A/N: This chapter is about 80% dramatic conversations. No regrets. Also, cheers to reaching over 200 followers!


The next day when the black sedan picked Alice up outside her hotel, it took off in a new direction. Alice instantly straightened.

"Where are we going?"

Peggy looked up briefly from her file. "No training today. There's someone I'd like you to see."

Alice's mouth turned down. "Not Phillips?"

Peggy's lips curled. "No. Not Phillips."

Alice shrugged and leaned back in the seat as the sedan once more whisked her to an unknown place. But this car ride wasn't long. When it pulled up on the curb outside a storefront that read Brooklyn Antiques, Alice turned to Peggy with a frown. "What is this, a shopping day?"

"Not quite." Peggy climbed gracefully out of the car and waited for Alice on the sidewalk. With a sigh, Alice followed her out. A moment later her eyes darted to another black car across the street, with a young man in a brown flat cap leaning seemingly aimlessly against the side of it. As she looked, the man's eyes flicked to her, to Peggy, and then away. Alice tensed.

Peggy's hand landed on her arm. "Relax, Ms Homer. He's where he's meant to be." Alice's eyes widened and she turned to see Peggy's lips quirked at her. "But excellent spotting."

A guard, or some kind of lookout then. Alice risked one last glance over her shoulder at the man – who ignored her – and then followed Peggy into the dimly-lit antiques store. The bell over the door tinkled as they entered.

Her nose wrinkled at the smell of dust and mothballs. Knick-knacks, old furniture and musty clothing were assembled in the store seemingly at random, lit only by yellow lamps with tassels. A grotesque-looking ceramic cat eyeballed Alice from across the room.

"Why is there a sentry watching over an antiques store?" Alice asked aloud.

"Hush," Peggy answered, though there was no one else in the room. But a moment later an elderly woman in a paisley brown dress and cardigan emerged through a pair of hanging drapes which Alice hadn't distinguished as a doorway.

A slight smile lifted the woman's face at the sight of them. "See anything you like, dears?"

Absolutely not, Alice thought.

But Peggy replied: "I'm in the market for a Persian rug, actually."

Alice's eyes rolled. Another code.

Without saying another word the elderly woman walked behind the sales desk and her hand dipped below sight.

"Let's go through," Peggy murmured. Alice followed her through the hanging drapes, sparing a moment to glance back at the elderly woman. She just smiled genially back at her.

The room beyond was small, with a desk, empty picture frames, and a bookshelf that took up the entire wall. Peggy paused just inside the drapes, looking expectant.

"So where's the hidden door?" Alice whispered. Peggy smiled, and a moment later the bookshelf wall split open and swung toward them like a set of great wooden doors. Alice couldn't even shoot a smug I told you so glance at Peggy, because she was too absorbed by what lay beyond: a long, sterile-looking corridor with metal doors at the end, and half a dozen people wearing a mix of military uniforms and doctors' labcoats walking from one place to another. No one so much as glanced at Peggy and Alice as they strode forward, save for a soldier in an MP hat at the entryway. Alice smoothed down her coat front.

Peggy seemed to know exactly where she was going as she led Alice down the corridor, turned left, and then made her way through what seemed to be a warren of corridors. They passed closed doors and steel-reinforced windows that looked into lab spaces. One window they passed overlooked a large, circular room with an observation platform. Men in overalls were building some kind of contraption in the center, but most of it was covered in white sheets. Alice got only a glimpse before Peggy outstripped her.

"This is another SSR facility," Alice murmured. Probably the scientific installation she had heard mentioned a few times, though she didn't bring that up since she wasn't supposed to know about it.

"Indeed." Peggy's heels clicked on the floor. A passing MP tipped his cap at her. "One which you are not going to learn anything further about, so keep your eyes front and center."

Alice obeyed. "Why take the risk of bringing me here, then?" She didn't exactly want confidential information that might put her in more danger.

"It's safer to bring you here than meet elsewhere. You'll see." Peggy slowed. "Here we are."

She'd brought Alice to a nondescript door like a dozen others they had passed, unpainted grey metal with an opaque rectangular window. Peggy knocked twice, pushed down the handle and gestured Alice inside.

Alice stepped through cautiously and found herself in an office space, surprisingly small for the scale of this facility, without much in it aside from a file cabinet with scientific instruments crammed on top of it, and a desk piled with handwritten notes. There were no windows. It wasn't exactly a forbidding place, but it was strange. Alice's eyes flicked over it all before landing on the man sitting at the desk, who she'd nearly missed given that he was so hunched over his notes.

The man had thinning grey hair and wore a white lab coat, and when he looked up to see who'd interrupted him she noticed a three-day-old beard, intelligent dark eyes behind wireframe glasses, and…

Alice's mouth dropped open. It wasn't often she visibly showed surprise, but she had never expected to see Doctor Erskine again in her life after meeting him at Herr Schmidt's ill-fated party in the mountains… and here he was. Alive, healthy, maybe a little tired, sitting at a desk in front of her. Silence filled the room.

Alice's open-mouthed look of surprise shifted into a grin.

Doctor Erskine blinked at the sight of Alice, then looked from her to Peggy and back again. Peggy watched them both with a small smile.

"Fräulein," Erskine breathed. He planted his hands on his desk and slowly rose to his feet, wide-eyed. "How…?"

Alice just smiled brighter. "It seems we know some of the same people, Dr Erskine."

His lips curled up in a smile. "Fräulein Moser, it is wonderful to see you again." His accent was almost strange to her ears after two months away from Austria and suppressing her natural accent.

He stepped out from behind his desk, and a moment later they came together and clasped hands with the intimacy of two people who had once felt hopeless together but were now free.

"You look well," Alice smiled. He'd put on weight since she'd last seen him at Castle Kauffman, and the shadows of desperation were gone. "So Agent Carter got you out, then?"

Peggy stood at the door with her hands on her hips and the hint of a smile on her face.

Erskine looked from Alice to Peggy and back again. "You knew…?"

"Not at the time, I figured it out later-"

At that moment a set of energetic footsteps resounded outside the open office door and a second later a stranger burst in. Heedless of Peggy's hands flying up to keep him out the man said: "Pegs, what on earth are you bothering my co-scientist for? Don't you know we're on the clock here-"

Then the intruder realized there was someone else in the room, and they all fell silent.

This was the most sharply-dressed man Alice had seen yet in the facility; neither a soldier nor a doctor by the look of him. He wore a three-piece suit with a fashionable burgundy tie, and intelligent dark eyes glinted out of a handsome face. A mustache sat on his upper lip. Peggy had one hand on his chest as if about to shove him back out the door.

"You're Howard Stark," Alice blurted out in yet another uncharacteristic moment of surprise. She'd grown up with Bucky and his science obsession, and suffered through his adoration of the young science and business mogul's rise to prominence. Even in Austria it was impossible to escape news of the man.

Mr Stark flicked his dark eyes over her and Alice felt her heart seize out of fear: does he recognize me? Who will he tell?

"No," Stark eventually said. "I'm enchanted." He ducked out from behind Peggy's arm to sweep across the room, take Alice's hand and drop a mustached kiss on the back of it. "Who might you be, sweetheart?"

Alice snatched her hand back with a scowl, and at that moment Peggy seized Stark by the back of his collar and hauled him physically out of the room. The door clicked shut behind them. Alice and Erskine looked at each other.

"Well," Erskine said. He eyed her face and saw the worry there. "Don't fear, Fräulein. Stark is loyal to the SSR, he won't destroy your cover."

Alice raised an eyebrow. "Cover?"

Erskine gestured a hand. "You are here. In the company of Agent Carter. No ordinary civilians are permitted this far." He shot her a smile. "Besides, Agent Carter has mentioned she's been training a new recruit."

"Did she happen to mention how I'm doing?" Alice asked.

He winked. "You and I know her better than that. Come, sit."

Erskine dragged a secondary chair to the side of his desk, where Alice perched and tried not to look too closely at his notes. She thought back to that night at Castle Kauffman. She'd been hopeless and helpless then, dragging herself from one day to the next with the vague expectation of death or the end of the war. Thinking back to that made her heart ache.

"Where is your puppetmaster?" asked Erskine, with a look of concern on his face.

"Dead," Alice replied flatly.

"Ah," he nodded. "How does it feel to be free?"

Alice sighed and rested her head on her hand. "I don't miss him in the slightest. But that doesn't necessarily mean that my life has gotten any easier." She shrugged. "How about your puppetmaster?"

She wished he could say dead as well, because she hadn't liked Schmidt and one less Nazi was one less problem for her, but Peggy had briefed her on the SSR's targets, foremost of which was HYDRA and its leader Johann Schmidt. Last intel said he was alive and in exile in his headquarters, cooking up trouble.

Erskine's gaze became complicated. "He… is still alive. More monstrous now, no doubt, than when I left him." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'm sorry, Fräulein, this is most likely classified and I can't give you details."

Alice suspected she knew more than Erskine thought she did (Peggy hadn't given her a whole lot of details, but Alice knew that some kind of science experiment had gone very wrong, severely disfiguring Schmidt but making him stronger). She let it go, though.

"Well, let's avoid discussing our secrets then. How do you find New York, doctor? I'm from here, you know."

"Ah, I shall keep my complaints to a minimum then," he said with a teasing glint in his eye. "I'm living in Queens, wonderful neighborhood – what is that face for?"

Alice realized she'd wrinkled her nose, and laughed. "Sorry, sorry. I'm from Brooklyn, I suppose it's… regional pride. Can't quite turn it off."

"Understandable. Though it is incumbent upon me to remind you that Queens is not only quieter than Brooklyn, but also has a lower crime rate."

Alice's mouth dropped open. "That may be the case, doctor, but I think you'll find that Queens is boring."

"I find boring to be a refreshing change of pace."

Sitting in the cramped office (Erskine later explained that he usually worked in 'the lab), Alice and Erskine chatted back and forth about everything other than the highly secret jobs they'd taken on. When they spoke of home – Germany for him, Austria for her, it was in low, somber voices. Erskine confided that he missed Spaetzle pasta and Lebkuchen cookies. Alice described her last visit to the Austrian Alps (leaving out the part about smuggling a Jewish family in her car), and they both wore smiles.

Erskine asked, with a slight blush, if Alice would sing for him. "I know it mustn't have been a happy moment for you, but that night when I heard you perform was one of the only moments of genuine happiness I had in that castle." His brow had gone heavy.

"Of course," Alice murmured. She took a moment to think. She knew so many songs by now: soaring operettas that could bring grown men to tears, heart-pounding songs of patriotism, complicated arias that had her dancing up and down her vocal range.

But she went with what she would want to hear, if she'd found herself alone in an unfamiliar country, desperately fighting against the rising tide of terror.

"Guten Abend, gut' Nacht, mit Rosen bedacht…" [Good evening, good night, bedecked with roses…]

The lullaby had become famous across the world and had its German origins forgotten. Alice's mother had sung it to her when she was a child, when it was just the two of them alone and uncertain of the future in Brooklyn. Alice hadn't sung it in years.

Erskine's eyes closed the moment she began to sing, almost like a child falling asleep to the lullaby. Alice knew he wasn't asleep, though. His glasses had misted up.

When she hit the highest note in the chorus, softly so as not to be heard in the corridor, the corner of his mouth ticked up. It was a smile, but so sad it almost took Alice's breath away.

"Schlaf nur selig und süß, schau im Traum's Paradies." [Sleep only blessed and sweet, see paradise in your dreams.]

Erskine's eyes opened as her voice faded away. "My wife used to sing that for our children."

Alice opened her mouth to ask, but she already knew the answer. She knew that Erskine was not a man who would flee without his family. She'd already recognized the sadness in his eyes back in Bavaria. She knew.

So she didn't ask. She leaned across the desk, took his hand and squeezed. "They'd be proud of you, Doctor."

"I hope so." He shook his head, and Alice could practically see the memories shaking away. "What of your family? Are they proud of you?"

She thought not of her uncle but of her mom and Matthias. Tom. Bucky and Steve. She swallowed. "I hope so."

His eyes went sad again, a mirror to her grief. Maybe he saw her uncertainty. "They would be proud of you," he said firmly.

Alice smiled. A moment later the door opened again to admit Peggy, carrying a tray with a pot and teacups on it. "I hope I'm not intruding," she said. "But I thought you two might like a cup of tea."

"Wonderful!" Erskine became suddenly exuberant again. "Come in, Agent. We have just been discussing the food we miss from our homelands. You visited Bavaria briefly, which was your favorite?"

Peggy quirked a brow, but came in to set the tray on the desk. "I wasn't exactly there on a culinary tour." She cocked her head. "But I am partial to strudel."


Alice stayed in Erskine's office for another hour, sipping tea and delighting in his quick-witted, dry humor and his flashes of earnest idealism. But Erskine had genuine work to do, as did she, and they parted ways with a hug.

"Auf Wiedersehen, Doctor Erskine," Alice smiled. Not farewell, but see you soon.

"Auf Widersehen, Fräulein Moser," he responded. She liked that he never called her Siren. "Sei vorsichtig." [Be careful.]

"Gleichfalls," [You too], she smiled in return. With that she left, accompanied by an MP back to the sedan waiting outside.


Back in the office, Doctor Erskine eyed the closed door contemplatively before turning to Peggy. "You know, she could be considered an excellent candidate for-"

"No," Peggy said firmly. He frowned. "It's not that I don't agree with you, but… we don't need her on the front line. We need her behind enemy lines. Project Rebirth is still months away from being ready, and you know Phillips will never go for her anyway."

"Well he wants a big, beefy idiot. I'm not going to take his opinions into consideration."

Peggy just sighed at him. "You may keep looking for your ideal subject, doctor. But Alice cannot be your soldier."

"No," he said thoughtfully, then shot Peggy a knowing look. "But she's going to be yours."

She returned his gaze. "Yes, she is."


Excerpt of NBC television interview "Remembering Captain Rogers", with Peggy Carter and Howard Stark, March 1964

"While we're on the topic of Project Rebirth," says interviewer Harry Godwin, "Mr Stark, how did you go about creating the machinery necessary for such a revolutionary process?"

Howard Stark leans back and smooths down the front of his silk tie. A new wedding ring glints on his finger and his smile flashes in the studio lights. "As much as I'd like to take this opportunity to exert my own brilliance, that's classified." To his side, Carter smiles slightly.

"Fair enough. Let's go down another tack then. We all know the excellent choice that was made in choosing Steve Rogers for Project Rebirth, but we understand that he was one of a recruitment class of nine. Were any of the others considered?"

Stark snorts.

Carter replies, shortly: "Ste- Captain Rogers proved himself through the recruitment process. It became clear he was the only real option."

"What about outside that recruitment class? Did the SSR - or yourself, or Doctor Erskine - ever consider any other candidates?"

Stark props his chin on his hand and mutters: "Doubt it. Phillips wanted a soldier."

A moment later, Peggy Carter answers the question. "No."


Alice spent the afternoon aimlessly walking the streets of Brooklyn, as she had when she first arrived. But she barely noticed the buildings and signs she passed.

Long after evening had fallen, Alice didn't return to her hotel. She found herself knocking on Steve's door.

He opened it in tatty checkered pajamas and long socks, but his eyes were too alert for her to have woken him up. His brow furrowed. "Alice?"

She opened her mouth to speak, but had no idea what to say.

Steve looked at her, and understood, and held the door open wider. Alice walked inside.

Alice paced into the living room, Steve shadowing a few steps behind her. Soft shadows were cast by the single lit lamp on the table, giving the room a warm glow. Half-finished sketches lay on the table. She paused, looked around, and then sat on the carpet where they had once sat and talked about kissing each other. She tucked her legs up against herself and rested her shoulder against the arm of the couch.

Steve followed suit, carefully lowering himself to the ground. She noticed, with a pang of affection, that his pajama sleeves were too long for him.

For a few moments they sat in silence. They were too big now to fit comfortably on the patch of carpet between the couch and sofa, but it felt right. Steve's place always smelled like laundry starch and ink, even when his mom had been alive, and the familiar smell soothed the edge of Alice's nerves.

She stared down at the paisley floral pattern on the carpet. She stared, and tried to understand what her life had become. Steve sat silently beside her. He always knew what she needed from him: when she needed words, and when she needed silence.

After what felt like an age, she looked into Steve's eyes. "I'm keeping secrets from you."

His face shadowed. "I know."

"Doesn't that bother you?"

"Yes," he said honestly. He leaned his head back against the couch. "But… I trust you. Always have." He closed his eyes and shook his head. "That's not it. I mean, I do trust you of course, but… I don't mind that you're keeping secrets because you're here. I never really let myself imagine this before. I can live with you keeping secrets because…" his eyes flicked to hers. She could see him turning over words in his mind, but when he finally spoke she could tell he'd swallowed what he really meant to say. "Because you're you."

Alice drew in a sharp breath at what he'd almost said, and her eyes itched. She stared at him until he shifted nervously.

She could see a world expanding before her. She could say I love you, Steve Rogers, and he would say it back. And she would stay here. They'd live out the war together here, in peace.

Unless the war comes here, said the Siren in her mind. What then?

Alice met Steve's eyes. He was waiting on her, blue eyes somber and hopeful. So she went for the messiest option possible.

Alice kept her I love you a secret. Instead she threw herself across the carpet and into Steve's arms. Her mouth slammed against his as his hands rose clever and shaking to her back, pressing her to him. One hand rose to the back of her head and carded through her hair, making her shiver. They held each other, and lost themselves in a kiss that became fiery and intense but which they both knew wasn't going anywhere.

Alice stayed with him. She didn't know how long they were entwined with each other, but she felt the moment when the intensity ebbed to warmth, to comfort. She shifted her head to lay on his chest and listened to his racing, stuttering heartbeat under his flannel pajamas. His arm curled over her back, and his feet slid against hers. She could feel him blushing, and it made her smile.

They fell asleep in each other's arms on the carpet. But they both knew that she wasn't going to stay.


Tønsberg, Norway

Johann Schmidt slid open the wooden panel of the box he'd just extracted from the church wall, and eerie blue light illuminated his face. He felt a thrill run through him as he eyed the contents. At last.

"And the Führer digs for trinkets in the desert," he breathed. He couldn't tear his eyes away from the box. They'd called him insane for chasing the remnants of gods.

Finally, he looked up to the haggard, scared old man with the angry eyes. "You have never seen this, have you?"

The man's glare deepened. "It is not for the eyes of ordinary men."

"Exactly." With effort Schmidt closed the box once more. When the light shut off, with it that unearthly call he felt, he looked up to his men. "Give the order to open fire."

He strode down the steps and back toward the hole they'd blasted in the church wall, past the old man without a second thought. At least until:

"Fool." He turned. "You cannot control the power you hold! You will burn!"

Schmidt reached for the holster at his hip. "I already have."

The old man died easily. All mortals did.


Alice crept out in the dawn light without stirring Steve from sleep. She got back to her hotel to find a man in a dark suit waiting for her in the foyer. His eyes widened with relief when he saw her, then narrowed in annoyance.

"Ms Homer," he called, which instantly made her stiffen. "Do you know the way to the shipping port?"

"Why would I know something like that?" she responded to complete the code that she'd devised with Peggy.

His brow lowered. "You're needed, ma'am. Follow me."


The man drove her to the main SSR offices in Manhattan. It was a bright, cold day, and Alice felt like something was creeping up the back of her spine.

She made her own way to the elevator, and hit the button for the thirtieth floor. She wore the same clothes she'd had on yesterday, and she hoped Peggy wouldn't notice. Who am I kidding, she thought. Of course she will.

She gave the bored receptionist the latest password, and was told in return to head to the bullpen, sweetheart.

Alice strode alone down the corridor, and when she emerged into the nearly empty bullpen her heart constricted.

Colonel Phillips, Doctor Erskine and Peggy all stood around a paperwork laden desk, illuminated by the yellow office lights and wearing looks of concern. A few other analysts orbited around them, but the room was much emptier than normal.

Alice cleared her throat and the three of them looked up.

Peggy's lips pressed together. "Homer. We've received word that HYDRA just launched an incursion into Norway. We don't know the purpose, but it must have been something they really needed, to do it in defiance of the German command."

Alice crossed her arms. HYDRA was the SSR's first concern, and them invading a country without the rest of the German Army was suspicious indeed. "I see." But then she glanced around at their faces again and she actually saw. Her breath stilled in her chest. "You're sending me back."

Erskine's lips thinned and he looked between Peggy and Phillips, but didn't say anything.

Peggy met Alice's eyes. "We are." Alice straightened her shoulders as Peggy continued: "You have five hours to tie up any loose ends here, and then you'll be on a ship back to France. We've arranged for you to be spotted on a train back into Vienna from the holiday region of the French Alps, and there's a few witnesses set up to spread the rumor of your two-month long sojourn in a holiday resort. Following that, we'll arrange a meeting with your new handler."

Alice nodded numbly. Any loose ends. Like the piece of her heart probably still sleeping in a small apartment in Brooklyn. Like a young boy in Harlem who she was supposed to be having dinner with tonight.

Her heart pounded, and she was ashamed to admit to herself that it wasn't all fear. She… wasn't excited, but she was ready. These months back had been wonderful, but she felt keenly aware of everything she'd left behind. The people left behind. Everything left unfinished.

She let out a shaky breath. "Okay."

Erskine straightened. "Fräulein, you're not a puppet any longer," he murmured. He met her eyes. "You have a choice."

"I do," she replied in a decisive tone. She strode over to him and took his hand. "I'll have some Lebkuchen cookies for you in Berlin."

He smiled despite the concern in his eyes, and squeezed her hand in return. "Auf Wiedersehen."

Colonel Phillips cleared his throat. "Doctor, the project files…?"

Erskine blinked. "Ah yes, I'll get those now." He met Alice's eyes once more, dipped his chin in a nod, and then strode away. Alice lifted her fingers in a wave before he disappeared.

When she looked back, she found Colonel Phillips standing right in front of her. His jaw was clenched and his eyes serious. He held his hand out for a handshake.

When she took it he gripped her hand, hard, and said: "I might not trust you, Moser, but I sure as shit know that you're about to head into a hell of a lot of danger. Keep smart, keep alert, and most importantly" – he yanked her in by her hand until they were almost nose to nose. She could smell his aftershave. "Keep your damn mouth shut about us."

"Yes sir," Alice said, proud of herself for keeping her voice steady and not wincing at his grip.

He held her fast for another moment longer, eyes flicking across her face, before he released her and walked off with a gruff hm.

Alice straightened her coat and turned to Peggy. "Men," she muttered. Her hand ached.

The corner of Peggy's lip curled, before she turned serious again.

Alice sighed. "Peggy, I…" she shook her head. "I want to say thank you, but it doesn't seem enough."

Peggy smiled at her. "Alice, you've got five hours. Don't worry about me, you'll see me at the port." She cocked her head. "I'd tell you not to tell anyone you're leaving, but I know you won't listen and we don't want anyone filing a missing persons report on you." She jerked her chin. "Go. Say goodbye."

Alice hesitated a moment longer. She wanted to say something to Peggy, to somehow acknowledge everything that the other woman had done for her, but Peggy was, as usual, right. Five hours.

Alice nodded once at Peggy and then strode out of the room.


SSR Final Training Report by Agent Carter: Project Homer (March 10th, 1942). Archived by Catherine Laurey, SHIELD Archivist

CLASSIFIED

Regardless of the change in situation abroad, it is my opinion that Agent Homer is ready for active duty. The agent has shown themselves capable in infiltration, combat, communications, demolitions, rebel training, manipulation and extraction. Due to the shortened timeframe of re-infiltration I make the following recommendations: Homer must have freedom of movement in their placement, with a strong support network, and a reasonable modicum of trust. This should be simplified by the handler I recommended earlier in the week.

Homer's final briefing will include orders to focus on HYDRA but also to uncover actionable intelligence about the wider Nazi network for the SSR (specifically: character intelligence about leaders, troop movements, political events, meetings, and potential weaknesses). In the future I recommend giving Homer a general structure of command, but also allowing the agent to work under their own guidance. Homer knows what they are capable of finding, and what is important.

Should the above recommendations be accepted I will pass on detailed orders to Homer at the exfiltration point. Please advise.


Alice went to Tom first. By the time she made it to Harlem on the train it was past nine, so Alice went to Tom's school and told the ladies at the front office that she was Tom Johnson's private nurse and she needed to speak with him about a health issue.

"No, it can't wait until this afternoon, I'm afraid," she said with a polite smile. "If you wouldn't mind…? Yes, thank you. Tell him it's Marie Matthias waiting for him."

Tom's brow furrowed in confusion when he saw Alice waiting for him in the front office, but he wisely didn't say anything. He hadn't bothered to tidy his wild mop of dark hair, and he wore his school uniform with an easy grace that reminded her of Matthias. Alice tried to swallow the lump in her throat. Tom waited until she had guided him outside into the cold sunshine to say:

"Alice, what's going on?"

She just shook her head at him and led him further away. She didn't look at him again until they sat on a park bench around the corner from the school.

"What is it?" Tom asked in a low, worried voice. "Something's happened, hasn't it?"

Alice realized that she had no idea what to say to him. She opened and closed her mouth.

His brow furrowed. "Did something… is Steve okay?"

That unstuck her tongue. "Steve's fine, he's fine, don't worry." She pressed her lips together. It hadn't quite sunk in, what she was about to do. "Tom," she began. "I love you so, so much. I'm really proud of you, I hope you know that. I wish… I wish I could stay to see you grow up and to keep going out for coffee after school like we've been doing-"

"You're leaving," he realized, and a hurt expression flooded his face. His eyes darted. "What happened? Is it something I did? Is it because I made you sing that one time? Did you-"

"No, no," Alice hushed as tears sprang to her eyes. Why did she keep doing everything wrong? She leaned over to wrap one arm around him, and pressed her lips to the top of his head. Tom softened into her hold, his limbs loose. She felt wetness against her forearm. "It's not your fault, Tom. It's never you. I came back for you, you have to know that." She realized now that that was the truth. She could have stayed in Europe, or England, but she'd chosen to travel back across the ocean for one thing. Well, two things. "But… I can't stay."

"Where are you going?" the boy in her arms sniffled. Alice didn't reply. A moment later: "Right, you can't tell me. Just like everything else you can't tell me." He straightened out of her embrace and looked at her with big, hurt eyes. "What are you so scared of, Alice?"

"I'm scared of exactly what every other big sister is scared of," she murmured. "I'm scared to see you hurt." She squeezed his hand. "I promise that one day, I will tell you every secret I have. I'll pinky swear on it if you like." She held up her little finger.

At least it made him laugh. Tom took her pinky in his, and they held them tight for a moment.

He eventually murmured: "Y'know, mom and dad would be proud of you too, Alice. I didn't say so before, but it's true."

Tears spilled from her eyes. No one could make her cry like Tom.

This time he reached in to hug her, and when his arms banded around her Alice held him back so tightly she was sure she'd accidentally crush the breath out of his lungs. She didn't care that this was a public street with people walking past.

"I'm going to miss you so much," Tom muttered into her shoulder. His grip on her was surprisingly strong.

"I always miss you," Alice replied. She could feel seconds slipping away. "I… I have to go."

He didn't say okay, but he did let her go. They both stood.

"Make sure you tell Steve." Tom didn't meet her eye. "I don't be the one to tell him."

"I will," she promised. She reached out to put her hand on his cheek, and his dark eyes met hers. "Don't be in such a hurry to grow up, Tom," she teased. "Take your time."

Before she could convince herself to stay, she turned and walked away. It felt so much harder than that day she left him crying at the port after their parents died. She realized, when he was out of sight and she was on the train back to Brooklyn, that he'd never asked when she was coming back.


Extract from Tom Johnson Diary Entry, March 10 1942

... I don't want to forget what she looks like again. I've got a photo of her now, thanks to that photo booth at the arcade, but I don't want that to be all I have. I don't really remember mom and dad specifically, but I do remember how things used to be at home. They knew Alice was special, too, and complicated, and they loved her all the same. I know I can do that too. But that doesn't stop me being scared.

One day she'll tell me everything. I can wait until then.


Steve was at home when Alice knocked. It was a relief, because she didn't want to have to track him down at work and cause a scene there.

He opened the door to see her standing on his doorstep, and his eyes flew open in surprise and something like relief.

"I thought you left," he murmured. It wasn't accusatory.

"I did," Alice replied. It felt like days since she'd slid out from under his arm and crept out of the apartment in the dim dawn light, not mere hours. "I mean…" she shook her head. "Steve… I need to tell you something. It's not about last night, but…"

He swung the door wider. "Come in."

Alice followed him inside, and declined his offer for tea. She knew she didn't have time for that. The thought made her heart race. She noticed that Steve was moving stiffly, and she realized that sleeping on the hard floor last night had probably not been that good for his joints. A flash of acute guilt pierced through the deeper, underlying sense of guilt of what she was about to tell him.

They stood opposite each other in the living room, her in the same clothes as last night and he in fresh clothes for work. He looked smart in them, which was slightly distracting.

Alice let out a breath. It seemed every time she found herself alone in Steve's apartment with him, she had some confession choked up in her throat. Last night she'd wanted so desperately to be honest with someone, to be close to Steve without all her secrets in the way, and it had mostly worked. But now she felt nothing but urgency. And the oncoming quakes of heartbreak.

She clenched her jaw and decided to just spit it out.

"Steve. I have to leave."

He frowned. "You just got here."

"No, I mean… New York. I have to leave."

His eyes flew wide open. "What? Why?"

She'd been expecting it, but the flash of hurt in his face put a crack in her heart. "I-"

He moved towards her, his normally serious expression now frantic. "Alice, New York is your home, what do you-"

"New York is my home," she agreed. She took his warm hands to soften the blow. "But I can't be here anymore."

He didn't take his hands out of hers, but she felt him draw away. "Is this… because of…?"

She almost sighed, but resisted. What was it about her that made the people she loved doubt themselves? "This isn't about last night. I don't regret that, not for a minute. I…" she swallowed to prevent any words that she couldn't take back.

His brow furrowed. "Where are you going?"

Alice hesitated. Tom had accepted silence for an answer to that question, but she knew from the look in Steve's eyes that she'd have to say something. "I… I'm going back."

"Not to Europe," he said, aghast. "That's too dangerous, Alice."

She couldn't bear it. She leaned in and pressed her lips to his out of a selfish desire to stop both of their hearts from falling apart. She lit up when he responded by moving against her, one hand in her hair and the other on her waist as if trying to keep her there.

"I'll write you," she said breathlessly when she pulled away. "You remember the ciphers we used as kids?"

"Of course," he replied, trying to catch his breath, "but Alice-"

"Use those ciphers every time you write to me, no matter what you're saying. Sign them…" her breath hitched. "Sign them as Ulysses." His expression softened. "Here's how you can get in touch with me." She pressed a folded note into his hand. She'd written it on the train: instructions for a communication line via the Thomas Cook office in Lisbon, but with more reroutes and aliases to avoid the censors. "Don't let anyone else see this."

His fingers folded over the note and he pressed his forehead to hers. "We're not kids anymore. This isn't a game, Alice."

"I know," she murmured. His dark blue eyes had always seen her so much more clearly than anyone else, and she was terrified he could see what she was going back to Europe to do. "I'm not playing." She bit her lip. "Tell Bucky for me?"

He frowned. "When do you leave?"

Her stomach jolted. "Today."

His brows came together in that distressed expression she remembered so vividly from when she'd told him she was leaving the last time, at her mom's funeral.

"I'm sorry," she murmured. As she held him, safe and warm inside his apartment, Alice distantly wondered if she would ever see him again. It wasn't likely. She wondered if he sensed that, if that was why he held her so close.

Steve's hands tightened on her back. "How can I let you go again?" The words were quiet, barely above a whisper.

Alice had a hand on the side of his neck, and she traced her thumb along the underside of his jaw. "I don't know," she breathed. She had no idea how she was going to summon the strength to walk away. "But we… we have to."

"At least tell me why," he pleaded.

She closed her eyes. She could feel him watching her, each minute twitch of her expression. "You said you trusted me with my secrets," she murmured. "Trust me with this one, Steve. Please. I know it's a lot to ask."

His sigh whispered against her lips. "Of course I trust you. I always have."

And strangely, it was that which gave her the strength to curl her fingers away from him and step away from his warmth and strength. It was a cold shock, but she didn't fall back into him.

Both of their eyes opened, and they stared at each other.

She knew she couldn't make herself utter the word goodbye.

It felt strangely like a dream when Alice turned and walked away. She could hear him following her. Her eyes dragged over the apartment as she left, memorizing each detail.

She was almost to the door when she stopped in her tracks.

Tell him. The few times Jilí had cried in front of Alice after Franz died, she'd wept because of what they hadn't done. Alice remembered her friend's broken whisper: I wish I'd told him more often how I felt about him.

Alice wished she'd thanked Jilí for saving her life with her friendship. She wished she'd thanked Matthias for being her father, even though it put his very life at risk, and she wished she'd told her mom how proud she was of her bravery. She didn't want to live another regret.

Alice looked back. "I love you, Steve."

His eyes widened and his mouth opened, but she turned and left before he could speak. Because she knew that no matter what he said, it would make her stay.


Guten Abend, gute Nacht isn't on the Siren playlist, but there's a good version on YouTube by Gerphil, and one on Spotify by Andreas Scholl if you're interested. You'll know the tune :)