Germany x Reader: Bloody Hands Part 1

The silence was a sweet relief compared to the chaos in the streets of 1938 Germany.  You tried to hold on to consciousness, but the pain in your skull and chest was too great.  As you drifted in and out of consciousness you caught one word being repeated in the air of the hospital:  Kristallnacht.... Kristallnacht...

Ludwig Beilshmidt finished with his patient and washed the blood from his hands.  He was the surgeon on duty during the early hours that day; he had been woken during the night to be told he was needed at the hospital, to treat an influx of patients.  He turned to his assistant as he scrubbed his hands.  “Who's next?”

“A woman.  About age (your age), caught out in the riots.  She's been beaten and has multiple puncture wounds to the chest.  We think from pieces of broken glass.”

“Bring her in.”  There had already been several deaths during the night, and if he had his way there would be no more.

You were brought into the room, unconscious, on a cot being carried by two men.  You had (h/c) hair, which was damp and plastered to your pale face.  You were wearing a grey jacket, and from where Ludwig stood he could already see it was soaked with your blood.  He barked orders to his assistant, who left quickly to gather fresh supplies.

He needed to get a closer look at your wounds, so he wasted no time and tore your jacket and shirt from you.  What he saw made him stop everything.  He was looking not at your wounds, but at the gold chain around your neck.  A Star of David pendant flickered in the lamplight.

He knew his country was gathering and arresting Jews.  He'd been given orders that night to report any who arrived at the hospital.  As much as he disliked it, he knew they were being sent away to camps.  Even so, he wasn't one to disobey orders.

On the other hand, he knew that if you were sent away, you wouldn't receive the treatment you desperately needed.  Nobody would care to treat someone like you, and you would die.  He gritted his teeth.  Without another thought, he pulled the chain from around your neck and slipped it into his pants pocket before his assistant returned.  “Let's treat her, quickly.”  When he was finally finished stitching and bandaging you up, he checked your chart and made a mental note of your name.

Two days later you were well into your recovery.  You had even bathed and were allowed to go outside the hospital for fresh air.  You ended up sitting on a bench outdoors, with tears stinging your eyes.  You had awoken in the hospital to find your beloved necklace missing.  It had been given to you by your parents when you were young, and now you didn't have the slightest idea where it was.  If someone had taken it and found out you were a Jew, you were in grave danger.

It didn't take you long to notice a man a few yards away eyeing you.  He had slicked-back blond hair and the most stunning blue eyes.  He seemed to be contemplating something, before he marched over to where you were sitting.

You gulped as he spoke in a gruff voice.  “Frau (Surname)?”  This was it.  You were going to be taken away.  “I'm Ludwig Beilshmidt.”

His name brought recognition.  “You're the doctor who treated me.  Thank you.”

“Oh, it was nothing.”  He wasn't used to talking with his patients after they were treated, and he suddenly didn't know what to do.  His eyes roamed over you.  Now that you weren't covered in dirt and blood, and the bruising on your face had gone down, he saw you were actually quite beautiful.  He had almost made a huge mistake in turning you in to the authorities.  He noticed his stare was making you uncomfortable, and he cleared his throat.  He motioned for you to come closer, and you got up and followed him in a casual stroll that lead you away from the other patients.  He planted an arm around your waist, and you panicked until he said quickly, “Here.”

He opened his palm in front of you to reveal your necklace.  You thought you'd never see it again.  You took it and put it back around your neck, and he drew his arm away from you once the pendant was tucked away safely under your jacket.  Your heart swelled in your chest.  “Thank you.  I can't believe you didn't turn me in.”

“Well... I like to treat all my patients equally.  From now on you should try to be more careful in keeping your identity hidden.”  You nodded.  “Get better, and go home as soon as possible.”

“I don't have a home anymore.”

“What do you mean?”

“My house and all the other buildings on my street were destroyed in the riots.”

“Oh...”  He looked away, and almost couldn't believe what he was saying.  “I have enough room if you need a place to stay.  I can keep you safe.”

You analyzed his face to try and determine if he was being sincere.  A light blush dusted his cheeks, but you couldn't see any trace of an ulterior motive in his offer.  “If you were found out to be a sympathizer...”

“I don't care about the consequences.  Besides, I'm a reputable doctor and it's unlikely anyone will be watching me.”

“You're not just a doctor.  You're my angel.”

He was the farthest thing from an angel.  But, as he saw your small smile, he thought that just maybe if he took you into his keeping, he might be cleared of all his wrongdoings.