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He had found Percy in a Jewish refugee camp in the south of France.
This had come as a surprise for many reasons: One- Arthur had presumed Percy would be somewhere in Germany or maybe Russia, not sunny, warm southern France. Two- Arthur had gotten himself roped into doing errands for someone and wasn’t expecting to stumble onto his brother. Three- Percy wasn’t Jewish, to his knowledge. Though, he could have become a convert in their time apart, but Percy was never the religious type. Arthur remembers Percy staring at him expectantly for an answer when the preacher talked about faith and sin. He also remembers holding Percy's hands during Sunday mass to keep him from drumming his fingers against the old warped wood of the pews out of boredom.
Perhaps it wasn’t boredom, Arthur thinks as he stares at his brother. Percy sits on a crate, facing away from Arthur. He’s curled around himself, drumming his fingers on the side of the empty crate. He looks so skinny, is all Arthur can think. His white shirt hangs over his bony shoulders, making him look so small.
The nurse that brought him over chuckles, grabbing his attention away from Percy.
“He does not talk a lot. He talk when he was a child?” She asks, her heavy French accent making Arthur strain his ears to understand her words.
“Yeah, he did. Not to many people, though.”
She nodded, her dark curls bouncing over her shoulders. Arthur had a vague memory of a girl in his school that had dark, curly hair and a hooked nose like her. He wonders what happened to her after the war ended; he could have sworn she was a year older than Percy and wouldn’t have been on the trains.
The nurse calls his name, saying something in French after. Percy’s head turns slightly towards them, but he doesn’t move more than that. The nurse looks at Arthur expectantly and nods towards his brother.
Arthur swallows the lump of guilt in his throat, balls up his trembling hands and forces his weak legs to move forward. He sees the muscles in Percy’s back tense and his head bow as his footsteps get closer and another wave of guilt washes over him.
“Percy?” he says as he walks in front of him and crouches in front of him. Seeing Percy’s face knocks the wind out of him and he lets out a gasp. It’s him, without a doubt. He’s older, obviously. His cheeks and eyes are hollowed, his hair is longer and stringy, his nose is bent out of shape, and heavy stubble dusts his jaw in patches. Arthur can’t help but tear up at the sight of his brother. He did this.
Percy looks up at him- not at his eyes, he never liked eye contact much- and scanned his face. He wrinkles his nose, then turns his head away.
“Percy, i-it’s me, Arthur!” He says, distressed.
Percy opens the bag leaning against his side and take a long drink from a canteen he pulls out, then clears his throat. “I know.” He croaks, barely sounding above a whisper. He looks at Arthur’s eyelashes, something he does to replicate eye contact. He only does this with Arthur when he’s trying to make a point. “I hate you.”
He says it so clearly and without any doubt or hesitation that it makes Arthur gasp again, then his eyes fill up with tears.
“I am so sorry, Percy. I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Arthur says, rocking into a kneeling position. “The best part about all of this is that I don’t know why I did it. I can’t know until I remember, and God knows when that will fucking happen.”
“I can’t hear you.”
He sighs. “Do you know what happened in England after we sent the children away? The Joy pills?”
Percy shakes his head.
“Great. The whole country is falling apart and nobody fucking knows about it.” He mutters miserably. “After we surrendered, everyone was depressed and ready to jump off the nearest building, so Joy pills were introduced. They make you happy and forget the past. If you aren’t completely high on these all the fucking time, you’re a ‘downer’. You bring people down, so you get thrown out of society. You get shoved with the rest of the downers in a town with no food, very little water, and bombed out buildings.
“The reason why I don’t remember why I… I lied and betrayed you… is because the Joy ruined my memory. Short and long term. Hah, I don’t remember your birthday nor do I remember what I’ve eaten today, if I’ve eaten at all.” Arthur frowns bitterly at the ground, screwing his eyes shut. “I’m sorry, Percy. If I had known why I did that, then maybe I could give you a better apology. What kind of person does that to his brother? Takes advantage of him being slow to get past the guards while he gets shipped to the hands of the Nazis? Why the fuck did I do that?”
“I don’t know, I’ve been wondering that for 18 years.” Percy says, rummaging around in his bag.
Arthur smiles bittersweetly. “I was more so talking to myself towards the end, there.”
He hums, pulling out something wrapped in a stained piece of cloth. He unwraps it carefully and reveals a few slices of bread and cheese. He eyes Arthur again, then holds the meal halfway out. “Have you eaten today?”
Arthur’s eyes widen in shock. “I thought you hated me, why are you offering me food?”
“I do hate you.” He says earnestly, but the corners of his mouth twitch. “But I am your big brother. I can give you food. Have you eaten today?”
The shocked expression on Arthur’s face broke into a smile. Percy never felt like he was older because Arthur took care of him instead of the inverse, he remembers. He liked to do little things like these to remind Arthur that he was older. “I don’t think I have. Have you?”
Percy pauses to think, then shakes his head. He evenly splits the bread and the cheese in half, and offers Arthur’s half, and that’s when Arthur’s eyes catch it. Percy is missing his ring and pinky fingers from his right hand.
“Wha-what happened to your hand?” His voice wavers as he accepts the food.
Percy shrugs. “It… It got caught… It got caught in machine… ma-machinery.” He struggles through his words. “Car man… man-u-fact-ure-ing plant.” He sounds the syllables out slowly. He quickly shoves bread in his mouth, as if he’s embarrassed.
Arthur hums, brow furrowing. “Did all the English kids get put in those types of jobs?”
“More or less,” The words are muffled around Percy’s still very full mouth, which earns a “don’t talk with your mouth full” from Arthur that he ignores. “That or work camps, but the S… Sov… Soviets liberated those. Very young ones were put up for adoption, I think. But, I didn’t work for long. I don’t follow instructions well. That’s why I got hurt.”
Arthur moves to sit next to Percy on the crate, muttering ‘bloody knees’ as he moves from his kneeling position. “So… what did you do after you worked?” He asks once he got settled.
Percy is quiet as he finishes his food. “Erm… I got placed in a hospital… of sorts. I was too slow to work and the guards got tired of beating me, so German doctors… ran tests?” He winces. “I can’t remember.”
“Probably blocked it out for good reason, then.”
“Maybe. I did ‘women’s work’ after that. Sewing clothes and painting advertisements. One of the women I worked with was Jewish. She was a writer. She spoke German, Hebrew, French, and English. I could talk to her. She… took her sister and I, and we… fled here.” Percy speaks in a very hushed, admiring tone when talking about this woman. Arthur bursts into a grin.
“Is she pretty?” Arthur says around his smile.
Percy looks taken-aback. “Well… yes… But, I don’t see what that has to do with anything” He lets a small smile creep across his face when he realizes what Arthur is so pleased about. “You don’t have to act so smug- we’re already together.”
It’s Arthur’s turn to look surprised. “Oh! I rather… didn’t expect that.”
“I actually can exist on my own sometimes.” Sarcasm? From Percy? “She kissed me after saying I had been putting moves on her. I didn’t, but I wasn’t going to say no to her. She was the first woman to have interest in me. ”
“Not true- Sally said you were rather cute, and so did Kathy Stewart!”
“Sally would be sarcastic and clever to confuse me and laugh about it, and Kathy Stewart put worms in my lunch when you weren’t around.”
“Oh…”
“Many women have called me cute because they treat me like I’m a child. I’m thirty-two. Andrea is the only person who can call me cute without making me uncomfortable. But that… that is o-only recent.”
Arthur finishes up his bread and cheese. “How long have you two been together?”
“Four years, seven months. I love Andrea more than anything. If people aren’t telling her to leave me, they tell me I should marry her. Should I?”
“I was just about to tell you to, if I’m being honest, Percy. She seems lovely.” Arthur smiles.
They sit in silence, which gives Arthur some time to observe the camp. Seeing dozens of Jewish people milling about in relative peace made him wonder about the Jewish population in England. He has a very hazy memory of hearing about synagogues being shut down and Jewish people being forced to go to Christian churches. Part of him wishes he could go back to England just to sneak around some record building and find out what happened to his country the decade-or-so he was hopped up and unaware on Joy. He had been meaning to ask someone in France for a history book, but he supposes it never came up in conversation. He also supposes that he forgot to check for a library, operating under the memory of highly censored English libraries with very little genuine reading material.
“I will never forgive you for what you did, Arthur.” Percy says. “I think… I hate… I… I hate what you… did, but I don’t… I don’t hate you. I want… to hate you. I don’t really understand what happened in England, but it sounds bad. You don’t remember why you did it. I don’t either. It was a terrible thing to do. I’m lucky I’m alive. I’m different to most people, and the Nazis hate that. I have been experimented on, probably tortured, and forced to work with little reward. I am lucky that Andrea loves me and let me escape with her and her sister. The building we worked in was… it was… the doors were locked and the building… the building was set on fire because it housed Jews, people of color, gays, and people like me. I am very lucky. There are many dead bodies that look like mine and Andrea’s in Germany.
“I will never forgive you. I will never forget it. But, I will not turn you away.” Percy finishes, determination painting his face. Before Arthur could say anything, Percy’s eyes light up at the sight of something, and he’s gone from Arthur’s side. He walks briskly across the dirt road in front of them toward a woman who Arthur assumes is Andrea. She is average height, and heavyset. Her skin is medium-dark, and her very curly hair is pulled into a tight ponytail at the base of her skull. Percy is gesturing in Arthur’s direction, earning Arthur a glare from Andrea. They talk for a little longer before the two walk back towards him.
“Hello, Arthur,” Andrea greets, a hint of malice in her honey-coated, accented voice. “Percy has told me many things about you. He missed you very, very much. My opinion of you will develop as I talk to you. A great way to talk to you is over dinner, no? Percy makes very nice challah, and we might have the ingredients for fish soup. Will you join us?”
Arthur smiles, his eyes filling with tears. “Yeah, erm… Yeah, I’d love that. I have some berries and flowers on me, I could make some tea?”