Revival

"Entschuldigung, können Sie mich hören? Entschuldigung? (Can you hear me?)" 

O'Leary struggled to open his eyes against the flourescent light above him. It blinded him; searing into his soul with it's white shine. He closed his eyes again. He could hear the chaos of people shouting things at each other. Where am I? He made another attempt to open his eyes. A face directly above him which peered into his own blocked out the bright circle of light. 

"He's awake for sure. I don't know if he can hear us. Give me the flashlight, I want to see if his eyes dialate." The man with the white mask had a nice voice, calming. O'Learys whole body hurt too much for him to be able to process what the man had asked for, so he was again surprised as the small beam of light shone into his eyes. "Yep. They're dialating. His brain is still working properly. All we can do now is wait for him to really wake up." The doctor pocketed the beam of light. Then he leaned back and the flourescent ceiling light blinded O'Leary once again. He closed his eyes and fell back asleep.

The second time he awoke his headache had reduced to a slight throbbing in his temples. His body felt weak, but at the same time, as if it were starting to regain strength. O'Leary was hungry. Very hungry. He tried to raise an arm, and succeeded. "Excuse me." He croaked in english, "can I have a glass of water?" He'd posed the question at someone's back. The someone turned around. He recognized it as the same man who'd tortured him with the beam of light. "Can I have a glass of water?" He repeated. 

"You don't have to speak english, soldier, though your english is cleary perfect." The doctor said soothingly. "You're back in Germany, the train just brought you here. There was an accident, but you're fine." The man's answer, in german, made O'Leary realize that he was in fact, in Germany which meant that the crash really had happened. So why was the doctor talking about a train?

"Could I have a glass of water? And some food?" He repeated in German. To O'Leary's luck his german was perfect as well. Had he had even the slightest accent he would have been arrested immediately, under accusation of being a British or prehaps Russian spy. The doctor wouldn't have ratted him out, but there was plenty of other folks working there who'd give an arm and a leg to catch a spy and tell the authorities. 

"Of course. I'll be right back. You stay right here." The doctor pat the bed and left. O'Leary closed his eyes again. What had a troop of German soldiers been doing outside of Germany, did the army really still exercise outside of the country? He supposed so. 

"Hey, du! (hey, you)." A voice whispered from his right. O'Leary opened his eyes and turned his head accordingly. The young man in the hospital bed next to him lay on his side, propped up on one elbow. He was holding a magazine, and was pointing to one of the pages. O'Leary squinted at the picture. It was a naked girl with a wreath of flowers in her hair and a gun in her hands. She was smiling seductively. "Geil oder? (Neat, huh?)" The man said, grinning. His tired counterpart just nodded. "You can borrow it, if you want." He offered, holding out the magazine. O'Leary didn't really want to take it but he did, just to be polite. He paged through it quickly. 

And then something caught his eye. The date at the top of the page. 3rd November 1941. Why would the young man next to him have a magazine from 1941? O'Leary almost wanted to vomit; the next pages all showed women under the Nazi Symbols. He'd been placed next to a psycho, could someone please get him out of there? He returned the magazine to it's owner and thanked him for the "entertainment". 

The doctor came back, holding a cup of water and a bowl of soup. "You're going to have to sit up to eat this." He ordered. O'Leary nodded and tried to sit up. It was painful, but he managed. The doctor lay the tray on his lap and placed the bowl and the cup on it. "You guys were lucky. Everyone survived. I haven't had that happen since 1939." The doctor said and smiled at the two patients he was hovering over. 1939? Was that a joke? O'Leary chose to ignore what the doctor had said and downed the cup of water in one big gulp. "Where are you off to after this?" 

"We're going to Poland. Auschwitz." The solider next to O'Leary answered. O'Leary almost spit out his mouthful of soup. Why would they be going there?

"Ah." The doctor said. A look of unhappiness crossed his face, darkening his expression. "You'll have to be fit for that." He added almost hastily, as if he'd regretted letting his expression show. 

"Between us, I'm not looking forwards to the camp either." The soldier next to O'Leary admitted. "It's supposedly very grey and damp. I never really liked Poland." 

"I think Poland is a beautiful country." The doctor answered drily. The soldier just shrugged and looked back at his magazine. "What's yur name, we didn't find anything on you, must have burned up or gotten lost." He said, talking directly to O'Leary who swallowed his soup and opened his mouth to answer. 

A girl who'd caught his eye in the background saved him from answering with the wrong name. She must have been a nurse, was tall and blonde and the way she had her hair-tied up, the way her make-up circled her pretty face made him finally realize what was going on. He was in the year 1941. So he changed the name on his lips from O'Leary to Werner. 

"Werner. I'm Killian Werner." 

"Nice to meet you Herr Werner." He shook O'Leary's hand and smiled at him. "I'm Dr. Schreiber. I assume you'll be here under my watch for another few days." He nodded at him. 

"I'm Kurt Meihöfer." The man next to O'Leary said. They shook hands as well. "Funny, I never saw you before, not even on the train." 

"Never saw you either."

O'Leary went back to eating his soup. He was still unconvinced that he really was in Nazi Germany, that he'd gone back in time, because that was impossible, right? But he definitely was there, a place like this couldn't be heavan. 

He was unsure about almost everything. Everything except for one thing. 

He wasn't Killian O'Leary anymore. He was Killian Werner. 

Unless he wanted to die. 

Again.