I woke up to the feeling of falling. When I landed hard with a thud, I was immediately covered by the blankets from the bed. I was breathing heavy as I pushed myself up into a seated position, leaning up against the bed. I was shaking and brushed the tears from my cheeks away.

I sat on the floor, tangled in the covers, trying to calm myself down. I heard footsteps carefully approaching me from the other side of the room. I watched as bare feet stopped in front of me.

"Jane? What happened?' the familiar tone of Eugene's voice asked.

I blinked up at him. I sniffled, trying to keep from crying again. "Bad dream."

He gave me an empathetic look and reached out to help me up and back into bed. "Want to talk about it?"

I shook my head. I honestly just wanted to forget all about it, even though my brain was replaying most of it inside my mind.

"You are safe, Jane...You know that, right?" he asked.

"I don't want to talk about it, okay?" I said. "I just want you to hold me."

He nodded, climbing into bed next to me, embracing me into the safety of his arms. "You're shaking..." I didn't say anything. I just placed my head on his chest, listening to the comfort of his beating heart.

I didn't sleep that night. I couldn't get that nightmare out of my mind. I waited patiently until Eugene had fallen asleep. Once he was fast asleep, I carefully escaped his hold and quietly climbed out of the bed, dressing silently in the dark. I grabbed my boots and my things and headed out of the room into the hallway.

The whole place seemed asleep, except for me. I sat down on the stairs and put my boots on, securing them to my feet. I grabbed my bag, slinging it over my shoulder before standing up and heading down the stairs.

Once I was outside, I took a deep breath in, holding it for a moment before allowing it to escape my lips. The cool air kissed my skin, creating goose bumps. I pulled my jacket a little closer around me as I started to walk about the grounds.

It was peaceful outside, hardly another person about. For whatever reason, I felt more relaxed in this moment than I had in quite a while. I didn't have that feeling of needing to look over my shoulder, even though I knew that there were still plenty of dangers still lurking about.

After walking along the shores of the lake nearby, I found a secluded spot and sat down. The water was calm, the moon reflecting off the surface, creating amazing sparkles on the small ripples caused by the breeze. I watched it for a while before something overtook me.

I felt this sudden urge to write in my journal. I hadn't written anything since losing my memory, nor had I written anything since my capture. But for whatever reason, in this moment, in this place, I felt overwhelmed with that need. It felt like it was important that I do it.

In the dark, with only the moon as my light, I pulled out my journal and dug around in my bag for a writing utensil. I felt about the bottom of the bag, hoping that this feeling wouldn't pass as I searched. I also was worried that if I didn't have a pen or pencil, that I wouldn't lose this urge to write...I didn't want this moment to slip through my fingers.

With luck, I felt the familiar shape of a pen and pulled it out. I opened the worn journal and placed it on my lap, flipping through the pages to a blank one. That sense of urgency had come to me again as I put the pen to the paper. Within moments of writing the first couple of words, everything flowed out of me, unfiltered, unstoppable. I wrote until my hand cramped. I would shake it out and continue with my writing.

Page after page, I kept writing. By the time I was finished, the sun was just beginning to rise over the horizon. I had used a good portion of the journal, and my pen was dying. When I closed the book, I sighed a breath of relief.

I was amazed at what I managed to write. It was everything that I was feeling, everything I was afraid to say, and it told of my story - the parts that I could remember. I wondered if this would help me move on with my life, letting go of all that had happened to me, allow me to sleep at night without the terrifying nightmares. Even if it didn't, I knew that this had to be done. My story had to be written down. I needed to have it out of my head, so if I did forget, I'd have it to remind me. I felt that it was important to remember this part of my life so that I could remember that I was once strong enough to survive horrible things.

I rubbed my eyes with the palms of my hands before putting my things back into my bag. I glanced back out on the lake, seeing the world come to life before me. It was a new day. I was one of the lucky ones. It was funny to me how these moments made you reevaluate your life and appreciate it more.

I forced myself to stand up and begin the walk back towards the hotel. I was sure that Eugene would be awake now, and most likely worried about me as I didn't leave him a note as he had for me in the past. I was in such a hurry to get out of the hotel that it had slipped my mind.

As I approached the stairs that led up to the hotel entrance, I could see Eugene heading my way, worry written on his face, as I expected.

"Are you okay?" he asked. I was surprised that he wasn't asking me where I was first. I nodded. "Thank God!" He pulled me into a tight embrace. He grabbed my shoulders, pushing me to arms length as he looked into my eyes. "You had me worried."

"I'm sorry. I forgot to leave a note," I admitted. "I just...I just had to get out of there for a while."

He asked, "Because of the nightmare?"

"Yeah," I replied. "And because I just needed some time to think."

He nodded. "Did you?"

I smiled. "Yeah, I did." I patted my bag. "I managed to write a lot too."

He eyed the bag before looking back at me. "How do you feel?"

I thought for a moment before saying, "Lighter. Relief."

The worry washed away from his face and was replaced with a warm smile. "Glad to hear it."

"I'm sorry about last night," I started.

He shook his head. "Don't be. If I were you, I'd probably have the same things happening to me. You don't have to be sorry about that." I nodded at his words. He asked, "Are you hungry?" When I nodded again, he grabbed my hand and said, "Come with me. Let's get some food."

As Eugene and I sat down outside with our breakfast, we were approached by Sink and another officer. Sink stopped beside us. "I'd hate to bother you while you're eating, Miss Finley, but we were hoping you could look over a few more photographs today."

I glanced between the two of them. "Sure...when were you-"

The other officer chimed in, cutting me off. "Now, if you don't mind. We're on a schedule."

Sink had given the other officer a disapproving look, but remained silent. I nodded. "Sure...I guess now is fine."

Sink extended a file of photos to me. I carefully opened the folder on my lap. The first photo was of the men huddled in their foxholes in Bastogne. Most didn't have proper snow gear, which seemed to come at a shock to the officer standing beside Sink.

The next image was of the women that I had given my bread to in Foy, the ones that Fritz had told me might be killed if they were caught with the morsels.

I explained the photos as I saw them, if I knew what it was that I was looking at. There were quite a few that I still didn't remember taking at all.

There were quite a few pictures of rubble and ruined buildings in places I couldn't begin to know where they were. There were even pictures of perished men, from both sides, that I didn't recognize faces.

I could tell that the other officer was growing impatient with me as I couldn't explain much. When I turned to the next photo, I smiled warmly at the image that was before me. The picture showed Winters and Nixon standing next to each other, smiling at the camera. It looked like it was taken before the jump.

There was a picture of three men, one of whom was Roe. He was sitting up against a wall, reading a book, while the other two were smoking, sitting nearby. When I admitted that I didn't remember taking this photo, Sink had asked Roe about it. Eugene had stated that it was shortly after the destruction of the battery at Brecourt.

There were a lot of pictures of the men, most were no longer with us. It broke my heart thinking about these men, seeing their faces, and knowing that I wouldn't be able to name many of them.

One of the last photos in the pile was of the men sitting on top of a mountain, drinking. I furrowed my brow at this one because I didn't have a clue as to where this was. Roe had chimed in to explain that he had my camera at the time, didn't want me to lose my job and had taken the photograph. He explained that it was after they captured the Eagle's Nest and the men were celebrating by drinking from Hitler's wine collection. Sink had smirked at the image, but the other officer was less than amused.

The next picture, I recognized Talbert, but not the man with him, nor the two women standing beside them. The women looked happy, so I said that it must have been right after D-Day given how the men were dressed with all of their gear and musette bags.

I realized that the more that I saw the pictures and the more that I tried to remember and talk about them, the more I actually could remember things. I never would have remembered the musette bag. After a while, however, the images started to blend together and I began to get lost in the pictures.

Sink took the folder back and thanked us for our time, leaving with the other officer. We turned back to our now very cold breakfast. I asked Eugene, "Did you recognize that officer?"

"No," he admitted. "Probably someone from Division who wanted explanations behind the photos."

I nodded. "Probably." For whatever reason, I wasn't sure why my photos mattered so much to them. None of those photos had anything of great value or importance to them. At least, none that I could see.

When we finished eating our cold breakfast, we started to walk towards the hospital so that Roe could get to work. When we were just outside, I asked, "How long do you think you'll be today?"

He shrugged. "I never know how long I will be. I'm sorry. I wish I could tell you."

I forced a smile. "It's okay. They need you. I'll see you later."

He gave my hand a reassuring, gentle squeeze before turning and heading into the building, leaving me alone in the street. Once he was inside, I turned and headed back towards the hotel, unsure of what I was going to do.

As I neared the hotel, I saw a few men talking to a group of well dressed people. I continued walking towards them and overheard them asking questions and writing the answers given into notebooks. Behind them, taking pictures, was a woman in a combat uniform. I narrowed my eyes at her.

She glanced up from her camera and met my gaze. She looked just as confused as me. She didn't hesitate and came over to me. "I'm sorry, I don't think we've been introduced yet. I'm Daisy." She extended her hand towards me, offering a handshake.

I hesitated in reaching for her hand, but did so anyways. "I'm Jane."
Her dark eyes widened. "Jane? As in Jane Finley?"

I tilted my head at her remark. "Yes?"

"You're supposed to be dead," she remarked.

I raised an eyebrow at her, but then remembered the letters that I had received a few days earlier. "Let me guess, Bradley got impatient? Hired someone else?"

She nodded slightly. "Something like that. He said that you were killed...that he hadn't gotten anything from you in a while, and the position was open."

"How much did he offer you to fill the spot?" I questioned.

She smiled, seemingly proud of what she was about to tell me. "He's offering me $3 a picture, plus a $30 sign-on bonus. He said that he'd use all of my photos." I let a short chuckle out, unintentionally. She asked, "What? Why are you laughing?"

"How old are you, Daisy?" I asked.

"Old enough," she stated, hands on her hips. When she saw that I was seriously asking, she dropped her hands. "16."

"I thought you were young," I stated. "You were used, Daisy, by Bradley."

"What do you mean?" she asked.

I replied, "You must not have countered on the offer. He's paying you pennies compared to what he offered to me." When I saw her face fall, clearly reminiscing over the day she took the job, I asked, "Do you get to keep the camera?" She shook her head. I asked, "How long have you been here?"

She thought for a moment. "A few months, maybe?"

I nodded. I knew that he had sent my own 'replacement' when I was captured in Foy, possibly since the entire time in Bastogne. There was no way of really knowing.

I could feel my blood boiling with anger because of how Bradley treated this girl - how he had treated me - but the difference for me was that I was strong enough, at least then, to stand up for myself and call him out on his misogynistic behaviors. I wasn't sure how to handle this situation, or what to tell this poor girl.

She broke my thoughts by asking, "So, what now?"

I blinked back to her. "You do your job."

"You mean, your job," she stated.

I shook my head. "Don't worry about me. Focus on why you're here. Earn your money. I'll handle the situation on my end." She nodded. I quickly added, "Just don't mention me to Bradley. I want him to be surprised when he sees me."

She smiled. "Like rising from the dead?"

I laughed. "Something like that."

I was just about to walk away when she grabbed my arm to stop me. I felt the rush of panic set in, flashbacks of Sauer, Lange, and other soldiers grabbing me washed over me. I recoiled from her touch. I saw her face of concern and I muttered, "Sorry."

She gracefully let it go but asked, "Do you mind if I ask...what happened to you? I mean, I was told you were dead...but you're not..."

I sighed. "I... well... To be honest, I guess you could say that the girl that walked out of Bradley's office is dead." She waited for me to continue. Fritz's words came back to me and they seemed fitting. "War changes you. It has a habit of turning you into someone else - someone you wouldn't even recognize. I guess you could say that that is what happened to me."

She nodded slowly, taking in my words, but said, "There are rumors that you were captured and tortured." I looked into her dark eyes. She asked quietly, "Is that true?"

I shifted in my spot, releasing a heavy sigh. "Yes. It's true."

Her eyes grew wide. "Oh...I thought...maybe they were just trying to scare me. What did you do? How'd you escape?"

"I didn't," I stated. I didn't want to tell this girl anything. I didn't know her, and I didn't trust her. I tried to walk away, but she stepped in front of me. I was growing uneasy and rigid.

"But what happened? How did you-"

I cut her off. "Listen, I'm not trying to be rude here, but I don't want to talk to you about this. Just know that there are still dangers present. Don't be stupid, keep your guard up, and stick close to your men." I brushed passed her, leaving her standing there alone wondering what happened to the girl who was supposed to be dead.

My fears were confirmed. My boss had thought me dead and replaced me. I no longer had a job to go home to. I was beginning to feel the rising panic set in about how this would impact me now - would Sink send me home if he found out that I was no longer a wartime photographer? I'm now considered a civilian. I wasn't sure what to expect, but I was scared.

I began to wonder if my feelings about my family were true too, now that this Bradley situation had turned out to be real. Whatever it was, I couldn't focus on it...I didn't want to. I knew that if I kept wondering and kept fixating on it, I'd drive myself mad. I was already close to madness with trying to remember things from before my accident. I didn't need one more thing to drive me to that brink.

I glanced around the square, wondering what to do with myself. I needed a distraction - something that would get me to stop thinking about Bradley and my family. As I looked around, I spied Daisy. She was looking for someone and when she spotted me, her face lit up and she began heading towards me. I muttered under my breath, "No. You're not a distraction."

I quickly moved on, trying to calmly dodge out of her view and hide. I did not want to have another conversation with her about my war experiences. She may be a nice kid, but I did not want to deal with her.

I turned the corner and bumped into a strong frame. I looked up and met the familiar eyes of Speirs. "Jane."

"Oh, Speirs...sorry," I said, trying to get around him.

He placed his hands on my shoulders. "Where are you going in such a hurry?"

I quickly glanced around the corner to see how far Daisy was from finding me. "I'm hiding from someone."

He sounded amused. "Hiding?"

I turned back around to look at his face. "My replacement is here...she's been asking questions. I'm trying to lose her."

He laughed. It was the first time I had actually heard him laugh in a playful way. My eyes widened at the laugh. He motioned for me to follow him. I obeyed.