Romitri One-Shots

We're at war

This is how Rose and Dimitri would meet for the first time if their story was set in the past. This one-shot is set in Europe during the second world war. They are both human.

Rose's POV

I've barely started my shift and the room is bursting with people. I hear cries and I close my eyes. All this pain and violence. All this blood and all these deaths. Sometimes I wonder if war is really necessary. Of course it is, says the voice in my head. Hmm. I'm not so sure.

Nevertheless, I take a deep breath and find my boss. She eyes me warily. "You were at the party last night, weren't you?" I nod my head guiltily. "Rosemarie, we're at war. We do not have time for fun. We are here to heal soldiers, not to get drunk with our girlfriends."

I look down. "I know, I'm sorry," I apologize. "I don't know what I was thinking. It won't happen again." Actually, I do know what I was thinking, but I keep it to myself. My best friend Lissa, who came to Europe with me, organized a party to celebrate her engagement. We found a trunk full of whisky that belonged to the colonel that was here last year. He had to go back to the US in an emergency and had left it behind, to our delight.

Even though it had been impossible to hide this party completely, Nurse Kirova didn't know the real reason we celebrated. Yes, it was an engagement party but Lissa didn't get engaged to someone that Nurse Kirova would approve of. She got engaged to Christian, a soldier that was here eight months ago. When he left, he was assigned to a camp only half an hour away from here, so him and Lissa kept on seeing each other.

Nurse Kirova hands me a chart. "Go check on bed 5. He's Russian but we had to take him in anyways, thanks to that great new alliance between our countries." she says sarcastically. Clearly, she disapproves of that alliance. "Check his bandages."

I nod and walk away. "I'm not even drunk," I mumble when she's out of hearing range. I don't really have any opinion on this war. I mean, I don't think people should stupidly kill each other for no reason, but no one really explained to me why this happened. After all, if it weren't for this war, I would've stayed in America and probably gotten a job as a waitress or something. Let's face it, I have no future in America. At least, I have a purpose here. Heal and take care of the wounded. Well, usually they're American soldiers and speak English but I guess I'll have to find a way to communicate with this Russian.

I find bed 5 and sit down next to the soldier. I look at the chart. Lieutenant Dimitri Belikov, 26 years old, blood type O–. I browse through the files and study his medical history, or at least what we know of it. A voice pulls me out of my reading. "Don't worry, I speak English." I look up. The Russian soldier is smiling at me. "We won't have to come up with a language of our own."

I can't repress a smile. "Good. That'll make things easier for the both of us." I stand up and put the cart on the chair. His blood bag is almost empty. I reach for a new one and change it. "Here you go, Lieutenant. Let's check these wounds."

"Please, it's Dimitri," he says. I look at him and smile. I know that I shouldn't, but I study his face. Despite the cuts and bruises, his features are gorgeous. His eyes are deep and brown. I feel like if I stare in them too long, I'll drown in them. His eyes find mine and I look away.

"Okay, then. I'm Rose, by the way." I gently push away the sheets. He's wearing a white T-shirt that shapes his muscles in a very pleasant way. I take his arm and rip the first bandage. "That's good. This wound is healing very well. You've been here for two days, correct?" He nods. "That's very good. You've got a great body." He raises an eyebrow. "For healing, I mean," I add quickly, realizing what I just said.

He laughs. "Thanks." I feel my cheeks turn pink and I concentrate on his wounds. Damn. I can't let myself be distracted by his hotness. I swallow. "So," he says, his voice slightly accented, "what are you doing here?"

I raise my eyebrows but still avoid looking at him. "What do you mean?"

He sighs. "War is not a good place to be. I went cause I didn't have a choice. You certainly did. So why are you here?"

I look up. He's studying me. I can feel his eyes burning my skin. I don't want him to look away, though. He's just a stranger, a soldier that I met only a few minutes ago. Somehow, there's something that pushes me to confide in him. There's something about him that makes me feel like I could tell him anything. Something that makes me feel like we could talk for hours and never run out of something to talk about.

I sigh. "I have no idea who my parents are. When I was three weeks old, Sister Alberta found me on the steps of an orphanage. I was raised there," I start, still bandaging his wounds. "I met my best friend Lissa there. We were inseparable. When we turned 18, we had to leave. We had no future whatsoever. The war had been going on for a couple of years, so when we heard that they needed nurses in Europe, we signed up."

I can still feel his gaze on me. "Do you regret leaving America?"

If it were anyone else asking this question, I would've ignored them, but somehow him asking didn't really bother me. "No, not really. At least here I have a place to sleep, food and clothes. And I'm helping people. It's for the greater good. Or whatever."

Dimitri's eyes glazed over. "War's stupid. It's cruel and useless. You should leave when you get the chance."

Well, I wasn't expecting that. "Is that really what you think?" I ask, unsettled.

"Yes," he says without an ounce of hesitation in his voice. "People need to fight for a reason. There's no reason for war. Only excuses."

"Don't you think protecting your country is enough a reason?"

"It's not like I had a choice, anyways. I'm an unmarried man between 18 and 40 years old, there's no question where I should be. At war, wether I want it or not. It doesn't matter what I think. It doesn't matter what any of us think. We fight, that's all."

I don't add anything. His words are too powerful for me to add anything. I bandage his wounds and he stares at me. Sometimes he looks away, lost in his thoughts, and I can sneak a look at him.

I've been working here for a long time. I know a lot about war. I know a lot about soldiers too. They all believe in something. Even if they don't believe in war, they believe in their country, they believe that it's worth it. Dimitri doesn't believe in any of that. He doesn't have any hope in war. A man doesn't go to war and loose hope like that. Something happened to him.

Somehow, I had a feeling that Dimitri Belikov's body would heal rather quickly, but his soul? It would take a lot to heal his soul.

Heyyyyyyy how's it going? I'm sooooo busy rn but still had time to write this one-shot. I attended a wonderful creative writing workshop this week, it was so great! What'd you think of this one? Leave a comment! If you have an idea for a future one-shot, tell me! Requests are welcome!!!! Love youuuuu