A/N: I can't thank you all enough for the support you've given this story so far. Thanks so much for all your reviews. I've also had more PMs for two chapters of this story than for pretty much all of the rest of my fics put together. Some of you have been kind enough to give me your thoughts and insight into the history and ideology behind this story. I'm thrilled that it's capturing people's interest.

Charlaine Harris owns the rights to these characters.

"Behold the turtle. He makes progress only when he sticks his neck out." James Bryant Conant

Eric - October 1940

"There's been three more instances reported on the road out of town. I want you to have those signs scrubbed and repainted by sundown."

Sigebert glowered at me, but knew better than to question my orders. I could tell he thought that I should cut him and his brother some slack, that my relationship with Sophie-Anne should somehow give them a free pass; I returned his glare, making it abundantly clear that that would not be the case.

He was lucky that he and his cohorts were only on two months' half pay and resistance clean-up duty after the stunt they pulled with Sookie and her friend. I would have had them court-marshalled but Andre had instead put it down to "drunken hijinks". It wasn't just because of my personal regard for Sookie, although the thought of Corporal Mott's sweaty hands anywhere near her made me want to rip his head off, an unprovoked attack on two locals would have had even the likes of Caroline Bellefleur thinking twice about co-operation. The locals had for the most part adopted a policy of "passive resistance"; they weren't friendly by any means, but they were compliant. All that would go out of the window once the occupying army started attacking pretty young girls on their way home from work.

I dismissed Sigebert, waiting for him to close the door behind him before I chucked my hat on the desk with a sigh. I began reviewing papers, various complaints from locals about the behaviour of soldiers who had been billeted in their homes. By the time there was a knock at the door an hour later, I was in a foul mood.

"Come in," I called out in an authoritative tone.

Tray breezed in, shutting the door behind him and throwing his hat on the desk next to mine. I looked him up and down, shaking my head, wondering how anyone serving in the armed forces could manage to look so scruffy. He looked like he hadn't shaved this morning, his top button was undone and there was mud all over his boots.

I leaned back in my chair. "If Andre sees you looking like that, he'll have a fucking hernia."

Tray fingered his collar. "It's too God-damn tight. My neck's got bigger."

I laughed. "Maybe if you stopped eating enough for a whole regiment, you would be able to do it up."

Tray just shrugged good-naturedly. "Maybe. But where would be the fun in that?" He held up a brown paper packet. "I managed to get hold of some coffee. Evie's going to want my babies when I give it to her. She's been going on about making coffee cake for the last fortnight."

I raised my eyebrow at him. "I thought you were sweet on Amelia but I'm starting to think that you prefer your women a little older..."

Tray grinned at me, taking it all in good humour. "No, just better at making pastry... Well, at least there's no doubting where your affections lie in that house. It's a wonder I haven't slipped over and broken something, with the trail of drool you leave every time you see Sookie..."

I shot him a look, my mood having suddenly soured again. "You're likely to be suffering from a broken nose soon enough but it won't be my drool that does it... And I mean it about your appearance Captain, Andre won't let it go like I do."

"Yeah, well I suppose I'll get punished accordingly," he grumbled under his breath.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I shot back.

He rolled his eyes. "You know exactly what it means: the likes of you, the Lebrecht twins, you're practically untouchable. Rich, powerful daddies in Berlin, all friends with Andre... They attack a couple of locals, they have to clean a few signs. I undo my top button and I'll be on Aldernay digging fenceholes till I'm fifty."

"Tray—" My tone softened. I wanted to deny it, but I knew he had a point.

Tray let out a frustrated sigh, shaking his head apologetically. He knew full well that I'd trade my rich, powerful father for Dauschen senior, any day of the week. "Don't worry about it Eric. I'm just in a shitty mood today."

I shook my head. "You and me both." My face broke into a smile as I realised just how to cheer him up. "Let's get back to the farm. Evie was making rhubarb crumble this morning with that sugar you brought back the other day. It should be ready by now..." And I'll get to see Sookie, I thought.

Tray's face lit up like a beacon as he nodded eagerly. Worked every time.

0-0-0-0-0

We made it back to the farm just after half past five. There'd been a lot of rain over the last week, so we removed our boots at the door, so as not to get mud on Mrs Broadway's freshly washed floor. I tossed my hat at Tray to take upstairs and padded into the kitchen in my socks.

Sookie was stood at the sink, humming along to the radio, as she peeled vegetables. Her hair was piled up in curls on her head, her red scarf securing them with a neat bow. She was wearing a navy dress cinched in at the waist flowing out in wide pleats, which made her waist look tiny and her ass look delicious. I watched her for a moment as she finished what she was doing, running her hands under the tap before wiping them methodically on the pale blue apron tied around her middle. There was such a calmness about her as she worked, and she was just so beautiful.

"Hi Sookie. Where's your aunt? I've got some coffee for her." Tray bundled past me into the kitchen, utterly oblivious, startling Sookie and pulling me out of my silent contemplation.

"Oh hello," she said politely, addressing us both.

"Hello Sookie," I said with a smile. Her expression mirrored my own before she turned away, seemingly a little nervous, as Amelia came through the back door.

Sookie's cousin shucked off her boots on the mat, and brought the bowl of eggs she was carrying over to the counter. She took off her jacket, hanging it on the back of the door before pulling out one of the chairs and slumping down dramatically at the table.

"Officers." Amelia greeted us in her usual playful way as we nodded our hellos. She turned to her cousin. "Christ I'm famished. Sook, when's dinner ready?"

Sookie glanced at the clock, biting her lip in concentration. "I was aiming for six but I think it might be closer to to quarter past now. Sorry, I haven't done the potatoes yet."

Sookie glanced at Tray who was frowning in confusion. "I'm cooking tonight," she informed him with a laugh. "Auntie Evie and Uncle Cope have gone to the pub."

"There's a bridge competition on," Amelia explained, filling in the blanks. They didn't go out often; in fact this might have been the first time since we arrived at the farm. "They're the town champs."

She looked over at Tray and nudged him in the ribs with her elbow. "God Dawson, lighten up. It'll be okay for one night. Sookie's a brilliant cook; Mum taught her everything she knows."

Sookie laughed again. "She taught you too," she said, addressing her cousin with a fond smile. "You just chose to ignore her."

Amelia stuck her nose in the air with mock haughtiness. "A woman should never learn to cook, and if she can, she should never admit to it."

I laughed. My mother would probably say something similar. "So what have we got?" I asked.

Sookie bent over the oven, opening the door, letting a rush of heat and baking escape. Something smelled good, whatever it was.

"Chicken and vegetable pie, with mash. And rhubarb crumble for dessert."

"And custard?" Tray asked hopefully.

Sookie nodded, giving him a little smirk. "And custard."

"Can we help with anything?" I asked.

Sookie looked at me, a little surprised, then flashed me a small smile of acceptance. "If you could lay the table, that would be great?"

I nodded. "Sure."

We'd been at the farm for long enough now that I knew where most things were. Tray got up and laid out the knives and forks, while I got some glasses down from the dresser and filled a jug with some water.

"I made some sweet tea," Sookie called at me over her shoulder. "It's in the fridge."

"Sweet tea?" I scrunched up my nose; it sounded disgusting.

She smiled, shaking her head. "It's a hangover from my childhood. A Louisiana thing. Auntie Evie thinks it's an abomination to drink tea cold, so I only tend to make it when she goes out. It should have lemon in it but we can't get them..." She shrugged. "So just cold tea and sugar. You should try it."

I went over to the fridge and peered inside the ceramic jug, relieved to find that there was no cream in sweet tea. I looked back at Sookie who was watching me expectantly.

"Looks good," I volunteered, not entirely convinced, but taking it over to the table and pouring us both a glass. I brought hers over to her and stood next to her, leaning up against the kitchen counter as she busied away.

"Do you miss it? Louisiana I mean?" I asked, taking a tentative sip. It was actually quite refreshing, better than the hot stuff.

She smiled. "A little. I was twelve when I left, so I remember it well enough. I miss the heat... I mean it tends to be quite nice here in the summer, but it's a different kind of heat there..."

I nodded in understanding.

"... And my parents of course. I still miss them a lot."

"What happened to them?" I asked.

She looked at me, a flash of pain passing fleetingly across her features, and I immediately wanted to kick myself. Sookie picked up on my pained expression.

"It's fine," she said, giving me a reassuring smile. "It's nice to talk about them, actually... They died in a flash flood."

She went over to the oven and pulled out the pie which had baked into a wonderful golden colour, setting it to cool on the side. A delicious hot buttery smell drifted through the kitchen.

"We stayed with my Gran initially but she was old... she had a stroke about a year later, so then we came here. Auntie Evie is my mom's sister. Mom was originally from St. Helier but she met my dad during the last war and moved to America with him... They couldn't have any more kids after Amelia... Well, they've always treated Jason and me like we were their own."

"They're good people," I offered.

She gave me a sad smile. "They are."

"And your brother where is he?"

She sighed. "He's in the Navy. I got a letter from him a couple of weeks ago, the first time in months. He's stationed somewhere near—" She stopped abruptly, her hand flying to her mouth as she turned a bright shade of red.

I looked at her, confused for a second. Then realisation dawned. "It's okay," I said, trying to put her at ease. "You don't need to tell me where. But he's okay?"

"Yes," she nodded shyly. "Um, thank you."

"That's good." I meant it. He was on the other side, sure. But I didn't want Sookie to go through that kind of grief, she'd lost enough family members already to last a lifetime.

"I hope you keep in touch with your family, Eric," she chided, pointing a mocking finger at me. "There's really nothing worse than not knowing."

I smiled. "I write to my mother every two weeks or so. We've got pretty good communication lines back to Germany, so I get regular letters from her as well, keeping me up to date. My father's in the army too, although he's based in Berlin." I couldn't suppress a frown. "I suspect he gets regular reports."

Sookie began mashing the potatoes with a heavy wooden implement. "And there's no one special, back in Berlin?" she mumbled, using her fingers to tuck a lock of hair back that had fallen loose in her exertion.

I watched her for a second as she continued, her brow wrinkled in concentration. She refrained from making eye contact and I turned my gaze to watch Amelia and Tray who were chatting animatedly at the table.

"No," I whispered. "No one special in Berlin."

Sookie's face remained impassive as she silently spooned the mashed potatoes into a bowl, pouring in some cream and butter. I wondered for a second if she had heard me, but I knew she must have.

"So how's the book coming along?" I asked, after a moment, trying restart the conversation.

She glanced up at me, a smile forming at her lips. "It was wonderful. Thank you. I've already finished it twice—"

"Was it as naughty as I thought?" I teased.

"Not really," she shrugged. She almost sounded a little disappointed; that was interesting. She stopped what she was doing, turning to face me and put her hand on her hip in mock annoyance. "I did notice, however, that the hero is tall, blonde, strapping and irresistibly handsome... I suppose that was a coincidence?"

I feigned confusion for a moment. "Does that mean you think I'm handsome?" I asked, unable to hide my smirk.

She shook her head exasperatedly.

"Wait! Hold on, you think I'm irresistibly handsome?" I probed, quirking an eyebrow at her.

She rolled her eyes dramatically and gave me an admonishing look. "I'm not having this conversation."

I chuckled as she looked over to the others, suddenly a little skittish again. "Captain Dauschen, Amelia. Dinner's ready. Come and get it."

Sookie – November 1940

"What are you guys whispering about?" I enquired with a laugh.

Sam shifted uneasily from foot to foot, staring down at his shoes, as Pam rolled her eyes at me. "You know what curiosity did to the cat now Sookie, don't you?"

"Good thing I'm not a cat then, isn't it Pamela?" I replied sarcastically. I frowned. I'd only been making conversation, but I actually was curious now. "Sam?"

He looked at me sheepishly. "We're just talking about whether we should put up prices at the pub. We're having to rely on the black market a lot more all of a sudden, it's starting to hurt..."

I looked at him sceptically; Sam was a terrible liar. "Ri-ight."

Suddenly Pam looked over to the entrance of the dancehall. I followed her line of sight watching as Barry entered. His eyes flickered towards Pam and he gave her the briefest nod of confirmation before heading over to speak to Arlene and Debbie.

I turned to Pam, quirking my eyebrow questioningly.

"Mind your own business, Sookie," she warned, her voice low. "For all our sakes."

0-0-0-0-0

As we made our way home from the dance hall, Amelia twirled beside me, singing at the top of her lungs. She was a little drunk and kept forgetting the words, stopping mid-verse and then starting another song. I'd had a couple of gin and tonics myself; I wasn't a huge drinker, so I was feeling slightly unsteady as we made our way back to the farm in the dark.

As we approached the house, I could see the light was on in Uncle Cope's workshop. I smiled to myself, Tray was always tinkering away with something or other. Moments later Amelia let out a squeal as she noticed the old shed lit up and went bounding up the path towards it. I hissed at her through clenched teeth to come back, but there was no stopping her. With a frustrated sigh, I followed her towards the light.

Eric and Tray were in the shed, still in uniform though looking slightly dishevelled, sat on turned-over crates. They'd made a large box into a make-shift table and it was strewn with cards and money and cigarette packets. There were a couple of discarded beer bottles on the floor by the door and a gas heater in the corner keeping out the night chill.

As usual Amelia had made a beeline for Dauschen; he was laughing at her as she twirled around, grabbing the unlit cigarette from his mouth and lighting it as she did so. Eric stood up as I approached and flashed me a smile that made my insides melt a little.

He swept his hand in the direction of the crate he had been sitting on, inviting me to sit down, and offered me a fresh beer. I took the seat gratefully, fanning my coat out underneath me, but declined the drink. He was about to offer one to Amelia but I stopped him, grabbing his sleeve, before she noticed.

I made a face. "God don't give her any more, please," I whispered conspiratorially. "I'm not sure how I'm going to get her past Auntie Evie as it is. That woman hears everything, even when she's asleep."

He gave me a knowing smirk, placing the beer gently out of harm's way. "So, how was the dance?"

"Oh, the band were great, really great," I replied, unable to suppress a grin. "We had a fantastic time."

Eric crouched down in front of me, his knees grazing mine as he leant back on his haunches. "Did you dance?"

I nodded enthusiastically. "God, I didn't stop. I'll probably be paying for it tomorrow..." I flexed my toes for emphasis. "But I love dancing, more than anything really."

Eric's smile mirrored my own. "Dance with anyone I know?" he asked.

His tone sounded nonchalant but I wasn't sure if it was. We'd developed into this strange pattern, Eric and I, ever since that night with the German soldiers. He flirted, making his attraction clear whenever we had a moment alone, and although I knew it was wrong, I didn't always discourage him. He was achingly handsome, and smart, and he made me laugh. Every now and again though, I'd catch him looking at me, or something would pass between us, and I'd know it wasn't just a harmless flirtation. There was something more there, for both of us, and it scared me.

I tried to keep my reply light. "Well, you know, these days there aren't that many men around to dance with," I teased. "But let me see... I danced with Andy Bellefleur for one..." Eric rolled his eyes in response and I couldn't help but laugh. "And of course I danced with Bill..."

"So did I, more's the pity," Amelia interrupted, gesticulating wildly with her cigarette. "God that man's a useless dancer. Couldn't quickstep if his life depended on it. I think I may need to have my little toe amputated in the morning. You know, he nearly dropped poor Sookie..."

Eric's eyes flashed to mine, protectively. "He dropped you?"

"Nearly dropped me... maybe..." I stifled a giggle as I remembered it. Amelia was right; Bill really was an awful dancer. "I guess I was a little too heavy or something," I added self-consciously. I wasn't fat, but I wasn't thin either, by any means.

I let out a shriek as Eric shot up, sweeping me up into his arms without warning and swinging me around the workshop. "Hardly," he laughed dismissively. "You weigh almost nothing..."

"Put me down, Eric," I hissed, slapping at his chest, as Amelia and Tray looked on in fits of laughter. "Eric!"

After a one more spin he set me gently back on the crate. I crossed my legs, testily, smoothing down my hair and skirt, trying to suppress a smile. Eric sat down on the floor next to me, almost my height even thought I was on the crate.

"Anyone else drop you?" he teased.

"No, but I danced with my friend Barry, Barry Horrowitz." My eyes met his fiercely, challenging him to react as I emphasised Barry's last name. "You met him, remember?"

"I remember," Eric replied impassively, neglecting to pick up the gauntlet I had thrown down. "He's the one who works with you, yes?"

I nodded. "At the pub, collecting glasses. We went to school together. He's a couple of years younger, but I guess we were kindred spirits, Barry and I. He lost his parents too, at about the same age. We always had that in common..."

Eric gave me a sympathetic smile. "He seems like a good friend to have," he said softly.

I looked down at my hands, interlaced in my lap. "He is."

Eric tried to lighten the tone. "So to sum up... tonight you were whirled round the dancefloor by none other than "Granny's boy" Bellefleur, Bill "the Bore" Compton and little Barry Horrowitz—"

"Barry is not little," I said with a giggle. "You've seen him. He's about five foot eleven and a charming dancer."

"He's an infant. And, anyway, he's little compared to us," Eric beamed proudly, gesturing between himself and Tray.

"That's certainly true," I conceded, rolling my eyes at his arrogance. They were giants; Eric must have been about six foot five and Tray was almost as tall.

"So Bellefleur, Bill and Barry... anyone else to add to this rag-tag list of eligible batchelors?" he smirked.

"Just Sam," I admitted with a shrug.

"She danced with Sam for most of the night," Amelia interrupted again, twirling around, but less energetically this time. I shot her a look that demanded that she shut her mouth, and she stopped moving at once, stumbling sideways a little, with a contrite look on her face. "Now he can dance," she muttered, almost to herself.

"Amelia, we should be getting inside," I said firmly, letting out an irritated breath. I stood up, trying to avoid Eric's eyes. I could sense the heat of his gaze, and felt my skin begin to burn in response.

Amelia nodded obediently, the alcohol seemingly starting to wear off. She gave Eric and Tray a meek wave and headed up to the house, with me following behind. I'd muttered a hurried goodbye and made it a few paces up the path when I felt Eric's hand glance across my arm.

I looked up at him and in an instant he had pulled me to him, one hand firmly on my wrist, the other lightly gripping my waist.

"Dance with me, Sookie," he whispered possessively, his cool breath at my ear causing me to shiver.

I felt my skin prickle with energy as he rubbed his thumb lightly over my palm.

"Eric, I can't—" My protests sounded weak, even to me.

"Dance with me," he repeated, his voice was low, caressing me like warm dark chocolate as he gripped me a little closer. "No more old men or silly boys. Dance with me."

My head felt messy and conflicted, but Eric's touch had me breathless as he held me against him. I could smell beer mingled with Eric's warm fresh scent as I sighed into his shoulder in capitulation. I could feel him smile into my hair as he twirled me around, a silent waltz, as I blindly followed his lead.

The night took on a dreamlike quality as Eric held me close. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a light come on upstairs in the farmhouse, pulling me back into reality. I stopped dead in my tracks, pulling at Eric to make him still, as I glanced nervously at the shadows of movement darkening the window of my aunt and uncle's room.

My cheeks filled with heat, burning in the cool November night, as realisation and shame washed over me.

"Eric, please... I can't." My voice sounded strained as I used my free hand to push against his chest.

Eric released his grip on me and I took a couple of steps back, immediately feeling cold, somehow bereft.

"Sookie, I—" he started, reaching out for me.

"Eric, please don't." I held up my hand, begging him to be quiet. "I can't do this."

"Sookie," he repeated, his tone pleading.

"Major Northman, I said don't." I gave him one last look of entreaty as I backed away from him, tears starting to fall, before turning and running into the house.

A/N: Two steps forward and two steps back as Paul Abdul would say. I hope you are all still enjoying this? I'd love to hear your thoughts.