Reincarnated in World War II as my Great-Grandfather

Christmas was very different than he'd ever known it to be.

Most of what they did was laugh, sing, and, of course, eat. Marlene kept drinking wine, and Martin, unsure how to handle it, drank it with her. The children were a bit bummed that their grandparents couldn't come to visit this year, and neither could their aunts or uncles. Martin himself didn't understand why. Was it a travel problem, or were they opposed to meeting with the Franz Weihers household?

Three glasses of wine stole his thoughts away from their extended family and to Marlene's legs. She wore a knee-length skirt and black stockings with little hearts - the design was endearing and sexy. He tried to look away but couldn't.

Marlene had managed to whip up a few more presents - trinkets she'd saved for Theodore's birthday because Martin had forgotten to buy any. He'd been very grateful. "You're saving my ass," he'd said, which had earned him a surprised look. He'd slipped up: Franz wouldn't say such a thing. He'd pecked her on the cheek to cover up what he'd said and formally thanked her again.

Marlene cuddled more closely to him. She rested her head on his shoulder. They watched the children play under the Christmas tree in silence. Franz would have asked who had helped put up the fir tree, but Martin hadn't thought twice about it. He didn't realize that Marlene would probably have had to get help from another man. Marlene was surprised her husband didn't inquire about it, and she felt a pang of jealousy. The only thing keeping him from worrying about her was if he were worrying about another woman.

But after the fifth glass of wine, she laid her leg over his and loosely looped her arms around his neck anyway. She'd missed him—a lot.

Martin looked at her in surprise. In front of the children? His eyes read. She smiled softly and ordered the little ones to go to bed. The baby was already in his cradle. "Off you go. I'll tuck you in later."

"Can I take a cookie up to bed with me?"

"No sugar before bed!"

"Please, Mama!"

"Listen to your mother, Theodore. Off you go now," Franz said with a commanding but kind tone. And make sure your sister gets up to bed alright."

"Yes, Papa."

The children scurried off, leaving their parents alone and unguarded. Marlene looked up at Martin through her eyelashes. They were heavier than usual, and he realized she was wearing quite a bit of mascara.

Marlene laid her hand firmly on his chest. "Now they're not here, Franz..." She kissed his cheek gently, her lips full and wet.

"Marlene, I..."

"Yes, Franz?"

I'm not you're husband? I'm your great-grandson? There was nothing he could say that would make a believable excuse or deliver an acceptable explanation for why he was trying to reject her advances. His jaw clenched, and he looked to the left, out towards the street. Anywhere but at Marlene and her legs. He could feel the wine coaxing Franz out of the small part of his brain he'd been banned to, but Martin didn't want to let Franz take over. Even though his memories were quite hazy when Franz led, he still felt and saw everything. And he wasn't ready to sleep with Marlene, not after only a few glasses of wine.

"Is there someone else?" She asked after a moment.

"No", he promised. "There isn't."

"So why have you not wanted me?"

"Oh, I want you, darling," Franz whispered, his eyes alight with desire, "but Martin doesn't."

The second the words were out of his mouth, Martin bolted upward and out of his seat on the couch. "I-I've forgotten...," no excuse came fast enough, "I left the engine running, there's something wrong with the oil pump, I-the neighbors called me." Marlene was confused. What was he talking about? "It'll take a while, so don't wait for me; I'll be late!" And he stormed out onto the porch before she could say anything.

He strode over the patio and down the steps to the car. He leaned against it, his breathing shallow. Martin lit a cigarette, and as he did, his hands trembled. He hadn't shaken this badly in years - not even in the concentration camp. "Heavens..." He muttered. "I can't keep doing this."

The conflict he felt inside of him was the strongest around Marlene. She seemed to be the thing that made him the most Franz. He dropped the cigarette accidentally. "Fuck." He swore. He picked out a new one and clamped it between his teeth. Where was Franz? Was he dead? Was he living alongside Martin? Was Martin the virus infecting the poor man's body? And who was winning this war between them?