Alsace

Despite having promised herself to think of Florent no longer, Marie-Ange could not push him out of her mind. In fact, the very thought of him pervaded her entire consciousness like a warm cloak on a bitter winter’s day. It was far from unpleasant, yet the comfort the mere memories of him brought to her was alarming. The young nurse found herself distracted at work, occasionally smiling as she recalled his loving gaze. To think she had met him right here, among the patient beds - never could she have guessed that he would have left such a lasting impression on her. She knew it couldn’t be. He was an obstacle to her ambitions, one she could very easily rid herself of had she the courage. Just a few nights before, she had been so determined - or at least, had convinced herself she had been - and yet she found her strength faltering. There was a growing itch in her, one that could only be satisfied by seeing his face again.

Making a momentary disappearance from the medical wing, she sat now on a pew before the cathedral’s main altar, uncertain as to why she had come at all. The sky had gifted them the rare sight of sunlight, of which the rays now came shining through the stained glass above. As a child, her father had once told her that basking in the light of god could bring guidance to even the most lost of individuals. Unfortunately, it left her rather indifferent.

By the time she had returned to her patients’ bedsides, her mind had cleared slightly. The afternoon was spent replacing soiled bandages, a method which she had begun to apply seriously. The improvements to her patients’ wellbeing was scarce, but she was willing to try it a while longer, as the journals had indicated it to be of promise. Still, the agonized wails of the many injured present had to be drowned out, and the sight of the rapidly growing infections did little to convince her that they would not cost them their limb one day soon. Each moment spent in the ward convinced her that had she a bit more knowledge, perhaps the room to practice new approaches, or the opportunity to properly observe the inner workings of the human body, even just once, she could alleviate their suffering more adequately, and perhaps even save their lives. She had sworn an oath to heal others to her best ability, and for that she was willing to go farther than any other medical persons enlisted in the area. For the wellbeing of the townsfolk, it was a necessity.

Florent couldn’t get in her way. Her feelings - they couldn’t get in the way.

Love was selfish, dangerous, something she had made certain she would not become the victim of. She’d always known how to keep emotions out of her relationships. To be held hostage by such a gentle face - unable to fulfill her life’s ambitions - was a fate she did not desire in the slightest. He wouldn’t understand. The young man was far too kind, much too humane to understand the sacrifices required for progress. He’d claim he did, but ultimately he’d disapprove of her - and she’d care too much about his opinion to proceed. No matter how understanding he seemed, he’d use her feelings against her like she’d always feared, and all too quickly she’d find herself vulnerable and hurt. It couldn’t be so…

On the way home that evening, she avoided the town square. She had been doing so since she’d left him abruptly, out of fear of crossing paths with him once more. If she struggled to keep her affections for him at bay, surely he would give up on his if she kept herself out of his sight, and hopefully out of his heart. But as she walked into her small room, settling among its familiar bleak furnishings, she could not help but feel a familiar longing within her. Marie-Ange eyed the single bed. It was tucked into the corner of the room, entirely unappealing with its faded sheets and worn frame. Tonight she would lay in it, cold and lonely once again, with nothing to look forward to but another day treating the sick. And she was content with that. Yet such an important duty could not replace her desire to be comforted, and to be understood by another. If she could be held in his arms just a few moments now and then, perhaps things could be different.

That night, in her sleep, the young nurse dreamed of another evening with him. No ill feelings were held against each other. She simply found solace in his embrace, and he found tenderness in hers, for in this dream, no chains locked her heart up so tightly that affection could not spill out. And in his company, she allowed herself to be truthful, for once. “I really do love you,” she whispered as he placed a chaste kiss on her forehead. Then, slowly, in each other’s arms, they remained. It was where she wished to be eternally. But once he had fallen asleep, she caressed his face lovingly, pulled a dark cloak over her shoulders, and, her own face shrouded under a dark hood, left the room in secrecy for the town’s dark alleys. For the wellbeing of the townsfolk, it was a necessity.

When she awoke, she was in pain. For his love, surely, could not be so unconditional.