Alfred wanted to close his eyes. To block out all the horrible images, to erase them from his memory. But this was a dangerous time, so he couldn't very well keep his eyes closed and risk getting shot by a Nazi that was hiding somewhere.

The gun was heavy in his hands, because he had been carrying it for hours. Everyone else was in the same daze he was, all looking at the human bodies that covered the place. Also, the prisoners that were still alive looked as if they would keel over in a second. They had won, but it didn't feel like it, considering the sheer number of casualties. The Jews were making their way out of the camp, and somehow try to get their lives back. The war had just fucked so much stuff up, everything was in ruins.

He wasn't sure what made him pay attention to this one prisoner. Perhaps it was because for the past few months he had seen only death and pain, and this man's face looked strangely like an angel. His hair hung limp and lifeless, his cheeks hollowed out, and his eyes sunk into his skull. But it was obvious he was a beauty, even starved as he was.

When the man walked in front of Alfred, he stumbled. Out of instinct, he reached out and caught him so he didn't fall. The blond man looked up at him, his dark blue eyes holding a strange fear, yet grateful at the same time. Without a word, he righted himself, walking on, even with his slight limp.

Looking around, Alfred saw that there were no other soldiers near. So, he ran after the man, unable to let him go. "Hey wait!" When the blond turned slowly around, he tried to think of something to say. "Um... do you need help finding your family?"

"I already know where they are, thank you sir." The blond answered quietly, bowing his head slightly. He didn't need the strangers help, not after everything he and his people did for them.

"Oh..." Alfred said, not sure what the emotion was in his eyes when he said that. "Well, that's good, I guess. You can like find them easy, and stuff." But shouldn't he be happy at that? If the man could find his family, then surely he would be smiling... unless... "Oh God, they are... they aren't... are they?"

Nodding passively, he continued to limp along with the rest of the liberated people. There was nothing they could do to help his family, not after the gas chambers. He was lucky, since he became one of the guards favourites.

Taking a shaky breath, the American followed him. "Um, you wanna come back to our camp? We have... doctors. That can take care of you." Because of the limp, and also Alfred could see a small drizzle of blood on the prisoner's ankle that showed under the pants that were too short for him.

"It's ok sir, I couldn't ask more of you and your people." Not after risking their own lives to save them. He had heard wind of other camps being saved by other Americans, Russians, and the like. The Allies was what they called themselves.

Not being able to let the blond man go, Alfred pressed on. "Look, they say I'm a war hero. How can I let them say that if I let you leave, when you're obviously hurt?" He grabbed the man's wrist, appalled at how thin it was. His fingers touched the bottom of his thumb! "I'm Alfred."

"How is war heroic?" He asked cryptically, stopping his slow pace. "My name is Matthew sir. Thank you for everything. There are many good people that passed on who should be here instead of me."

What Matthew had said caught Alfred by surprise. It was true, war really wasn't heroic at all. It was simply murder, on a mass scale. But he forced himself to not dwell on it, and instead took in what he had said next. "I think you owe those good people to take care of yourself, and let us take care of you."

Matthew nodded as they continued to walk through the destroyed landscape. He had no idea why Alfred decided to help him, but he couldn't help but hope it wouldn't be the same as why they liked him in the camp. A half hour later and he could see a city of tents with people running about between them. "Is this where we stop sir?" He asked, hoping it wouldn't be out of his place to ask.

"I said my name was Alfred. Stop with all that 'sir' stuff." They got closer, and the American started heading to where the temporary hospital was set up. Luckily his friend was one of the doctors, so even if they were busy, he could probably get him to take a look at Matthew.

"Yes si- Alfred." Matthew mumbled, not wanting to upset him. "If I might be so bold, I would be ok with somewhere to sleep and maybe a bit of water if there is any to spare." He didn't need a doctor. Many other people were on the verge of death.

"I know you're hurt. What happened, by the way?" Of course he wanted to know. Even if he had just met this guy, he had now taken responsibility for him. He would see this through to the end, no matter what.

Ignoring the question, Matthew just kept walking. "I could go to the hospital myself, if you just point me to the direction."

Alfred knew this was true, yet he felt he needed to see that Matthew was taken care of, no matter what. Perhaps it was his engulfing beauty, or it could be his eyes that held such stories that would cripple most people. "So will you have a home to go to?" Even if there wouldn't be anyone there.

"No, my town was destroyed by a bomb." He didn't want the American man to pity him, since he was always one of the ones that had the easiest time in the camps. Occasionally he would get a little extra food or a bed to sleep on.

Hardly able to comprehend the horrors of Matthew's past, Alfred opened the rudimentary flap door to the hospital tent. What could he possibly do with his life now? This stupid war had stolen so much from him.

Going in shyly behind the man who was helping him, Mathew couldn't look at everyone. When the guards had started to take an interest in him, the other prisoners eventually hated him and then eventually ignored him. "Maybe this isn't a good idea sir. I know people who can see the doctor before me."

"Didn't I tell you not to call me sir?" Alfred said with a small laugh. Over the past few months, he had learnt to find humour in anything he could, because there wasn't much to go around. "Hey doc. He's hurt." He said simply, pointing to Matthew.

"I would think that if you were here with someone it would either be you or them." The doctor joked. "What is you name? I'm Dr. Hughes."

"Matthew." He mumbled again, bowing his head to the man. It was hard to stop himself from not trusting him, but if he wasn't a Nazi it would probably be ok.

Alfred smiled, glad Matthew would be getting help. "He won't tell me what's wrong with him, but I'm sure you can help." He patted him on the shoulder. "I'll be outside. Come get me when you're done.

"Sure will do Jones." He said. "Now Matthew, if you would please come and lay on this bed..."

Following his orders, the bedraggled blond couldn't help but think of all the people who had died before they could get help. Not only his family, but the countless others as well.

Leaving the room filled with painful moans, Alfred gave a sigh. This day had just been filled with death, to end with him actually helping someone was nice. Another thing that until now was pushed to the back of his thoughts was the fact that he would be going home in a couple weeks. But that wouldn't solve Matthew's problems... Or could it?

About a half hour of inspecting and diagnosing later, the doctor went out of the tent and saw Al sitting down on a small crate. "After looking at him, I can say he is better off than the majority of people here, but there are still a few things he should get attended when he gets to a proper hospital here."

Nodding, Alfred rubbed his face, waking himself up. "Saying he is better off than the others isn't really saying much. What was it?"

"Does he have a family here, or do you know where he will be staying? It would be best for him to be around people he knows after all the emotional pain he must have gone through. He's already sleeping on the cot I examined him on."

Taking a breath, Alfred leaned back. "He said his family is dead and his home destroyed." He took a second, bracing himself for what he was about to say. "I'm thinking of maybe taking him with me."

Putting a hand on Alfred's shoulder, the doctor frowned. "That probably isn't the best idea. You might think it will help and it would, but there is a high chance he will never truly trust you. You weren't the only one to notice how beautiful he is."

Turning his head, Alfred lifted an eyebrow. "What the hell are you talking about?" Unfortunately, his friend obviously knew him too well to have guessed how he felt about Matthew.

"He had a lot of cuts on his back and thighs along with the apparent starvation. None of the marks were on his face, but he does have a number of deep bruises on his hips, arms and thighs both fresh and old...." Seeing Alfred frown, he sighed. "Matthew was bleeding from his torn anus. The only thing I could think of that would cause that... Is if someone raped him, and by the damage they were quite large. Dammit Al, there stuff was still inside him, so it just happened too."

Letting out a breath, Alfred couldn't believe it. "Raped? No... No not possible. He's a guy!" He shook his head, not wanting to even think about it. He was raped just before they got there? If only they had been a little faster...

"Women aren't the only ones who get raped. Judging by the tears, it had happened many times before. It is a terrible thing, but anything during war has that potential." Giving his shoulder a pat, the doctor sighed. "Get some rest Jones. You won't be saving anyone if you're half asleep."

Appalled at what was done to that poor boy, Alfred gave a sigh. "Alright. When he wakes up, make sure he doesn't try to leave." Because it seemed like something he would do, not wanting to cause anyone any problems.

"I can try, but I need to take care of many more patients. I'll try to have a nurse check up on him frequently if that's what you want."

Thinking for a second, Alfred stood up. "Actually, is there a spare bed? Or even just some room on the floor beside him." He didn't really want to leave him. After all Matthew had been through, he deserved someone looking after him.

Shaking his head, the doctor didn't want to stop Al from being so hopeful, but it had to be done. "I'm sorry Jones. There isn't a bed left, and if you were to sleep on the floor I would be nervous of someone stepping on you. He will be fine, I promise."

"Damn. Fine, I guess as long as I'm woken up when he does it will be fine." He rubbed his eyes, thinking about the last time he had slept. It had been so long ago, exhaustion was starting to take him. "Thanks for doing this."

"It's my job, but thanks for the praise. He's one of the luckier ones, if you can call any of them lucky." With that, the doctor turned back into the tent to continue with his job.

Running a hand through his hair, Alfred gave one last look at the tent before heading to his own. They would probably have to go through a lot of paperwork to get Matthew to America, but it could be done. His house wasn't huge, but he did have a spare room.