End

Kolya was marched through half of Auschwitz, gun pressed to his back. "Funny, you're using a Kalaschnikow, that's a russian gun." He said. The soldier behind him just pushed him forwards; he didn't want to talk to the traitor. But in truth, under the layers of his nazi uniform, he didn't want to shot Nikolai. He'd known him since his first day in Auschwitz, they'd joked together, hell, they'd even kissed bullets in the back of peoples heads together. This was the man that Nikolai had been joking with when Werner witnessed him executing his countrymen. 

But there was no mercy for our Nikolai. He was alone, he turned around to face the wall, and put his hands behind his back. For some reason, they weren't tied. The man held up the rifle, the commander was about to say fire when Nikolai turned around. He emptied his pockets and tossed the contents to the man aiming for his head. "Here, you'll have more use for them now than I do." He smiled a big smile, winked and turned back around. Dumbstruck the soldier looked into his hands. Three condoms smiled up at him. He raised his gun in confusion; and the commander gave the go. He fired. Nikolai immeditally sacked together, falling forwards, leaving a blood stain on the wall. The bullet had gone right through his head. 

***

The Lagerführer, naturally, sat in his room with a glass of Whiskey in his left hand. He'd pretended to be sick, telling the leutenant who'd knocked on his door that he couldn't go out that day. Something serious, maybe smallpox...he was sure he'd heard the gunshot, but he knew he hadn't, he was too far away. The clock told him the story; 8am sharp and Nikolai was gone. The Lagerführer, unlike his communist friend, believed in God. He believed that Nikolai still existed somehow, somewhere. He had too, didn't he? How could such a perfect man cease to exist, when he'd flashed his bright smile at him only a day before? 

He toyed at the pistol next to him. It had a few bullets left...he could put himself out of misery then and there...

Nikolai was gone, there was no luck with Marie, and after banging her once the feeling of bliss had ended, perhaps he really did like men more. But his wife and child? Was it worth it to live for them? No. The third reich would cease to exist someday, he knew it, and that day wasn't too far away. They'd be better off without him. Maybe his son would even have some compassion, he'd think his father killed himself because he couldn't deal with the terrible things he'd done. Nobody would know the truth, nobody would know he'd killed himself over a lover. So he raised the pistol to his temple, and without thinking twice, pulled the trigger. 

 ***

Marie quickly found out about Nikolai's death; the german media boasted about catching and killing the soviet spy. She shed a few tears, when she heard about the Lagerführers death she smiled softly. She knew why he'd died, and it wasn't because of her rejecting him. It was because of Nikolai. 

Soon after she would read of Wojciechowski's research, published in a russian newspaper (which of course claimed that he had russian roots) and it gave her a little hope and a little joy. Nikolai and Werner had done it. 

They'd done it. 

She got new drive, she started a plan to emigrate to England, of course, after the war would stop. But in truth, three years later, she emigrated to Ireland. She met and married a hearty Irish man and her three sons all became doctors...she taught them German. Marie fufilled her life-long dream of becoming an airline pilot, with much satisfaction, she made more money than her husband did, but, to her half-horror and half-delight, he cooked even better. 

***

Wojciechowski was never reunited with his wife. She'd perished in Gulag. He died ten years after publishing the cure for cancer, but his death was pleasant. He passed away in sleep and one of his students was the man to find him.

***

Sidorov, Morozov and Bojarski all died in Auschwitz. 

***

The horrible events of Auschwitz still occured, figures estimated to be six million jews and many others still lost their lives to the gas chambers, the world war still raged on, causing the soviet union, poland and germany and many other countries more losses than could ever be compensated. There was only one difference in the world; the cure for cancer ended the misery of so many. It was a simple injection, one time in the left arm, and the cancer was healed, almost like magic. It was named after Wojciechowski, even though he'd insisted it be named after a few friends of his. 

***

Werner, or rather Killian Werner-O'Leary, was given back the years he'd missed. The tumor was cured at sixteen, and since the cure existed, his life changed in so many ways. The first noticible change was that, upon arriving home, his girlfriend was waiting for him. He took one look at her and suddenly felt very angry. She'd left him! Most of his friends had slowly drifted away after the diagnosis! But then he realized their memories now came from a time where this terminal illness could be cured. So he kissed her on the cheek and she hugged him tightly. 

Killian hung up a picture of Viktor Anatolyevich in his room, right over his bed. Whenever someone asked who he was he just replied with a smile. He always had a picture of Vitia in his house, sometimes with flowers next to it, sometimes hung on the wall, but always present.

***

Nikolai's family returned to the Soviet Union, his daughters both grew into charming and beautiful woman. His wife Darya, remarried a Ukrainian man at fifty-nine years old. Darya, though in love and happy with her second husband, always kept pictures of her sweet Vitia around the house. And once in a while she reread his letters, and, only ever so rarely, she wrote him one. 

***

It would be a lie to say that Killian never researched what happened to everyone he'd been aquainted with. He was suprised to find that the Lagerführer had shot himself, sorry to hear of the three doctors deaths and in some ways, sorry for the men he'd known who were killed when the soviets freed the KZ. 

But his girlfriend saw to it that he didn't lose himself in the past, that he didn't get swept up in a reality that wasn't his. But it was his alright, and this new world, this was his as well.

He continued to play soccer, and, much to his parents delight, got into a good university where he studied Law. He proceeded to learn Russian, and, once abroad in that beautiful yet tormented country, found that he adored the place. He, after saving enough money, bought a small hunting cabin in Sochi, which he visited every year at spring to go hunting with friends or later, family. On one of these hunting excursions he met his future wife, her name was Galina, a name that he found funny at first but came to love. They named their firstborn child, a boy, Kolya. 

***

My love, do you see the stars?

Are you drunk? There are only clouds in the sky! 

Well yes, I see the clouds, but you can still see the stars. You just have to close your eyes.

- Viktor Anatolyevich Malinkow