A/N - Last chapter, you guys! I'm so very proud of myself; I really feel like I did this justice. I hope that I managed to keep it PG, but I just really wanted to convey what it might have been like. So anyway. I fixed last chapter, putting in translations, if you're curious.

Thank you guys for the wonderful reviews! I'm so glad you enjoyed this. It really is a horrible, wretched thing that happened. I didn't think this little project of mine would get as much attention as it did.

Agony. Fire. Brimstone. Smoke. That was it. That was all his world was composed of.

Gale could barely register the crackling of the fire, hardly hear the voices of his tormenters as they laughed and jeered with every scream he released. Early this morning, he had been dragged from his quarters to endure another torture, Molly clinging to his form and tears welling up in both their eyes. He had come to care a great deal for the girl, and she for him. As it turns out, she was actually a few weeks older than he, not the other way around as he previously thought. Either way, he could barely remember her name as the branding iron was pressed yet again to sensitive skin of his back, it's shape was the Nazi crest. Dozens of the marks were sprinkled across the skin of his broad back, and Gale was surprised he was still alive. The pain was excruciating. It felt as if his skin was slowly being melted together, the heat and pain lingering just so it could hear the sickening, anguished cries of a young man. He could smell the horrible stench of burning flesh: his own.

"Again!" A Nazi hissed from somewhere nearby. Gale slumped downward, his knees giving out but the chains around his wrists holding him up, attached to two wooden posts at his sides. His eyes fluttered closed, blood, sweat and tears pouring out of him. He was panting heavily, his back on fire and his throat raw from the terrifying shrieks he had been giving all morning. He had no idea how long he had been in the branding room, but it felt like eternity. He couldn't feel his hands, the manacles around his wrists having cut off circulation long ago. They had been chafing against him as he had struggled earlier, and he was sure he had rubbed a few layers of skin off. But that pain was lost in the anguish of the brands.

"No," a gravelly voice answered harshly, but Gale heard him as if from underwater. "The scum can't take much more. But…" he trailed off, and when he spoke again, Gale's heart plummeted ever farther than it had ever done before. "I guess one more couldn't hurt. But I think it should be in…ah, a more visible place." Apparently, the man was gesturing to somewhere, because the other guards in the room suddenly began to whoop and holler their approval.

Gale slowly pried his eyes open, the room and people around him being fuzzy and distorted through the haze of pain. Vaguely, he heard the hiss of the iron being reheated, and he braced himself once more for the searing torture to be placed upon him. However, it did not come in the place he expected. He watched in growing horror as the orange glow of the tool came into his line of sight, approaching his face. He tried to twist out of the way, to escape the iron, but he was too weak. Every single muscle in his body was utterly exhausted. He could only watch through clouded eyes as it got closer and closer until he could feel the unbelievable heat on his skin, scorching it before the metal even touched him.

The sun was high in the sky, Gale noted, when the scarred soldier began to drag him back to his cell, back to Molly and Kasey. Marlin had been wrenched out a few days back and never returned. Kasey was a mess, refusing the tiny rations meant to barely keep them alive and just sitting, hunched over in a corner by himself, staring at nothing. The three tried not to think about him, to consider how he had been killed. It was too horrifying a prospect to entertain.

Gale couldn't keep his feet under him as the soldier lugged him back across Auschwitz. He stumbled once, only a few steps away from the branding room, and couldn't muster the strength to get back on his feet. The guard only sneered, jerked his chains so harshly Gale was surprised his shoulder did not become dislocated, and proceeded to drag him across the camp. Gale could only moan in agony as his branded back grated against the rocky, icy ground, the sackcloth covering it rubbing the seared skin raw.

As if from a distance, he heard the tumbler on the cell doors fall into the place and the creaky iron slab open. The scarred soldier yanked Gale to his feet and practically threw him into the room, growling something in German Gale didn't understand. The Jewish boy slumped to the ground, his eyes closed and arms splayed about in an odd manner, and he listened in relief as the door closed. His back was absolutely destroyed, the skin blazing red and scarred with the numerous marks of the Germans. He groaned again, not able to open his eyes, and he registered someone calling his name. He felt the vibrations in the floor as the person ran over to him and he let out a hiss when someone lifted his head into their lap, unknowingly brushing against the seared skin of his right cheek, on which now there was the bold, black Nazi symbol emblazoned upon it. He heard a gasp as the person noticed it and felt fingers running through his shaggy hair, and he managed to gather the strength to open his eyes.

His bi-colored hues met the titian orbs of Molly, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. She crooned his name over and over, murmuring something in French that he didn't hear. Slowly, his muscles began working again and he let out a long, anguished sigh. Molly choked back a sob, the tears in her eyes brimming over and plopping into the dirt beside them. She stroked his hair, whispering to him in French condolences. Gale managed to dredge up a weak smile and caught one of her tiny hands in his own as she brought it back towards his face. He clenched it tightly in his larger one and placed a gentle kiss on her palm in comfort. "Je suis tellement désolé," she whispered over and over to him. He only nodded, managing to get a throbbing arm under him to prop himself up. The pain in his back flared and he bit back a howl, instead gritting his teeth and clamping his eyes closed. He waited for the anguish to ebb before speaking. He had something important to tell Molly, and he had to say it now. They had been here for longer than most people, and their time was running out.

In the many weeks that Molly and Gale had to come to know each other, the Jewish boy became increasingly aware of the delicate, beautiful soul of his French friend. At first, her perseverance and determination to stay alive awed him, inspired him, even. But as time wore on, he began to realize that their blossoming friendship was starting to become inadequate in his eyes. He began to notice little things about her; how she bit her lip when she was nervous, that her voice squeaked ever so slightly after any hesitation, how long her fingers were, that she would blink rapidly when confused. He noticed how long and thick her eyelashes were, how her laugh seemed to chime and echo like bells whenever it was genuine. How white her smile was and how it managed to lift his dismal spirits. To put it simply, he had fallen deeply, truly, madly in love with the tiny sixteen year old girl.

And of all times and places, it had to be now. In a death camp.

"Molly," he said lowly, managing to get his voice back once the pain in his back receded. He took her other hand, scars marring her creamy skin from the many lashings and cuttings she had endured. "I must tell you something, before—"

The door to their prison burst open, revealing two armed guards. The teenagers jumped and Gale couldn't stop a cry of agony as his back seemed to light up in flames. One of the soldiers lunged for Molly, the other keeping a close eye on Kasey and Gale. But not close enough; he wasn't expecting someone to jump in the way.

Especially not one who had just been branded.

Gale flew between Molly, who had shrank away from her tormenter, and the German guard. He screamed in raw anguish as the pain from his brands flared even brighter, but he couldn't help but feel a tiny bit accomplished. The man had been so surprised he had fallen into the dirt of the cell, face first. The soldier sat up, spitting mud and straw out of his teeth, and scowled blackly and the staggering Gale. Molly stared unabashedly at him, but he kept his eyes on the German, who was rising to his feet. Gesturing for the other guard to enter, he managed to lash out and secure one of Gale's arms in his large hand. The Jew hissed from the pain and tried to wrench out of his grip, to try and get the other guard to disregard Molly, but he was so exhausted and in such torture that he couldn't seem to get his muscles to cooperate all of the sudden.

The German grinned wickedly when Gale's knees began to sink towards the ground, and he yanked the teenager up again. He looked over at his companion, who had both of Molly's wrists in one of his hands, a fistful of her hair in the other. "Die Gaskammer," he growled at the other guard. He had such finality in his voice that it filled Gale with such an overwhelming feeling of dread that it took every ounce of self-control he had not to break down into tears right then and there. The other guard nodded, face alight with excitement, and proceeded to haul Molly out of the cell. Gale's captor began to follow, completely ignoring Gale's cries of agony and his half-crazed shouts of Molly's name.

They slowly approached one of the largest buildings on campus, and Gale's heart dropped and his soul began to panic. He knew what it was, and by the sudden shouts and pleas in French of Molly, he knew she did, too.

A gas chamber. It was time; they were marching to their deaths.

There was no key for this building; those who went in would not be escaping. The leading guard—the one holding Molly—threw the door open and tossed the girl inside. Gale shortly followed, and the door slammed closed. The Jewish girl scrambled over to her companion and clutched his sorry excuse for clothing in her shaking fists, looking up at him with pleading eyes. The room around them was tiled, with hundreds of tiny pores lining the floor, ceiling and walls. The space was clean and white, no signs of previous inhabitants anywhere. But that was to be expected; it was gas the killed the victims.

As nozzles around them began to hiss and an almost-transparent vapor began to creep out of it, Gale turned to Molly and placed his calloused, frost-bitten hands on her shoulders. He fought back the pain in his back and shoulders, refusing to allow it to cloud his mind. Molly was crying, sobbing about how she didn't want to die, that she wanted to marry and have children. Gale placed his hand over her mouth and leaned close to whisper what he so desperately needed to say in her ear.

"Je t'aime, Molly," he murmured to her, and the girl let out a startled gasp, followed by a course cough as the gas began to enter her lungs. Gale's eyes burned with unshed tears from deep, gut-wrenching sadness and the fumes around him. His lungs began to burn and his mind began to fog over. Molly fought to answer, determined to let him know that he wasn't alone, that she was going to tell him the same.

"Moi aussi," she choked out, her eyes stinging and lungs beginning to burn in agony from the poisonous gas. She cried harder, and Gale took her into his arms. With his last bit of strength as the vapors leeched away his life, he kissed her soundly upon the lips. She tasted of poison from the chamber surrounding him, but he didn't care. He couldn't; in a matter of seconds, they would both be no more.

They parted. Not from their own will, but from the gradual effect of the gas around them. They slid to the ground, their eyes open and empty, devoid of life and uncaring.

Gale Abramek was dead, with the still body of Molly Simms still wrapped securely in his scarred, branded arms.

So yeah. I made it couple. Too cheesy?
Translations:

Je suis tellement désolé. (Molly): I'm so sorry.

Die Gaskammer. (German guard): The gas chamber.

Je t'aime, Molly. (Gale): I love you, Molly.

Moi aussi. (Molly): Me, too.