"So? How did it go?" Goebbels' voice was the exact equivalent of thorns piercing into Hitler's side as the lanky man walked up to him. His eyes were glinting with the eagerness to know more, but all Hitler wanted to do was push him away.

"Great!" Hitler sneered sarcastically, padding away from him.

Goebbels tilted his head, and Hitler sighed inwardly as he heard Krebs' matter of fact voice. "It didn't turn out so well."

"What happened?" Goebbels asked as Hitler swung around.

Hitler glared at him, unable to find the words to explain what had humiliated him so much. Stalin's roaring laugh, the disbelieving looks of Chuikov and Zhukov, the three all staring at him as if he had lost his mind when he had genuinely tried to explain what had happened. He turned around, crossing his arms.

"Take a wild guess, half dead monster," Fegelein growled, walking past him, looking just annoyed as Hitler. "Stalin can't see past his own nose. His two minions are just as bad. You'd think one of them would have a little bit of sense, but I guess all Soviets are the same."

A new voice interrupted the men - a familiar objecting one. "You'd had to expect that would happen, though." Jodl was at the entrance of the door, his aqua eyes glittering with annoyance, one of his legs crossed over the other.

"Well, you know what, you bald fuck?" Unable to contain the rage that was stirring inside of him that he had kept bottled up for so long, Hitler swept through the room and in front of Jodl. He pinned him against the wall, his arms on each side of the general as he leaned closer to his face. Fury burned deep in his veins as his own anger roared in his ears. "Why don't you go ahead over there and explain it to him, since you're the greatest out there and you're the only one who could possibly do it?" His nose was only a nail's length from Jodl's, and the bald man was staring at him, his eyes wide.

"Hitler! Stop!" Krebs' hands dug into Hitler's arms as he dragged the Führer away from where he held Jodl. He spun around, ready to face Krebs, but Krebs grabbed Hitler's shoulders before he could do anything. Anger burned in Krebs' eyes as he focused them on Hitler, his fingers firm around Hitler's arms once more. "You think that'll help anything?"

"Did I miss the show?" Burgdorf's voice was high, and he had taken Jodl's place in front of the door. Hitler and Krebs turned around to look at him. He was sipping a glass of alcohol, looking perfectly content, and it took every single nerve in Hitler's body to not run over to him and rip him to shreds. "Or is it just beginning?" He smirked, the smugness clear on his face. Oh, you little …

Krebs gave Burgdorf an exasperated gaze, leaving Hitler to suddenly realize something.

This will put a strain on their relationship. All of us … all of our arguing … they will be forced to pick sides. What if it ends the two? Hitler shook away his worries. It didn't matter to him if the two broke up.

Right?

"Well," Hitler began uneasily, glancing at Jodl, who had recovered from his shock, "I …"

"Am I getting an apology?" Jodl asked, his voice hard with annoyance.

"No." Hitler turned his back on Jodl once more, staring at the ground, biting his lip as he tried to make sense of his panging head and his racing heart. I can't even control myself anymore. I'm so scared! I'm never like this! I don't know what to do! And suddenly, the words came out of him. "I have no idea! I'm so lost! I don't know what to do, I don't!"

All eyes on the room focused on Hitler, and he turned back around to face them. Burgdorf's sapphire eyes were narrowed, and Krebs' were darting from the floor to Hitler. Fegelein had no emotion whatsoever, while Jodl scoffed disbelievingly, and Goebbels glanced side to side.

"Well?" Hitler demanded. "What do I do? Tell me, one of you! Because I don't know!"

"And we do?" Goebbels asked quietly.

Hitler was silent.

If I don't know what to do, how do I expect them to know? They listen to me … just as I listen to them. Oh, no. I'm stressing them out. I'm making them more upset than they should be. I thought I couldn't handle this burden alone, but if I'm upsetting them, then it should just be me.

"Am I making you nervous?" Hitler inquired, his breaking voice hardly audible.

Krebs and Fegelein exchanged uneasy glances, while Burgdorf's eyes were still narrowed, and Jodl put his hands on his hips.

"Where's Günsche?" Fegelein asked, looking around to search for the missing man. "He should be here with us. He's apart of this, you know." He swung his head around. "He's not here." His voice dropped to a tiny whisper. "He's not here."

Hitler gave Fegelein a puzzled glance. Why was the general getting so emotional over everything lately? He wasn't like this. Fegelein was usually laid back, not seeming to care about anything. But now he cared too much.

Was this a sign?

"I'll find him," Krebs offered, a little too quickly. Hitler narrowed his eyes. It was as if he was eager to get out of the room.

Why was that?

"I'll come with you," Hitler said.

Krebs nodded.

"Actually, we all will," Fegelein said, seeming to invite himself. "It's unfair to exclude him from this. After all, he knows. Might as well let him in on it."

"It's not like we purposely didn't tell him," Hitler argued. "He's just … not here." Suddenly, he stopped. Why? He's always here to inform me of something, and he's here with his friends. It's odd to see him away from us. He'd usually be waiting for our return … Hitler knew that the best thing to do was look for Günsche, not spending his time worrying about him.

"It can't be just us?" Krebs asked softly, looking smaller than usual.

"Look, what's up with you?" Hitler glared at Krebs. "How are you bothered by all of us? We're in this together, remember?" I don't have time for your conflicted feelings!

Krebs bowed his head. "All right," he rasped. He was the first one out, his steps swifter than ever. Hitler cocked his head, utterly puzzled by Krebs' actions.

He turned to the one who would know. "What's up with him?"

Burgdorf gazed steadily at Hitler, with no response. "Just go. Find Günsche before it's too late."

"Um …" Hitler's voice trailed off. He had to keep in touch with his friends, right? He knew just earlier he had told himself to ignore it, but he had learned the hard way not to brush aside the feelings of his friends. They were just as important as his own.

"Hitler." Fegelein's voice was firm, but Hitler could detect a tinge of nervousness in it. "Let it be. Leave it alone."

"Okay." Hitler wasn't in the mood to argue with two people, so he pushed aside Krebs' odd actions, and focused himself on the search for Günsche. "Where could he be?"

"Well, I sure know he didn't leave," Jodl said. "Would've said something. I guess check your office? He may be waiting for you there."

"Then he's an idiot," Hitler snapped. "I wouldn't go there if I came back from an urgent meeting. I'd have to report it." Sighing, he left the room, leading the men to his office in hopes that they could find their towering friend.

But he wasn't where he usually was - in front of the door, waiting for Hitler to allow him in. Granted, Hitler hadn't been there, but he usually stood in front of there. Hitler instantly became nervous, biting his lip. This is bad. Very bad!

"Look at the planning room," Hitler ordered Jodl. "Now."

Jodl scampered away from Hitler as soon as the demand was given. Hitler watched him leave, his eyes narrowed as he tried to not think about the worst that could happen. He can't be missing. No, he can't. That'd just add to all the bad things that had happened.

After around a few minutes, Jodl, alongside Krebs, appeared. "He's not there."

Hitler facepalmed. "Where did the idiot go this time? I've had enough of rescuing him from the dumb places he gets himself caught in!"

"Let's check downstairs," Krebs suggested.

"What, the hospital?" Hitler furrowed his eyebrows. "Why would he be there?"

"Look, just trust me on this." All of a sudden, Krebs' eyes were clouded, seeming very agitated. "I have this feeling that something's not right."

"You don't say?" But Hitler didn't want to doubt Krebs. It was better to be safe than sorry. He started to head downstairs, his friends behind him as he made his way through the hospital. Günsche's back was visible, but Hitler could also see Schenck and Haase, talking anxiously to him.

Hitler padded over to them. "What's going on?" he demanded.

At Hitler's sharp voice, the three of them spun around, facing Hitler with wide eyes. "My Führer!" Schenck explained.

"Shut up." Hitler glared at him and turned to Günsche. "Why are you here?"

"My Führer …" Günsche stared at Hitler, his gaze so worried that it made Hitler's skin crawled. "I …"

Haase interrupted Günsche as the man tried to look for words. "Mohnke came down with a sickness." He stepped away, revealing a hospital bed. On the bed laid Mohnke, and Hitler walked over to him.

Mohnke was coughing. His glassy eyes had bags underneath them, while his skin was a pale, reddish color. His swollen face was drenched in sweat, and his stomach was rising heavily. Hitler glanced at what he had coughed up, and he stiffened as he realized that it was blood.

"My Führer," Mohnke began, but a cough interrupted his sentence, sending out blood once more. "I'm … fine."

"No, you're not," Hitler said, trying to control the panic that had taken control of his body as soon as he saw Mohnke's condition. "Rest, my Mohnkey. You will be better soon. I am forbidding you to carry out your job. If you do, I will have your head on a silver platter."

The sick man looked up at Hitler one more time, his watering eyes full of agony. He laid his head down on his pillow, seeming to have no strength to react.

"Feel better," Hitler whispered. "Please, feel better." He walked over to Haase and Schenck, who had been watching Hitler's encounter. "What's wrong with him?"

"If you want the truth, I don't know," Schenck confessed. "That's what I've been trying to figure out."

"What I do know is that it's contagious," Haase told Hitler. "From seeing him, it definitely is. You have to go and wash your hands as soon as possible, my Führer."

"If it's contagious, why are you so close to him?" Hitler asked. It's bad enough that Mohnke is sick. We can't have them being sick.

"If that was a problem, we would've gotten it already," Haase said calmly. "We can be around him. We have to treat him."

"Will he be okay?" Hitler demanded. The fear felt like a knife being slowly twisted inside of him, a hammer on his head. As he waited for Haase's answer, all he could hear was his pulse thumping.

Schenck and Haase were quiet for a few seconds, before Haase answered. Hitler took into consideration that Haase was much more experienced than Schenck was, and therefore knew more than he did. "I don't know."

Hitler stiffened, his stomach contorting inside of him. His muscles froze into place as he took into Haase's answer. "But … but, you can get it under control, right?" He was aware that his voice was high pitched, but all he needed was an answer.

An optimistic one, preferably.

Haase blinked at him. "We are trying our best, I promise you that, to the bottom of my heart."

Hitler glanced at the ground, nausea crawling into his stomach.

Was this the beginning of the end?