Work Text:
Joseph wakes up in a cold sweat. He was having a nightmare, the same one he's been having for months - the Luftwaffe dropping a few “warning” bombs over Luxembourg City before a cavalry of tanks comes rolling in through the city streets. Joseph doesn't live in Luxembourg City anymore. He hasn't for nearly a year. Not since he and his father were forcibly relocated to France with little more than the clothes on their backs.
“Nightmare?” his father asks.
Joseph nods. His father is having nightmares too. He's never said as much, but Joseph knows it all the same.
“You should get going,” his father says. “You know what happens if you're late to work.”
Joseph had shown up late to work at his menial factory job once, as an act of defiance. As punishment, they cut off rations for a week. Joseph could handle it, but he doesn't want to put his father through that again.
Life wasn't always like this. Not all that long ago, Alfred Kuhn was the most respected engineer in Luxembourg. His family lived a life of comfort, in a nice neighborhood surrounded by other reputable people. Alfred even made enough money to be able to send Joseph to university in Munich to study cartography like he always wanted.
But Alfred Kuhn also had the misfortune of having been born a Jew. Joseph doesn't remember exactly when it started, but over time, the neighbors who had once respected Alfred started spitting at his feet. Alfred’s skills had spared them the fate of the other Jews in the country, forced onto a freight train headed to God knows where. Instead they were moved here, to a ghetto in France, with nothing but the absolute essentials.
Mrs. Kuhn was lucky that breast cancer got to her first.
Joseph puts on some relatively clean clothes and grabs a piece of stale bread off the counter. It would have to do for breakfast. They ran out of jam three days ago and another shipment wasn't due in until tomorrow.
“See you later,” Joseph says, clasping his father's shoulder. It's starting to feel more like a question than a statement and it makes Joseph sick to his stomach.
“See you later,” his father replies with only a half smile.
Joseph leaves their barren apartment and trudges down the street towards the factory where he works. No one asked Joseph what his profession was when they arrived here. Instead, the Gestapo officer in charge assigned him a job. Joseph now spends his days repairing boots for the German army in the local shoe factory. He despises the fact that he's helping the Nazi war effort.
At least he's not being forced to design a super bomb.
***
Usually Joseph is the first one home, so he's surprised to find his father inside the apartment when he returns from work. He's about to ask about it when his father stops pacing the room and rushes over to him.
“Joseph, listen to me very carefully,” his father says, pressing an envelope to Joseph’s chest. “You need to take this envelope to America. Whatever you do, do not let anyone see it until you get there.”
“America?” Joseph asks. The two of them applied to immigrate there, before the invasion. Their applications were denied.
“I have an old university buddy in Lisbon, Portugal. He owns a shipping company, he can get you to America. His name is Nicolau Mascarenhas. Repeat that name for me.”
“Nicolau Mascarenhas,” Joseph repeats. He doesn't like the frantic way his father is speaking to him. It's making him very nervous.
“Good. Once you get out of the ghetto, find the bicycle shop in town. The owner is a good man, he'll help you get where you need to go. Now, get your things packed, you have to leave tonight.” There's a look on Alfred's face, one Joseph has seen plenty on those around him, but never on his father. Desperation.
“Dad, what's going on?” Joseph asks.
“It's better that you don't know,” his father says, as he hurriedly kneels down and pulls the good suitcase out from under the bed.
A sickening feeling arises in the pit of Joseph's stomach. Tonight would be the last night he would ever see his father. He knew this day would come eventually. He still isn't ready for it.
They don't have to wait long for darkness to set in and for curfew to begin. Joseph already knows where the patrol guards will be and how to avoid them. He's been watching them for weeks now. They always follow the same path, every night. It's a small mercy that the Nazis love routine so much.
There is a hole in the fence, not far from their apartment, that Joseph knows about as well. Sympathetic locals have been using it to pass supplies to those inside the ghetto. It's a small hole, but Joseph has lost enough weight in recent months that he figures he'll fit through it.
Joseph leads the way through the alleys, his father trailing behind him carrying a solitary suitcase. The envelope, with whatever it contains, is safely tucked away in Joseph's jacket pocket. He wants to ask why his father isn't escaping with him. He already knows his father won't answer.
As they make their way around a corner, Joseph notices the beam of a flashlight flicker their way. Although it doesn't illuminate them fully, it might just be enough to arouse someone's suspicions. He hopes not.
After he fully rounds the corner, Joseph pauses, pressing himself against the wall and trying to keep as silent as possible. His father does the same beside him. He holds his breath as he listens.
“Is anyone there?” a voice calls out in German. Joseph’s heart sinks.
Joseph’s father shoves the suitcase into his hands. “Go,” he says quietly.
“Dad-”
“Go,” his father says again, more emphatically this time.
“I love you dad,” Joseph whispers.
“I love you too,” his father replies.
Joseph doesn't have time for any more of a goodbye. It's important to him - to his father - that he makes it out safely. He takes off running, as fast as he can without making too much noise. His father stays behind.
Joseph finds the hole in the fence. It's gotten a little bigger since the last time he saw it, for which he's thankful. Joseph shoves the suitcase through, then gets on his hands and knees to squeeze himself through.
A single gunshot rings out in the night. Joseph's nightmare is going to look a lot different tomorrow.