"Alaric! Alaric! Where is that little bugger?"

I heard my name being called, but I didn't turn around. There was no way that British asshole was holding me back from this, not again.

"Lee, he'll get trampled!" Todd was saying, quite loudly, actually. So that American was here too. I rolled my eyes. Wonderful.

"If he doesn't want to be found, he won't be," Lee retorted. Who knew that he would be the voice of reason?

People chattered in all languages around me, and I pulled my hat down over my eyes so I wouldn't stand out, with my silver hair and red eyes.

"My husband got caught over there!" a woman sniffed in my native German. "I don't know how he is; his letters don't come anymore!"

A man from France held her hand, and an American woman muttered her condolences.

It bugged me to see all these… foreigners here. This was my city, mine and my sister's, always was… Until it was split up. Now, I didn't know what was whose anymore. 'Was I in the French quarter, or the British quarter, or the American quarter?' I constantly found I was asking myself. I always knew I was never in the Russian half.

I didn't like being owned, never have. But… It actually wasn't so bad after a while. I got fed fine, and the old Allied cities started to like me again, at least I think so. Paris still wanted nothing to do with me, which was an improvement, DC forgave me right off the bat, and London… I still don't really know what London thinks of me. I lived with him, so I know he's okay at times, but won't hesitate to glare at me if he's thinking about the concentration camps, and will look at me funny if I let a little Yiddish slip. I can't help it, and he knows it.

Moscow, I know for a fact, wishes I was dead. He told me himself, as he drank water from a thermos right outside my cell. Thankfully, DC and London stopped by every day to help me out, so I wasn't too miffed. It still hurt to know that so many people hated me.

"Excuse me," a kid about my age butted into my thoughts. He spoke in English. "Do you have anyone on the East side?"

"Ja," I said sadly. "My sister. We were separated." I wasn't about to go into details; the wall had come up in the sixties, but my sister and I had been apart since forty-nine; forty years ago. I didn't look that old, not nearly old enough to know about the times before the wall, but if the kid was smart, he wouldn't ask too many questions about when how long we'd been apart.

"Gotcha," he nodded. "I'm so sorry to hear that. Did you graffiti the wall at all?" his eyes lit up at the prospect of defacing Communist property.

"Of course," I chuckled. I wasn't lying; I hated the wall as much as, if not more than, anyone. Why wouldn't I spray-paint the wall, expressing the wish of my nation to tear it down?

"This is exciting," the kid grinned. "I hope you find your sister okay when they break through."

"Thanks." He raced off with a shout as he apparently spotted a few of his friends close by.

I sighed, and I saw my breath. It was cold; late November, or was it December already? I didn't know, or care. The crowd that had come to the wall was enormous. "Pardon me," I muttered, squeezing through the throngs of people. No one told me off; I guess the heat of the moment was enough for people not to notice a kid trying to get close to the wall.

It was the jackhammers that pointed me in the right direction. "Pardon me!" I winced as I pushed past a couple holding hands. The men were working hard on the wall, knocking it with pickaxes and jackhammers and anything else they could find.

"Almost through!" one of them shouted. I shouldered closer to them.

"Can I help?" I called over the clamor.

"Kid," a man glanced at him. "You shouldn't be mixed up in all this. I know you're all excited, but-"

"Please," I insisted. "I'm stronger than I look."

The guy looked me over. "Fine," he said. "Grab something and get whacking."

I chose a pickaxe, and slammed the point into the growing hole in the wall. I couldn't help but smile. This wall, this goddamned wall. It had divided my city for too long.

I kept the pickaxe going, hitting harder and harder until it finally gave. I pulled it back, and I could see through a little hole to the other side. "I'm through!"

Men rushed over and pushed me out of the way. "Come on, guys! Just a bit more!"

"I've got an idea!" one shouted. "Let's use this pole as a battering ram!"

I stepped aside, watching them run the pole at the wall. Stone clattered to the floor, and I peeked at the progress they were making. The hole I'd made was bigger now, someone's head could go through easily.

But it wasn't enough for these people. They altered where they hit it, so that people could squeeze through. Looking at it again, I saw that I could probably fit through myself if they hit it one or two more times.

It turns out, it only took one more hit. "Awesome!" one of the American men shouted. Cheers erupted from everywhere; English, French, and German. I knew what it meant, the symbolism, "Germany-can-be-reunified-now!" but I didn't care. I slipped through the hole in the wall.

There was someone I had to see.

Cheering crowds were on this side of the wall too. I saw no graffiti on this side though, and I knew why. If anyone got too close, to try to escape the Communism here to the Democracy on my side of the wall… they'd be shot.

I swallowed hard and pushed my way through the eager crowds. No familiar faces, no one I knew. "Leona!" I cried, hoping my sister would answer. "Leona!"

Nothing.

"Sir," I asked a man in the Eastern crowd. "Have you seen a girl-"

"We're all looking, son," he joked.

"No, no! I'm trying to find my sister!" I pulled off my hat. "My twin sister. She looks just like me. Have you seen her?"

The man looked at me in surprise. "I haven't seen anyone, anyone, who looks like you. Are those colored contact lenses?"

"Wha- No!" I shook my head. "Please-" The man had already hurried off.

I grimaced and started off into the crowd again. "Leona! Leona! Has anyone seen my sister?"

It took me ages to find her.

I wandered through the streets of East Berlin, calling her name and reminiscing about times spent here before the wall went up.

Then I remembered that building, the one we hid in to avoid being bombed and captured.

"Alaric, the planes!" Leona cried. She raced down the street.

"Wait up!" I called after her. My armband, emblazoned with a swastika, was sliding down my arm.

"Quit dragging your feet! They're coming in fast!" She sprinted in the direction of our house, but by the sound of the planes, we wouldn't make it.

"In here!" I shouted at her, ducking into an empty building. I didn't notice the mezuzah on the doorframe, or the menorah on the mantle as I dashed upstairs. I just needed a place to hide. Leona's footsteps followed me. The master bedroom was empty, save a chest of drawers and a large bed.

"Lift it fast!" she ordered, grabbing one side of the bed. With some difficulty, I helped her prop it against the wall. We dove into the tunnel it formed, and squeezed together as the first bomb was dropped. My slicked-back hair was beginning to get tousled, and my sister tucked a strand behind my ear with a shaking hand.

"Lona," I whispered. "Know what this reminds me of?"

"What?"

"When we played hide and seek and tried not to let Rome find us."

She chuckled. "I remember that. So long ago."

There was a silence broken only by falling bombs.

"You know, Alaric," she pursed her lips. "We can come here again. The house seems like it's been empty for a while, and we can use it for shelter or to avoid getting caught."

I rolled my eyes. "We won't get caught, Lona, because there's nothing to catch us doing."

She shrugged. "I suppose. They'll find something wrong though."

"They always do."

The house was on Witzenhauser Straße; secluded, an unlikely place for a bomb to be dropped. I had discovered the mezuzah and the menorah later, after we had used the hideout once or twice. "Leona?" I called again, from the doorstep, hoping she'd be outside, so I wouldn't have to go in. I knocked politely, though I wasn't sure if anyone was there. "Leona? It's me, Alaric. The wall is down, Lona." Nothing. Not even a hint of life.

I took a deep breath and turned the handle. The door creaked as it opened, and squeaked as I stepped down. I shivered, and huddled in my heavy coat, sliding my hands into the pockets of my blue jeans. I probably shouldn't have only worn my Neue Deutsche Welle t-shirt under the coat, but it was comfortable, and London had seemed content in his The Who t-shirt this morning.

I mounted the stairs to the ancient master bedroom. "Lona?" The bed was still leaned against the wall. I crouched near it, and brushed my hair out of my eyes.

My sister was curled up between the bed and the wall, eyes closed. She was shaking, and muttering something under her breath. I had to crane my ears to listen; "Don't shoot me, all I wanted to do was see my brother, don't shoot me…"

"Leona!" I whispered. "It's me, it's Alaric. I'm here, the wall is being torn down." I reached out a hand and stroked her cheek gently, pushing some of her silvery hair behind her ear.

She blinked, and her eyes opened a little. Bright red irises, like mine, took in my face, and they widened. "A…Alaric…" she murmured. "Bruder? Is it really you?"

"Does anyone else look like this?" I joked. "Besides you?"

She flashed a tiny smile. "You've changed your hair," she said weakly.

I grinned nervously. "Do you like it?" I asked, running my hand through my messy silver hair. I'd allowed it to run a bit wild; at least, until London had taken a pair of scissors to it. I failed to see the point of slicking it back anymore; it reminded me of someone I never wanted to be again.

"It's… something to get used to." She shrugged, and looked away again. I could see she was shaking, like she didn't want to be seen with me.

I frowned. "Why weren't you in the crowds by the wall? I was looking for you forever!"

"I…" she shuddered. "People get shot if they go too close. It was a forcive habit, I guess."

I didn't know what to say. "Oh, Lona," I ended up whispering. "That's awful."

"It's routine."

"Let me help you up," I offered.

"I can manage on my own." Leona struggled to rise to her feet, nearly losing her balance once or twice, but she pulled through, and soon stood in front of me. Her hair, normally in a tight ponytail, was loose and long. She was thin, thinner, by far, than she'd ever been. Her eyes were sunken, and the brave, fierce light that had always shone in them was gone.

"Are you sure?" I muttered, pursing my lips. "You don't look so good."

"Bruder," she whispered, amused. "You were always honest, at times brutally so. I am fine."

I reached out for her hand, but she flinched away from me.

"Tell me the truth," I said. "Are you alright?"

Leona straightened her skirt and wouldn't meet my eye. "Fine," she muttered. "Just fine."

"Let's go home," I suggested, reaching for her hand. She didn't take it, merely followed me out of the room and down the stairs.

"Y-" she stammered. "You look good, Alaric. You look healthy."

I had to smile. "Thanks."

Suddenly, a hacking cough rang out behind me. I whirled around, and saw my sister leaning on the wall of the house's foyer. Her face was tense, and her arms were wrapped around her stomach.

I raced over, but hesitated before resting the back of my hand on her forehead. She flinched, but I didn't care. "You're burning up."

"B-burning?" she chuckled. "It's freezing in here."

I ducked into another room, swiping a thick blanket off of a couch. I wrapped it around her shoulders and led her outside.

Leona leaned her head on my chest. She was so small, smaller than I remembered. "Alaric…" she sighed. "I missed you."

I circled my arms around her. "I missed you too."

We made our way to where the wall was being demolished. I felt Leona tense, and bury her head in my chest.

"There's nothing to be afraid of," I crooned. "It's nothing but stone."

"It's who's on the stone that worries me."

I looked. "No soldiers as far as I can see, Lona."

We approached the growing hole in the wall. "Come on," I grinned at her. "Let's go home!"

She pulled away from me, as if she was physically unable to go any further. "Alaric, I can't."

"Don't be afraid," I tried to comfort her. "Germany will be united again!"

"But I can't go!" Leona began to cry. "M-Moscow will come and take me again!"

"Not if I have anything to say about it. He won't take you again, I promise," I vowed. "Please, come with me."

"Alaric," she wailed. "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! But I just can't!"

"Sure you can," I insisted. "Leona, you'll be safe with me, I swear!"

"I'm sorry," she sobbed, tears streaming down her face. "I just can't right now." She kissed me once on each cheek, and fled back to Communist territory.

"Don't worry, pal. She'll come around."

The voice behind me made me jump. Lee and Todd stood at the opening of the wall. Pity shone in their eyes.

"She said she can't," I sighed. "She can. We were right here."

"She's just brainwashed," DC huffed. "Like I said, she'll come around."

London shivered in his t-shirt, but smiled sadly at me. "Let's go home." He extended a hand to me, offering balance as I stepped over the rubble.

"Thanks," I muttered.

"Anyone for hot chocolate?" Lee suggested. "My treat!"

London laughed, and said he'd take him up on it. I just smiled, but I kept finding my gaze sliding back to the hole in the wall.

A victory had been achieved… but it was a hollow one.

I'd failed to get my sister back.

I shook my head. Like Lee said, she'd come around. And when she did, I'd be there, waiting.

Waiting to help her out.

Waiting to be a family again.