"Michelle, how are you?" Lisa asked her colleague on a beautiful summer morning, at their usual workplace.
"Good! Look at what I received this morning..." Michelle said, her face glowing with gratitude and happiness as she gently caressed the leaves of a large bouquet of flowers.
"Oh, they're beautiful," Lisa answered, stretching out her hand and tilting forward to take a deep breath of their scent.
"Mhm, from whom?" she asked, intrigued, tilting her head as if trying to spot the sender across the hospital hallway.
Michelle's cheeks slowly turned cherry, then blossomed into a full, radiant red.
"Don't tell me..." Lisa began, taking a seat and adjusting her nurse's kittel. "A patient?"
Michelle nodded shyly, carefully placing the bouquet into a small glass vase, not daring to meet Lisa's gaze.
"Mr. Carry."
"Mr. Carry?" Lisa repeated, her eyes widening in surprise.
"He was always so kind to me, and this morning, when I visited him, he already had the bouquet in his hands..."
"Yes, he is truly nice..." Lisa murmured, a faint tinge of jealousy in her voice.
"Do you think..." Michelle began.
Lisa shrugged, her head tilting toward the reception desk at the end of the hallway, where a certain door caught her attention.
"Even the scar... I don't mind it..."
Michelle suddenly stood up. Her white gown clung to her figure, her blond hair shining in the sunlight, her blue eyes focused.
"I will thank him again."
....
A damp, crackling sound came from the last door of the hallway.
"Good morning, dear listeners. First of all, the events of last night. Just moments ago, news reached us that the nation of France has capitulated before the overwhelming might of German forces flooding the country. This marks the end of the war on mainland Europe, with Germany and their new leader, Heinrich Jaeger, emerging as victors of the conflict. The French president and other high-ranking members of the government fled days ago; their current whereabouts remain unknown."
Slowly, the door to room number 530 opened, the sound growing louder.
"Furthermore, news has reached us that with the fall of France, another global player has entered the board. The nation of Italy has announced that they have signed the so-called Pact of Steel with German representatives, declaring their entrance into the war effort alongside Germany."
"Mr. Carry?" Michelle asked hesitantly, stepping into the spacious, sunlit room.
But she only saw his back, as he lay sideways on the bed.
"Mr. Carry?" she repeated, louder this time, walking around the bed toward the table where a wooden radio crackled continuously.
"Mr—" She stopped, her eyes meeting his. Slowly, she stepped back as she took in the man's complexion.
His face was sweaty, his eyes utterly distant, a terrifying sight for Michelle, who only knew the gentle, kind man.
"Are you—"
"DON'T YOU SEE I AM LISTENING TO THIS!" he shouted, suddenly his blue eyes wide with anger.
"I—" Michelle stopped, choking on her own breath. "Sorry," she muttered, stepping back quickly, leaving only the sound of the radio echoing through the room.
"The British Prime Minister is to address Parliament this afternoon, following news of a failed British operation. According to insiders, the Royal Navy attacked the already capitulated French Mediterranean fleet in the harbor of Toulon, southern France. After a clash with German forces and the Italian navy, the British were forced to retreat, suffering losses."
James's hand trembled as he reached for the glass of water standing beside the radio. Slowly, his fingers brushed against the cool surface. Then, suddenly, the glass slipped from his grip and shattered on the floor.
"Shit," James cursed, despair fully engulfing his tired voice. He quietly leaned back into his pillow, closing his eyes for a moment. He lay there for an unknown amount of time, the wind blowing through the open window finally awakening him, his long blond hair tickling his skin.
Slowly he opened his eyes before suddenly jolting upright. Before him sat a man clad in an expensive suit, smoking a cigar.
"Gimpel," he said, composing himself again and trying to adjust his position in the bed with evident difficulty, without taking his eyes off the former German spy. The man had been another variable Paul and he had activated in their dangerous game with time. Someone who had been fated for a far different path had now betrayed Germany and become the chief of the American intelligence service, the same one James had established.
"Relax. I am not one of your brothers. I am not here to drain you even more now that you are… well, not as active anymore," Gimpel said, studying James with curiosity.
"What do you want?" James asked, his eyes darting away.
Gimpel looked down at the floor, seeing the shattered glass. For a moment, a mocking smile appeared on his lips before vanishing just as quickly.
"You haven't forgotten, right? The things you told me back then to get me on your side… the future, the past… Heinrich Jaeger," Gimpel asked, leaning forward, his voice growing cold.
James bit his lip.
"Once again, what do you want?"
"Your help," Gimpel answered plainly. "Although even if your whole story is true, I suppose most of it doesn't matter anymore. He has changed so much already that you can only guess. But still, you know him, and we need to know him too, in case the United States enters the war. I was ordered to collect information on this dangerous man. So I have come to his best friend," Gimpel added, irony evident in his tone, a mocking smile still lingering on his lips.
"I haven given up upon it."James answered, his eyes fleetingly empty.
Gimpel analysed james reaction before disspointed gaze appeared on his face.
"Does it not eat you from the inside?" Gimpel asked, his voice dripping with malice. "Every day you lie here, chained to your bed, listening to what Jaeger has done over and over again. Every move he makes and every step he takes could have been stopped. You could have hindered him, but instead, you just lie here. You talk with the sweet nurses because they are the last ones who still like you. The empathy of others has vanished along with your ability to walk and your money. Everyone else has moved on to linger with your brothers, forgetting about the past entirely. Only your little nurse remains."
Gimpel reached down and grabbed a handful of James's hair, forcing his head back. James trembled all over as a wave of rage overwhelmed him. His inability to act only fueled the fire burning in his chest.
"I will not help you, Gimpel!" James shouted. He lunged forward and bit down hard on Gimpel's hand.
Gimpel recoiled instantly, pulling his hand away with a hiss of disgust. He examined the wound with a sneer.
"If that is how it must be, then I have no choice but to force you. If you refuse to help me, I will pay a visit to... what was her name? Yes, Michelle. I will spend some time with her. I will get to know her well, and once I have had enough of her company, I will dispose of her."
Gimpel spoke coldly as he leaned back into his chair. James looked at the man with utter helplessness. A volatile mixture of anger and terror played across his features, but he was trapped...
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"Goodbye," Gimpel said with a mock friendly wave. He winked toward the two nurses, Lisa and Michelle, who watched with surprise as he began to wheel the patient away.
James tilted his head toward Michelle for a brief, pained second before looking down at his lap. The only sound in the empty hospital hallway was the rhythmic creaking of the wheelchair echoing against the blank walls.
But while Gimpel and his nascent intelligence network finally began to move, they were already lagging behind...
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