The Brave Little Tailor
Title: The Brave Little Tailor
Author: darkfaery1
Series: TDS
Genre: Historical AU
Pairing: Jon/Amy (sex), Amy/Karl Rove (no sex:))
Rating: NC-17
Word count: 2350
Content: Het sex, language, anti-Semitism, angst, violence.
Summary: In 1939 Nazi Germany, Jewish tailor Jonathan Leibowitz finds an unexpected ally.
Author's note: I was reluctant to write a story based on this delicate subject matter, but this little plot bunny just wouldn't leave me alone. I posted a very abbreviated version of this on ths_just_in. The title is taken from the Grimm's fairytale by the same name and the icon is from Art Spiegelman's brilliant graphic novel of the Holocaust, Maus. Amy is about 18 in this story; Jon is 30; Rove is 57
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and is not intended to portray the life or defame the character of any actual person. Any similarity between the fictional version of the person portrayed here and the actual person is purely coincidental. No money is being made from this work of fiction. It is not intended to infringe upon any copyrighted material. Any mention of any copyrighted material is reasonably protected by the Fair Use Rule of the United States Copyright Act of 1976.
Rotenburg, Germany, October 1939…
Herr Rove stuffed another sausage in his mouth, chewing noisily. His young wife, Ami, hoped the nausea she felt at watching him eat meant that she was finally pregnant. It was the duty of every German woman to have as many children as possible; blond, blue-eyed boys and girls to perpetuate the Aryan race. She and Karl had only been married a year, but he was already talking about tossing her aside for a more fertile mate.
It was true Karl had saved her from the orphanage and had provided her with a comfortable home. His age, his baldness, his fat, red face would have been easy to bear if only he was kind, but he was not.
"My suit had better be ready today or I'll have that Jew's head on a plate," he barked.
"He promised," she said. "He said he would rush it." For me. That is what he had said when she asked him apologetically. "I have several customers ahead of your husband, but I will do it for you, Frau Rove." Herr Leibowitz's tone had been polite and deferential, but Ami thought she had heard a hint of flirtation in his sonorous voice. Of course, she wouldn't dare mention her imaginings to anyone; it would be a death sentence for the handsome Jewish tailor.
"Pay him half what I agreed to." Karl's lips curled in an evil grin. "If he complains tell him the Gestapo will pay him a visit. I will need a new tailor next time anyhow. Herr Krauthammer has an excellent tailor and he is a German."
"What do you mean, you'll need a new tailor?" Ami asked with alarm. Fortunately, her husband paid little attention to anything she said.
"Nothing to worry your pretty little head over," he said, placing a greasy kiss on her cheek. "Just make certain you get my suit today."
Ami handed Karl his briefcase and walked him to the door. "Is there to be another round up?" Periodically, the Gestapo rounded up the Jews in the town, usually community leaders and the poor. They left the more skilled tradesmen alone as the German citizens still did business with them, though most would prefer not to.
"I told you not to worry yourself," he said more firmly. "Just do what I tell you. And have my supper ready on time for a change."
Yes, Karl," she murmured as he closed the door behind him.
While Karl was at work Frau Rove ran errands. Because Karl was the director of the local munitions factory, rationing did not apply to his family. The Roves always had plenty of meat, bread, and potatoes on their table. The other town's wives smiled as she passed by, some even engaged her in small talk, but she could hear the catty whispers behind her back about what Ami had done to catch herself such a well-placed husband.
She quickened her step as she approached the tailor's shop, suddenly anxious to be in the presence of someone who never looked upon her with envy or dislike as the others did.
***
Jonathan Leibowitz did not have a boy to sew on buttons for him, so instead of enjoying a cigarette, he did it himself. In fact, he did everything himself since the Gestapo had taken the Sandler boy away with the rest of his family. "For their own safety," the officers had said. Like every Jew in Rotenburg knew, there was nothing safe about the place the Sandlers had been taken: Dachau Concentration Camp. Young Adam was dead, of that Jon was certain.
"Is my husband's suit ready?"
Jon was so deep in thought he had not heard the bell ring when the door opened. He jumped to his feet, sticking himself with the needle in the process. "Damn!" He brought his finger to his mouth and sucked it before regaining his professional demeanor. "Good afternoon, Frau Rove," he said with a bright smile. "I have your husband's suit right here."
"I didn't mean to startle you," she said sweetly. "Is your finger all right?" She tentatively reached for his hand, but withdrew with a rueful expression.
His eyes met hers briefly, then he looked down at his feet. "It's nothing, I do it all the time." He risked another awkward glance at her before he fetched the suit encased in a linen garment bag. Ami Rove was a very pretty girl at whom any man would take a second glance, but he didn't dare. The increasing interest he saw in her eyes made her doubly difficult to resist; but no woman, however pretty, was worth his life.
"My husband told me to pay you half what he promised," she said, ashamed. She handed him the money as well as a little extra she had probably managed to save out of her allowance. "It's still not enough, but I don’t want you to think I enjoy cheating you."
Jon felt an unexpected lump in his throat. Any kindness shown a Jew by a German was a rare thing indeed. Her generosity and compassion touched him deeply. My God, she's beautiful. "The thought never occurred to me. I will gladly take your husband's money, but I will not take yours." He counted out half the agreed upon price and put the rest in her palm, closing her fingers around it gently and lingering far longer than he should have.
Mumbling her thanks, her lovely face flushed as she turned towards the door.
"Good day, Frau Rove," Jon said quietly as he returned behind the counter. "Give your husband my regards."
Ami's hand froze on the doorknob. "Herr Leibowitz, do you have any family outside of Germany?"
It was a strange question, but the sudden urgency in her voice compelled him to answer. "My father is still in Poland, but we…don't speak. Why do you ask?"
"You should leave Rotenburg if you can," she whispered, her back still to him. "Something terrible is going to happen."
Jon laughed. "Something terrible is always happening in this town. Please don't concern yourself with me."
With a last, longing glance over her shoulder, Frau Rove left his shop. Instead of returning to his buttons, Jon went into the back room and pulled up a loose floorboard, revealing a strongbox containing his entire life savings. It's not enough, he thought to himself, but it'll have to do.
***
Ami left his shop and hurried home to cook Karl's supper. She was well aware of the fact that she had just committed treason, but she didn't care. Her heart beat almost painfully in her chest, but not from fear of her duplicity being discovered. Ami stopped in front of the dress shop window, not the least bit interested in the latest fashions. Instead, she wondered if her tailor's lips were soft, and if his embrace was strong or gentle. She felt tears in her eyes when she reminded herself that she would never see her handsome tailor again. Hopefully, he would heed her warning and leave town today.
At sundown, her fears were confirmed when the sound of gunfire exploded in the streets. Claxons blared, orders were shouted through bullhorns, demanding all Jews leave their homes. Impulsively, Ami ran outside, but only took a few steps towards the tailor's shop before she was stopped by a soldier.
"Lock yourself inside, Frauline," he ordered. He looked her up and down appreciatively, then grinned. "Come back later and we will celebrate Rotenburg finally being Jew free."
Ami went back inside her house and locked the door, peering outside the window cautiously, but was unable to see anything. Finally, she poured herself a glass a steadying sherry and ventured out into the back garden. Her hands shook as she lit a cigarette, listening to the screams of unarmed men, women and children being shot down as they tried to run away. Ami cried silently, imagining Herr Leibowitz lying in the street in a pool of blood. She let out a little scream when the telephone rang. When she ran inside to answer it, she noticed smoke coming from the oven: Karl's supper!
"Hello?"
"What took you so long? I almost hung up," Karl asked.
"Well, if you must know…I was in the toilet," she lied. "All the noise upsets my stomach."
"Poor darling," he said unfeelingly.
"I'm frightened, Karl," she said, drying her tears. "When are you coming home?"
Not tonight, I'm afraid. You wouldn't want me to get shot like a filthy Jew, would you?" he added, laughing.
His callous attitude sickened her. Foreign, evil thoughts caused her to hesitate for a second. "Of course not."
"I'll be home in the morning when all this unpleasantness is over. Why don't you visit Frau Olbermann tonight?"
Ami could not abide that woman. She was the worst gossip in town. "I think I'll just go to bed early, maybe listen to the wireless."
"That's my good, brave girl. Did you get my suit?"
Tears sprung to her eyes anew. "Yes. It's beautiful."
Karl snorted before he hung up, not even bothering to say goodbye. Ami hugged herself tightly before going into the kitchen to throw out Karl's burnt supper. She poured herself another drink and went back outside. As she lit another cigarette, she thought she saw movement in the shrubbery next to the fence. She resisted the urge to ask who was there for fear that it was a Jew trying to escape the Gestapo; she did not want to give them away if she could avoid it. She crept silently across the garden and peeked through the leaves of shrub. One wide blue eye met hers.
Before she could react, a hand shot out and covered her mouth, then Herr Leibowitz emerged. He slowly let his hand fall from her mouth. Ami stared up at his pleading eyes, unable to believe he was alive. Snapping out of her reverie, she took his hand and pulled him inside, bolting the back door.
"The cellar," he suggested frantically.
She nodded and led him down the stairs into the coalbunker. Ami finally let go her joyful sobs and hugged him tightly.
"I'll be gone soon, I promise," he said, stroking her hair.
"No, they'll shoot you! You'll stay here until it's safe."
"But your husband--"
"He's staying at the factory tonight, or the beer hall. He won't be back till morning."
"I'll be gone by then. I've risked you enough. Thank you, Frau Rove." Herr Leibowitz dropped to his knees and brought her hand to his lips.
"Ami," she said in a choked whisper, helping him to his feet, then kissing him on the cheek.
"Jonathan," he replied. "Jon."
A persistent knocking at the door sent them both into a panic. "Soldiers!" she cried.
Jon took her face in his hands in an attempt to calm them both. "If they find me, you know nothing about it." His grip as well as his expression was gentle but firm. All she could do was nod before she ran upstairs and answered the door. Instead of soldiers, it was Herr Olbermann.
"Are you all right, Frau Rove? Since your husband is staying at the factory tonight, I thought I'd check on you on my way home. When you didn't answer right away I became worried."
Herr Olbermann was Karl's foreman. He was a good, decent man who apparently had enough affection for his gossiping wife to go home to her on this dreadful night. "I'm sorry, I was in the cellar putting coal in the furnace."
"You are flushed."
"Oh," she said, putting a hand to her cheek. "I think that's the sherry. The noise, it makes me so nervous. But, really, I'm fine on my own."
Gunshots rang out again. The two Germans exchanged sorrowful looks, both mortified that their beloved Fatherland had sunk to committing such appalling acts against innocents. They could not speak of their feelings, of course. Ami wondered how long it would be before a shared glance would be called treason.
"Good night, then," he said, doffing his hat. "Give us a ring if you need anything."
Ami smiled at his unintentional rhyme. "Thank you, but I'll be fine." She closed and locked the door, but went into the kitchen rather than the cellar. She imagined Jon was hungry; besides the simple task of cooking calmed her nerves. Ami brought a tray of food downstairs, giving Jon the all-clear on her way down the stairs.
"Who was at the door?" Jon asked nervously.
"Herr Olbermann. He came to check on me. He's very kind." Ami sighed deeply. "All Germans are not like them, please believe me."
Jon took the tray from her and set it down on a dusty workbench. He buried his hands in her blonde hair and kissed her softly. "I know that," he murmured against her lips. Ami thought she'd faint in his arms as he admired her through half-lidded eyes.
"Please," she begged.
The urgency of their situation didn't allow for the niceties of courtship. If they were caught, they'd be killed, or worse, sent to Dachau. Karl would be home in the morning; they both knew they may never have another chance. Frenzied caresses followed wild kisses, and then their clothes were shed.
Jon sat on an old blanket with his back to the wall. Ami straddled Jon's lap and lowered herself onto him, moaning softly as he moved inside her, whispering words of love in her ear. Jon embraced her tightly, then laid her on her back, rolling his hips and thrusting inside her. It wasn't long before she arched her back and shouted out his name silently as the most intense orgasm she'd ever experienced washed over her. Jon kissed her deeply as he came, plunging his tongue in her mouth in time to his thrusts, then collapsed on top of her. Neither wanted to move, but knew they must soon.
"I'm leaving Germany," Jon announced as if he'd just said he was going to the grocer. "Come with me."
Ami just nodded her head and buried her face in his chest.
Author: darkfaery1
Series: TDS
Genre: Historical AU
Pairing: Jon/Amy (sex), Amy/Karl Rove (no sex:))
Rating: NC-17
Word count: 2350
Content: Het sex, language, anti-Semitism, angst, violence.
Summary: In 1939 Nazi Germany, Jewish tailor Jonathan Leibowitz finds an unexpected ally.
Author's note: I was reluctant to write a story based on this delicate subject matter, but this little plot bunny just wouldn't leave me alone. I posted a very abbreviated version of this on ths_just_in. The title is taken from the Grimm's fairytale by the same name and the icon is from Art Spiegelman's brilliant graphic novel of the Holocaust, Maus. Amy is about 18 in this story; Jon is 30; Rove is 57
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and is not intended to portray the life or defame the character of any actual person. Any similarity between the fictional version of the person portrayed here and the actual person is purely coincidental. No money is being made from this work of fiction. It is not intended to infringe upon any copyrighted material. Any mention of any copyrighted material is reasonably protected by the Fair Use Rule of the United States Copyright Act of 1976.
Rotenburg, Germany, October 1939…
Herr Rove stuffed another sausage in his mouth, chewing noisily. His young wife, Ami, hoped the nausea she felt at watching him eat meant that she was finally pregnant. It was the duty of every German woman to have as many children as possible; blond, blue-eyed boys and girls to perpetuate the Aryan race. She and Karl had only been married a year, but he was already talking about tossing her aside for a more fertile mate.
It was true Karl had saved her from the orphanage and had provided her with a comfortable home. His age, his baldness, his fat, red face would have been easy to bear if only he was kind, but he was not.
"My suit had better be ready today or I'll have that Jew's head on a plate," he barked.
"He promised," she said. "He said he would rush it." For me. That is what he had said when she asked him apologetically. "I have several customers ahead of your husband, but I will do it for you, Frau Rove." Herr Leibowitz's tone had been polite and deferential, but Ami thought she had heard a hint of flirtation in his sonorous voice. Of course, she wouldn't dare mention her imaginings to anyone; it would be a death sentence for the handsome Jewish tailor.
"Pay him half what I agreed to." Karl's lips curled in an evil grin. "If he complains tell him the Gestapo will pay him a visit. I will need a new tailor next time anyhow. Herr Krauthammer has an excellent tailor and he is a German."
"What do you mean, you'll need a new tailor?" Ami asked with alarm. Fortunately, her husband paid little attention to anything she said.
"Nothing to worry your pretty little head over," he said, placing a greasy kiss on her cheek. "Just make certain you get my suit today."
Ami handed Karl his briefcase and walked him to the door. "Is there to be another round up?" Periodically, the Gestapo rounded up the Jews in the town, usually community leaders and the poor. They left the more skilled tradesmen alone as the German citizens still did business with them, though most would prefer not to.
"I told you not to worry yourself," he said more firmly. "Just do what I tell you. And have my supper ready on time for a change."
Yes, Karl," she murmured as he closed the door behind him.
While Karl was at work Frau Rove ran errands. Because Karl was the director of the local munitions factory, rationing did not apply to his family. The Roves always had plenty of meat, bread, and potatoes on their table. The other town's wives smiled as she passed by, some even engaged her in small talk, but she could hear the catty whispers behind her back about what Ami had done to catch herself such a well-placed husband.
She quickened her step as she approached the tailor's shop, suddenly anxious to be in the presence of someone who never looked upon her with envy or dislike as the others did.
***
Jonathan Leibowitz did not have a boy to sew on buttons for him, so instead of enjoying a cigarette, he did it himself. In fact, he did everything himself since the Gestapo had taken the Sandler boy away with the rest of his family. "For their own safety," the officers had said. Like every Jew in Rotenburg knew, there was nothing safe about the place the Sandlers had been taken: Dachau Concentration Camp. Young Adam was dead, of that Jon was certain.
"Is my husband's suit ready?"
Jon was so deep in thought he had not heard the bell ring when the door opened. He jumped to his feet, sticking himself with the needle in the process. "Damn!" He brought his finger to his mouth and sucked it before regaining his professional demeanor. "Good afternoon, Frau Rove," he said with a bright smile. "I have your husband's suit right here."
"I didn't mean to startle you," she said sweetly. "Is your finger all right?" She tentatively reached for his hand, but withdrew with a rueful expression.
His eyes met hers briefly, then he looked down at his feet. "It's nothing, I do it all the time." He risked another awkward glance at her before he fetched the suit encased in a linen garment bag. Ami Rove was a very pretty girl at whom any man would take a second glance, but he didn't dare. The increasing interest he saw in her eyes made her doubly difficult to resist; but no woman, however pretty, was worth his life.
"My husband told me to pay you half what he promised," she said, ashamed. She handed him the money as well as a little extra she had probably managed to save out of her allowance. "It's still not enough, but I don’t want you to think I enjoy cheating you."
Jon felt an unexpected lump in his throat. Any kindness shown a Jew by a German was a rare thing indeed. Her generosity and compassion touched him deeply. My God, she's beautiful. "The thought never occurred to me. I will gladly take your husband's money, but I will not take yours." He counted out half the agreed upon price and put the rest in her palm, closing her fingers around it gently and lingering far longer than he should have.
Mumbling her thanks, her lovely face flushed as she turned towards the door.
"Good day, Frau Rove," Jon said quietly as he returned behind the counter. "Give your husband my regards."
Ami's hand froze on the doorknob. "Herr Leibowitz, do you have any family outside of Germany?"
It was a strange question, but the sudden urgency in her voice compelled him to answer. "My father is still in Poland, but we…don't speak. Why do you ask?"
"You should leave Rotenburg if you can," she whispered, her back still to him. "Something terrible is going to happen."
Jon laughed. "Something terrible is always happening in this town. Please don't concern yourself with me."
With a last, longing glance over her shoulder, Frau Rove left his shop. Instead of returning to his buttons, Jon went into the back room and pulled up a loose floorboard, revealing a strongbox containing his entire life savings. It's not enough, he thought to himself, but it'll have to do.
***
Ami left his shop and hurried home to cook Karl's supper. She was well aware of the fact that she had just committed treason, but she didn't care. Her heart beat almost painfully in her chest, but not from fear of her duplicity being discovered. Ami stopped in front of the dress shop window, not the least bit interested in the latest fashions. Instead, she wondered if her tailor's lips were soft, and if his embrace was strong or gentle. She felt tears in her eyes when she reminded herself that she would never see her handsome tailor again. Hopefully, he would heed her warning and leave town today.
At sundown, her fears were confirmed when the sound of gunfire exploded in the streets. Claxons blared, orders were shouted through bullhorns, demanding all Jews leave their homes. Impulsively, Ami ran outside, but only took a few steps towards the tailor's shop before she was stopped by a soldier.
"Lock yourself inside, Frauline," he ordered. He looked her up and down appreciatively, then grinned. "Come back later and we will celebrate Rotenburg finally being Jew free."
Ami went back inside her house and locked the door, peering outside the window cautiously, but was unable to see anything. Finally, she poured herself a glass a steadying sherry and ventured out into the back garden. Her hands shook as she lit a cigarette, listening to the screams of unarmed men, women and children being shot down as they tried to run away. Ami cried silently, imagining Herr Leibowitz lying in the street in a pool of blood. She let out a little scream when the telephone rang. When she ran inside to answer it, she noticed smoke coming from the oven: Karl's supper!
"Hello?"
"What took you so long? I almost hung up," Karl asked.
"Well, if you must know…I was in the toilet," she lied. "All the noise upsets my stomach."
"Poor darling," he said unfeelingly.
"I'm frightened, Karl," she said, drying her tears. "When are you coming home?"
Not tonight, I'm afraid. You wouldn't want me to get shot like a filthy Jew, would you?" he added, laughing.
His callous attitude sickened her. Foreign, evil thoughts caused her to hesitate for a second. "Of course not."
"I'll be home in the morning when all this unpleasantness is over. Why don't you visit Frau Olbermann tonight?"
Ami could not abide that woman. She was the worst gossip in town. "I think I'll just go to bed early, maybe listen to the wireless."
"That's my good, brave girl. Did you get my suit?"
Tears sprung to her eyes anew. "Yes. It's beautiful."
Karl snorted before he hung up, not even bothering to say goodbye. Ami hugged herself tightly before going into the kitchen to throw out Karl's burnt supper. She poured herself another drink and went back outside. As she lit another cigarette, she thought she saw movement in the shrubbery next to the fence. She resisted the urge to ask who was there for fear that it was a Jew trying to escape the Gestapo; she did not want to give them away if she could avoid it. She crept silently across the garden and peeked through the leaves of shrub. One wide blue eye met hers.
Before she could react, a hand shot out and covered her mouth, then Herr Leibowitz emerged. He slowly let his hand fall from her mouth. Ami stared up at his pleading eyes, unable to believe he was alive. Snapping out of her reverie, she took his hand and pulled him inside, bolting the back door.
"The cellar," he suggested frantically.
She nodded and led him down the stairs into the coalbunker. Ami finally let go her joyful sobs and hugged him tightly.
"I'll be gone soon, I promise," he said, stroking her hair.
"No, they'll shoot you! You'll stay here until it's safe."
"But your husband--"
"He's staying at the factory tonight, or the beer hall. He won't be back till morning."
"I'll be gone by then. I've risked you enough. Thank you, Frau Rove." Herr Leibowitz dropped to his knees and brought her hand to his lips.
"Ami," she said in a choked whisper, helping him to his feet, then kissing him on the cheek.
"Jonathan," he replied. "Jon."
A persistent knocking at the door sent them both into a panic. "Soldiers!" she cried.
Jon took her face in his hands in an attempt to calm them both. "If they find me, you know nothing about it." His grip as well as his expression was gentle but firm. All she could do was nod before she ran upstairs and answered the door. Instead of soldiers, it was Herr Olbermann.
"Are you all right, Frau Rove? Since your husband is staying at the factory tonight, I thought I'd check on you on my way home. When you didn't answer right away I became worried."
Herr Olbermann was Karl's foreman. He was a good, decent man who apparently had enough affection for his gossiping wife to go home to her on this dreadful night. "I'm sorry, I was in the cellar putting coal in the furnace."
"You are flushed."
"Oh," she said, putting a hand to her cheek. "I think that's the sherry. The noise, it makes me so nervous. But, really, I'm fine on my own."
Gunshots rang out again. The two Germans exchanged sorrowful looks, both mortified that their beloved Fatherland had sunk to committing such appalling acts against innocents. They could not speak of their feelings, of course. Ami wondered how long it would be before a shared glance would be called treason.
"Good night, then," he said, doffing his hat. "Give us a ring if you need anything."
Ami smiled at his unintentional rhyme. "Thank you, but I'll be fine." She closed and locked the door, but went into the kitchen rather than the cellar. She imagined Jon was hungry; besides the simple task of cooking calmed her nerves. Ami brought a tray of food downstairs, giving Jon the all-clear on her way down the stairs.
"Who was at the door?" Jon asked nervously.
"Herr Olbermann. He came to check on me. He's very kind." Ami sighed deeply. "All Germans are not like them, please believe me."
Jon took the tray from her and set it down on a dusty workbench. He buried his hands in her blonde hair and kissed her softly. "I know that," he murmured against her lips. Ami thought she'd faint in his arms as he admired her through half-lidded eyes.
"Please," she begged.
The urgency of their situation didn't allow for the niceties of courtship. If they were caught, they'd be killed, or worse, sent to Dachau. Karl would be home in the morning; they both knew they may never have another chance. Frenzied caresses followed wild kisses, and then their clothes were shed.
Jon sat on an old blanket with his back to the wall. Ami straddled Jon's lap and lowered herself onto him, moaning softly as he moved inside her, whispering words of love in her ear. Jon embraced her tightly, then laid her on her back, rolling his hips and thrusting inside her. It wasn't long before she arched her back and shouted out his name silently as the most intense orgasm she'd ever experienced washed over her. Jon kissed her deeply as he came, plunging his tongue in her mouth in time to his thrusts, then collapsed on top of her. Neither wanted to move, but knew they must soon.
"I'm leaving Germany," Jon announced as if he'd just said he was going to the grocer. "Come with me."
Ami just nodded her head and buried her face in his chest.