It was a dark day for summer, with rain clouds gathering and turning nastier by the minute. Any moment now their part of the world would be plunged into cold wetness, but it was a perfect day to help others get away from this hellhole.

"There are two older men who have broken ankles, I think, they need to get out before it's too late," Roderich said to the three men on the other side of the fence. He lingered far enough away that if he was seen it wouldn't be suspicious, and they were far enough away that they wouldn't be seen. For the past few months they had been meeting in similar manners, working together to help get people out.

"You need to come with us, you've been here long enough." He was the youngest of the four of them, a brunet with chestnut eyes. Roderich didn't know any of their names, a precaution if the worst were to happen.

"If I stayed behind another time, how many more children could you save?" Roderich asked. "I'm more concerned for their sake, it's only so long until they're considered useless. I can still make myself useful."

There was shouting somewhere back towards the center of the camp, Roderich's heart felt as though it were constricting. They didn't have enough time to discuss what they should do.

"We could probably take three or four," one said. All Roderich knew about him was that he was not from Europe, despite looking very German.

"We have to go now," another of the men in front of Roderich said. He was the brother of the man who had just spoken. "We can take one of the older men and three younger boys safely," he said.

"Three is good enough for me to stay behind, please don't worry about me," Roderich said. "I need to go now," he said, and then turned and ran as fast as he could to his hut where he and his bunk-mates would be lined up and counted.

The three men were gone within a couple of seconds, no trace of them left to be seen.

Just as he did every day, Roderich stood in front of his bed in his bunk, straight as a board and silent. The guards tromped through, glaring at everything their eyes could catch. While making sure to never make eye contact, Roderich always scoured each man that entered to see if it was a face he recognized. He hoped that neither Gilbert or Ludwig would stoop to such disgusting levels, but he couldn't be sure. He never saw them, and nothing made him happier.

After they were looked over once or twice, the guards left and went about their business. The prisoners were then free to go about the central part of the camp, and Roderich went about his task of finding people who needed rescuing.

Already he knew he would be taking a bunk-mate's son who had so far escaped death as he could fit into small places. His father had begged and begged, knowing what Roderich did when he wasn't where he was supposed to be.

First he went to find one of the two older men who were injured, either of them would be fine. He felt so horrible whenever he saw old men or young children in the camp with them, it was torture just for him, let alone someone in worse condition. He searched everywhere, but neither of them were to be found. It was growing dark, so he could only assume the worst had happened and move on with what he had to do.

His bunk-mate's son was tagging along at his heels, staying far enough away to not bother this strange Austrian man who seemed so angry but also so sad and hurt. Roderich liked that everyone gave him as much space as they could manage, even under their conditions. He grabbed a teenager by the arm, startling him.

"Hey, what's your problem?" he snapped, ripping his arm away from Roderich.

Roderich grabbed him again, raising his eyebrows. He glanced around to make sure there were no guards within earshot. "I can get you out of here," he said. "And I can do it tonight, there are three men who will take you somewhere safe."

He calmed down, but his eyes held disbelief. "What do you mean?" he asked, his voice lowered.

"I do it all of the time, trust me. Just meet me over there, I'll have two children with me that will go with you," he said, motioning towards a hut that was furthest towards the fence. He began walking again, looking for anyone that he could take with him.

A small boy, presumably still alive for the same reasons as the one at his heels, was outside playing some sort of hand game with who looked to be his father. Roderich very carefully approached them, again looking for guards.

"I can get your son out of here," he said.

"He is not my son," the man said. "Why can you not take both of us?" he asked.

Roderich sighed, he often got this question when dealing with the older men. "The people who help people escape all of the time find it more crucial to rescue children and elderly. They are at more risk than you or I," he said. The sun was beginning to sink behind the horizon, they didn't have much time left. "Please, let me take him, he can live if he goes with me."

The man frowned, but shoved the child towards Roderich, who extended a hand to him. He took his hand, and with the other still trailing behind him, Roderich made his way to the rendezvous site he had set with the teenager.

Behind them, the chime for curfew sounded, and Roderich sped up his steps. If they were purposeful in the way they walked, they could appear to be heading towards the last wooden shack. None of the guards questioned him, and none were looking as the three of them ducked around back, where the other boy was waiting for them.

"We need to wait until it is completely dark," Roderich said, "it will only be a few minutes. But along the way to the fence there are guards and spotlights, please be very careful. We cannot make a sound." He turned to the children, looking them in the eyes in turn as he spoke. "You must be completely silent. This is not a game, and if you are loud all of us will get into a very big amount of trouble. Do you understand?"

The two children nodded, the fear easily readable in their eyes. Roderich hated to be so strict with them, but there was no other way to go about these sorts of situations. He didn't give them a smile of reassurance like he wanted to, he needed to make sure they understood the gravity of the situation.

Just as he had said, only a few minutes had passed and they were in complete darkness. Occasionally the light of a flashlight or a guard tower would pass by them, but they were out of sight for the time being.

"You head over to that wood pile over there," Roderich instructed, pointing towards where the three men would be waiting. "You two follow me as close as you can, but you still must be silent."

The children nodded, and with a brief gesture from Roderich, the four of them were on the way towards the fences. Nothing ever went wrong, but adrenaline coursed through Roderich's veins as though each time was the first time all over again. He periodically glanced back at the two children who were following him very closely, making sure they were keeping up.

He was amazed he could even bring himself to do something like this, it seemed more like something that Elizaveta would do. She was the brave and courageous one. She was the one who would fight a bear if she were protecting someone. Roderich wasn't even sure why he risked his life countless times for this, the first time the three men had come they had offered to take him and a few others, but when it came down to it, he stayed behind and allowed an elderly man to go in his place. Since then, it had become a sort of duty for him, saving three or four people a week.

Out of pure habit, he ducked behind one of the piles of cut lumber, the teenaged boy across from them, staying as low to the ground as he possibly could. Roderich pulled one of the children close to him, and only then realized the other one was missing.

His heart shot into his throat, and for a few moments he couldn't even think. He couldn't tell where the guards were, and it was all up to fate as he peered around the stack of wood, holding the other child close. The other was kneeling ten feet away, tying his shoes that were far too big for him. Roderich wished with all of his might that he could scream at the boy, ask him what he thought he was doing, aside from putting all of their lives at risk.

A guard was approaching, and the kid was still there, kneeling in the dirt. Roderich looked to the teenager, hoping to somehow form an idea with him without using words. He wasn't looking, though, he was looking towards the chain link fence that separated them from the rest of the world. In the distance, just at the edges of the forested land, Roderich could see the three men crouching there.

The teenager glanced at Roderich, then back at the gate. Roderich's eyes widened. If he ran then, with the guard approaching, he would be killed. He couldn't risk that, but something in him knew that if a good enough distraction was provided, he could rescue the other child. He shook his head, but in a moment, the teenager had hauled himself to his feet and was running. He was spotted in an instant. There was shouting everywhere.

As soon as he began to hear gunfire and the barking of dogs, Roderich ran and scooped up the child that had fallen behind. A light from another guard's flashlight found them, and Roderich froze. He was drawing his weapon, and shouting loudly. There was only one chance. Roderich doubled back, running as fast as he could, and grabbed the other child's hand as he passed.

Fire shot through his leg, but he ran as fast as he could towards escape. To their left, they passed the teenager. Roderich wanted to vomit, but he focused instead on keeping the children from seeing the blood spilling from his head.

"Under the fence, quickly!" he snapped, setting the other child down and ushering them under as fast as he could. It was a tight squeeze, but they made it, running straight to the open arms of the brothers.

"Come with us!" the brunet of the three urged, glancing up frequently at the guards that were drawing very near, very fast. "You'll be killed if you stay, just come with us!"

Roderich didn't need anymore convincing, and wormed his way under the fence. Luckily, he had lost weight and it wasn't such a difficult task. The fire in his leg was spreading further and further, washing over his whole body, but he ran after the three men.

He didn't know how far they ran, but even after the sounds of shouting and barking, they continued to run. The children were clinging to a brother each, securely held in their strong arms. They ran until the glaring lights and harsh words of the camp were left behind them. Only then did they slow down, eventually stopping in a more sheltered area.

The brothers were still holding their charges as the third of them knelt next to Roderich, digging through his pockets and muttering to himself.

"You were shot by a bullet, and still you ran this whole way," he said. He looked grim as he examined the wound and the blood, but then smiled at Roderich in a way that would have given him cavities. "You were only grazed, so you'll be fine. We'll just wrap it up and then we'll get moving again," he said.

He procured a roll of bandage or some sort of cloth from his pocket, and bound Roderich's leg tightly with it. Roderich, trying to seem as though the adrenaline hadn't worn off, and he wasn't in an excruciating amount of pain, hissed through his clenched teeth. Even countless times of accidentally shutting the piano cover onto his fingers didn't hurt as much as this.

He tried his hardest to think of the days when he was still young, and could go outside of his house and be greeted by his brave sister and his stupid best friend. For a moment, he wondered if either of them had died, but he pushed the thought out of his head. If he had survived hell, they had survived their daily lives.

"What are you doing here?"

It was a voice Roderich didn't recognize. The man wrapping his leg froze, but then continued with his task. The two brothers were gradually backing away, watching this newcomer.

"What are you doing out here?" the brunet asked. He finished with Roderich's leg, and then helped him to stand. He seemed, once again, so serious.

"We need to leave," one of the brothers said.

The newcomer moved his hands in front of him from where they had been crossed behind his back, he had a gun. Roderich felt like a mouse in the claws of a cat he couldn't get away from. The brunet stepped in front of Roderich, shielding him.

"Please don't do this," he said. "I told you my work was dangerous and I could get in trouble if I was caught. So please, put the gun down, okay?" he asked, a grin on his face again.

He lowered his gun, but kept a firm glare. "You're helping them, Feliciano." Roderich took a few moments to remark the name, was his rescuer Italian? He was certainly breaking a few stereotypes if that was true. "Why would you help them?"

"Because they're people, Ludwig," Feliciano said.

Roderich's heart soared, and he pushed Feliciano out of the way. "Ludwig, it's me!" he said. Feliciano gave him an incredulous, if confused look. "I don't know if you remember me, I was Gilbert's friend, who lived across the street. I'm Roderich, do you remember me?" Something in him wanted to tack on a you'd better remember me but this situation was not one that would benefit from his haughty attitude.

Ludwig seemed caught off guard. Roderich didn't even know if he had the right Ludwig, certainly it was a common German name. "Edelstein?" he asked. Roderich could have collapsed with relief.

"Yes, Roderich Edelstein," he said. "Do you remember me?"

"Not really," Ludwig said. His hand was still firmly clamped around the gun, and he looked on edge. Feliciano was gradually moving closer to Roderich again. "I remember your sister more. My father hated the both of you, he wished the both of you were dead."

"Do you know where Gilbert is? He can help me."

"He's in Spain," Ludwig said, his voice flat. Roderich's optimism dropped with just three words. "You need to leave," he muttered. "Leave before I shoot you."

Roderich didn't know how to react, the last time he had seen Ludwig, he had been a small, innocent child. What had happened to him to make him weild a gun so easily? Feliciano pushed Roderich gently towards the brothers who had manged to get nearly fifty feet away in the duration of their conversation.

"Go with them," he said. "I'll handle this." He was smiling his cavity smile again, and Roderich hobbled to the brothers. They turned and left without a second glance.

The first few minutes passed silently, but the sound of a gun firing had them all stopped in their tracks. Roderich looked back, horrified.

"We need to go back and get him," he said.

One of the brothers grabbed his arm. "He said he could handle it, so he can handle it. We need to get the three of you out of Europe. We at least need to get you to Switzerland."

"No, I can't leave!" Roderich snapped, panic and bile rising in his throat. "I have friends here, I have family here."

"That kid said Gilbert or whoever was in Spain," the other brother said. "You have no one in Germany, and you'll never make it past the Polish border."

Roderich supposed they were right, and as they began walking again, he followed them. They walked a few feet in front of him, but were close enough that he could hear them muttering to each other. He wondered if the children could understand what was happening, or if they were in too much shock.

"Where will we go from here?" Roderich asked.

"To a friend in Switzerland who will take the kids for us. He always does, but only because his little sister is a sweet little girl who wouldn't hurt a fly. You could stay with them, or you could go somewhere else," one brother said. He was much quieter than the other.

"But I'm telling you now," the other said, he shot Roderich a cold glare, something he wasn't used to. He was normally as chipper as Feliciano. "If you die or get caught again after all of the shit we've gone through to rescue you, I will not be happy. None of us will be."

Roderich nodded, turning his violet gaze to his shoes that were scuffed and too small for his feet. "I wouldn't get myself caught again, and I won't die. There are people in my life who need me, and who need to know I'm alive," he said.

The quieter of the brothers laughed a bit. "It's good to hear that you haven't given up yet. Can I ask who they are?"

"My sister, and my best friend. He's the worst person I've ever met in my whole life, but he manages to make it charming somehow."

"What's your sister like?"

"Alfred," the other brother hissed.

"Sorry, sorry," Alfred said. "By the way, this is Matthew. By now you won't be caught and tortured, so we don't need to be so strict about names."

Matthew gave Roderich a small smile. "Welcome to the family business."

"Family business?" Roderich asked.

"Not so much of a business, as Alfred started pretending to be a hero, and now he's dragged me into it."

"It was not pretending!" Alfred exclaimed, seemingly genuinely hurt by his brother's words. "I've done a lot of good for this world!"

"Of course you have," Matthew said.

Roderich was reminded of himself and Elizaveta, and he smiled. He couldn't remember the last time he did that, and had actually meant it. The unused muscles ached, and it shortly fell away. He glanced up at the stars above them, the moon was a sliver of silver, shining dimly over them. He was amazed the two in front of him could see, but he supposed they had made the journey far more than once. In his head, he rehearsed the songs he had memorized from that stupid music book, his fingers moving without him realizing it. The habit brought him back to the white house with his mother, father, sister and Gilbert. The memories were happy, and could warm the coldest nights.

A/N: For those wondering, the next WWII based story will be from Ludwig's point of view, so the interactions in this chapter will be better explained in the future.