It had been weeks since we found that God-forsaken camp. We'd been moved to Thalem to supervise cleanup there. A group of us were looking out over the town from a bombed out house. Below us, people were moving slowly around the rubble, silently picking through the pieces and remains of their lives and trying to put things back together. They looked how I felt.

If this war was teaching me anything, it was that life could change in an instant. Joe was sitting just a few feet away, but it felt like we were miles apart. He had barely spoken to me since we'd found the camp, and what few exchanges we did have were short and unpleasant. He was looking to take his anger out on something. Winters wouldn't let him take it out on the Germans, and none of the other guys would put up with it, so I became his outlet.

I heard Joe say something about Mozart, referring to the music they were playing, and corrected him without thinking.

"Beethoven."

"What'd you say?"

There was that anger flashing again.

"Nothing," I answered, trying to let it go.

"You think I really give a fuck who the fuck they listen to while they clean up this shitty little town?"

"Forget it. I'm sorry I said anything."

He stood and slammed the chair he'd been sitting in against the wall, causing me to jump. Bull stood up beside me, tense.

"Enough, Joe."

Joe shot him a glare. He looked ready to fight, although he clearly had no chance against Bull, but Nixon interrupted us before anything else could be said or done.

"Hitler's dead." All eyes snapped to him as he continued, "Shot himself in Berlin."

For a moment, I had hope. Then we listened as he explained that we were moving out again. Before the coward committed suicide, Hitler ordered his SS to hole up in the mountains and continue fighting. Hitler was dead and we still couldn't go home. The war still wasn't over.

** Berchtesgaden, April 8, 1945 **

We rolled into the birthplace of national Socialism prepared for a fight, but the streets were deserted. The town had been cleared out in a hurry, but not before the Germans had done all they could to block the roads. We took the Eagle's Nest anyway, cheering the whole way up the mountain.

By the time Winters told us that the German army had surrendered, hope was starting to creep back in again. We uncovered an enormous stash of liquor, wine, and champagne and Easy Company celebrated V-E Day in style. Somewhere, they even managed to round up a few German ladies to flirt with. We were hilariously, irrevocably, unbelievably drunk, but for the first time in weeks, even Joe looked happy.

I caught him watching me across the room as I absent-mindedly played with the string still tied around my finger, and when he walked outside to smoke a cigarette, I moved to follow him, hoping to talk and put the hell of the last month behind us. Don grabbed my wrist as I walked by.

"Sweetheart, please be careful. He's drunk, and I would hate to have to kill him."

I nodded and made my way out the door. I didn't see him at first, so it startled me when he spoke up from behind me.

"You looking for me?"

He was leaned up against the side of the building, just out of the glow of the light from the doorway, smoking his cigarette and looking at me out of the corner of his eye. If it hadn't been for the way he'd been treating me lately, I'd have thought he looked sexy.

"Yeah. Well, I just thought we could talk."

"About?"

"I don't know, Joe. Landsberg…"

"I don't want to talk about that fuckin' place. Ever."

Great. Drunk Joe was angry. Again.

"Okay, fine. The last few weeks, then. Us…"

"Us? What about us?"

Was he serious?

"Joe, I'm supposed to be here for you. That's what this string around my finger is there for. If I'm going to be your wife…"

"I don't need anyone to be here for me. I don't need a wife. I don't need you."

"Joe," I choked. "You don't know what you're saying right now. You're drunk. You need to sleep it off, and then do something about this anger you have. Talk to somebody or something."

He smirked, and I felt like a knife had just gone through my heart. Then he grabbed my hand and pulled the string from my finger, tossing it to the ground.

Leaning down into my face, he spat, "I know exactly what I'm saying. You have no idea what I need. You don't get it. You're never going to get it. So just leave me the fuck alone already."

He seemed satisfied when the tears welled up in my eyes, the alcohol helping him to reach a new level of cruelty. Then he left me standing there in my misery and, as if to reiterate his point, walked back inside, leaving the door open so that I couldn't miss him walking up and throwing his arm around one of the women. Don and Bull came out the door a split-second later, only to find me already sobbing against the wall.

"Sweetheart, what happened out here?" Don demanded.

"Malark, look," Bull elbowed him, motioning toward the knotted string on the ground and then to my empty finger.

Don's eyes snapped to mine, and the whole story came rushing out of me. By the end, they were both hugging and reassuring me, but I still felt like someone had carved my heart out with a blunt knife. Knowing that I'd never make it back inside, they walked me back to the barracks and tucked me into bed. I was too exhausted to protest, and they talked over me as I fell asleep.

"I'm gonna kill that bastard," Bull was growling. "Drunk or not. He's been treating her like shit for weeks now."

Don smirked, "Yeah, and he's probably not even going to remember this tomorrow. He's been drinking all day."

** DON'S POV **

"Rise and shine."

I was talking as loudly as I could, kicking the end of his bed and pulling his blanket off. With Bull's help, we'd scooted his bunk so that it would be in the direct sunlight, and he groaned as he covered his eyes. He looked green. I was going to do everything in my power to make sure he felt as shitty as possible.

Bull came back over with bucket of water and threw it on him.

"Get your ass up out of bed, boy."

"What the fuck is everybody's problem?" he sputtered, glaring up at us. We just stood our ground until he finally got up, half-walking and half-dragging him into the shower, turning on the cold water. He was ready to fight, but so was I.

"Go ahead, Joe. Take a swing. We've been putting up with your shit for weeks now, and believe me, after last night…" I was too mad to even finish, but Bull picked up where I left off.

"Nothing would make us happier than for you to give us an excuse to whip your ass."

"What are you talking about?"

"What a shock. You don't remember. Well, allow us to enlighten you."

We gave him a rundown of what had happened the night before, and he seemed genuinely unaware of what he'd done but, to my frustration, remained unapologetic.

"I don't need her, Don. And she doesn't need me. I did us both a favor."

"She doesn't want to give up on you, Joe. She wants to believe that last night was just because you were drunk, and that this anger is something you'll get past."

"Maybe I was drunk, but it doesn't change anything. It's over. She needs to give up and leave me alone. I don't want to marry her. I don't want to be with her. She'll just get back to the States and find somebody else whose relatives don't get put into camps just for being who they are. Somebody better. Somebody who isn't pissed off at the world."

So that's what this was about? That camp had hit him hard, and made him feel exactly like it was meant to make everyone in it feel. Like less. Like he didn't deserve any better. He thought that she was going to leave him, so he was leaving her first.

"Man, get serious. She loves you. And you love her."

"No. No, I don't. You have to have a heart to love somebody, Malark. I don't love her. I don't love anybody."

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw movement and looked up to see Kasia standing there. The look on her face told me that she'd heard the last comment. That he'd managed to crush her one more time.