Blue Glass

Hospital

July, 1917

I only had one word for the uniform of a nurse—uncomfortable. Or maybe it was just the material Käte used to sew them. Either way, I had no idea how I was supposed to survive a day in the uniform she had hastily tossed me at her house in Munich.
After emphasizing her clear lack of faith in my abilities to successfully carry out the operation, Käte had grudgingly handed me one of her uniforms and we had gone to the train station together. I had kept my distance from her and the other nurses while doing my best to look like just another apprehensive nurse with her colleagues heading to the Front.
"I hope you can manage on your own," Käte hissed in my ear as we sat squished together like sardines in the back of the ambulance with the other nurses. "I can't be around you all the time and for your own sake you had better put up a good front."
I nodded silently, pressing my face to the tiny window in the back door of the ambulance. The dirt roads full of holes and the empty, pockmarked landscape, the air filled with the crack of rifle fire and the occasional rumble of explosives detonating was a far cry from the sheltered opulence of Berlin's hotels and tree-lined streets. All of it seemed so far away now.
I wondered what I would tell Amalie and Luise when I returned to Vienna. I had called Helmuth Weber myself from the Hotel Continental the day I left for Munich to beg off of the rest of our business  endeavors in Berlin until I could ascertain my "cousin" wouldn't have an anxiety attack over my "increasingly prolonged absence." He had given me permission almost flippantly, much to my relief and ongoing good luck—he was notorious among us buyers for having to give him at least ten reasons why we thought we should be able to go on break.
The ambulance screeched to a halt, jarring us simultaneously. Käte shot me a pointed look as she reached over my shoulder to unlatch the doors. My shoes sank into the moist earth beneath me as I jumped down, and I barely managed to suppress my exclamation of disgust.
"Which room is your cousin in?" Käte asked as we entered the hospital.
I didn't answer—I was too busy screwing my nose up at the acrid stench of cleaning chemicals that assailed my nostrils.
"What is that?" I demanded.
"Cleanliness is heavily enforced around here," Käte explained. "We don't have any other—"
"There you two are!"
We both jumped and whirled simultaneously. A short, stout woman with a full head of gray hair and dressed in a nurse's uniform made her way over to us. My heart skipped a few beats.
If she starts doubting me...
She appraised us like she was looking at cabbage in the marketplace, her expression pinched.
"We have a highly esteemed patient here," she said. I almost heaved a sigh of relief as it dawned on me that she hadn't said anything about me. "I want both of you to go to Room 23 immediately and commence your work."
"Permission to speak, ma'am," I said.
She blinked at me. "Granted. What?"
"Who is this 'esteemed patient'?" I asked, not out of curiosity.
"Baron Manfred Von Richthofen," she said. "That's none of your concern, though. Get to work, both of you. Make his stay as comfortable as you can. He's going to need it."
"Where did you learn how to speak so respectfully?" Käte asked me once we were out of earshot. "In school you were so rude to everyone."
"I wasn't rude, just a bit too blunt for  most people's liking."
"In any event, that was amazing." Käte was looking at me with a surprised expression on her face.
I couldn't help but feel smug as we walked down the hall, passing numbered doors.
"...20...21...22–here we are." Käte gently turned the knob. "Keep your voice down."
My heart was going wild, bouncing and slamming in my ribcage. It was all I could do not to bounce on my toes as she opened the door ever so slowly.
The first thing I saw was his face. It was as white as the sheets he lay amid; dark circles ringing his eyes. It was drawn and haggard, his eyes narrowed to half slits, whether from pain or grogginess I didn't know.
He was propped up on a stack of pillows, the sheets pulled up to half of his chest. From what I could see, he was wearing a gray frogged nightshirt with what looked like a coronet embroidered on the left breast. But the part of him I noticed the most was his head—it was swathed in a snow white bandage, wound all the way around his head so  it resembled a skullcap.
He blinked as we entered, his eyes following Käte as she drew a chair up next to his bed.
"How do you feel?"she asked.
His voice was an uncharacteristic rasp. "Much better, thank you."
I stood behind her almost solicitously, keeping my eyes slightly averted.
A sharp stab of pain in my left thigh made me jump. I looked down to see Käte glaring up at me.
"He's talking to you," she snapped.
"I'm sorry, what?" I raised my head to meet his sleepy eyed stare.
"I've never seen you before," he said.
"You've only been here for two days; I'm not surprised you haven't seen me."
"It's nice to meet you, too," he said tactfully.
He was still staring at me, his lethargic expression even more unnerving than if he had been fully coherent. It was taking all of my self control not to turn red.
Käte was staring at me like she wanted to break my neck over my knee. "If you don't mind, I'm going to go fetch something."
She's talking to him.
I turned to follow her, but she shook her head.
"You stay here."
I felt myself folding over into the chair as the door clicked shut.
"Are you always this quiet?"he asked.
I couldn't help smiling. "They say quiet people are dangerous."
"Yes, I've heard that as well."
"Are you asking me that because you think I'm dangerous?"
"Are you?"I could hear the amusement in his voice.
"I shouldn't have to tell you that."
I dared to meet his gaze, and was surprised to see that he was smiling as best as an injured man can.
"You have a way with words, I see. What's your name?"
"Natalia." It had some semblance to my name, with the exception of the extra sounds.
He arched an eyebrow. "Really."
There's no way he could have recognized me that easily. We've only seen each other in person once.
But his expression was so cocky it unsettled me.
"What do you mean, 'Really?'" I asked.
He clapped a hand over his mouth to stifle a yawn. "I only meant that—"
The door creaked open from behind us. Käte strolled in with a tray full of wicked looking tools on it.
"Lea, get out of here."
Scheiße!
"What did you call me?" I asked, giving Manfred my back.
"Get out of here; I'm going to change his bandage." She shot me a dirty look.
"And go look for your cousin," she hissed as we passed each other on my way to the door.
"What was her name again?" I heard Manfred ask as I closed the door behind me.
Verdammt. It's all over.
I could only hope Käte would catch onto my ruse as I began to aimlessly wander the hallways, plotting my next move.

Scheiße: Shit (pronounced shy-suh)
Verdammt: Dammit
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