'I've seen your flag on the marble arch, love is not a victory march

It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah'

-Leonard Cohen (Hallelujah)

A nurse's work was never done, that now rang true for Charly. She'd been on her feet for almost eight hours, but hadn't realized it until she started to feel the dull ache in her heels. She jogged through the once pristine halls, automatically weaving her way through the floods of wounded soldiers and overworked field nurses. The constant friction and pressure between her body and her thick, cotton clothing was starting to irritate her skin as sweat beaded and built up underneath the layers. She could feel her forehead begin to grow moist as she scurried through the halls; she was about to bring up her hand to hastily wipe the sweat away when she noticed her hands. She quickly glanced down – they were bloodstained. There wasn't one speck of her pale skin that wasn't colored dark red.

She groaned to herself, turning on her shoe heel then proceeding in the opposite direction. She usually didn't have time to wash her hands, but Dr. Jahn wanted everything to be as sterile as possible. She opened the bathroom door, revealing the small washroom and tiny porcelain sink in the corner. The sink had long-since been tainted and permanently stained crimson since the war began against the Russians. The dingy yellow light shown above the small cubical situated bathroom, casting eerie shadows that always made Charly feel uneasy. She swallowed deeply, bending over the sink as she used the last bit of the bar soap to wash off the blood on her hands. She lathered it all between her fingers and palms, watching as the suds began to turn red. She ran her hands under the facet, scrubbing as quickly as she could. She scrubbed and scrubbed until her skin started to sting. After she was satisfied, she dried her hands on her apron, wiping them off and shaking the water off of them.

She caught her reflection in the small mirror mounted above the sink. She tried to peel her eyes away, but the temptation of mild vanity overcame her resistance. Her eyes had dark circles etched under them from her lack of sleep. Her hair was done up tightly and hid behind a headscarf, as it always was. Wisps of stubborn hair peeked out of the sides – no matter how many times she attempted to pin back the extra strands, they always came undone. Her dark eyebrows furrowed in concentration, almost looking frustrated. She remembered back in '41 when she used to be carefree and jovial, but now her facial expression had taken on and morphed to a new default expression. Gazing into her own eyes gave away the truth, the monstrous deed that she'd done back when she first started and was far too eager to please those around her. Her own reflection might as well been openly taunting at her and pointing by the volumes her eyes seemed to speak. She couldn't ever escape.

She forced her eyes away, unable to stand under her own knowing-stare. What she'd done to Lilija was something she'd like to keep at the back of her mind, locked away forever. She wiped her face off with her damp hands, feeling exhausted and well overdue for a cigarette. She left the bathroom without daring another glance in the mirror. As she continued her way down the halls, she saw another wounded soldier brought in and left in a gurney, without an explanation. She had no idea where they were all coming from, it seemed like they'd spring up out of thin air. The amount of dying and battered soldiers that were rushed through the hospital entrance was a staggering number that made her feel a little weak in the knees.

Charly was immediately at the soldier's bedside, kneeling beside his gurney and taking his wrist. She pressed her fingers against his wrist, feeling for his pulse. She whipped out her stethoscope and pushed it against his chest. She listened to his steady and even heartbeat, hearing that he was stable enough to try to heal. He whimpered gently below her, tears brimming in the corners of his baby-blue eyes. He'd taken shrapnel to various parts of his body, including the side of his face. But he was alive and alert, which was more to say for the majority of the lost souls that entered.

"Nurse! I need another nurse!" Charly barked over her shoulder in the loudest and most authoritative voice that she could produce. One of the quiet replacement nurses rushed over, going to one end of the gurney. The two women heaved, lifting up the gurney and transporting the wounded soldier deeper into the hospital. After he was placed down, the young nurse, whom Charly couldn't remember her name, ventured off.

Charly did a quick sweep over his body, her trained eyes spotting and calculating everything she saw. She pulled up a tray with tweezers, bandages and tourniquets. They were running drastically low on supplies, so there wasn't too much Charly could do for the poor soul. She used a crate to prop up his legs, keeping them elevated above his heart.

"Here." She stated, handing the soldier a wooden applicator. He took it hesitantly, confused as to why he needed it. "Put that in between your teeth as a bite guard. We don't have enough morphine, so I can't give you any." She added.

She finished pulling out the shrapnel, cleaning the punctures with sulfa, then bandaging and adding a tourniquet as pressure to keep the bleeding stinted. He whimpered and whined in pain the entire time; the pathetic sound had gotten on her nerves, though she knew she was being unreasonable. She forced a thin smile, showing the soldier that she was finished.

"I'm going to give Dr. Jahn the report. You'll be fine." She tried to sooth. She stood up and quickly made her way back down the hospital. Her jaded smile falling as she faced away from him. She knew in her heart that he'd make a recovery, but he'd look disfigured the rest of his life.

Charly grabbed a clipboard and jotted down the wounds he suffered and the state he was in. She chewed the inside of her lip, stopping the pen strokes midsentence – she didn't even know his name. She skipped over it, going on and scribbling as fast as she could. She continued to run down the corridors of the hospital, the clipboard clutched close to her, hugging her body. She spotted Dr. Jahn talking to one of the head nurses, looking stern and terse as he spoke. She stopped before him, standing up straight and forcing herself to look awake.

"Doctor." She interjected. The older man turned to face her, looking a little irritated and overwhelmed from her interruption. "I've stabilized another patient, he may need to be looked over."

"Fine." He muttered, taking the clipboard from her hands. He scanned the notes and medical jargon she'd written down. "Take a break, Charlotte." He clipped, brushing past her.

Charly went outside, taking a deep breath. The clean air was a welcome relief from the overpowering smell of iron and foille ointment – the smells she'd thought she'd become immune to, until she stepped outside. She spotted Hildegard sitting in an old wooden chair that sat directly across the street from the hospital. She was smoking contently; watching Hildegard blow out a steady stream of smoke made Charly's craving even more prominent. Charly crossed the street, eager to rest her throbbing feet. Hildegard noticed her, smiling as her tired friend came and sat beside her.

Hildegard handed Charly a cigarette, already lit and waiting for her. Charly took it from her, gratefully. She placed the smoke in between her wide lips, taking in a heavy drag. She closed her eyes, savoring the cigarette and how relaxed it had already made her feel. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Hildegard's cherub face spreading into a smile.

"What are you so happy about?" Charley asked, not looking at her. She held the smoke between her fingers, letting out a puff of smoke.

"You've been working with me for almost two years and you can't figure that out?" Hildegard replied, her impish smile pulling tighter.

Charly barked a small laugh. "Have your sights set on another soldier? What is it this time? A lieutenant, a captain?"

Hildegard chuckled, taking a drag from her cigarette. "He's an officer, and a very handsome one I might add."

"Those are the only ones you go for, anyway." Charly commented, but not in ill humor. "I'm amazed that you haven't gotten caught yet."

"And I'll continue not to be caught if you keep your mouth shut." Hildegard teased. Charly's face fell. She thought about how she'd betrayed Lilija by telling the head nurse that she was a Jew. If she'd kept her mouth shut, Lilija would still be here too. Hildegard noticed the field nurse's mood change, shifting in her seat in mild annoyance. They went over this a hundred times before.

"You were doing your duty. That woman was a Jew, don't feel guilty about it." Hildegard sternly added, crossing her legs. She blew out smoke through her nose, keeping her chin held up in irritation.

Charly took another hearty drag from her smoke, hoping she could suck up all her feeling along with it. She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. No matter how many praises she got for reporting Lilija, she never felt good about it.

"I know." Charly mumbled, answering just to get Hildegard and her attitude off her back. She stuck the cigarette back her mouth, letting it hang limply off to the side. "So, what's he like?" She asked, trying to change the subject back to the previous topic.

Hildegard seemed to perk up from the question. "Well, he's dashing! Dark brown hair, square jaw, dark brooding eyes. You know the type. His voice is deep and thick and dreamy." She swooned, fanning herself in feigned exaggeration. Charly grinned at her friend's excitement. "Now we just need to find a man for you." Hildegard added, raising an eyebrow in a suggestive fashion.

Charly's smile faded. She thought of Wilhelm. There was no one who could replace her old friend in her heart, and she knew that for a fact. Hildegard studied her for a moment, noticing her distant gaze into nothing.

"You're thinking of that lieutenant friend of yours, aren't you?" Hildegard questioned. She noticed how Charly squirmed under her knowing gaze. "You need to let him go, Charly. Either that or find some way to tell him how you feel. You should've done that the last time he was here."

Charly stood up abruptly, suddenly feeling anti-social. She wasn't in the mood for Hildegard's poking and prodding at her relationship and secret feelings for Wilhelm. She threw her cigarette on the ground, stomping on it to put it out. She marched back into the hospital, ignoring Hildegard's jeers calling out to her.

Charly sat down inside the hospital, taking up the rest of her break indoors on her bunk. She held onto the photograph, her most cherished possession. The four faces of her friends, and her own, stared back at her. Before the war, before they'd all been separated they were all so happy. She'd forgotten what it was like to feel that blissful. They were five friends, inseparable with their entire futures ahead of them. She smirked, they'd been so naïve back then. Now they were all caught up in the changes caused by the war – they had all lost their innocence.

Her eyes studied each individual face that was frozen in the photograph. Wilhelm was at the top, his lips pursed into a small smile. He was smiling mainly from his eyes, she could tell. Her stomach swarmed with butterflies as she stared at his picture. She wished she had the courage to tell him that night. Maybe things would've played out differently if she had. He had his arms slung around both herself and Viktor. Viktor, God knows where he was. Charly prayed for his safety, often hoping that he was able to find somewhere safe to go. Below Viktor's wide smile was Greta. The picture had been taken while she was laughing. She missed Greta, and hoped that she was doing well and that she was with Viktor. Beside Greta was Wilhelm's little brother, Friedhelm. He was grinning ear to ear, excited to be joining his brother in the front. How times had changed.

Charly sighed, closing her eyes and pinching the bridge of her nose. She wished circumstances were different, that they could all be together again. She knew wishful thinking wouldn't change anything, and knew that all of their lives had changed so drastically that there was no going back.

"Nurse!" Someone called shrilly, waking her from her thoughts. She placed the photograph in her pack then headed to where the voice had called. She ran to the entrance, seeing that a whole shipment of newly wounded soldiers had been delivered to them. She scanned the faces carefully, checking for anyone familiar. Ever since Friedhelm had been sent here, she was cautious.

She did a double take as her gazed passed over one particular solder, lying on a gurney, clutching himself in pain. Her breath hitched and her eyes widened as she realized whom it was.

It was Wilhelm.

A/N:

I just started watching Generation War (Unsere Mütter, Unsere Väter) and it's amazing! I have one more episode to go (I'm afraid to watch it), and I found myself cheering for Wilhelm and Charlotte to get together since the first time I saw them. I hope you all enjoy! I plan on this fic being two or three chapters long :)