"Why? Why are you doing that?" Without a word, Ilsa slams the door, leaving Karl standing outside. His voice calms down to a sad, almost resignated whisper. "Why do you hurt me so much?" He puts his hand onto the wood of her door, staring at it, silently praying for her to open the door and... but she won't. "Ilsa?" Silence. Tired, frustrated he turns around, making his way back to his own bedroom. Only half an hour before he had thought he would spend the night in Ilsa's bed, holding her in his arms, feeling her warmth against his old, weary body. He enjoys her closeness, the view of her beautiful eyes, the feeling while she touches his skin, sending warm shivers down his spine. Silently, nearly unnoticed, silverish glittering tears find their way down his cheeks. He turns around again, walks back to Ilsa's door. "Ilsa... please... let me in..." Steps. Then silence again. "Please... I'm so lonesome..." Suddenly the door opens and two watery, slightly bloodshot eyes look at him. She approaches him, throwing her arms around his neck, capturing him in a tight embrace. They remain like that for a few minutes, relaxing, inhaling each other's smell, enjoying this close contact. She pulls him inside her room, making him sit down on her couch. Shyly, Karl takes a look at her, one question burning in his heart, scorching his weak, hurt soul. "Why? Why did you lie to me about Rasputin?" He tries to speak the words. But all that comes out is a barely audible, exhausted sob, causing Ilsa to focus her eyes on the slender, blonde man next to her. "I love you, Ilsa..."
"You did it again! One, twice... how often? What am I doing so very wrong?" Silent, without one single movement, Ilsa stands there, watching as blood runs down on the floor from Kroenen's face. He ruined it, cut off lips and eyelids in an attack of hateful rage. "Why? You hurt me so much..." He leaves her room, wandering through the hallways of his home. His sight blurrs, as blood mixes with his tears and he stops. Hanging his head low, he stands there, lost in his own world; a world full of pain and hurting memories. Clenching his fists, he tries to fight back the tears, he wants to go back, to have her close as the love for her burns in him. But it isn't pure love any longer. Hate had found it's way into his heart. But he can't let go off her...
Desperately he goes on, blindly letting his life pass by. His eyes are fixed on Ilsa, watching her and ignoring what happens around. His friends' and colleagues' advice never reach his brain. "Give Ilsa up? Never..."
Once again they argued. Broken, tired, he sits next to her. "I loved you, Ilsa..."
Pinned down on huge metal rakes, pressed to the ground by a huge gear, he lets his head sink back. "Why did you leave me alone? My whole life couldn't break me down... you could..." Boots hurry across the floor somewhere above his ears. "I have to get out of here..." A well-known voice is whispering, again and again. Memories drive tears out of Kroenen's eyes. For so many years he had loved her, stayed with her so she never had been alone. In vain. She had forgot him, didn't think of him anymore. She doesn't care about the man who accompanied her life for more than seven decades, anymore. Maybe he is still on her mind, but it doesn't matter to her what happens to him. There is the Master, whom she will resurrect soon; he will take care of her. "Ilsa... I need you..." A weak, low crackling from below, supposingly under the gear. She doesn't react, just leaves the room. She has to search for her way out of this maze. A shattering, desperate cry sounds through the halls. "I hate you! Ilsa, I hate you so much... Don't leave me... I need you..."