crimes sent to me via telex right now," she ordered, her composure cracking under the pressure.
Her breaths came in short, uneven bursts as she awaited a response, the panic in her eyes evident. Benjamin's concern deepened, his gaze fixed on her as he tried to piece together the sudden shift in her demeanor.
Benjamin had never heard Alexine mention Frederich before, and his curiosity-and jealousy-started to gnaw at him. Why was she so urgent about finding information on this man? The quickness with which she sought details about him only deepened his unease. He watched her hang up the phone and stand by Mr. McConnell's telex, the tension between them palpable.
Unable to ignore the shift in the atmosphere, he approached her, his steps heavy on the wooden floor.
"Who's he?" Benjamin asked, standing tall and frowning deeply.
Alexine glanced at him, her eyes troubled. "The man who saved me from Dachau."
"Why do you need to know what he did?" Benjamin's voice rose, frustration evident. "Fucker's dead, let sleeping dogs lie."
Alexine hesitated, her gaze dropping to the floor. "I don't know," she admitted quietly, her voice barely audible. All she knew is that she needed to know what he would be labelled as in history. And she needed to know what he was doing back then, when she was just a child and he'd brush away her concerns with a warm smile.
Benjamin's anger flared. "How the hell are you supposed to move on if you keep crawling back to your past?" he demanded, his voice harsh.
The raw intensity of his emotions hung heavy in the room as Alexine struggled to find her voice, the weight of both their unresolved pain pressing down on her.
