A/N: Happy Saturday! This is one of the first Saturday's I'm not working in ages! Next chapter, Seventeen, will be the last Toccoa chapter, so get excited! Hopefully when I bring you Monday's chapter, I'll also be able to share some exciting news about my next job I'll be working. This will influence continuing updating schedule.

I have chapters written all the way up through thirty, with Fort Benning starting at 18 and Camp Mackall starting at 28. For the foreseeable future, we'll be continuing on the three-day-a-week update schedule, but depending on how many writing days I lose while moving and starting my new job, I may move it down to a twice weekly, Monday/Thursday schedule. I'll keep you all updated!

Chapter Sixteen

She didn't realize she had fallen asleep until she woke up against the wall. Her neck ached as she turned her head to look at the men. Some of them were missing, others sat looking at or writing letters, or playing poker. Only half the lights were on.

The cot creaked as she shifted to the side. When the boys glanced over, she studied them. Then she smiled. "You all look much better. I like you more when you aren't sick."

"Thank fucking Sobel for that one," Bill Guarnere snapped. He shuffled a deck of cards. "What a fucking asshole."

Alice hummed in agreement. She hesitated as they all went back to their activities. Her heart raced. She saw two options, and she didn't feel well about either one. She could go find Nixon or Ron or even Dick, and then be lectured about not opening up to the men who would be responsible for her life someday. Or, she could try to relate to them.

"Hey sweetheart don't think so hard, your brain might explode." Bill grinned when she glanced up at him. He held up the deck of cards. "D'ya know how to play poker?"

"Yes."

Everyone in the room looked over. Bill, Joe Toye, Malarkey, and Liebgott, who all sat playing poker and smoking, seemed the most surprised. But even Muck, writing Faye Tanner, and Perconte who sat reading turned to her.

Bill took his cigarette out of his mouth. "You mean you been sitting over there every time we played for almost three months and haven't said anything?" Before she could respond, he put the cards down. "Get over here. You're playing."

"I don't-"

"Come on! We'll go easy on yah." Bill winked at her and started dealing cards. He dealt five hands.

"Yeah, come on," Don Malarkey added. "Get your officer pay over here!"

Alice gave a short laugh. With a quick shake of her head, she got out about ten dollars from her footlocker. "That's the problem. I don't make enough to spend it gambling."

Bill looked at her and laughed. "What? You're a Lieutenant, for Christ's sake."

"A Lieutenant in name only."

"The fuck's that supposed to mean?" Liebgott seemed incredulous. "What do you make?"

As she sat down on the cot beside Liebgott, she shrugged. "It doesn't matter." She picked up her hand and looked at it carefully. "One hand, boys. That's it."

"The fuck it doesn't matter," Liebgott objected. He put down his cards. "What do you make?"

Alice sighed. "Come on. Play or I'm out."

Toye nodded. He took another long draw of smoke. "Let's play. Drop it you two."

They played a quick round. Malarkey ended up coming out ahead. Bill and Liebgott still looked irritated at her comment, or she supposed, at not fully understanding her comment. She had to admit, she enjoyed spending time with them. Though poker had never been her best or favorite game. Robert had excelled at it. She thanked them for the game and for taking her ten bucks, retreated to her cot, and yawned.

Suddenly the door to the barracks swung open and George Luz bounded in with Gene Roe next to him. The former looked quite pleased with himself. A cool breeze swept through the room.

"Gentlemen, and lady," George began, "I'm pleased to announce a single victory in the disaster of today." He cleared his throat. In his best Colonel Sink impersonation, he continued on. "Weekend passes restored! You boys went through hell today, and came out the wiser. Enjoy a 48 hour pass this weekend."

"Luz, if this is a fuckin' joke."

"Corporal Toye, I wouldn't joke about this." He winked. Then he turned to Alice. Pulling his hand from behind his back, he threw something at her. "Catch, my lady."

Alice grabbed the flying object. She looked down at it, confused. "Hershey's?"

"She gets a free Hershey bar?" Liebgott stared back at George in shock. "What about the rest of us. We were the sick ones!"

She sniffed it. George laughed at her. He shook his head. "Alice, it's chocolate."

Her eyes lit up. A wide smile graced her features. She thought she was going to cry. "I haven't had chocolate in almost two years."

"Now that's gotta be the saddest thing I've ever heard," Muck commented.

Gene made his way over to her. He reached into his pockets and sat down next to her on her cot. "Here." Three packs of Lucky Strikes lay in his hand. "The guys chipped in. As a thank you. Ils vous aiment, Alice." At the looked she sent him, he shrugged. "C'est vrai."

A lump formed in her throat. She didn't know what to say to Gene's comfort that they liked her company. As George settled down to play cards with the others, she unwrapped the Hershey's bar. The wrap crinkled as she tore it. Soon she had a thick bar of chocolate in her hands. With a smirk, she broke off a piece. "Hey, Liebgott." He glanced over. She grinned again. With a quick toss, she sent him a piece. "Here."

He caught it, barely keeping it away from George's outstretched hands. Alice turned back to the bar and broke another piece off for herself. She hesitantly brought it to her mouth and let it melt. Not as good as German chocolate, but after a year without anything, it tasted like heaven.

As she chewed on the chocolate, Gene beside her quietly, she contemplated saying something. She considered the letter George had sent her. She considered the questions. Finally, she made up her mind.

"I think I'll take you all to Paris someday." Placing the half eaten chocolate to the side, she watched them all play poker. "The walk along the Seine at night, it's breathtaking. The lights play games in the water."

"How long did you live there?" Gene asked.

"I was fourteen when we moved from Hamburg to Paris. Lived there for about six years." Alice fished in her pocket for her small, silver lighter. The small flame lit her cigarette and she took a puff of smoke. After a few more breaths, she felt the weight of the world lift off her shoulders for a few moments. "Of course, the Elbe in Hamburg was beautiful too. But they don't call Paris the City of Light for nothing."

"Why'd you move?" Malarkey asked.

"Jews were no longer welcome in Germany." With a sigh, she took the cigarette out. "We moved before things could get worse. When Hitler took over Germany, everything started to change." She paused again. "But Paris was good to us. My sister loved dance, and my mother had been a musician. I took after her, and studied piano and voice alongside language. Music is just another language, after all. A universal one."

"Sing somethin'," Bill said, throwing his card hand down and folding. He stood up.

Alice hummed a moment in contemplation. Finally she sighed. "I know some English lyrics to the song I often sing. La Vie en Rose."

With the card game over again, Toye happily taking the pot of money, the boys split. Outside the window, the sun had disappeared beneath the treeline. The moon shone above. Alice closed her eyes.

"Hold me close and hold me fast

The magic spell you cast

This is la vie en rose."

Her mama had sung the song, when Alice had come home with the lyrics and melody. Together they'd sat at the piano. Together they'd crafted the music.

"When you kiss me, heaven sighs

And though I close my eyes

I see la vie en rose

When you press me to your heart

I'm in a world apart

A world where roses bloom."

She didn't even notice that the room had gone totally silent. Only her voice pierced it. She kept her eyes closed, imagining her home.

"And when you speak

Angels sing from above

Everyday words

Seem to turn into love songs."

Alice imagined Bernadette's golden hair, braided perfectly down to her waist with a few small curls near her face, twirling to an invisible piano. She could see out the window at the Eiffel Tower near the Seine, the bridges spanning the beautiful river against the setting sun. She could hear her language.

"Give your heart and soul to me

And life will always be

La vie en rose."

When she finished, her eyes remained closed. Her whole being wished to stay in that place, before the Nazis had occupied her home, again. Before her friends had been slaughtered in their invasion, and her Jewish community heckled and abused. A few tears streamed down her cheeks. Still, she refused to open her eyes. But finally, she did.

"I think I'll take a walk," she choked out. Her voice came out rougher than she'd meant it to.

But Gene grabbed her sleeve. "Parlez."

"Je ne veux pas parler!" She ripped her sleeve from his grasp. "Vous ne pouvez pas comprendre."

"Parlez." His expression softened. "Tu les calmes."

"Pour quoi?" She breathed out and sat back down glaring at him. He just glared back. Finally, she sighed and released the tension in her shoulders. She sat back down.

"Je sais pas. Mais, c'est vrai."

"I hate not knowing what you two are saying," George groaned. He pushed himself up against the wall on his cot.

Alice laughed, and Gene flashed a small smile. She shrugged. "Learn French, George. Your pronunciation would likely come easy, given your skills as impersonation." After a moment, she smiled again. Alice reached into her pocket. She pulled out George's letter.

"The answer to your first question, clearly the most important one since it's Maria's favorite, is my favorite color is rose pink."

They all looked at her curiously. Even the men who had started writing letters to home of their own tuned into the conversation. She smiled again.

"My codename we shared with British Intelligence was La Rose de Paris, or La Rose," she explained. "There are several spies and operatives with various codenames, including Tigre, or Tiger, who Americans and British work with."

"You had a codename?" Don Malarkey looked at her in amazement from where he counted his poker winnings.

"Many of us do. Germaine, she was the best of us. We don't know her real name, of course, but she helped the Resistance organize." Then Alice looked down at question number two. "I do not choose between being German or being French. I'm both. Equally. I remember more of life in France, but my life in Hamburg was beautiful too." She took a deep breath of her cigarette. "I don't care which you call me. I assume French is less awkward and upsetting to Americans, though to be honest I'm not sure why. If I don't hate Germany, what right do Americans who have never set foot in Europe have to hate an entire people?" The room quieted, and she signed. "Sorry. That was uncalled for."

"Last question," George said with a wink. "The most important, if I may say so myself."

"Which you do," she replied. But she grinned. "George Luz would like to know my birthday. I'm not sure I'm inclined to share."

"Ah, come on," Liebgott said. He may on his back, tossing a wadded up sock up in the air and catching it. "What's so secret about a birthday?"

Alice smirked. "Never knew you cared."

"Hey, come on. We care," Joe Toye muttered. Taking his boots off slowly, he frowned. The boot got stuck. "Fucking thing."

"December 24th."

"Christmas Eve?" George looked at her in surprise. "That must be annoying."

She just laughed. "I'm Jewish, remember? That doesn't really matter to me."

Alice stood from her bed, smiling to herself. Her uniform started to feel heavy on her body. Taking her sleeping clothes from the footlocker at the base of her cot, Alice stepped behind the screen and changed. She wanted to read Les Misérables before bed. With her legs under the scratchy bed sheets, Alice sat against the wall and propped her book up on her knees. The room slowly devolved into small, individual conversations, and the men who didn't sleep in their barracks left, including Gene.