Rifiuto: Non Miriena

"Our losses... have reached an intolerable level."

- Karl Dönitz (1891- 1980), Grand Admiral of the German Navy

Berlin, Germany

Black Cat Cafe

6:00 A.M.

Tim sighed; he'd slipped out of bed, pressing a kiss to Ziva's cheek and leaving a note for her on the nightstand before getting dressed and slipping out of their hotel room. After Ziva had gone to bed the night before, Tim had called Conrad, asking to meet him at a small cafe a few blocks from the hotel he and Ziva had passed on their exploring the day before. He had a few more questions that needed answers; despite them using Ziva's Mossad method, they'd still come up empty on several pieces of the puzzle.

And now he sat in a booth near the back of the cafe, waiting for the older man to arrive- it had been Conrad that had suggested the time, saying that he was always up at four, and that it wouldn't take him very long to get dressed and be down there by six, since he didn't live very far. But now, as Tim checked his cell again, he began to wonder why the hell he'd argeed to this meeting.

They didn't know the man; for all they knew, he could be spinning an intricate web of lies that would get them in trouble with the German authorities-

The door opened and he looked up as the older man in question entered and made his way over to the table, something held tight in his grasp. As he took a seat, he set whatever he carried on the table. "I apologize for being late, I had to bring something you need see."Once their coffee was brought, Tim's gaze moved to the leather folio on the table. Conrad chuckled. "Curiosity getting you, Mr. Zane?" The older man asked with a grin. Tim met his gaze, and for a moment, he could have sworn he'd seen that grin before- on the same man, just... years younger.

"What's in it?" He asked, unable to restrain the interest in his vocal chords. Another soft chuckle escaped the older man's throat.

"You want more about Fromms?" Tim took a deep breath, never taking his gaze off the leather folio.

"No. I want more on the Hirsches."

"Ah, problem is," Conrad began, reaching for the folio and opening it. "in order to understand Hirsches, must understand Fromms first."

"You said you knew the Fromms. Did you know the Hirsch sisters, too?" But Conrad didn't speak, instead, he moved his cup to the far side of the table, and then pulled a few papers from the folio, laying them out before Tim. "You said the Fromms hid two Jews. That they hid the Hirsch girls. Is that the connection? That's the connection between Adrian and Zara. He was hiding her and her sister, wasn't he?"

"One young man's sacrifice, turn into whole family's." Conrad replied, as he finished laying out what he'd brought- it was then that Tim saw what he had.

Photographs, leaflets, essays, drawings, letters... countless things that were at times so aged and brittle, they belonged beneath protective glass in a museum.

After a moment, he reached out, but stopped himself. Conrad noticed, and gently removed something from the countless papers, holding it out. Glancing at the older man, Tim took what he held, but not before pulling out his phone and hitting the record button. The older man chuckled, realizing that he wanted oral stories- an oral history- of that time, and he didn't blame him. He was glad the young man was thinking ahead, for he would not be here much longer, and wanted someone- even an American in Berlin on business- to know the stories he was about to tell. Once the phone was recording, he began, referencing the photograph Tim now held gingerly.

"Two years separate them. Does not matter, not then. What matter, that he was not Jewish, and she not Gentile." Tim's gaze moved to the photograph.

It was a candid shot, taken with an old, handheld brownie-type of Kodak camera popular in the forties. In the image, the couple were sitting on the floor in front of the fireplace, sharing a blanket. The pair were talking quietly together, despite the celebration or whatever it was going on around them. He had his arm around her waist, holding her close; their gazes locked together, oblivious to any and all around them.

"Taken at Corinna's seventeenth birthday. Small party. Just family and my family. Despite ration shortages, Mother and Frau Fromm managed to make small cake for her. Was happy with just that."

Tim nodded, unable to take his gaze off the pair. They looked exactly like Ziva and himself-

"But," He tore his gaze from the photograph, finally meeting Conrad's eyes. "you said they were... two years apart? So she was... eighteen and he was twenty."

"Ja. Does not matter to Adrian. Or Zara, eventually. Age does not matter when time run short in wartime."

"They were..." Tim glanced at the older man, and Conrad nodded. "But... what about his parents? Surely they didn't approve that their son was..."

"At first, no. Not approve. But when realize time short, they left them to be." He sighed. "But those that hide Jews... can only hide for so long."

"You speak from experience." He whispered, studying the older man. After a moment, Conrad rolled up his shirt sleeve, exposing the familiar tattoo of Holocaust survivors, forever staining the skin of his arm. Despite the years that had ravaged the older man's body, the skin beneath the numbers was still smooth and flawless as silk. "You hid Jews."

"Four children, under age twelve. Hid in the closets and beneath the floorboards of home." The older man seemed to fade into the past as he spoke, his gaze moving to the photograph lying before Tim. "Adrian discover I hide Jews same day I meet Zara and Eva. From moment on, we decide to help each other keep hidden. And then... I return from market one day... parents and children gone... rushed to Adrian and Corinna..." He sighed. "And then... they came."

"The Gestapo." Conrad nodded.

"Ja. Destroyed so many lives."

Tim opened his mouth to ask another question when his phone rang. He checked it, not at all surprised to find Ziva calling."Entschuldigung." Conrad nodded, giving the young man a small smile at his faltering German. Quickly, Tim stood, slipping out of the cafe to answer."Hey, love. Um... listen. I... I think know the connection between Adrian and Zara..." He glanced through the window of the cafe, back towards Conrad, who sat gazing at a photograph of him and Cora with tears in his eyes. "They..." He took a deep breath. "Not only was Adrian and his family hiding the Hirsch girls, but... but he and Zara... Ziva, they werein love."