Carolina didn't understand the German that was being hurled at them, but the two Nazis standing at the edge of the water, gesturing wildly with their guns for the two of them to get out was unmistakable. "Don't panic," Wicki said into her ear, his voice barely a whisper.

"I'm not," she replied in a shaky voice as she disentangled herself from him.

"Walk out ahead of me. Don't cover up. Head to our clothes. If they try to tell you otherwise, pretend you don't understand."

"I don't understand," she said, moving in front of him.

She could feel the smile cross his lips as he stood close behind her. Very close behind her. Pressed against her in fact. He held her shoulders tightly, keeping her ass flush against his crotch. "Are you planning to fuck me as a distraction?"

"If they see me naked, we're both dead."

She furrowed her brow for a second before the fact that he was circumcised hit her like a ton of bricks. She relaxed under his hands and continued her march. "Get past my boots and stumble. Hit the ground and I'll take care of the rest." The Germans snarled at them and Wicki responded then fell silent. She could feel the tension running through him like a tiny electrical current.

The Germans stood on the other side of the blanket and she watched their grips on their weapons loosen by a fraction as she walked naked out of the water. So far so good she thought as she cast her eyes down trying to see Wicki's boots in the darkness. With as much moonlight as there was tonight, it shouldn't have been a problem, but damn if she could see them. She was scanning frantically back and forth when the Germans started ranting again. She could hear the tone of Wicki's voice change as he replied, the tension running through his body leaking into his speech. What little relaxation her nudity had inspired was rapidly slipping away and she still couldn't see his damn boots, she was still scanning when she felt a hard shove to her back and she went face down into the dirt. She heard shouting in German, a metallic scraping, a whooshing sound, followed by a meaty thunk.

Rubbing the dirt out of her eyes, Carolina sat up. Wicki was gone, one Nazi was down, a very large knife sticking out of his chest, still twitching slightly. The other German was shouting and turning in circles, trying to pinpoint Wicki. Carolina looked around as well. She couldn't even hear him, but she knew he wouldn't have gone far.

Rounding on her with his pistol, the remaining German began shouting frantically at her. She raised her hands to shoulder level, palms out, certainly making it clear that she was a threat. He continued babbling at her as he came closer. Her eyes went wide, this boy (the Nazi couldn't have been much older that 16) was scared out of his mind and could very well shoot her entirely by accident.

He stopped talking suddenly, focusing on a spot in the trees behind Carolina. He took another step towards her when a hand snaked out of nowhere behind him, seizing his chin, pulling it back exposing the throat to the blade that came out of nowhere on the other side of his body. The slice was so quick, Carolina didn't even see it happen. One instant the the boy was alive, terror lighting his features, the next a hot splatter struck her face and she closed her eyes against it as she heard the body hit the ground.

Getting a grip on herself, she opened her eyes. Wicki stood before her looming over the bodies, naked, blade in hand still dripping. His eyes were distant, his features remote and still. She didn't move to wipe the blood from her face for fear that she would disturb him and bring him back from where he was before he was ready for it. Slowly the tension drained from him. His eyes showed a spark of life. His shoulders slumped slightly and the color returned to the white knuckles of his hand as he loosened his grip on the blade. He exhaled deeply, his breath a fog in the night that had suddenly gotten very cold. She shivered involuntarily and it drew his attention. Dropping the blade, he knelt down in front of her, grabbing his own coat to drape over her shoulders. "Schatze, he said, holding her hands between his, sticky with drying blood. "Are you hurt?"

She blinked at him, and shook her head. "Let me look at you," he said, putting a gentle hand beneath her chin and lifting it. His brow furrowed, when the light hit the blood splattered across her cheek and nose. "Schatze," he said, apology in his voice. Reaching he managed to grab his own shirt and used it to softly clean her face. She met his eyes, as warm now as they had ever been, but she read worry there. Worried that now she had seen him in his element. Ashamed, that she had seen the pleasure that he had gained from it.

Reaching up she held his face between her hands and pulled him gently towards her. She met his lips without fear, without outrage or disgust. She kissed him softly, her tongue a whisper in his mouth, her thumbs gently stroking his cheek. He returned the kiss in similar fashion his hands loosely held around her neck.

When she broke from his mouth, the vulnerability she had glimpsed there was gone. "You see why you must run. What if I hadn't been here?"

"If you hadn't been here, I wouldn't have been here," she countered.

He grunted as he moved away from her, mumbling to himself as he gathered their clothes. She pulled his coat closer around himself, smiling as she watched him, catching snippets of his rantings. Something about 'hard-headed' 'women' 'know what good for her.' She rolled her eyes and shook her head, running her hands up and down her bare arms for wamth.

Strong arms seized her from behind, lifting her to her feet. She hadn't even heard him go around behind her. He was back to the day they first met, back to a soldier, a killer. "Come on," he said, against her ear, his voice rough-edged still glided over her senses, like satin over naked skin, "we need to move."

They hurriedly dressed, moving quickly back to town. IN front of the tavern, they both stopped, realizing this would be goodbye.

"So you'll be gone in the morning?" she asked her eyes cast down, worried that if she faced him it would be real.

"Tonight, probably, after…" he trailed off making a gesture towards the woods where they had left the bodies. "The Lt. will want to get out quick." She nodded, meeting his eyes. "Please run, Carolina."

She gave him a sad smile, "You know I won't."

He sighed, "I know."

"Besides," she said, "how is my staying any more dangerous than you going? You're off to some secret dangerous mission, am I right? How are you safer than me?"

"I carry a knife," his voice was edged and she shivered a little at the memory of that knife and she had to clutch his hands tighter to keep from wiping the phantom blood from her face.

"I'm no withering flower, you know," she said, stepping to him. "I'm not just going to lay down and die. How about you?" she asked, her free hand light on his cheek.

"No," he said as he stepped into her, his mouth the barest inch from her own.

"Ok, then," she said, tilting her head to regard his mouth. "Then I say we make a deal."

She closed her eyes, drinking in his scent, the warmth of him next to her. "This war cant' go on forever, right?"

"Ja, meine Lieben."

She sighed against his neck, pressing her body against his, her hands on either side of his ribcage. "So when its over we meet. A year after all the hostilities stop. Say…Paris."

"Paris?" he snorted, his hands resting under her hair at the nape of her neck.

"What wrong with Paris?" she asked, mock angry. "I've always wanted to go and at least part of the city should survive. Near Eiffel's tower. Promise me you'll be there."

"Schatze," he said, admonishment in his voice as he pulled away from her. He didn't want to promise. Knew he might not be able to keep it.

"Promise," she said more forcefully, wrapping her tiny fists in his coat and pulling him back to her. "Promise me," her amber eyes leaking silent tears.

He raised a rough hand to her face, wiping tears away with his thumb on one side and kissing them away on the other. He held her face between his hands, staring intently at her. "Ich verspreche um zu versuchen, meine Liebe," he said, then pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her, his mouth to her ear, "I promise to try," he repeated in English.

She squeezed back, nodding against his chest, "I guess that'll have to be good enough." Both turned their faces towards each other, their lips meeting, both their mouths salty from her tears. They kissed intently, each knowing that it was most likely the last time. When they finally pulled apart, her lips swollen and her face red from the irritation of his stubble, Wicki was out of breath.

"I have to go."

"Me too," she answered.

"A year after," he said taking her hand in his and brushing his lips over her cold knuckles.

"Paris. At Eiffel's Tower," she said stepping backwards, slowly pulling her hand out of his. Their fingers touched as long as they could, then her next step back he was beyond her reach. They both dropped their hands and stood, mere feet apart, but it may as well have been miles.

"Goodbye, Wilhelm," she said in a strong voice.

He smiled at her use of his given name, "Goodbye, Carolina."

She smiled sadly, then turned, shoulders straight, head high and walked away into the shadows of the empty street.