Courtney POV

By the time a week has passed after the first air-raid, Duncan had started a sort of "midnight class" to teach Courtney English. The midnight class began at the end of each nightmare. Somehow Duncan had gotten hold of a book called A Tree Grows in Brooklyn by Betty Smith. They read through the early hours of the morning, circling and writing and reciting the words she did not know. It was about a girl named Francie Nolan who learns the meaning of hunger and the value of a penny. Courtney could tell Duncan didn't like it much, but Courtney was crazy about it. He seemed to deal with it, though.

Most of the time, however, their midnight class would get off track. Sometimes they would start talking about Duncan's parents, which was always morbid and depressing. Sometimes they would talk about Courtney's parents, and she would share all her precious memories of them. And sometimes their conversations would take such a complicated turn that they would both have to carefully construct their sentences straight out of their dictionaries.

Courtney had a way with words, and even Duncan could admit that. She could easily get him to confess anything, even without his knowing that the conversation was going to take such a turn. And she definitely used that to her advantage.

"Where did you get that scar from?" Courtney asks, trailing her finger along the scar on the under-side of Duncan's jaw. There would be no chance of her falling asleep again without getting her answer, because she was now wide awake from their midnight class.

Quite reluctantly, Courtney could tell, Duncan told her the story of how he got the scar from a street fight. She listened intently, and after the story was over he nervously looked over at her. Courtney was silent for a few seconds before she finally asked, "Were you good?"

Clearly that wasn't the response Duncan was expecting, because he stuttered, "Oh. Uh, well, yeah. I was good. One of the best."

She nods and points towards another, longer, scar underneath his ear. "Is that how you got that one too?" she asks.

Suddenly Duncan's eyes turned dark and he anxiously covered his scar with his hand, biting his lip. "Um, no. Well, you know how my dad is an alcoholic? When he first started drinking, he couldn't hold his liquor as much as he can now. One day… He came home really smashed and really mad about something. And then he just started beating me," Duncan admitted. He looked down at his hands in his lap, and Courtney was silent, which urged him to continue.

"I was only eight at the time. He kept yelling, 'It's all your fault! You're useless, pathetic, worthless!' Stuff like that. He beat me until I passed out. After that, I started learning how to fight. I actually almost wanted him to hit me again so I could take him down, especially by the time I had grown bigger than him. But he only beat me that one time," Duncan finishes.

Courtney nodded, just tiny movements of her head, staring into the distance. What bothered her most about what she just heard was what Duncan's father had said to him, and what possible impact it may have had on Duncan from him saying, 'You're useless, pathetic, worthless!'

Because there most definitely was value in Duncan, and it did not go unnoticed by Courtney Ramsden. She saw it immediately. His manner. The mysterious air around him. Whenever Duncan would come to sit with her after a nightmare, Courtney would observe the strangeness of his eyes. They were made of kindness, and a warm sort of blue-green that can only be found in shallow lake waters. Courtney, upon seeing those eyes, understood that Duncan Mason was valuable beyond explanation.

Courtney looked up at Duncan, into his deep turquoise eyes and leaned against his side. "You're not useless. Or pathetic. And you're definitely not worthless. To me, you're worth a lot," she whispers.

And then, Courtney wasn't sure if she was the one who leaned in or if it was Duncan or even both of them at the same time, but suddenly they were kissing. Duncan's hand landed on her waist and pulled her closer, while Courtney put a hand on his shoulder and pressed herself hard against his chest. Somehow they couldn't manage to get close enough to each other.

"Love don't come so easily, this doesn't have to end in tragedy.
I have you and you have me.
We're one in a million, why can't you see?
I treat you like a princess, but our life is just one big mess."
- Rooney

Their lungs quickly ran out of air, however, and when they both pulled apart they sat there breathing heavily for air, looking at each other with surprised expressions like, Did we really just do that?

Courtney bit her lip and Duncan quickly stood up from the cot. He suddenly couldn't risk the urge of being so close to her. "I, uh, better get going," he stuttered.

"Yeah," Courtney replies, her voice thick. She clears her throat and continues, "You… should." Duncan just nods at her and backs out of the nurses' bedroom with the book in his hands. Courtney squeezed her trembling hands together.

Why did I do that?

Courtney fell back onto her pillow, shaking her head in remorse. How could she have been so selfish? She was risking Duncan's safety just by being in this camp! If Nazis invaded, they would definitely be able to tell Courtney was a Jew just by her dark hair and thick German accent. If only Courtney could do something to help her side, her side being the Allies, of course.

Suddenly, Courtney sat straight up in bed. She knew exactly what would help. She tossed the bed sheets off of her and runs on her tiptoes out of the nurses' bedroom and out of the hospital tent into the courtyard. Courtney knew Duncan wasn't asleep yet, and he was probably wondering where she was going. Good. A little curiosity wouldn't kill him.

Courtney looks around the courtyard in the darkness. Everything looked so different, she wondered if she would even be able to find her way to the general's tent. But she would find her way. Courtney walked around for a few minutes and all of a sudden knew where she was. By the mess hall.

She turned around sharply to follow her steps back to the general's tent. But as she turned around, Courtney found the barrel of a gun in her face. She squeaked in silent terror and looked wide-eyed at the guard who had been patrolling the camp grounds.

"State your name and business," the guard snaps.

"Courtney Ramsden. I work in the hospital tent in camp. I have confidential information for the general," she answers right away, barely having to think of the translation from German to English in her head. Apparently her midnight classes with Duncan had been paying off… Not that she was dependent on him, or anything.

The soldier looked at her suspiciously, so Courtney continued boldly, "Can we hurry this up? I really need to get to the general." She was surprised this guard hadn't seen her around camp before this incident.

He nods in the direction of the general's tent, allowing Courtney to go. As she walks off, he slowly lowers his gun and watches her warily. Courtney finally reaches the general's tent and looks back just before she went in. The soldier was still watching her in the place she left him at.

Courtney went in the tent and a different secretary from before looked up at her. This was probably the night secretary. "I have confidential information for the general. It's urgent," Courtney announces. The secretary immediately, probably happy for something to do in the middle of the night, while everybody was sleeping. The secretary disappears through the tent partition that led not to the general's office, but to his bedroom. Soon she comes back out and looks at Courtney.

"He'll be out in a second."

Courtney stood there, waiting, probably for the general to get dressed and decent. Eventually the general comes out of the bedroom and motions for his office. They walk in and the general takes a seat behind his desk. "I've been waiting for you," he tells her.

Courtney nods, knowing she should have done this much earlier. But she had to have time to think about it, to remember all the conversations she's overheard, all the Nazi parades through town, to make sure she was right. And I am right… I think.

"Dunkirk and Potsdam," Courtney states. Dunkirk was the city in France the Nazis were planning to attack. Potsdam was a city close to Berlin where the Nazi army were sending more troops, so many that there was probably a base there. The general nods. After a few more questions about the validity of those cities, she was dismissed.

Courtney walked through the dark camp, headed back to the hospital tent. Then she saw him standing outside. She could see Duncan's fingers, holding a glowing cigarette. Ash stumbled from its edge and lunged and lifted several times until it hit the ground. He breathed out a light cloud of smoke into the night air. Courtney wondered if it was one of the cigarettes she had won from Texas Hold 'Em that he was smoking. Then she mentally slapped herself and decided it didn't matter.

She kept walking and Duncan looked at her out of the corner of his eye as she approached. Why had he been waiting outside for her? Courtney glided past him into the hospital tent and into the nurses' bedroom for a good night's sleep that she desperately needed. Hopefully she wouldn't dream of Duncan.

And that wonderful kiss.