Whoo…I'm back. I didn't abandon you, I promise! This chapter was actually extremely difficult for me to write. It didn't help that I had some classes to take (some extremely BORING ones I might add) and I'm pretty sure my muse wants to go on strike.

That being said, here is the next chapter you all have been waiting for. Krista meets the concentration camp.

Perhaps this isn't the proper time to say it but enjoy!

Chapter Twenty Five: Forgiveness

March, 1945

Buchloe, Germany

Hands grabbed at her from every angle. Skinny, long fingers grasped her clothing and hair, searching for something. Salvation. Answers. It could have been anything she guessed at and yet nothing at all. Perhaps the feeling of someone not out to hurt or kill them was all that they asked of her.

They all looked the same, hair shaved, bodies emaciated, clothing striped like an occupant of a prison. These men probably wished for the privileges they would have received in a prison. Their bodies could be described in the same way as a corpse would, save for their eyes. Within these remained the bits of their soul that the Nazis could not take, the courage, faith and hope that managed to get them through each day. It was this brightness in their eyes that impacted her more than their physical condition.

She wanted to cry then, break down and forget everything she saw but a body fell against her, one of the men that had grasped her clothes, he himself crying with joy more than the others. He nearly knocked her to the ground but she stood strong, holding him closely as she lowered him gently.

"Eugene!" Krista cried out desperately, perhaps uselessly. Who knew how many men were out there with an equally hopeless outlook, who knew how many others soldiers cried for their medic in some attempt to save the life of a man long dead. Despite her thoughts on this, the medic did come to her side. It was only then that she realized only her voice cried out amongst the camp's occupants. Others were left silent, too stunned to react in a normal way.

Roe began to look the man over, doing what little he could to assist, even if it was only easing the pain of his passing. Krista could not see what he was doing, she was too focused on the eyes of the man before her. They seemed happy, an emotion she did not think possible even at the moment of liberation. Too much had happened, too much continued still.

His hand reached up to her, brushed her cheek ever so lightly.

"Anna." He whispered, "You look just like her."

Krista could say nothing to him. She could only choke back tears and slowly search for a voice that eluded her.

"She was a librarian in Munich…she would not let them burn the books." His eyes became misty as he remembered the details of everything. His hand moved to grip her collar, the grasp exerting more strength than she thought possible.

"I will get to see her again," he paused, taking a long, raspy breath. "Anna." There were mumbled words after that but the sounds he made were dying as well as his body. It did not take long after that for his chest to cease its movements and his eyes to lose that glow. Krista looked between the man and Roe, who shook his head before standing up. He left her there, just left her. Maybe there was a reason behind it, maybe someone else had called him but Krista felt abandoned then.

Her breaths became shaky, her eyes darting between various faces of people she did not know. She was crying without tears; she had wished to never see them again but there was always a loophole to what she wanted. After all, these men hardly got what they wished for, why should she?

There was a hand on her shoulder. Krista looked up, wondering who would comfort her in her sin. It was one of the men, the hand protruding from his enormous outfit like that of a skeleton's. Other hands joined his. She looked at them as though they were insane. They were actually trying to comfort her, they who knew nothing of what she had done, knew not who she was. In all of their pain, they still thought to look to others first. It was too much for her.

Krista stood, wishing to run but she knew that would only attract attention. She wished to be invisible now.

So she walked, passing numerous groups of men huddled around soldiers, their exclamations either happy or sad. How she wished she could not understand what they spoke. The men did not know how lucky they were. What they thought were only praises were actually stories of torture, questions of where others were held, desperate attempts to explain that the women were not so far away. The barrier was more complicated than they thought, more disturbing.

"Ask him why they're here."

Winters voice seemed to drift over all others, smashing into her like a ton of bricks. That was the one thing that would undo it all for her. She knew who would be translating for him, it was not that hard to figure out. Webster may have been good but Liebgott was the best at it. He would ask and he would hear. It would not take long for him to put two and two together. When she was discovered to be a German, things had been rocky with him but he forgave. This however, this was something that did not deserve such kindness.

She sighed, moving toward the group, hardly noticing that Nixon was amongst them. Liebgott would find out eventually. She would rather him hear it from her. It was a small offering of how much she cared, one he would most likely not see but in the end it might help her sleep at night.

"I can tell you," Krista said, standing between Liebgott and the prisoner.

Winters watched her curiously, thinking back to the day she had told him about her father. No longer was she the shaking mess that he and Nixon had stumbled upon. She stood tall, not proud but accepting. She knew what she had to do. There would be consequences and she foresaw them, knowing there was no way around it. It was a brave move on her part.

Krista took a deep breath. "They are unwanted, unfit for…society. There are Poles…gypsies…Russians…the…physically handicapped, homosexuals and conspirators."

Liebgott translated the words she did not know, still unaware of the climax she was drawing toward. Now he was her friend but one word would change that.

"But…but mostly there are…" Krista bit her lip, not wishing to continue but she knew it had to be done. She looked to Liebgott, the sincerest form of heartbreak and apology in her eyes.

"Jews."

At first he hardly reacted, as though the words had washed over him with no effect. Then it began to sink in, she saw it. He looked at all of the internees, seeing something she did not, noting the stars on their chests he had hardly paid attention to before. They had just been some unfortunate people before. It was not that he did not care but after everything he had seen, perhaps he had come to expect something like this from the lunatic. But now, now this struck close to home. They were not some random group of people, they were his people and they were being exterminated.

"Liebgott?" Winters looked at the translator, concerned.

He shook his head. "Sir, permission to be excused."

Winters merely nodded, watching him walk away toward the exit. He turned to Krista, not feeling any different about her but apparently she thought he should feel that way. She shot him the same apologizing glance before taking off after Liebgott. It was then that Nixon moved for the first time, grabbing Krista's arm. Confused, Winters noted the utter look of hatred she gave his friend before shaking him off. He thought Nixon was just telling her to give the man some space but she would take nothing from him.

"What's going on?" Winters asked, turning to his friend.

"Dick, you really don't want to know."

Krista knew it was a bad idea running after Liebgott. She also knew that Nixon only wished to warn her about it but his touch only refueled the anger she held, driving her to continue. The translator moved fast through the crowds of men, unwilling to even touch them now. Krista had a harder time making it through, the obvious fact that she was a woman drawing the internees toward her curiously. Eventually she caught up, placing a hand on his shoulder, though uncertain of what to say.

"Joe," she spoke softly, mind pining for something else, something to explain but there was no way to describe the makings of a madman. It was there and that was that.

Liebgott turned quickly, slapping her hand away from him, a look of fury upon his face. It caused her to step back a moment, to almost fear him. Could he really hate her so much?

"Why didn't you tell me?" He asked, voice carrying well over any other around. Some turned in his direction. They were going to have witnesses.

She did not respond.

"Why didn't you tell me, Krista!"

"Would it make a difference? Could you save them?"

"It would have meant I could trust you," Liebgott replied, stepping forward, pointing a finger in her face. He turned back then and once again walked away from her but Krista was not finished with him. She would have her innocence proven yet.

"Did you have problems trusting me when I bandaged your neck? Or when you fought Guarnere on my behalf?" She called out to him, the words forcing him to stop. "I am the same person I was yesterday, the same one you found in Holland all those months ago."

Once more he turned around and even stepped toward her again. "And what were you before I found you, huh? Were you just another Hitler loving maniac who saluted his picture before you went to bed every night?"

His words cut deep. She would not say that she loved the man before, but she did not hate him. Could she have been expected to when she knew nothing? The man had saved the country. She felt she owed him some kind of allegiance at the time. But her eyes were open now, what difference did it make?

"I was a girl who lived her life without much thought of politics." Her voice was cold now. If he was going to be unreasonable, she was not going to plead. "I cared for nothing except the latest gossip from school. I knew nothing."

It almost looked like he smiled. "You mean to tell me you had no idea that this was going on? That you could ignore it like it was some kind of prank? People were dying and you were playing with dolls!"

"Excuse me for being a sheltered girl! Excuse me for being a child that thought nothing was wrong with the world! I'm sorry I didn't investigate anything, didn't try to warn people, didn't get myself killed for having done so! People live in fear! They say nothing because others who have disappeared in the dead of the night!"

"Then why didn't you tell me?" he shouted, coming back to the main point of the argument. Krista shook her head, looking to the ground. How could she explain it to him? He was bent on not believing her. Every word was a lie now no matter how logical it sounded. She wanted to tell him how much it killed her, that she would see images of him in these outfits they wore, dead and nearly cried out in the pain it caused her but he would not believe it. Maybe later when he was calm, maybe later…

Krista walked toward him, half expecting Liebgott to back up or even hit her but he stayed very still, watching her cautiously. She stopped just before him, turning to look at the camp, hoping he would do the same.

"Can you not see why?"

She waited a while and then turned to face him. Liebgott still gazed at the men inside the camp, eyes twitching ever so slightly. He could see the starved and dead men, the squalor they had been forced to live in, the inhumanity of it all. No doubt he was picturing things, a 'what if' scenario. For a moment, she thought there were to be tears when he looked away, eyes landing on her once more, somewhat softer. Did he understand now? Could she hope for so much?

His eyes hardened once more. "Don't follow me."

Once again he left but he would not look at her again. There was nothing she could say that would make him stay. That, however, did not stop her from trying.

"I know you were shooting at wounded Germans in the field the day my brother died." Her voice sounded like a whisper but it got to him. "I could have blamed you for his death, but I did not."

Liebgott stopped in place for a moment but she knew that was all the further it would go. Krista watched him continue his walk until he was well past her sight. She took a deep breath and searched the beautiful sky a moment before returning to the ugly image it was forced to face each day. A few people stood looking at her but most knew better than to pry. They could easily guess the conversation at this point. Unfortunately, it was fairly obvious.

She walked past them back into the camp, hoping to make up for whatever she may have done by helping the others. The men watched her walk by, not wishing to say anything. They knew she needed to be alone, that she was killing herself on the inside, that was how well they knew her.

There was a Jewish man just inside the gate. He was older and looked terribly frail but managed to stand on his own. Understanding filled his eyes and she knew that he had overheard. He did not appear judgmental at the moment but perhaps he did not have the energy to do so.

Krista stopped in front of him. "I am so sorry," she shook her head, knowing words could never be enough, "I…I tried…I knew…I…"

Her attempted explanation at things was cut off when the man wrapped his arms around her. She was frozen a few moments in shock but soon found herself embracing him as well, needing someone to reassure her more than she thought.

"You are blameless, child," he whispered softly. Her grip did not loosen but her thoughts wandered. How could he forgive after all of this? How could Liebgott refuse the same? Nothing made sense anymore but then again, nothing ever had. Why she bothered to continue trying to sort it all out was the real mystery.

. . .

Krista was not exactly certain where she was sitting at the moment. The instant someone had decided to leave and go back for food, she had run to the nearest truck, getting onboard without a sound, keeping her gaze fixed on the forests they passed, trying desperately to forget when she knew it to be impossible. They watched her, there was no reason for her to think otherwise but it no longer bothered her. There were more important things being shoved onto her plate.

Footsteps approached and stopped before her. She waited a moment before looking up, realizing again that she had sat upon the first open set of stairs she could find along the street. All around were soldiers exiting various houses with food gathered in their arms, the occupants of the buildings yelling, even chasing, after them.

Looking up, Krista saw Luz staring down at her. He might have been the last person she expected but was actually the one she was most thankful for. If anyone would understand, it was Luz. If anyone could make her feel better, it was Luz. She had underestimated his relationship before but no longer.

"You look lonely," he said. Krista had to laugh at the simplicity of his sentence and the extreme understatement it came with.

Luz sat next to her, waiting for some kind of answer. The silence that followed was her trying to think of one.

"He hates me," she said suddenly.

"Who hates you?"

Krista glared at Luz, not in the mood to determine whether he was joking or not. He seemed to shrink slightly.

"Oh, Liebgott…no, he doesn't…hate you. He'll get over it, I'm sure."

"I did not steal his things or call him a name."

"And you didn't do…whatever that was either." Luz countered, looking at her hard as well. This was certainly a different side of him.

"But I did not tell him."

"Well, to be honest, you did not tell us a lot of things." Krista looked at him slightly surprised for a moment but she waited, knowing there was more. "Self preservation, it's understandable. Even then, why would you tell him that? All it would do is distract him. You saved his life."

Krista had to smile at him for a moment. "I wish I did it for that reason."

"Don't we all," Luz mumbled. He paused, swinging his arm around her shoulder. "You're not the bad guy, Krista. You never have been. Just remember that."

She would try to. For the sake of everything, she would try.

. . .

It was the next morning. Somehow Krista had managed to make it back to her room and even sleep a few hours, though they were turbulent ones at that. The pictures began to come to life in her dreams and the thought of Liebgott being one of the victims only became more real. She hoped he would come to some realization soon. The thought of losing his friendship was devastating. He was one of the few she had managed to not compromise over the months, that was until now. She desperately wished she had told him but if she had, would they have had the pleasant experiences they shared?

Krista was reading a sign, one that she had looked over at least five times already, trying to figure out how she got to where she was. She was hardly paying attention as usual and had wandered into a part of town she could not recognize. A strange occurrence she thought considering it was not that big.

While attempting to remember her mental map of the town, a commotion not far the street caught her eye. There were soldiers moving citizens out of houses, shoving them onto trucks like cattle. It was a curious sight, and a concerning one as well, one that she hardly wished to take part in. She backed away slowly, turning around to head back to where she, hopefully, came from. In doing so, she nearly ran into to MPs, each wearing an equally miserable looking scowl on their face.

"Where do you think you're going, Fraulein?"

Krista tried to play stupid. She smiled politely and attempted to pass but both men were rather large, taking up the sidewalk, and were not willing to move.

"Nice try, Gretel. Marshall Law's been declared. That means you and your buddies are going to come with us and clean up that little mess you made in the forest."

She was not certain what made her more angry: being associated with the others or the fact that they referred to the mass murder behind barbed wire as a 'mess.' Whichever it was, it resulted in a lot of curse words in German and an escort to the nearest truck where she was shoved in with the rest, getting ready to head back to the one place she did not wish to see again.

On the truck ride there, she tried to ignore the curious stares of the other passengers. Strange how none of the soldiers seemed to recognize her but most of the civilians did. Then again, it was a small town and she was just a visitor. They tried to speak in low voices but it was difficult against the sounds of the engine. Their conversations were perfectly clear to her. It was just a variation of the same thing she had heard in the last town, and what she may continue to hear throughout her journey back home. At this point it hardly bothered her. There were worse things to worry about.

There were already many civilians inside when they arrived. The original occupants were gone, moved somewhere though she could not be certain where. The task for the day was to move the ones that remained. Those dead, recently and long. Many were doubled over from the sheer smell alone and a few young girls were crying, unable to stand the sight of the dead bodies. It was them she felt sorry for but that was it.

Most of the people passed her by without much thought. There were other things to distract them now. She did the same to them, working in some corner where the others were not. She did not hate them for having done nothing, she knew the reasons but at the same time, she would not defend them. Some things just had to happen.

Hours passed by uselessly. Krista moved bodies back and forth, hardly thinking of anything, intently set on her 'work.' She did not notice that it was dead men she moved, how worn their bodies were, how relieved some of the faces appeared. They were nothing more than objects. Wood, that was what she focused on. Lifeless, never truly living, unfeeling wood.

Soldiers would pass by every so often. Some would make rude comments that bounced off her, no more effective than any other tactic they had attempted. Most would remain silent, struck dumb by it all. They would see her and they would move on, unable to process it all.

At this moment, there was a soldier stopped by her. She hardly paid him any attention. He would be no different than the others. She was working on moving another body to her pile. What they would do with it, she had no idea. She only hoped to be gone soon, back in her bed, refusing to come out again.

There must have been a rock she had not seen or something else. Before she knew it, Krista fell backwards, landing hard on the ground with the body close to her lap. In a moment of confusion and almost embarrassment, she looked up at the man. Her shoulders fell as she recognized him and all defenses went with them.

Lewis Nixon was watching her.

Krista stared at him for a long while before her attention turned back to the corpse. No longer was it a pile of harmless wood. It was a body, a man that had once been alive, perhaps happily married with a family before his life had been turned completely upside down by a sadistic madmen and those that would follow him. She had followed him at one point. She had allowed this to happen no matter how hard she argued.

She looked at her hands. They appeared to be covered with dirt but it was so much more. They were stained with the blood of thousands of lives. The body looked at her, accusing, so much like another she had seen not so long ago. Caught in a moment of panic and fear, Krista backed away, looking up at Nixon again. His face was dark, hard to read. She flashed back to that night in the rain, how she accused him of such terrible things. Now their roles seemed changed, only what she had done was far worse than any robber could imagine.

Taking a deep breath, Krista stood once more, returning to her task of dragging the body along. She hoped Nixon would just leave. Then again, he had every right to remain and insult her with his silent presence.

She struggled more with this body under the pressure of being watched. Her eyes would continue to dart in his direction but he appeared to not move. Would he not do something?

Again, she tripped but she did not remain down long this time. Flushing, she resumed the work, noticing there was something different.

"You shouldn't be here," Nixon said, standing next to her. His voice did not hold any particular emotion but the fact he was saying anything had to mean something.

"Who are you to judge?" she asked, continuing the work.

"You've done nothing, Krista."

"That is what you all say." She stopped, looking at Nixon rather coldly. Everyone except Liebgott.

"Because it's true."

"No, it is not!" Krista shouted. She felt like such a hypocrite now, admitting the exact opposite of what she said before. This would hardly get her anywhere. "I did this! They did this! We all did!"

Now Nixon was getting angry. "What, and you think you haven't paid for it enough already?" He motioned to the others. "This is all that they will do, Krista! A couple more days and this was just a bad memory. You have been fighting for three years! You nearly died!"

Krista shook her head. "You do not understand." She continued to move the body, only to slip once more. This time she did not hit the ground but was caught by Nixon, who sighed.

"Fine, maybe I don't, but that doesn't matter. If you don't leave on your own..." Nixon freed her hands of the body and quickly swept her up in his arms, Krista's surprise keeping her from resisting. "Then I'll carry you out."

She could only stare at him for the longest time as he carried her across the camp. He looked straight ahead, more serious than she had ever seen him. There was an air of determination about him. He had always intended to take her out now, she realized. No matter what since the moment he saw her, this was his goal. She wrapped her arm around his neck then, whispering her thanks into his ear. His face did not change but she felt him squeeze her arm. It was over now. She closed her eyes and rested against him.

"Sir?" An MP ran up to him. "Sir, what are you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing, Private?" The authority in his voice caused the soldier to pause a moment.

"Sir… you can't take her out of here."

Nixon stopped in place then. He turned to the MP, giving the man the hardest look he had ever seen. He looked ready to fight, to kill anyone who touched them. It sent a chill up the man's spine.

"Then shoot me."

He continued then, uninterrupted this time. Hopping in the jeep, Nixon kept Krista with him. She sat comfortably on his lap as they drove away. Never again would he have her see something like this. There need not be more nightmares for her. Whether she thought so or not, she had paid enough. Life owed her one.

Not exactly what I wanted. I'll admit this is not my favorite chapter. Hope you guys still found it to your liking. I'm hoping the next one is much better. My apologies.