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nanuk_dainTitle: In An Ideal World, Things Would Have Been Different
Part: I - Hartenstein POV
Chapter: 05/?
Fandom: The Sinking of the Laconia
Pairing: Werner Hartenstein/Thomas Mortimer
Author: Nanuk Dain
e-mail: nanukdain@gmx.net
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: first time
Word count of chapter: approx. 4.640
Word count total: approx. 19.630
Disclaimer: Not mine, and never will be. I mean no disrespect to the real people, this is entirely based on the portrayal of the actors in the movie. And my crazy imagination XD
Comment: Sorry, it's been a while since I updated this fic, but I assure you it's not abandoned or forgotten, I actually have a lot more written in bits and pieces. I'll get it finished eventually, but there's still some plot to come beforehand ^_^
And here the usual: Some of the dialogue is taken from the movie, sometimes adapted to my storyline. /"Blabla"/ are things originally said in German.
Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4
Summary: Sometimes you meet the right person at the very wrong time, Hartenstein thinks while he watches the MPs lead Mortimer away to their waiting vehicle.
*******
PART I - Hartenstein POV
CHAPTER 5
U-156, approximately 510 miles north-northwest of Ascension Island
October 2nd 1942
The days have been slow. Rosteau is about to finish even the tiniest repair he still had on his list and seems to be satisfied with U-156's current condition. They stopped the engines for a day to allow for the last repair works, and Hartenstein is just waiting for his chief engineer to give the green light. Meanwhile, Hartenstein is going over all the information he has to decide where they'll head next. He's pondering over a chart in the con when he hears footsteps stopping behind him. "Captain? May I have a word?"
It's Mortimer, and he sounds like there's something important he wants to talk about. When Hartenstein turns around, he finds Mortimer standing at ease before him, holding himself with the formal elegance that Hartenstein noticed a few times already, especially when Mortimer was dealing with official tasks. So this is not about a personal matter - which is good, because something has shifted between them ever since that morning on the conning tower, and Hartenstein isn't quite sure what it means and how to deal with it. It feel like there's a strange kind of comfortable ease to their interaction, something that is new and yet oddly familiar. It regularly throws him for a loop, but he never does anything to stifle it, although he knows that he should.
"Certainly." Hartenstein agrees and motions for Mortimer to follow him to the ready room. When they enter, Hartenstein doesn't sit down but remains standing, leaning with his hip against the table. Mortimer limps through the doorway after him, taking a bit longer because his leg is still causing him problems. "What can I do for you?"
"I know this is a somewhat unconventional request, Captain, " Mortimer begins, then he stops and licks his lips in a gesture that seems nervous, "but I want to ask you to provide me with an occupation."
Hartenstein can't keep his eyebrows from rising. Mortimer surprises him yet again. Of course he knows that Mortimer doesn't like being idle, but he never expected him to basically ask for a job. He's still a prisoner of war, after all. Technically, they're still enemies. Before he can think better of it, Hartenstein remarks with a smirk, "I thought you said that you weren't planning on signing up for my crew."
Mortimer's mouth twitches in a halfway suppressed smile. "I'm not. But it's not an option to just sit around and twiddle my thumbs, either. There's no way of telling how long I'm going to be on this ship, and I need a task or I'll go crazy. There has to be something I can do to make myself useful."
Hartenstein inclines his head in agreement. He can certainly see Mortimer's point.
"I know it's not exactly common for a prisoner of war to work on an enemy ship, but I have to admit that I find the entire situation rather unusual." Mortimer continues with an air of seriousness about him. Hartenstein wholeheartedly agrees that this situation is anything but normal, and has been ever since he decided to take the survivors of the Laconia aboard. Mortimer still being on board only continues the strangeness of the situation. "There are a lot of things I can't do due to the obvious fact that I don't speak German. And you certainly understand that I can't and won't be an active part in the destruction of allied ships, but there have to be other things that I can do."
Hartenstein holds Mortimer's intense gaze, and he finds no deception there, only the honest desire to have something to do, to be useful. It tips the scale for him, and he nods slowly. "There are always things that need to be done. We'll find something."
"Thank you, Captain." Mortimer inclines his head with the beginning of a smile that is quite obviously born out of relief. He looks truly grateful, and Hartenstein wonders how stir crazy Mortimer must have gone in order to come forward with this request.
When Mortimer has left, Hartenstein calls Mannesmann and Rosteau to the ready room. He tells them about Mortimer's request and that he intends to grant it before he asks them for their opinion on the situation. Rosteau is quick to point out that he's not letting an enemy anywhere close to the ship's engines or any other critical systems, and Hartenstein reassures him that there's no risk of that happening. Mannesmann on the other hand declares it a good idea to have Mortimer work with them, pointing out that the Englishman has proven himself a reliable and helpful asset before, when the survivors were still on board. Contrary to Rosteau, Mannesmann knows that Mortimer won't be involved in anything crucial, that's a given they don't even need to mention. Mannesmann comes up with a few ideas where Mortimer could help out, and after dinner, Hartenstein finds Mortimer in the crew quarters and tells him that he'll be on the watch detail along with Weber and Waldemar the next morning.
From that moment on, Mortimer works wherever there is a task that he can fulfil. He often stands watch on the conning tower with a few other crew members. He's also doesn't consider it beneath him to help out Dengler in the galley and soon is found in the kitchen around mealtimes. He proves to be a master at making coffee and it doesn't take long before Hartenstein notices that his crewmen wait specifically for the times when Mortimer is on duty in the galley to refill their cups or thermosflasks. He has to admit that Mortimer's coffee is better than the stuff Dengler brews. It's stronger, but also tastier. He can't quite explain it. For a Brit, Mortimer certainly knows his coffee.
Or maybe it's that Dengler is just too young to know what real coffee should taste like. He's almost as young as Waldemar, after all, still more a boy than a man.
The week following Mortimer's request is very quiet. There's not much traffic at the moment, they haven't encountered a ship in over a week. The crew is in that special state where they're relaxed but not yet restless or longing for action, and the atmosphere is comfortable. Hartenstein has always enjoyed these moments, they're rife with easy camaraderie and are essential for the men to bond from individuals working together into a proper crew. Even Fiedler is slowly finding his place among the men who have already worked together for several patrols.
Hartenstein is oddly relieved to notice that the men slowly include Mortimer into life on board instead of treating him like the prisoner of war he actually is. He's often invited to join them in the games they play in their time off, and he rarely sits alone at mealtimes. Despite the language barrier he seems to somehow make himself understood whenever Weber or Fielder aren't around to translate. Hartenstein is sure that part of the acceptance by the crew comes from Mortimer's efforts to help out, although there's not that much he can do. It's also helping that he's still occupying the same bunk in the crew sleeping compartment, and thereby his presence has become familiar.
When Hartenstein goes to the galley one evening to get something to eat, it's reasonably busy due to it being dinner time. He notices Mortimer and Dengler working together serving soup to the crew, and Hartenstein lingers in the back for a moment, watching them. They're quick and efficient, one filling the bowls while the other is serving them and taking back used ones. Somehow they seem to get along without needing to say much - which is probably a good thing considering that Dengler doesn't speak a word of English.
When the queue is almost gone, Hartenstein walks up to Mortimer who takes one of the bowls Dengler prepared and hands it to Hartenstein. "Dinner, Captain?"
Hartenstein accepts the food, looks down at his bowl and then back at Mortimer. "Let me guess: Potato soup."
Mortimer smirks. "How did you know?"
"Experience, I guess." Hartenstein chuckles. In a spur of the moment decision, he asks, "Tell me, Mortimer, do you play chess?"
Mortimer nods in answer to the question, while handing out a bowl to another crew member. "My grandfather taught me when I was a child."
"Would you do me the honour of a game?" Hartenstein asks with a smirk and jerks his chin in the direction of the ready room. The chess board and the metal box containing the pieces are still on the table because Hartenstein and Mannesmann played a round last night.
Mortimer chuckles, and the fact that the smile reaches his eyes is not lost on Hartenstein. "I would, Captain. Once I'm done here."
"I'll be waiting." Hartenstein replies with a raised eyebrow. Mortimer's smirk deepens, and it sends a shiver down Hartenstein's back. He does his best not to let it show and wonders what the hell he's doing.
Hartenstein eats with Mannesman and Rosteau who join him in the ready room shortly after he sat down. They talk about the area they plan to patrol for the next few days before they start swapping some funny stories about their time on other ships. It's one of those bonding moments Hartenstein cherishes so much, and it leaves him feeling relaxed and at ease.
When Hartenstein returns his bowl to the galley, Mortimer and Dengler are busy cleaning up. Dengler might be young, but he certainly keeps his galley spotless. Mortimer is working with the same devotion, and Hartenstein hides a pleased smirk when he returns to the ready room. Mortimer sure takes his new tasks seriously, and he doesn't show in the ready room before the galley is clean and he and Dengler have neatly put away every piece of crockery and cutlery. Hartenstein isn't really surprised, he has known for while now that Mortimer is a disciplined and reliable man who will never skip any part of his duty, no matter what the task is.
Through the doorway, Hartenstein watches Mortimer limp over to the ready room. His steps are carefully controlled and measured. There's a certain moment when Mortimer's leg seems to not quite be able to take his weight, and that's when he favours it enough that the limp shows. It's still a lot better than a week ago, Hartenstein thinks with a sense of relief. He wasn't sure how bad the damage to the muscles was, and he still isn't sure Mortimer will be able to lose the limp entirely. He's certainly making an effort, though.
When Mortimer enters the ready room, Hartenstein offers him a seat opposite of his own and pours Mortimer a cup of coffee from the thermosflask. "So, do you play often?"
"Not recently." Mortimer replies while sitting down. "My fellow officers on the Laconia didn't play. Not that there was much time for it, anyway, with so many people on board."
There's no reproach in the words, they're just a simple statement. Hartenstein watches Mortimer take up his cup to drink some coffee, and he finds no hidden tension in his body language. It surprises him, but at the same time he appreciates it. He doesn't want an argument, not tonight. He wants to relax over a game of chess and forget the world and the war for just a few hours.
Mortimer sets down his cup and reaches for the box containing the chess pieces. "May I?"
"Sure." Hartenstein nods and watches Mortimer setting up the chess pieces with ease, a sure sign that he knows what he's doing. Hartenstein finds his gaze drawn to Mortimer's long fingers placing each wooden piece on its designated square before reaching for the next. His hands are large but slender, his movement efficient and precise and somehow elegant. Hartenstein forces himself to look away when his thoughts begin to head into a direction that they shouldn't. Like wondering what those hands would feel like on his skin, what they could do to him, where he wants to feel their touch...
/"Never forget that you are a German."/ Hartenstein repeats for the umpteenth time in his mind when he forces his attention back to the situation at hand, away from those dangerous thoughts. The chess board is completely set up, and Hartenstein notices that Mortimer awarded him the white pieces and took the black ones for himself.
"White moves first." Mortimer says to Hartenstein and looks at him expectantly. Hartenstein doesn't hesitate and makes his first move. Mortimer is equally quick and it only takes Hartenstein a few minutes to realise that he has found a skilled opponent. It makes him smirk in anticipation. Until now Mannesmann was the only one coming close to his level of skill, but Hartenstein still managed to defeat him three times out of four, so he's glad to have a new opponent who's more of a challenge.
He doesn't know how long they have been playing when he's staring intensively at the chessboard, mentally going through the possible moves and Mortimer's probable reactions. There are several pieces lined up next to the board, black ones as well as white. Hartenstein contemplates his options for another moment or two, then he moves his rook.
"What is the German word for 'rook'?" Mortimer asks and points at the piece in Hartenstein's hand.
The question takes Hartenstein completely by surprise, and it takes him a few seconds to answer. "We call it 'Turm'. Literally translated that means 'tower'."
"And the bishop?" He holds up his own piece, the black bishop.
"It's a 'Läufer'. That means 'runner'." Hartenstein replies, still unsure what this is about.
"How do you spell it?" Mortimer looks at him with a frown, obviously thinking about how it could be written.
"In German there are a few more letters than in English. One is the 'ä'-sound, which is used in 'Läufer.' It's written like an 'a' with two dots above the letter." Hartenstein tries to understand what Mortimer is up to. He has to admit that he doesn't see it. "So it's L-Ä-U-F-E-R."
"German seems quite complicated. The words are very different from English." Mortimer says while placing his bishop and taking one of Hartenstein's pawns. Hartenstein doesn't manage to concentrate on the game, instead he looks at Mortimer who takes up his cup of coffee to take a sip.
"Like Beker." Mortimer continues and points at his mug. "But at least I do understand Kaffee."
"A mug is a Becher." Hartenstein corrects with a smirk and makes a point to repeat the -ch sound that seems to pose the biggest challenge to Mortimer who tries to imitate the sound and manages after the fifth attempt.
"You're getting there." Hartenstein praises with a teasing smirk. "A little more practise and you'll be fluent."
"I doubt it." Mortimer replies with a chuckle. "But I'm trying to pick up a thing or two. Weber and Fiedler told me a few words, and I regularly ask Dengler for the German words for some of the things we use in the galley."
"Are you seriously trying to learn German?" Hartenstein asks, surprise plain in his voice because he can't quite believe that Mortimer really wants to learn the language of his enemy.
"I haven't been very successful so far." Mortimer shrugs with a half-smirk, playing absent-mindedly with the pawn he just took from Hartenstein. "It gives me something to do, though. When I was still bedridden, pretty much the only thing I could do apart from sleeping was listening to the men and trying to guess what they were talking about. I didn't get very far, but it kept me busy."
Mortimer pauses, stops playing with the pawn and puts it neatly in line with the other pieces he claimed so far. "And I figured that I could try to learn a thing or two since I'm listening to the language almost the entire day. And it would be helpful to be able to say and understand at least the very basic things of daily life. Like Becher and Kaffee. It's just two words, but it's enough for me to understand that somebody is asking for a cup of coffee."
It's then that it hits Hartenstein that Mortimer can only talk to three people on board - Fiedler, Weber and Hartenstein himself. Of course he already knew that, but he only now realises what that means for Mortimer in daily life. No wonder he was going crazy without a task. It also shines an entirely new light on his effort to work on board - it has to be incredibly difficult to do so while not being able to communicate. Hartenstein wonders again how Mortimer manages in the galley with Dengler. They must have found a way to make each other understand what they want to say, because they seem to be getting along really well and Hartenstein did notice that the food distribution at mealtimes is much faster.
"Allright then. I'll teach you." Hartenstein says before he has even thought it through. "What do you want to know?"
"Numbers." Mortimer says immediately. "Weber taught me how to ask 'how many' in German, but Dengler always has to either write it down or count on his fingers to tell me the number. Knowing numbers - at least until the count of fifty - would make my daily life a lot easier."
Well, that begins to explain how Mortimer and Dengler communicate, Hartenstein thinks with a smirk. Doesn't sound too comfortable. Hartenstein looks around for a moment, then he points at the first of the chess pieces lined up next to the board. "Eins. One."
Mortimer repeats it, and Hartenstein slowly goes on until they have counted all fourteen pieces that are out of the game so far. Then Mortimer returns to the first pieces and tries to go through all of them on his own. Hartenstein has to help him a few times, but he manages to get almost all numbers.
"Now I just have to remember them." Mortimer remarks with a smirk, then he glances at the board and his smirk deepens. "By the way, Captain, it's still your turn."
Hartenstein chuckles and makes the move he planned out half an hour ago. Every time either one of them loses another piece, Hartenstein continues the count, and Mortimer dutifully repeats the numbers. Hartenstein has to admit that it's one of the most relaxing and enjoyable chess games he has played so far - even if Mortimer wins in the end. Hartenstein acknowledges that he has found somebody who can match him in this game, and he admits - at least to himself - that he is looking forward to play against him again.
Of course the chess pieces only get them as far as the number thirty-two, so once the board is empty Hartenstein points at one square after another and Mortimer counts until they reach thirty-two, then Hartenstein takes over and continues until he reaches the last square at the count of sixty-four. They go over it twice, and Hartenstein is positively surprised at Mortimer's good memory. There are only few numbers he gets wrong or can't remember, which Hartenstein thinks is impressive considering that it's Mortimer's first attempt at learning them.
"Well, thank you for the lesson, Captain." Mortimer leans back in the chair and glances at the mug in his hand, then he smirks and catches Hartenstein's gaze. "And for the Becher of Kaffee."
Hartenstein can't help chuckling. He likes how the words sound coming from Mortimer. He has quite a distinctive accent, and Hartenstein finds he likes listening to it. "You're welcome."
Mortimer sets down his empty cup and begins putting the chess pieces back into their metal box. "We should do it again."
"Tomorrow?" Hartenstein offers immediately, a little startled at his own eagerness to repeat tonight's game.
Mortimer looks up and Hartenstein is sure there's faint surprise in his eyes, but it disappears when he smiles. "I'd love to."
When Mortimer has placed the last chess piece in the box, he closes the lid and carefully gets up. He remains standing next to the table for a moment, and Hartenstein can't help his gaze being drawn to Mortimer's eyes. The silent lasts longer than is either polite or appropriate, but Hartenstein doesn't make any effort to break it. Instead he holds the intense gaze and almost enjoys the too familiar goosebumps slowly spreading over his neck and down his arms.
"Good night, Captain." Mortimer says finally, his voice deeper than it usually is, and he turns around to leave.
"Good night, Mortimer." Hartenstein replies and watches him limp out of the ready room. Of course Hartenstein is aware that he has long since stopped using a title for Mortimer, instead he just says his name. As if they knew each other well. As if they were friends. As if there wasn't a war standing between them. He knows he shouldn't allow Mortimer to get so close, that he shouldn't allow himself get attached to Mortimer, who is not only a prisoner of war in his care, but also an enemy officer.
But he just can't find it in him to put an end to their strange interaction. Mortimer manages to surprise him again and again, he keeps him on his toes while at the same time giving him the feeling that he can trust him. It's a strange feeling, a situation full of contradictions, yet Hartenstein can't help being drawn to the Englishman like a moth to the flame. He knows he will get burnt, if not by the man himself then by the situation they're in. Once they return to Lorient, he will have to hand Mortimer over to the authorities, and that's something he is highly reluctant to do. So far he's been able to push those thoughts aside since there's not even an order for them to return to port, but it will come, and Hartenstein knows that.
He takes a deep breath and presses his lips into a thin line. It's dangerous and it's not worth it, he repeats in his mind over and over again, as if that could make him actually believe it. The real problem is that he cares less the more time he spends with Mortimer. Hartenstein sits at the table for a long time, staring at the doorway Mortimer disappeared through, lost in thoughts. When he finally shakes himself out of it, he takes a pencil and a few pieces of paper and begins to write. Once he's done, he folds the papers and puts them in his pocket, then he returns to the con.
The next morning, when Hartenstein gets his breakfast from Mortimer in the galley, he hands him the pieces of paper he wrote the previous evening. "This might help you a little."
Mortimer takes them with a questioning expression on his face, unfolds them and leafs through them. Hartenstein knows what he sees: The first page shows a neat table with the English terms for each chess piece in the first row, followed by the German word and an improvised pronunciation aid that Hartenstein came up with last night. The second page contains another table, this time it's the numbers up to 100 with the German word next to them, again with the improvised pronunciation help in the last column. The third and fourth page are filled with random words Hartenstein compiled according to the likeliness of Mortimer needing them. There are kitchen utensils and foods, ship types and furniture, the four cardinal directions and words for the general orientation like 'left' and 'right'. The fifth page lists some expressions and basic sentences like 'I'm hungry' or 'Good Morning' that Hartenstein deems necessary for everyday communication. He again tried to give Mortimer a pronunciation aid so that he would be able to learn them without anybody having to read out the German words for him.
Mortimer scans all five pages, then he looks up and catches Hartenstein's gaze. There's something akin to surprise in his gaze, and there's no denying the warmth in his eyes.
"Thank you, Captain." he says with a little smile that is somehow intimate in its sincerity. The rough tone of his voice makes the familiar goosebumps spread over Hartenstein's neck and arms again. "This will definitely help."
"I thought it might make it easier for you to see the words written down." Hartenstein replies and returns the smile before he gives a quick nod and continues his way to the con. He can feel Mortimer's eyes following him, and the goosebumps spread even further.
Their chess games become a habit. There's no fixed time when they play, but they do it almost every day. Each game is also a language lesson, and soon Hartenstein catches himself pondering over what he could teach Mortimer next. Mortimer proves to be an talented and dedicated student, so a few days later Hartenstein sits down with him to teach him some basic grammar. Mortimer has no problem trying to use his newly learned words with Hartenstein during their chess games, but otherwise Hartenstein doesn't hear him speak to anybody. It's like he's collecting words and learning them, trying to understand rather than speak. He doesn't hide his newfound pasttime, though. Hartenstein sees him with pencil and paper more often than not, and he knows that Mortimer asks Dengler as well as other crew members to write down German words for him when he comes across new ones he might need. During a morning meeting, Rosteau expresses his mistrust in Mortimer's interest in learning German, and Hartenstein has to fight to suppress his amusement when he sees Mannesmann roll his eyes where he's standing beside Rosteau.
One afternoon, when Hartenstein finds Mortimer bent over in his bunk trying to write words in an obvious attempt to memorise them, Hartenstein offers him to use the table in the ready room, pointing out that it's a lot more comfortable. Mortimer looks up in surprise, gives a lopsided smile and thanks him. Later that day, Hartenstein spots Mortimer hunched over his notes in the ready room. Hartentein smiles to himself and focuses on his duty on the con.
It's a little over two weeks after their language lessons began that Hartenstein hears Mortimer actually say something in German to anybody other than him for the first time. The irony of the fact that Mortimer chooses Rosteau to practise his language skills is not lost on Hartenstein, and he's sure Mortimer does it on purpose. It's after dinner and Rosteau is off duty and lingering in the ready room once he's done eating. Hartenstein is in the con and through the doorway he can see Mortimer sitting at the table with his notes, as he does most evenings. Hartenstein watches him look at Rosteau for a moment, then Mortimer reaches for the chessboard and metal box with the pieces and pushes them in the middle of the table.
/"Game? Chess?"/ he asks Rosteau in distinctively accented German and points at the chessboard.
It's just two words, not even a sentence, but the effort pays off. Rosteau's surprised face is so hilarious that Hartenstein can't quite suppress a smirk. Rosteau's surprise turns into a frown, then he sits down after a moment of hesitation. Mortimer keeps his face neutral while setting up the pieces, but Hartenstein knows he's enjoying his triumph. He's well aware that Rosteau mistrusts him, Hartenstein is sure of that.
Mortimer awards Rosteau the white pieces and soon they're engaged in a rather silent game of chess. Hartenstein watches for a moment with a smirk on his face. Maybe Rosteau can learn a thing or two from Mortimer. Not only concerning chess.
*** tbc
Part: I - Hartenstein POV
Chapter: 05/?
Fandom: The Sinking of the Laconia
Pairing: Werner Hartenstein/Thomas Mortimer
Author: Nanuk Dain
e-mail: nanukdain@gmx.net
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: first time
Word count of chapter: approx. 4.640
Word count total: approx. 19.630
Disclaimer: Not mine, and never will be. I mean no disrespect to the real people, this is entirely based on the portrayal of the actors in the movie. And my crazy imagination XD
Comment: Sorry, it's been a while since I updated this fic, but I assure you it's not abandoned or forgotten, I actually have a lot more written in bits and pieces. I'll get it finished eventually, but there's still some plot to come beforehand ^_^
And here the usual: Some of the dialogue is taken from the movie, sometimes adapted to my storyline. /"Blabla"/ are things originally said in German.
Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4
Summary: Sometimes you meet the right person at the very wrong time, Hartenstein thinks while he watches the MPs lead Mortimer away to their waiting vehicle.
*******
CHAPTER 5
U-156, approximately 510 miles north-northwest of Ascension Island
October 2nd 1942
The days have been slow. Rosteau is about to finish even the tiniest repair he still had on his list and seems to be satisfied with U-156's current condition. They stopped the engines for a day to allow for the last repair works, and Hartenstein is just waiting for his chief engineer to give the green light. Meanwhile, Hartenstein is going over all the information he has to decide where they'll head next. He's pondering over a chart in the con when he hears footsteps stopping behind him. "Captain? May I have a word?"
It's Mortimer, and he sounds like there's something important he wants to talk about. When Hartenstein turns around, he finds Mortimer standing at ease before him, holding himself with the formal elegance that Hartenstein noticed a few times already, especially when Mortimer was dealing with official tasks. So this is not about a personal matter - which is good, because something has shifted between them ever since that morning on the conning tower, and Hartenstein isn't quite sure what it means and how to deal with it. It feel like there's a strange kind of comfortable ease to their interaction, something that is new and yet oddly familiar. It regularly throws him for a loop, but he never does anything to stifle it, although he knows that he should.
"Certainly." Hartenstein agrees and motions for Mortimer to follow him to the ready room. When they enter, Hartenstein doesn't sit down but remains standing, leaning with his hip against the table. Mortimer limps through the doorway after him, taking a bit longer because his leg is still causing him problems. "What can I do for you?"
"I know this is a somewhat unconventional request, Captain, " Mortimer begins, then he stops and licks his lips in a gesture that seems nervous, "but I want to ask you to provide me with an occupation."
Hartenstein can't keep his eyebrows from rising. Mortimer surprises him yet again. Of course he knows that Mortimer doesn't like being idle, but he never expected him to basically ask for a job. He's still a prisoner of war, after all. Technically, they're still enemies. Before he can think better of it, Hartenstein remarks with a smirk, "I thought you said that you weren't planning on signing up for my crew."
Mortimer's mouth twitches in a halfway suppressed smile. "I'm not. But it's not an option to just sit around and twiddle my thumbs, either. There's no way of telling how long I'm going to be on this ship, and I need a task or I'll go crazy. There has to be something I can do to make myself useful."
Hartenstein inclines his head in agreement. He can certainly see Mortimer's point.
"I know it's not exactly common for a prisoner of war to work on an enemy ship, but I have to admit that I find the entire situation rather unusual." Mortimer continues with an air of seriousness about him. Hartenstein wholeheartedly agrees that this situation is anything but normal, and has been ever since he decided to take the survivors of the Laconia aboard. Mortimer still being on board only continues the strangeness of the situation. "There are a lot of things I can't do due to the obvious fact that I don't speak German. And you certainly understand that I can't and won't be an active part in the destruction of allied ships, but there have to be other things that I can do."
Hartenstein holds Mortimer's intense gaze, and he finds no deception there, only the honest desire to have something to do, to be useful. It tips the scale for him, and he nods slowly. "There are always things that need to be done. We'll find something."
"Thank you, Captain." Mortimer inclines his head with the beginning of a smile that is quite obviously born out of relief. He looks truly grateful, and Hartenstein wonders how stir crazy Mortimer must have gone in order to come forward with this request.
When Mortimer has left, Hartenstein calls Mannesmann and Rosteau to the ready room. He tells them about Mortimer's request and that he intends to grant it before he asks them for their opinion on the situation. Rosteau is quick to point out that he's not letting an enemy anywhere close to the ship's engines or any other critical systems, and Hartenstein reassures him that there's no risk of that happening. Mannesmann on the other hand declares it a good idea to have Mortimer work with them, pointing out that the Englishman has proven himself a reliable and helpful asset before, when the survivors were still on board. Contrary to Rosteau, Mannesmann knows that Mortimer won't be involved in anything crucial, that's a given they don't even need to mention. Mannesmann comes up with a few ideas where Mortimer could help out, and after dinner, Hartenstein finds Mortimer in the crew quarters and tells him that he'll be on the watch detail along with Weber and Waldemar the next morning.
From that moment on, Mortimer works wherever there is a task that he can fulfil. He often stands watch on the conning tower with a few other crew members. He's also doesn't consider it beneath him to help out Dengler in the galley and soon is found in the kitchen around mealtimes. He proves to be a master at making coffee and it doesn't take long before Hartenstein notices that his crewmen wait specifically for the times when Mortimer is on duty in the galley to refill their cups or thermosflasks. He has to admit that Mortimer's coffee is better than the stuff Dengler brews. It's stronger, but also tastier. He can't quite explain it. For a Brit, Mortimer certainly knows his coffee.
Or maybe it's that Dengler is just too young to know what real coffee should taste like. He's almost as young as Waldemar, after all, still more a boy than a man.
The week following Mortimer's request is very quiet. There's not much traffic at the moment, they haven't encountered a ship in over a week. The crew is in that special state where they're relaxed but not yet restless or longing for action, and the atmosphere is comfortable. Hartenstein has always enjoyed these moments, they're rife with easy camaraderie and are essential for the men to bond from individuals working together into a proper crew. Even Fiedler is slowly finding his place among the men who have already worked together for several patrols.
Hartenstein is oddly relieved to notice that the men slowly include Mortimer into life on board instead of treating him like the prisoner of war he actually is. He's often invited to join them in the games they play in their time off, and he rarely sits alone at mealtimes. Despite the language barrier he seems to somehow make himself understood whenever Weber or Fielder aren't around to translate. Hartenstein is sure that part of the acceptance by the crew comes from Mortimer's efforts to help out, although there's not that much he can do. It's also helping that he's still occupying the same bunk in the crew sleeping compartment, and thereby his presence has become familiar.
When Hartenstein goes to the galley one evening to get something to eat, it's reasonably busy due to it being dinner time. He notices Mortimer and Dengler working together serving soup to the crew, and Hartenstein lingers in the back for a moment, watching them. They're quick and efficient, one filling the bowls while the other is serving them and taking back used ones. Somehow they seem to get along without needing to say much - which is probably a good thing considering that Dengler doesn't speak a word of English.
When the queue is almost gone, Hartenstein walks up to Mortimer who takes one of the bowls Dengler prepared and hands it to Hartenstein. "Dinner, Captain?"
Hartenstein accepts the food, looks down at his bowl and then back at Mortimer. "Let me guess: Potato soup."
Mortimer smirks. "How did you know?"
"Experience, I guess." Hartenstein chuckles. In a spur of the moment decision, he asks, "Tell me, Mortimer, do you play chess?"
Mortimer nods in answer to the question, while handing out a bowl to another crew member. "My grandfather taught me when I was a child."
"Would you do me the honour of a game?" Hartenstein asks with a smirk and jerks his chin in the direction of the ready room. The chess board and the metal box containing the pieces are still on the table because Hartenstein and Mannesmann played a round last night.
Mortimer chuckles, and the fact that the smile reaches his eyes is not lost on Hartenstein. "I would, Captain. Once I'm done here."
"I'll be waiting." Hartenstein replies with a raised eyebrow. Mortimer's smirk deepens, and it sends a shiver down Hartenstein's back. He does his best not to let it show and wonders what the hell he's doing.
Hartenstein eats with Mannesman and Rosteau who join him in the ready room shortly after he sat down. They talk about the area they plan to patrol for the next few days before they start swapping some funny stories about their time on other ships. It's one of those bonding moments Hartenstein cherishes so much, and it leaves him feeling relaxed and at ease.
When Hartenstein returns his bowl to the galley, Mortimer and Dengler are busy cleaning up. Dengler might be young, but he certainly keeps his galley spotless. Mortimer is working with the same devotion, and Hartenstein hides a pleased smirk when he returns to the ready room. Mortimer sure takes his new tasks seriously, and he doesn't show in the ready room before the galley is clean and he and Dengler have neatly put away every piece of crockery and cutlery. Hartenstein isn't really surprised, he has known for while now that Mortimer is a disciplined and reliable man who will never skip any part of his duty, no matter what the task is.
Through the doorway, Hartenstein watches Mortimer limp over to the ready room. His steps are carefully controlled and measured. There's a certain moment when Mortimer's leg seems to not quite be able to take his weight, and that's when he favours it enough that the limp shows. It's still a lot better than a week ago, Hartenstein thinks with a sense of relief. He wasn't sure how bad the damage to the muscles was, and he still isn't sure Mortimer will be able to lose the limp entirely. He's certainly making an effort, though.
When Mortimer enters the ready room, Hartenstein offers him a seat opposite of his own and pours Mortimer a cup of coffee from the thermosflask. "So, do you play often?"
"Not recently." Mortimer replies while sitting down. "My fellow officers on the Laconia didn't play. Not that there was much time for it, anyway, with so many people on board."
There's no reproach in the words, they're just a simple statement. Hartenstein watches Mortimer take up his cup to drink some coffee, and he finds no hidden tension in his body language. It surprises him, but at the same time he appreciates it. He doesn't want an argument, not tonight. He wants to relax over a game of chess and forget the world and the war for just a few hours.
Mortimer sets down his cup and reaches for the box containing the chess pieces. "May I?"
"Sure." Hartenstein nods and watches Mortimer setting up the chess pieces with ease, a sure sign that he knows what he's doing. Hartenstein finds his gaze drawn to Mortimer's long fingers placing each wooden piece on its designated square before reaching for the next. His hands are large but slender, his movement efficient and precise and somehow elegant. Hartenstein forces himself to look away when his thoughts begin to head into a direction that they shouldn't. Like wondering what those hands would feel like on his skin, what they could do to him, where he wants to feel their touch...
/"Never forget that you are a German."/ Hartenstein repeats for the umpteenth time in his mind when he forces his attention back to the situation at hand, away from those dangerous thoughts. The chess board is completely set up, and Hartenstein notices that Mortimer awarded him the white pieces and took the black ones for himself.
"White moves first." Mortimer says to Hartenstein and looks at him expectantly. Hartenstein doesn't hesitate and makes his first move. Mortimer is equally quick and it only takes Hartenstein a few minutes to realise that he has found a skilled opponent. It makes him smirk in anticipation. Until now Mannesmann was the only one coming close to his level of skill, but Hartenstein still managed to defeat him three times out of four, so he's glad to have a new opponent who's more of a challenge.
He doesn't know how long they have been playing when he's staring intensively at the chessboard, mentally going through the possible moves and Mortimer's probable reactions. There are several pieces lined up next to the board, black ones as well as white. Hartenstein contemplates his options for another moment or two, then he moves his rook.
"What is the German word for 'rook'?" Mortimer asks and points at the piece in Hartenstein's hand.
The question takes Hartenstein completely by surprise, and it takes him a few seconds to answer. "We call it 'Turm'. Literally translated that means 'tower'."
"And the bishop?" He holds up his own piece, the black bishop.
"It's a 'Läufer'. That means 'runner'." Hartenstein replies, still unsure what this is about.
"How do you spell it?" Mortimer looks at him with a frown, obviously thinking about how it could be written.
"In German there are a few more letters than in English. One is the 'ä'-sound, which is used in 'Läufer.' It's written like an 'a' with two dots above the letter." Hartenstein tries to understand what Mortimer is up to. He has to admit that he doesn't see it. "So it's L-Ä-U-F-E-R."
"German seems quite complicated. The words are very different from English." Mortimer says while placing his bishop and taking one of Hartenstein's pawns. Hartenstein doesn't manage to concentrate on the game, instead he looks at Mortimer who takes up his cup of coffee to take a sip.
"Like Beker." Mortimer continues and points at his mug. "But at least I do understand Kaffee."
"A mug is a Becher." Hartenstein corrects with a smirk and makes a point to repeat the -ch sound that seems to pose the biggest challenge to Mortimer who tries to imitate the sound and manages after the fifth attempt.
"You're getting there." Hartenstein praises with a teasing smirk. "A little more practise and you'll be fluent."
"I doubt it." Mortimer replies with a chuckle. "But I'm trying to pick up a thing or two. Weber and Fiedler told me a few words, and I regularly ask Dengler for the German words for some of the things we use in the galley."
"Are you seriously trying to learn German?" Hartenstein asks, surprise plain in his voice because he can't quite believe that Mortimer really wants to learn the language of his enemy.
"I haven't been very successful so far." Mortimer shrugs with a half-smirk, playing absent-mindedly with the pawn he just took from Hartenstein. "It gives me something to do, though. When I was still bedridden, pretty much the only thing I could do apart from sleeping was listening to the men and trying to guess what they were talking about. I didn't get very far, but it kept me busy."
Mortimer pauses, stops playing with the pawn and puts it neatly in line with the other pieces he claimed so far. "And I figured that I could try to learn a thing or two since I'm listening to the language almost the entire day. And it would be helpful to be able to say and understand at least the very basic things of daily life. Like Becher and Kaffee. It's just two words, but it's enough for me to understand that somebody is asking for a cup of coffee."
It's then that it hits Hartenstein that Mortimer can only talk to three people on board - Fiedler, Weber and Hartenstein himself. Of course he already knew that, but he only now realises what that means for Mortimer in daily life. No wonder he was going crazy without a task. It also shines an entirely new light on his effort to work on board - it has to be incredibly difficult to do so while not being able to communicate. Hartenstein wonders again how Mortimer manages in the galley with Dengler. They must have found a way to make each other understand what they want to say, because they seem to be getting along really well and Hartenstein did notice that the food distribution at mealtimes is much faster.
"Allright then. I'll teach you." Hartenstein says before he has even thought it through. "What do you want to know?"
"Numbers." Mortimer says immediately. "Weber taught me how to ask 'how many' in German, but Dengler always has to either write it down or count on his fingers to tell me the number. Knowing numbers - at least until the count of fifty - would make my daily life a lot easier."
Well, that begins to explain how Mortimer and Dengler communicate, Hartenstein thinks with a smirk. Doesn't sound too comfortable. Hartenstein looks around for a moment, then he points at the first of the chess pieces lined up next to the board. "Eins. One."
Mortimer repeats it, and Hartenstein slowly goes on until they have counted all fourteen pieces that are out of the game so far. Then Mortimer returns to the first pieces and tries to go through all of them on his own. Hartenstein has to help him a few times, but he manages to get almost all numbers.
"Now I just have to remember them." Mortimer remarks with a smirk, then he glances at the board and his smirk deepens. "By the way, Captain, it's still your turn."
Hartenstein chuckles and makes the move he planned out half an hour ago. Every time either one of them loses another piece, Hartenstein continues the count, and Mortimer dutifully repeats the numbers. Hartenstein has to admit that it's one of the most relaxing and enjoyable chess games he has played so far - even if Mortimer wins in the end. Hartenstein acknowledges that he has found somebody who can match him in this game, and he admits - at least to himself - that he is looking forward to play against him again.
Of course the chess pieces only get them as far as the number thirty-two, so once the board is empty Hartenstein points at one square after another and Mortimer counts until they reach thirty-two, then Hartenstein takes over and continues until he reaches the last square at the count of sixty-four. They go over it twice, and Hartenstein is positively surprised at Mortimer's good memory. There are only few numbers he gets wrong or can't remember, which Hartenstein thinks is impressive considering that it's Mortimer's first attempt at learning them.
"Well, thank you for the lesson, Captain." Mortimer leans back in the chair and glances at the mug in his hand, then he smirks and catches Hartenstein's gaze. "And for the Becher of Kaffee."
Hartenstein can't help chuckling. He likes how the words sound coming from Mortimer. He has quite a distinctive accent, and Hartenstein finds he likes listening to it. "You're welcome."
Mortimer sets down his empty cup and begins putting the chess pieces back into their metal box. "We should do it again."
"Tomorrow?" Hartenstein offers immediately, a little startled at his own eagerness to repeat tonight's game.
Mortimer looks up and Hartenstein is sure there's faint surprise in his eyes, but it disappears when he smiles. "I'd love to."
When Mortimer has placed the last chess piece in the box, he closes the lid and carefully gets up. He remains standing next to the table for a moment, and Hartenstein can't help his gaze being drawn to Mortimer's eyes. The silent lasts longer than is either polite or appropriate, but Hartenstein doesn't make any effort to break it. Instead he holds the intense gaze and almost enjoys the too familiar goosebumps slowly spreading over his neck and down his arms.
"Good night, Captain." Mortimer says finally, his voice deeper than it usually is, and he turns around to leave.
"Good night, Mortimer." Hartenstein replies and watches him limp out of the ready room. Of course Hartenstein is aware that he has long since stopped using a title for Mortimer, instead he just says his name. As if they knew each other well. As if they were friends. As if there wasn't a war standing between them. He knows he shouldn't allow Mortimer to get so close, that he shouldn't allow himself get attached to Mortimer, who is not only a prisoner of war in his care, but also an enemy officer.
But he just can't find it in him to put an end to their strange interaction. Mortimer manages to surprise him again and again, he keeps him on his toes while at the same time giving him the feeling that he can trust him. It's a strange feeling, a situation full of contradictions, yet Hartenstein can't help being drawn to the Englishman like a moth to the flame. He knows he will get burnt, if not by the man himself then by the situation they're in. Once they return to Lorient, he will have to hand Mortimer over to the authorities, and that's something he is highly reluctant to do. So far he's been able to push those thoughts aside since there's not even an order for them to return to port, but it will come, and Hartenstein knows that.
He takes a deep breath and presses his lips into a thin line. It's dangerous and it's not worth it, he repeats in his mind over and over again, as if that could make him actually believe it. The real problem is that he cares less the more time he spends with Mortimer. Hartenstein sits at the table for a long time, staring at the doorway Mortimer disappeared through, lost in thoughts. When he finally shakes himself out of it, he takes a pencil and a few pieces of paper and begins to write. Once he's done, he folds the papers and puts them in his pocket, then he returns to the con.
The next morning, when Hartenstein gets his breakfast from Mortimer in the galley, he hands him the pieces of paper he wrote the previous evening. "This might help you a little."
Mortimer takes them with a questioning expression on his face, unfolds them and leafs through them. Hartenstein knows what he sees: The first page shows a neat table with the English terms for each chess piece in the first row, followed by the German word and an improvised pronunciation aid that Hartenstein came up with last night. The second page contains another table, this time it's the numbers up to 100 with the German word next to them, again with the improvised pronunciation help in the last column. The third and fourth page are filled with random words Hartenstein compiled according to the likeliness of Mortimer needing them. There are kitchen utensils and foods, ship types and furniture, the four cardinal directions and words for the general orientation like 'left' and 'right'. The fifth page lists some expressions and basic sentences like 'I'm hungry' or 'Good Morning' that Hartenstein deems necessary for everyday communication. He again tried to give Mortimer a pronunciation aid so that he would be able to learn them without anybody having to read out the German words for him.
Mortimer scans all five pages, then he looks up and catches Hartenstein's gaze. There's something akin to surprise in his gaze, and there's no denying the warmth in his eyes.
"Thank you, Captain." he says with a little smile that is somehow intimate in its sincerity. The rough tone of his voice makes the familiar goosebumps spread over Hartenstein's neck and arms again. "This will definitely help."
"I thought it might make it easier for you to see the words written down." Hartenstein replies and returns the smile before he gives a quick nod and continues his way to the con. He can feel Mortimer's eyes following him, and the goosebumps spread even further.
Their chess games become a habit. There's no fixed time when they play, but they do it almost every day. Each game is also a language lesson, and soon Hartenstein catches himself pondering over what he could teach Mortimer next. Mortimer proves to be an talented and dedicated student, so a few days later Hartenstein sits down with him to teach him some basic grammar. Mortimer has no problem trying to use his newly learned words with Hartenstein during their chess games, but otherwise Hartenstein doesn't hear him speak to anybody. It's like he's collecting words and learning them, trying to understand rather than speak. He doesn't hide his newfound pasttime, though. Hartenstein sees him with pencil and paper more often than not, and he knows that Mortimer asks Dengler as well as other crew members to write down German words for him when he comes across new ones he might need. During a morning meeting, Rosteau expresses his mistrust in Mortimer's interest in learning German, and Hartenstein has to fight to suppress his amusement when he sees Mannesmann roll his eyes where he's standing beside Rosteau.
One afternoon, when Hartenstein finds Mortimer bent over in his bunk trying to write words in an obvious attempt to memorise them, Hartenstein offers him to use the table in the ready room, pointing out that it's a lot more comfortable. Mortimer looks up in surprise, gives a lopsided smile and thanks him. Later that day, Hartenstein spots Mortimer hunched over his notes in the ready room. Hartentein smiles to himself and focuses on his duty on the con.
It's a little over two weeks after their language lessons began that Hartenstein hears Mortimer actually say something in German to anybody other than him for the first time. The irony of the fact that Mortimer chooses Rosteau to practise his language skills is not lost on Hartenstein, and he's sure Mortimer does it on purpose. It's after dinner and Rosteau is off duty and lingering in the ready room once he's done eating. Hartenstein is in the con and through the doorway he can see Mortimer sitting at the table with his notes, as he does most evenings. Hartenstein watches him look at Rosteau for a moment, then Mortimer reaches for the chessboard and metal box with the pieces and pushes them in the middle of the table.
/"Game? Chess?"/ he asks Rosteau in distinctively accented German and points at the chessboard.
It's just two words, not even a sentence, but the effort pays off. Rosteau's surprised face is so hilarious that Hartenstein can't quite suppress a smirk. Rosteau's surprise turns into a frown, then he sits down after a moment of hesitation. Mortimer keeps his face neutral while setting up the pieces, but Hartenstein knows he's enjoying his triumph. He's well aware that Rosteau mistrusts him, Hartenstein is sure of that.
Mortimer awards Rosteau the white pieces and soon they're engaged in a rather silent game of chess. Hartenstein watches for a moment with a smirk on his face. Maybe Rosteau can learn a thing or two from Mortimer. Not only concerning chess.
*** tbc
