Eloise sat in the darkness, sitting silently beside the bed in a hard wicker chair. Her thoughts never left the injured man who lay in her bed. She focused on the sounds of his steady breaths, counting each one she heard in the stillness of the night. Her eyes felt heavy in the darkness, aching for rest that she knew would not come.

She had slept for what seemed like minutes, her brain scattered with wild images of worse case scenarios, when she was awaken to the violent scream of the man. Her eyes could focus on the shadow of his square form in the darkness. Sitting upright in the rickety bed, he frantically looking around the dark room. She lit a nearby candle, creating enough light to shine onto the distraught man. The paleness in his skin illuminated as the light struck his fair complexion. Sweat beaded against his forehead.

"You are alright, sir," Eloise calmly called out to him as she leaned closer to him. "You have sustained some injuries, but other than that you are alive."

He stared at her, his eyes filled with distrust. His hands began to pat violently over his body; searching for his pistol, Eloise assumed.

"I am not here to hurt you." Her voice remained soft. "I am tending to your injuries, that is all. When you are well you can return to your unit."

The nerviness in his body seemed to vanish when she rested her hand lightly upon his tensed shoulder. Comfortingly, she pulled the old, worn blankets back over his chilling body and pressed a cloth against his sweating forehead.

"See, sir," her voice halted, letting her eyes meet his. "I don't wish to hurt you."

A slight smile formed at the corner of his mouth, bringing a sense of ease to Eloise. She knew how confused he must have felt, lying beside a stranger in an unknown place. He brought his hand up to hers and wrapped it around hers firmly.

"What is your name?" His voice trembled as he spoke.

Eloise stared at him for several seconds, studying his face carefully. The blueness of his eyes held her in a trance. His face was well-defined and chiseled into a stern expression.

"You may address me as Ellie." She finally replied, looking down at her lap. Her untrusting ways forced her to remain anonymous to the stranger. She could not risk her name being passed around the German camps in fear that they would find her hideaway.

He raised a brow in confusion. "Ellie, is that the only name you possess?." he stared blankly at the ceiling as his hands found their way to his chest, intertwining his long fingers upon his breast. "Do you know who you are aiding, ma'am?"

"No, sir." Eloise shook her head. "I can't say that I am familiar with many soldiers."

He repositioned his bandaged head and stared at Eloise in silence. "I am Captain Albert von Brandt. Son of Wolfgang von Brandt, former General of the Ulhans. I am the captain of the flying squadron known to the grounded world as 'die fürchteten Flyer' (the feared flyers)," He paused to take a deep breath. "I am in a great debt of service to you, ma'am, for saving my life."

Eloise looked at him puzzled. "You don't owe me anything, sir." She rose from the chair, making her way to the corner of the dimly lit room. "Be thankful that I was not an enemy." Swiftly, she took a cup of water to his bedside, helping him to drink of the cool liquid.

"You are a supporter of the Germany?" He asked, confused of her manner.

"I don't support anyone in this godforsaken war." Eloise bluntly replied, hoping to end the conversation. She felt uneasy talking to the man, unsure of what he could be capable of. His hard stare was intimidating to her.

Albert propped himself up onto his elbows, scooting back in the bed. "You are different than anyone else I have met in Belgium."

Eloise looked at him with a puzzled expression on her face. "How?"

"You actually trust a German to be in your home."

"I don't trust you, but I don't hate you, either." She replied bluntly. "I guess when you don't have anything to lose, no one can really take anything from you. I have nothing left for you to take, except my life and it doesn't have much worth to the world anymore."

He stared at her confused. "What about your family?"

Her eyes roamed around the empty room while the images of her past life began to trickle back into her subconscious. The painted picture of her mother and her father returned to her memories, while the scenes of her childhood replayed in full color. She shut her eyes tightly, bedding the resurfacing feeling back down into her heart. When she opened her eyes, the darkness loomed around her, hugging her like a mother to her child.

"They are all dead." Her voice went cold and stern. "But it wasn't the war that took them. No man was at fault for their death except the grim reaper himself." She bit the corner of her lip nervously, fearing she had said to much already.

Albert redirected his gaze back onto the ceiling, letting the silence of the night fill into the room once again. The open wound of the past was present again in Eloise's heart and she had to close off the pain that she had worked so hard to heal.

"I am sorry about your family." Albert kindly spoke, leaning his head against the cold metal bedrail. "I know that family is very important in a person's life and it must be hard to lose them all."

She shrugged calmly, sitting down at his bedside. "You learn to relive once they are gone." Eloise shook her head, pursing her lips together. "Some wounds never truly heal, you just learn to live with the pain."

Eloise took the warm handle of the candleholder into her hand, letting the light illuminate her face. "You should try and rest, captain," she nodded, pressing her hand against his shoulder. "Your wounds will not heal on their own."

♠

The morning light shone brightly from underneath the wooden door, driving away the dark shadows the night made in the small cottage. Eloise could feel the burning sensation in her tired eyes as the sunlight pierced them. Albert was still sleeping soundly leaned against the rail of the rickety bed. A peaceful expression rested on his square face as he slept. She pushed herself up from the hard wicker chair. The loud creak of the old wood echoed in the still room, leaving her with a fear that she awoke the sleeping man. She halted momentarily and stretched her limbs outward. A satisfying sensation coursed through her stiffened body as she worked the kinks out of her muscles.

She wandered to the corner of the room where she kept her small supply of food and water, which consisted of the objects she could hunt or gather in the week and remain unnoticed. The stockpile was very bare, but offered enough sustenance to support life. She found a wooden bowl and filled it with tiny wild strawberries. Quietly, she placed the bowl of fresh red fruits and a tin cup of water beside Albert, who remained in a deep rest.

Around the room were the remnants of nursing material from the previous night. A porcelain bowl rested on the floor, stained red with the crimson blood of the stranger. Inside the bowl was the long needle she had used to stitch his wounds. Linen clothes were scatted around near the bowl and around his bed. They, too, were coated with droplets of blood.

She looked down at the destroyed table once again, wondering what she could do with its remains. While thinking, Eloise gathered herself some berries and began eating them silently in corner. Her mind pondered on what the long hours of the new day would provide her with. She could not help but think about the outcome of the soldier in her bed. It was too late to leave him now, he knew about her existence.

Eloise pushed the spinning thoughts out of her head and approached the large black truck in the opposite corner. She found a handheld mirror from the large chest nearby. The reflection that appeared was not the woman she recognized. Her dark brown hair was tousled into wild knots, while bloodstains were smeared along her pale skin. A redness circled the white in her eyes, blending with the generic blue color. Her eyes scanned onto her shabby attire. The white apron she wore was tattered and stained with droplets of red blood. The top buttons of her cream-colored blouse were loosened, while the tail had become untucked from the slender waist of her long black skirt.

She quickly hid the mirror when she heard Albert rustling in the bed. Nervously, she straitened herself the best she could before moving to his side. Her fingers automatically found their way to the blood-stained bandage around his head, then onto the gashing scrape that lined his defined cheekbone. His eyes fluttered open upon her touch.

He hoarsely coughed, clearing his throat. "I thought it was all a dream," He spoke softly, looking up at her with the bright blue eyes. "but I can see that it was all real."

Eloise did not reply, instead she worked diligently to replace the bandages. He winced in pain as she began cleaning the open wounds.

"How bad is it?" He asked concerned.

Eloise paused, looking down at him reassuringly. "The side of your head has been grazed by a bullet," she lightly touched his head. "and your cheek has been cut open. There were some metal fragments lodged in the back of your neck but I retrieved them and stopped the bleeding with a few stitches." She stared at him blankly. "If you had lost any more blood, sir, you would not be here. You are very lucky to be alive, sir."

He let out a deep sigh, touching his injured cheek. She could tell that something bothered him; however, she could not tell whether it was the fact he had crashed his plane, or if it was the fact he was injured. The pain in his eyes was evident and it bothered her.

"Don't worry, Captain. I will have you fixed up in no time," Eloise spoke comfortingly, wrapping a new linen bandage around his head. "Your woman won't even be able see any scars."

A light-hearted smile crept onto his face after the remark. "You don't have to worry about any scars," he answered coyly. "My mother will still love me the same."

She rose from where she sat, roaming back to the corner where her supplies sat. Once she found a small bottle of a green paste, she returned to his side. All the while her mind recalled the picture he held in his pocket, thinking of the vibrant woman at his side. She dared not to mention her knowledge of the image and hoped to forget that it existed, for it was just a reminder of the life she could never have. She began dabbing the homemade paste onto his injured cheek, hoping to prevent any infections from entering into the open wound.

"That is who you saw in my picture." He stated, the genuine smile never disappearing from his face.

Eloise felt her cheeks grow flushed from embarrassment. "Then your mother won't even be able to see any scars." She replied with embarrassment as tried to cover up her flustered expression with her hand.

"Where are my jackets?" He asked as his eyes roamed around the simple room in search of his possessions. "All of my pictures, medals, papers—everything is in them."

She nodded, "I have them stored away safely. Your gray coat has noticeable bloodstains along it. I will try to get the stains out, if you would like."

He nodded in response. "You don't trust me at all," He paused to raise a single brow. "but I can understand why. You are alone here and I am a German."

Eloise avoided a response in hopes to hide any visible amount of fear she had. His expression quickly became blank, as if he was thinking about something serious. Eloise longed to know what he was thinking, but she knew it was not appropriate for her to ask. An awkward silence fell between them while she continued to nurse his injuries. His bright eyes stared up at her, making her feel a tingly feeling inside of her stomach. She had never felt it before and she did not like the feeling.

"That will do you for a while, sir." spoke Eloise as she tied the last knot in the fresh bandage. "You should try and eat something." Her nervous hands found the small bowl of fruit nearby, reaching it to him. "It isn't much, but it will give you nourishment."

He glanced down at the bowl of red fruit and responded with a smile. "Thank you, ma'am."

"Well since that is the only fruit that is growing at the moment," Eloise stated, rising to leave the bedside. "it is about all I have here to eat, so I hope that you enjoy them."

He nodded happily. "They are fine. Thank you again, ma'am."

Eloise creaked the door open, peeking her head through the brightly lit crack. She scanned the outside forest carefully, studying every inch of the visible greenery before fanning it open completely. The brightness of the hot sunny day pierced its way into the dimly lit cottage, filling it with warmth and light. She took in a deep breath and exhaled the air slowly.

"I believe that it is going to be a lovely day, sir." She announced chipperly, resting her hands on her hips. "I will be going out today to check my snares and see if I can gather more strawberries for you." Her eyes roamed back onto Albert who sat quietly in the corner. "Will you be alright alone?"

He nodded, "Why would I not be?" A slight smirk began to creep onto his face, making Eloise feel a slight bit of discomfort. She remembered the hidden pistol in the house and began making up scenarios in her head.

She quickly looked away. "I was just asking, sir."

"Gah," he cried out as he pushed himself onto the side of the bed, dropping his sock-covered feet to the floor. Eloise hurriedly rushed to his side and began to inspect the bandaged injuries with great concern. His hand rose from his side, halting her from her examination. "I'm alright, ma'am. I just wish you would stop calling me sir. There is never a time when someone just calls me by my name. It is always sir, or captain."

Her worried expression disappeared at the comment, glancing around the lightened room. "You had me worried, sir—" her eyes grew wide with embarrassment. "I mean..." her words fell into a long pause while she thought a moment. "Tell me," she began calmly. "if I shall not call you, sir, then what shall I address you as?"

"Albert." He stated straightly, pushing his wobbly body up from where he sat. "Call me Albert." In a matter of seconds, he toppled back onto the bed, landing with a thump against the rickety frame.

Eloise leaned forward, helping him back upright. "You are far too weak to be doing anything, Albert." She said, easing him down onto his back. "I don't want you to get your wounds to bleeding again. I fear that if they break open again, I won't be able to fix them. If I do manage to get them fixed, it will be very painful for you."

He looked up aimlessly at the ceiling, focusing on the straight beams above. Eloise studied him carefully, watching even the slightest movement of his blue eyes. In those mesmerizing eyes she saw sadness appearing. She could not make herself stop staring, no matter how much she knew that she had to quit. Something about his mysterious appearance drove her mind to an unknown place—a place she had never been before.

"Perhaps I shouldn't leave you here alone just yet." Eloise spoke softly, rising from the bedside. "You are still not well and weak."

The glistening of sweat was visible in the sunlight, catching her by surprise. Fear of fever overcame her as she gathered a handkerchief from the large chest that sat in the corner of the house. Hurriedly, she took a pail of water to the bedside and dipped the clean linen into the cool water. He let out a deep sigh upon the touch of the dampened cloth. His eyes pulled together, furrowing his light brows together. She could sense the pain written along his pale face. The heat from his body radiated onto Eloise, letting her feel the slight fever setting in his body. Slow and steady, she continuously soaked the cloth and pressed it against his face.