A/N: To my US readers (and, in fact, all of you), stay strong, stay safe. Steve and Alice would be behind you.
July, 1944
Alice had never had such a flexible performance schedule before: wherever she wished to go, the local troops would have her. Commanders were desperate for a morale boost for their troops, and a taste of normalcy. What had once been a planned-out and rigid schedule became a frantic dash around to sing for exhausted, mud and blood spattered troops. Alice allowed herself to pity them (she'd realized that the ability to stop seeing others as human was a distinctly Nazi trait) but continued working every waking minute to bring their enemies to their doorstep.
Once a week, she and Otto sent a telegram back to Berlin with their upcoming performances, and two days later they got their paychecks. Alice resolved that once the war was over she'd give all the money away to the people who'd really earned it: everyone who'd taken a stand, and everyone who'd been forced to flee.
The Allies still had not broken out of their small pocket of northern Normandy. Steve and his team fought to push out the borders, but they'd also started taking on similar missions to what they'd done in Italy - penetrating miles deep into enemy territory via airdrops or subterfuge, hunting out HYDRA pockets.
In early July the main bulk of the SSR traveled over from London, satisfied that the Allied foothold in France was sturdy enough to create another base of operations. Alice and Otto were glad to see Peggy's direct hand in their operations again. Peggy had the sharpest mind for espionage that Alice had ever encountered. And she wasn't afraid to make bold choices.
Excerpt from 'Battle of the Hedgerows: War at Close Quarter' by William Borre (1982):
Following the successful linkup of the beachheads on the north coast of Normandy, it was then left for the First US Army to move south to the town of St Lô. The Allied commanders had actually hoped to take St Lô in the first invasions in June, but a lack of resources and fiercer-than-anticipated German defense had put off that goal. But on July 3rd the advance began again.
... intelligence had not accounted for the terrain to be fought through: miles of small fields marked out by low hedgerows which restricted visibility and mobility to the extent that tanks and troops could not easily roll through to the German defenders. The terrain favored the defenders, and the Germans had had time to lay defenses. Success did not depend on the number of tanks, planes, or men: in a field with 300 feet of visibility in any direction, it was the sharpest soldier who won out at the end of the day.
Slowly, the Americans began to push the Germans south.
Early July, 1944
When it came down to it, Alice didn't find crossing the front lines in Normandy that difficult. It wasn't easy, sure, but she had intelligence from both sides about where the fighting would be today, so she simply took a circuitous route to avoid it. She crossed through a bombed-out village in the pale early morning light, picking her way through craters and rubble. There were a couple of German sentries watching the village, but they were both distracted watching the bombardment a few miles east. They were really here to look out for whole troops, anyway, not a single woman dressed as a young man.
She scurried from the village and into a nearby thicket of trees, then paused to hoist the sack of flour higher up over her shoulder. She wore dark men's clothes, threadbare and mud-strewn like every other civilian who lived in this area, and a slouch hat over her hair. She was already regretting the flour: it was a good cover, and excellent concealment for the documents she'd brought with her, but her shoulders ached.
So this is Allied territory, she thought as she walked out through the thicket and onto a scuffed dirt road. Her surroundings looked just as bombed out and destitute as the other side of the front line, the ground torn up by hundreds of heavy tire treads, thousands of marching feet and countless bombing raids. As she walked she started to spot a few other civilians, most of them carrying loads like her - they'd probably remained behind despite evacuation, survived the invasion, and now lived in the strange limbo of the battlefront.
As she continued walking, she began to see the Allied forces: encampments in the distance, makeshift airfields, troops marching down what used to be quiet country lanes. As she moved deeper into Allied territory, she passed by a group of soldiers smoking near an encampment of green canvas tents. One of them shouted a question at her. Alice responded in confused French, and they all ignored her.
Finally she spotted an encampment on a sandy rise, with wire fences and a signpost reading Strategic Scientific Reserve - 107th Regiment - Approved Personnel Only. There were guards at every entryway.
Alice kept her distance, circling until she found a gnarled, forked tree near a marsh. She eased down her sack of flour with a sigh and leaned against the tree to wait.
After a few minutes, in which she stretched her shoulders and checked her disguise, she heard a low whistle.
She glanced up to see Bucky and Gabe strolling down the rise toward her, their uniforms loose and unclipped as if they'd just woken up.
"I told you she'd beat us here!" Bucky exclaimed as he jogged the last few steps to wrap Alice in a hug. He smelled like coffee. "Hi, troublemaker."
Gabe waved, but he had a frown on his brow. "I'm a little alarmed at how easy it is for a German to get all the way in here."
"I'm Austrian, remember?" Alice said as Bucky released her. "Besides, no regular German could get through so easily. I had help." She tapped the side of her nose, then reached out to shake Gabe's hand in greeting.
With Bucky and Gabe as escorts, they turned toward the SSR encampment (Bucky carried Alice's flour sack for her as if it weighed nothing, which annoyed her). With Bucky by her side, Alice suddenly felt at ease - as if this were just a stroll through the early morning sunshine.
"It's good to see you again," she smiled at both of them. "In daylight, too!"
"We sure are spoiled," Bucky teased. They came to the edge of the camp and slipped through a narrow gap in the fence. "Peggy made sure the guard for this entrance got called off for five minutes," he explained.
"At least someone had faith in my timeliness," Alice teased. Bucky rolled his eyes and Gabe laughed under his breath, but she found herself immediately distracted by the scale of the SSR camp. Where most of the other Allied encampments she'd seen had been hasty tent constructions, the SSR had managed to put up half a dozen prefabricated buildings, a watchtower, and several large shipping containers. Orderly rows of tents radiated away from the epicenter of the camp, ranging from large command tents to individual infantry accommodation. This was a functional, organized space, and the dirt was already well tamped down.
Alice realized with a jolt that this looked much like the countless German camps she'd been in, save for the flags and insignias.
The camp was still just waking up: sounds of murmured conversations and yawns rose up from the tents, and somewhere Alice could hear a water pump running. Pale dawn light streamed down on the tents. Occasionally a soldier passed them, wearing light sleep clothes and slouching slightly - though when they spotted Bucky and Gabe they always snapped into a smart salute.
She squinted up at the watchtower, and blinked at the sight of a camera crew crammed into the space at the top, with a large film camera and a few smaller photography ones. They appeared to be filming towards the ocean.
"Oh yeah, they're our paparazzi," Bucky said drily. "Steve's gone and got himself so famous that they need to film his every move."
"That wouldn't be so bad," Gabe laughed, "But they want all this footage of us too! They went with us on a raid last week. Have to admit the camera operators have some balls."
The film camera swung around to point down into the camp, and Alice ducked her head. "Are they filming now?"
"Probably fishing for B-roll," Bucky frowned. "I'll go ask them to scrap the film-"
"Don't, that'll draw attention. I'll talk to Peggy when I see her."
"Alright." Bucky shrugged, then checked his watch. "Look, I know we told you 6:30, but Phillips had a surprise meeting in the command tent so we're going to hide you in Steve's tent until he's finished."
Alice arched an eyebrow. "And that's the only place you could think to hide me, huh?"
Bucky grinned. "He's got the biggest tent! But if you'd rather stay in mine…" he waggled his eyebrows at her.
Alice sighed, even as she suppressed a laugh. "I thought we were past this, Bucky. Remember last time?"
Bucky leaned behind her toward Gabe and confided: "She threatened to poison my popcorn."
"I'd believe her, man."
"Oh I did," Bucky said. He nudged Alice. "Here we are."
Alice looked up to see a light green canvas officer's tent pitched near one of the prefabricated buildings. There were a few boxes stacked outside and some socks hung out to dry on one of the tent lines, but overall it looked very tidy. Bucky stepped forward to lift up the canvas flap.
"This feels… inappropriate," Alice muttered as she ducked and stepped inside the tent. Gabe and Bucky followed her in and dropped the flap.
The tent was still relatively light, since the far end of the canvas had a window flap with hazy fabric that allowed sunlight to diffuse through. The inside reminded Alice, strangely, of Steve's childhood bedroom back in Brooklyn: orderly, neat, with everything in its proper place. And yet it didn't seem spartan.
Steve's bedroll sat neatly at the end of his camp bed, his single bag rested in the corner beside a radio, ammunition box and small pile of cooking utensils. A collapsible camp table sat in the other corner, with various maps, documents and a gaslamp arranged on top of it. Alice spotted his strategy books and smiled. He must have been studying in the night.
"Gotta admit," said Bucky, following Alice's line of sight, "He's a lot better at planning missions than I'd expected, given his general battle tactic back in Brooklyn."
"I've never seen a tactician like him," said Gabe loyally.
Alice spotted a glint of metal under the bed, and ducked to see his Vibranium shield resting on the bare ground.
The canvas flap rustled and Alice straightened to see the man himself ducking into the tent.
She swallowed. She hadn't seen Steve in daylight since Italy, and in the small space of the tent the size and reality of him was overwhelming. He'd stopped in his tracks. He wore his uniform save for the cowl and gauntlets, and his cheeks were pinked from the cool dawn air. The diffused light in the tent softened the rough edges of his uniform and illuminated his eyes.
She wondered how he could look at her like that and not expect her to be struck speechless.
Bucky and Gabe shared a glance, then Bucky looked down at his watch. "We've got a minute before we're due in the command tent. We'll give you two a moment alone." And with that, they shuffled past Steve and out of the tent. Bucky tugged out the flour sack.
Alice let out a long breath, watching Steve. She felt suddenly self conscious, as if this were the first time he'd ever seen her in chest bindings and worn clothes, her hair tucked away and her face roughened to appear more masculine.
He swallowed. "Hi."
She smiled and managed to unstick her jelly legs to move forward. "Hi."
It felt as if they should launch forward and sweep each other into their arms, but instead they shuffled together almost shyly. Alice's hand brushed Steve's arm and she suddenly found herself holding him, her arms around his shoulders and his arms tight around her. His uniform smelled like smoke. She pressed her eyes shut and allowed a tear to roll down her cheek.
"I missed you," she breathed.
Steve didn't reply. She could feel the slightest of tremors in his arms as he held her. It reminded her of days long past when Steve would shake in the cold or in the midst of a fever.
His lips pressed into her hair and she felt him breathe out against her.
"Happy birthday, by the way," she murmured. She hadn't seen him since June, and he'd turned 26 on the 4th. "I don't have a present."
He smiled into her hair. "This is enough."
Outside the tent, Bucky cleared his throat. "Guys, meeting?"
They pulled apart. Alice slid her hand up to the back of Steve's neck, smiling, and pulled him into a quick kiss. Or at least she meant for it to be quick, but then he fell into her enthusiastically, hands suddenly confident, and she was breathless when Bucky lifted up the tent flap.
"Eugh," Bucky said as they broke apart. "I'm serious, Phillips is coming this way and you don't want him to see you like this."
Alice touched her cap, grimaced as she realised her hair pins had come loose, then wiped her mouth. She and Steve grinned at each other before they ducked out of the tent together.
"Honestly," Bucky muttered as he held the tent flap up for them. "It's not like there's a war on or anything." But he finished with a smile at Alice, and she reached over to squeeze his shoulder.
"Hey!" The four of them looked over to see Colonel Phillips scowling at them. He held up his watch and tapped it. "Do they not teach students how to tell time in Brooklyn?"
When Alice slipped into the office-sized canvas command tent she swept her gaze around to check that there were no unexpected visitors. Peggy stood with her hands planted on the large table at the center of the tent, her eyes warming at the sight of Alice, and the rest of Steve's men were arrayed around the space. Colonel Phillips was already at the head of the table, and Steve, Bucky, and Gabe filed in after Alice.
Alice was just in the process of tugging her cap off to fix her hair when an unexpected voice spoke up from behind Peggy:
"So you're this inside man I've been hearing abo-whoah!"
Howard Stark, in a smart brown outfit with a vest, had just risen from his seat behind Peggy, rubbing his hands, to see Alice's hair fall haphazardly around her shoulders. He glanced around wildly, but no one else in the tent looked surprised.
So no one told Stark, then, Alice realized. She shrugged to herself and began fixing her hairpins.
Stark stood with his arms hanging by his sides and said "Inside woman," in a startled and thoughtful voice.
Alice strode up to the command table, smiling to everyone in greeting, and waited for Stark to recognize her. Peggy was clearly waiting as well, one hand on her hip and her eyebrow raised as she glanced back at Stark.
When nothing seemed to click in the genius's expression, Alice held out a hand. "Nice to meet you."
He took her hand. "Yeah, it's… it's nice to meet you." The dazedness started to clear from his face, and suddenly his hold on her hand became a little steadier. "What's your name, beautiful?"
Beside him, Peggy rolled her eyes. "Mind of a genius, memory of a goldfish," she muttered.
"Al," Alice told Stark, and then added: "And what's your name?" Like she hadn't had to put up with Bucky drooling over the man's designs since he first came onto the scene with Stark Industries, and like she hadn't been slightly starstruck the first time they met. She sensed Steve hide his smile as he took his position at the table.
Stark looked startled, bewildered, and then offended in that order. "I…" Alice fought to keep her face completely innocent. "I'm Howard Stark. Howard Stark," he repeated with emphasis, as if she were a forgetful old woman.
"Howard Stark," she repeated without emphasis. She glanced down at her hand. A"re you going to let go of me, or do I have to convince you?" She made sure with the steady look in her eyes that he knew that convincing wouldn't be pleasant.
As everyone else in the command tent watched, Stark reluctantly let her go.
Steve watched cautiously, until Bucky patted him on the shoulder. "Don't worry, pal," he murmured. "Stark may be good, but he's not Alice good."
"Can we get some actual work done?" Phillips said, and everyone gathered around the table.
In the rustle of movement, Alice leaned toward Peggy and murmured an explanation of what had happened with the camera crew outside.
Peggy frowned. "I review everything they publish so I'll keep an eye out for it. As long as it's impossible to tell your identity from the footage, it should be fine."
Alice nodded, and then turned to the table at large. "Alright." She ducked down, heaved up her sack of flour and then set it on the command table, which was already packed full of maps and diagrams. She slit open the top of the sack, dug her hand in, then extracted her small stack of documents. After shaking off as much flour as she could, she set them down on the table. "This is what we have."
Since rescuing the POWs in the Pyrénées, Alice and Otto had diverted most of their effort toward finding and reconnoitering the HYDRA base there. The SSR had also turned their focus toward the mountain range, after gathering all the intelligence they could from the POWs (who were on their way back to the US now) and had invited Alice to their camp to discuss final intelligence before they moved on the base.
Alice had brought photographs of the factory taken by the Maquis, sentry schedules, hand drawn maps, and notes on the identified HYDRA members. Taking charge of the meeting she talked the 107th Tactical Team through everything she had, then compared it to what she could see on the table before her: aerial and topographical maps, as well as maps of troop lines.
They asked questions as she went, asking her to clarify points or asking her what she'd learned about a specific part of the terrain. They seemed particularly interested in weather patterns, which she guessed meant they were thinking of an aerial assault, but she didn't ask.
All in all her brief took the better part of an hour. She was just coming to the end, discussing the temperament of the HYDRA general in charge of the base, when Stark opened his mouth.
"How do you know that?" It was the first time he'd really spoken since she began. He'd been watching them all discuss the maps and photographs, eyes sharp, and she'd sensed his mounting suspicion and surprise as she went on.
Alice's eyebrows rose. "I've been performing in the south of France for most of the last month. Aside from learning what I can from the Maquis and running surveillance myself, I've also been dining with the Wehrmacht generals in the area. They don't know about the base, but they did work with this HYDRA general before the schism, so they know all about how he thinks."
"Okay," Stark said, "But how can we trust this information?"
Alice shrugged. "Trust isn't something I can convince you to have."
Stark glanced around at the others around the table: hard-faced Phillips, Peggy with her unreadable calm, Steve and Bucky's utter confidence and the rest of the team nodding. Seeing that no one had any qualms, he shrugged. "Alright then."
Alice moved on to the intelligence that she couldn't verify, but had guessed from various snatches of conversation or extrapolated from how other HYDRA facilities had run.
Finally, Steve bent over the map and said: "Alright, so if we send a detachment of troops to-"
"Stop!" Alice said, straightening. They all glanced over at her and she shook her head. "That's not what this is about. Don't tell me what you're planning."
"What?" Steve frowned.
But Peggy and Phillips had caught on: their faces were grim.
Alice met Steve's eyes. "I don't need to know any of that side of things to do my job. I don't want to know. I would recommend that you send troops here" - she pointed to an incline on the topographical map, beside a corresponding photograph of the same area - "and up here" - she pointed again - "so that you can pincer HYDRA's forces in this mountain pass before taking the factory from the cliffs up here. But that's just my recommendation. No idea if you'll take it or not."
She glanced around, nodded to Peggy and Phillips, smiled briefly at everyone else, then checked her cap was in place. "I'll be where I was before while you all finish." With that, she slipped out of the tent.
Steve watched her go with a grave look.
Stark frowned. "Wait, why doesn't she want to know that? Isn't this a planning session?"
"If she doesn't have the information," Peggy said gently, "she can't give it up later."
"Why would she-" but then Stark saw everyone's grim faces. "Oh."
Steve almost looked angry now, but he bunched his shoulders and turned back to the maps. He picked up the wooden marker they'd been using to indicate their troops and moved it to the mountain pass. "She's right with her recommendation," he said evenly. "That's the best way to cover the factory and the troops surrounding it with minimum casualties on our end. So next question is insertion of the troops."
Alice slipped back through the camp and into Steve's tent to wait out the rest of the meeting. Strangely overwhelmed, she lay down on his camp bed with a sigh.
For a long moment she just stared up at the hazy canvas ceiling, loose-limbed and fuzzy-minded. She wasn't sure why the meeting had taken so much out of her. She rolled onto her side, making the bed creak, and then pressed her face to Steve's pillow: a standard-issue Army pillow, but it smelled like him. She closed her eyes.
Embarrassing, Alice. Very embarrassing.
She opened her eyes again and spotted a notebook resting on a bag across the tent. From the well-worn spine and the stubby pencil stuck to it by an elastic band, she recognised it as Steve's sketch notebook. I haven't seen his drawings for ages!
She rolled off the bed and picked up the notebook, smiling. If this were anyone else's she would never consider opening it (unless they were a Nazi), but Steve's notebooks had always been open to her before. They'd grown up sharing their work. So with gentle fingers, Alice opened the cover.
She found herself instantly absorbed. Etched across the pages were landscapes of the war from forests to vast open seas, scenes from Steve's USO tour, self-effacing portraits, and sketches of his men. He'd really managed to capture Dugan's boisterous charm in one finely-detailed pencil portrait - Dugan must have sat for it, Alice thought. There were a few of Peggy and Phillips too. One sketch of Peggy decking a recruit made her chuckle. His art had evolved since the last time he'd sent her a drawing in a letter; she noticed a finer eye for detail, and more artistic and emotional depth. To Alice it was if before he'd been drawing beautiful melodies, but now he'd evolved to symphonies.
And there were so, so many drawings of Alice. They made her heart hurt: the longing, care, and adoration in every detail. Alice curled up and laughing on a couch, a teenaged Alice singing in church, Alice standing with a smoking gun in her hand and ice in her eyes. He'd spent longer shading her eyes than he had on most of his other sketches. Flipping through the notebook, Alice traced her own depiction with a fingertip. She wished that Steve drew more of himself - but that wasn't really his way. As always, his last thought was of himself.
The tent flap rustled as Steve stepped inside. He saw Alice perched on the edge of his bed, bent over his notebook, and the tips of his ears went red.
Alice offered him a sad smile. "Sorry, I thought you wouldn't mind-"
"I don't," he said hurriedly, "I just, shouldn't have left that lying out-"
"I love them." Alice stood, the book still cracked open, and when she glanced down at it to see her own face looking up at her her heart wrenched. She looked back up at Steve and his embarrassment became concern at the sorrow in her eyes.
"What is it?" he whispered.
Alice touched her own portrait. "You… you can't keep these." At his wrinkled brow she swallowed and added: "I mean, you can keep drawing. But Steve… you can't draw me." All it would take is just one wrong person seeing a single one of these drawings, and it could all be over - Alice's cover, Otto's cover, half the SSR's intelligence network in Europe.
Realization flooded Steve's gaze, shortly followed by a deep furrow in his brow as his expression became shocked and guilty and heart-wrenched all at once. "Jeez, Alice, of course, I - I…" she shook his head and took the notebook, frowning at himself. "I'm an idiot, I'm sorry-"
"No," she shook her head. She stepped forward and took his hands, pressing them close against the notebook as she leaned into him. She rested her forehead against his chest, the notebook between their bodies, and he looked down at her. Alice sighed. "I'm sorry it's like this, Steve," she whispered.
"Don't be," he murmured back. One of his hands rose to stroke over her cheek. She still didn't look up at him. He swallowed. "I'd thought about putting a picture of you in my compass, y'know, but I figured that'd be too dangerous. It's enough for me to know the compass is from you. But I didn't realize about the notebook. You don't need to worry, I'll get rid of these… these drawings, and I won't make any more."
"I'm sorry." She knew that drawing for him was like singing for her: it was how he spoke, how he saw the world. By asking this of Steve, she was silencing him. And the idea of his notebook without her in it made her heart hurt. It felt like erasing herself from the world.
"Don't be," he said more firmly. He slid the notebook down and out of her fingers, tossed it onto his bed and then leaned back to take both her hands in his. She looked up into his earnest blue eyes. "There's going to be a day, soon," he began. He swallowed. "There's going to be a day when I can draw you as much as I like. I'm going to draw you in Brooklyn, or wherever else you want to go. I'll draw you out in the sunshine, and while you sing, and I'll draw you in our home." Tears sprang to Alice's eyes. "And I'll put those drawings up for anyone and everyone to see."
Alice beamed, even as tears slipped down her face. She never cried so much as when she was with Steve. He was safety to her. And he also broke her heart.
They hadn't really talked about what lay between them, or what it could be. But Steve was earnest and determined - of course he was - and Alice couldn't bear to hope for the future he described but she knew that it would be exciting, and beautiful. She wanted nothing more.
"I'd like that," she finally whispered. She leaned up to kiss him, and when they were just a breath apart she murmured: "And when that day comes, I'll make sure that everyone knows that when I sing I do it for you. I always have." She heard and felt his breath hitch, and then she kissed him.
Some time later Bucky burst into the tent without knocking, and wolf whistled them just to make Alice scowl and Steve blush.
"Peggy's arranged another five minute rest for the gate guard," he said with false lightness in his tone.
They all knew she had to go, but none of them said it. They simply filed out of the tent and Bucky and Steve escorted her to the camp exit, talking about the hassle of having a camera crew follow them around and how nice the weather had been in Normandy recently.
At the gate, before a sad silence could fall over them, Alice turned and shook Bucky's hand. Anyone could be watching, after all. "Until next time," she smiled.
"Sure thing, troublemaker," he smiled.
When Alice turned to shake Steve's hand, they both clung to each other's hands like one of them was dangling off a cliff and that was the only lifeline they had. The handshake went on for far too long, and they didn't say a word, but Bucky didn't tease them.
Alice opened her mouth to say goodbye, but then thought better of it. She smiled, gently slid her fingers out of Steve's, and then turned and strode away.
Watching her go, Steve let out a heavy sigh.
Bucky clapped him on the shoulder. "One of these days the two of you'll be walking off together, pal."
Steve nodded silently, thinking that perhaps that day might be sooner than he realized.
Clipping from History Film Forum discussion 'Captain America in Film', hosted by the Smithsonian Museum & The National Endowment for the Humanities (2013):
"And in our continuing analysis of the B-roll, we can see a few clips of day-to-day camp life. Here we have soldiers of the 107th at the mess tent, views of the Normandy coast line - so we know this was filmed in mid 1944 - and here, let me pause a moment. This clip is only a second long, but if you look closely... see there? That's Bucky Barnes, and that must be Gabe Jones, with another solider. Or perhaps a civilian. From this we can draw the conclusion that at least socially, the Howling Commandos were not an exclusive unit. They were all remarkably friendly, outgoing personalities who were bound to make friends wherever they went."
After a long walk back to the mostly-evacuated town she'd been staying in, Alice arrived back at her hotel with her head full of Steve. She made sure to check her surroundings, then pulled open the door to the back entrance.
Her heart nearly leaped out of her chest when a pale hand seized the front of her shirt and yanked her inside. She reacted instantly, striking the bony edge of her hand down on her assailant's elbow, breaking the hold, and then stumbling back toward the door. But then her eyes adjusted to the gloom inside and she saw Heidi, her stylist, staring wide-eyed at her.
"Quick," Heidi hissed, ignoring the brief burst of violence. "Herr Karloff and his associates from the Propaganda Department are here with General Voigt - they've been here all morning waiting for you. Otto is with them. You can't go up there dressed like that."
Sick fear washed over Alice. "I don't… my clothes are in my room!"
Heidi's eyes widened further. "You didn't hide them down here?"
Alice shook her head numbly. I've become relaxed, she realized. Thinking I could slip in and out of my hotel room like a ghost. The fear on Heidi's face increased, but then Alice's churning mind came up with a solution. "I'll find something in the laundry room."
The two of them ran down the narrow staff hallway to the laundry room and began rifling through the hampers and drying lines.
"It's all officer's clothes," Heidi said desperately. Both of their ears were trained toward the door, expecting a hotel employee to come wandering in at any moment. Alice's heart pounded.
Finally Alice's fingers brushed light, pale cotton, and she pulled a dress out of one of the hampers of freshly-cleaned clothes. It was a light grey paisley housedress, a little older and not quite as glamorous as Alice usually wore around in public, but it would do. She stripped out of her 'Al' clothes right there in the laundry as Heidi watched the door, and yanked the stolen dress over her head. It was a few sizes too large.
Without looking back, Heidi toed off her shoes and kicked them over to Alice. Alice squeezed her feet into the leather pumps and untangled her tightly-pinned hair. There was a bucket of soapy water in the corner, which she used to splash her face clean. When she was done, she whirled back to Heidi to see the other woman offering her a tube of lipstick. Fingers shaking, Alice swiped it on. "Okay?"
Heidi's eyes swept over her. She bit her lip and nodded.
Alice swallowed. "Okay." She pushed open the laundry door and began striding toward the stairs. "Why are they here?" she asked over her shoulder.
"I don't know," Heidi murmured. "They wouldn't say."
Alice tried to calm her racing heart and churning stomach as she strode up the stairs toward her floor. A million possible explanations and excuses ran through her head, but all she could really focus on was the worst possibility: they know.
She's often wondered what would happen if someone uncovered her and Otto's true work. Would it be an arrest? Or would it simply be men in dark uniforms stuffing them into the back of a truck and taking them to wherever disappeared people went?
Alice came to her door and lifted her chin. Whatever's inside, she promised herself, they won't see my fear.
She pushed open the door.
Instantly she let out a flustered smile, pulling the door shut behind her and straightening her dress, as if embarrassed. "I'm so sorry I'm late, I wasn't expecting you!"
The main room of her suite was full of people: Otto and four men from the Propaganda Department (including the main producer, Karloff) sitting on the white-and-gold embroidered chaises around the fireplace, along with a few of their attendants and their secretary mingling around, the local Wehrmacht general standing by the window, and a few of Alice's backup singers gathered around as if drawn magnetically to the interesting people in the hotel room.
All the men in the room stood up upon Alice's entrance, and she allowed herself to blush.
Herr Karloff frowned. "Where have you been, Frau Siren?"
Alice lifted one shoulder in embarrassment and offered a half-smile. "I like to visit with the locals to offer some charitable donations."
Karloff nodded to Otto. "As you said, Herr Klein."
Alice's smile stayed rigid. She and Otto's pre-planned excuse had worked, but the fact that it was necessary made her guts twist. Were they testing me? She met Otto's eyes for a fraction of a moment - he appeared outwardly placid, but she saw a hint of warning in his eyes. He didn't know what was going on here either.
"She's always out exploring," said Freya, Alice's youngest backup singer at 21. She smiled fondly. "Giving food and hand-made scarves and money to children."
Alice smiled at Freya, but she wished she'd kept her mouth shut.
Karloff cocked his head. "You really ought not to go alone, and for so long, Frau Siren."
"Yes," chimed in General Voigt from by the window. "You ought to let us know when you're out, so we can offer you protection. We're not far from the front, you know."
Alice nodded and opened her mouth to speak, but Karloff wasn't done.
"And Résistance terrorists are everywhere now. They don't hesitate to hurt women and children."
"You're right," Alice agreed meekly, "I've heard of women and children being killed - despicable." She frowned. "Perhaps you're right, I should be careful. I'll take someone with me next time." Out of the corner of her eye she saw the secretary Inge's eyes narrow, as if disgusted at Alice for her unpatriotic weakness. Alice resisted glaring back.
"So," Otto said as he returned to his seat, "Now that Frau Moser is back, to what do we owe the pleasure?"
Karloff also took his seat, smiling now. "Oh, we've been on a lightning tour of France - Goebbels is concerned about morale, so we're on a fact finding mission to see what we can do. We couldn't give any advance notice since all officials have been warned to keep their movements secret to keep the French terrorists from trying anything."
"I see, that sounds like a smart move. How can we help you?"
Karloff and the other officials launched into a discussion about troop morale and entertainment, and Alice used the opportunity to make eye contact with Otto. His wariness had eased, only to be replaced by confusion.
They didn't discuss their real purpose for visiting until I'd arrived. Alice hesitated. Until they verified the 'truth' of where I'd been. She swallowed, contemplating what might have happened if her and Otto's stories hadn't matched. Her eyes flicked to General Voigt. They suspect something. Maybe not us specifically, but they're not just here to check on morale.
She met Otto's eyes again and a new understanding flickered between them. We need to be more careful.
Excerpt from article 'The Final Days of Nazi Rule in France' by Milo Stolworth, 15 Feb 2002:
The occupiers had only become more paranoid as the war drew on, and that paranoia reached a peak following the D-Day invasions. Even the wildest theorists of the German leadership felt vindicated; they had been right about a conspiracy against them, and they were right that double agents, spies, and the French people had supported it. Leaders pushed out more propaganda and censorship to control the local populace through their Propagandastaffel offices, more rations and restrictions were laid on the French citizens, and retributions against any remaining suspected Jews, Résistants or spies became fierce.
The HYDRA factory in the Pyrénées fell beneath a lightning raid made up of Steve's team, troops from the 107th, and the local Maquis. The local Wehrmacht were none the wiser.
As July progressed, the Allies chipped away more territory in Normandy and the Germans began to grow tired. The Allies finally took the town of Caen, which they'd originally planned to take on D-Day. Behind the lines Alice heard talk of desertion and retreat; the whispers grew louder and louder as the days hammered on.
She got a few more chances to meet with the 107th Tactical Team after the Pyrénées. She and Otto were more careful than ever after the close call with the Propaganda Department, but France, which had been a steady pot of stewing chaos since 1940, had boiled over. It was easy for a singer to fall through the cracks.
From time to time the 107th Tactical Team needed an introduction to the local Résistance groups, who knew the area and could guide them to the local HYDRA infestation. She and Steve's men also crisscrossed the front lines for intelligence drops that could not be conveyed through song.
Their contact was as minimal as possible, but precious. Every time Alice and Steve ended up back together the air became charged and almost desperate for the first few minutes. But during that time, Alice also felt… so much more alive. Something inside her had always lit up in Steve's presence, and it ached every time she had to leave.
The 107th Tactical Team had learned how to hunt HYDRA in Italy, and they brought that knowledge to devastating effect in France. It seemed almost every other day that Alice heard of a town that had been liberated, a bunker destroyed, a supply line disrupted. She also knew that they had camera crews following them around on half their missions, since clips from the footage found its way even into Nazi-occupied France.
As the world watched the war waging in France, Alice and Steve became two sides of the same coin: the sweet voice lilting amongst the Nazis, and the hard fist that beat against them.
Early August, 1944
The Allies had begun to break out of northern Normandy, despite a brief push back by the Nazis. To the far East, Soviet troops were pushing inward and in response the Polish Home Army rose up against the Nazis in Warsaw, much to Alice's delight. Heidi's husband, a member of the underground Polish Resistance, was in the thick of the fighting.
One by one, Alice's contacts in the French Resistance went quiet. And this time the silences weren't sinister: it meant the front had moved past them, leaving them behind friendly lines.
But tonight Alice found herself deep inside unfriendly lines as per usual, wrapped up tightly in her Al clothes, sitting on a fallen log beside a pair of Maquisards.
"Pass the brandy," said Luc, the man to her left, and Alice gladly handed the tin flask over. The small sips she'd taken had made her spine tingle.
The one to her right was smoking a poorly-rolled cigarette which kept spilling ash on his trousers. He squinted up at the night sky and coughed. "It's almost dawn."
Alice nodded silently. She wanted to tell them to be patient, but she was on tenterhooks with this particular Maquis as it was. They called themselves the Maquis du Puy du Monteil after the mountain they'd based themselves around, and though they were loosely allied with the overarching Résistance they were suspicious of most authority. They were run by a handful of Great War veterans who felt both deeply betrayed by the Vichy government for capitulating to the Nazis, and resentful of Charles de Gaulle for fleeing to England for safety.
This Maquis hadn't been a part of the D-Day sabotage plans since it was too hard to get them in line, but Alice and Otto had been providing them with supplies and arms for the past few months anyway, since they hated the Nazis and German-allied Milice far more than they disliked anyone else. Alice wasn't particularly friendly with them, but they had put an iota of trust in her: which was more than they did for most people. They were also under the impression that 'Al' was French - they didn't like Americans, and Germans and Austrians even less so.
"So do you think this plan of yours will actually work?" asked Luc after taking a long gulp of brandy.
"Yes," Alice said shortly. "I have faith in the Maquis, and also in our allies."
"I'm not so sure about these allies," said Demont, to her right.
"They want to help those townspeople just as much as you," she gently reminded them.
"The town is heavily guarded," added Luc. "How do you expect us to succeed against those… those machines they have?"
"We will have new weapons as well."
The Maquis du Puy du Monteil had been complaining of Nazi hold on a town south of Montluçon for some time, but it wasn't until recently that Alice and Otto had worked out that it was actually HYDRA. HYDRA had set up an airfield in the farmland outside the town, and was using the town itself as a base for their troops and prison labor. They used the airfields to launch planes all across France, dropping devastating bombs on Allies and Nazis alike. It needed to be stopped right away.
Like General Patton kept saying, a good plan violently executed today is better than a perfect plan next week.
Alice shifted uncomfortably. She'd never planned anything of this scale before.
At that moment she heard the faint buzz of a plane engine and her head jerked up. "There," she whispered to the Maquisards, pointing to a few dark silhouettes against the faint stars.
They hopped off their log and hustled into the trees, keeping their ears out for any sign of movement. After a few minutes of searching they found their first parachute. It was tangled in the branches, and the man attached to it had cut himself loose and was hauling it down.
The Maquisards lifted their weapons, but Alice pushed the barrels down and peered into the darkness. "Dernier?" she guessed.
"Oui, c'est moi!" called back the exuberant Frenchman, and then a moment later seemed to recall that he needed to provide a codeword. "Botanique!"
Alice smiled and strode forward to embrace Dernier, slightly relieved that they'd found him first - the native French seemed to put the Maquisards at ease. "Venez, trouvons les autres." [Come, let's find the others].
As Dernier effusively greeted Alice's fellow Maquisards they made their way through the forest, collecting members of Steve's team: Dugan, Gabe, Morita, Falsworth all greeted Alice with a wide smile and a friendly word. Then they finally found Bucky and Steve, who looked wet. They carried a dripping parachute-wrapped package between them.
"The weapons drop landed in the river," Bucky scowled. "Hey, Al."
"Bonsoir," Alice winked. She and Steve met eyes, and something soothed in her chest. "Alright," she continued in a light French accent. "Now that we've got you all, the Maquis are waiting at the base of the mountain. We'll plan there." She translated quickly for Luc and Demont because she sensed their unease at the sudden switch to English.
They strode down the forested mountainside in relative silence - Steve and his team couldn't address Alice with too much familiarity, at the risk of raising questions about her cover, and they were all very aware that they were just a few miles away from a heavily-guarded HYDRA encampment.
They came to the edges of the Maquis camp, where the guards held them up for a moment before one of the leaders who knew Alice came up. He was middle-aged and had only one eye due to complications from a mustard gas attack in Great War, but his remaining eye held a heavy weight of suspicion as he looked at the newly arrived soldiers.
"Ce sont les Américains?" [these are the Americans?] he asked. Alice saw his eyes flick over Steve's uniform and shield with disdain.
"Certains d'entre eux," [Some of them] she replied. "Mettons-nous au travail." [Let's get to work]
Everyone had a rough plan: Alice, the Maquis, the 107th Tactical team. Now they had to find a way to make each of these plans work together.
The first problem was the airfield: that was the most dangerous part of the HYDRA-held town, housing most of their largest weapons and machines. A few hours after dawn, a fleet of SSR and USAAF airplanes were going to bombard the airfield to take it out of the equation (Alice and Otto's intelligence confirmed that there would be no prisoners working on the airfield at that time).
But then that left the town, and the captive civilian population held within it.
They discussed their plans in the gradually lightening air, grouped around a set of maps laid out on a canvas sheet in the middle of the cmap, and it quickly became clear that the Maquisards thought Steve and his team were overconfident fools. In return, Steve's team were clearly cautious of the Maquis since most of them weren't soldiers.
Alice tried to gently guide them through it, even though at times Steve's plans made her eyebrows rise.
When they came down to planning infiltration, Dugan eyed the Maquis vehicles and commented: "Shame you don't have your motorbike, Cap."
Alice hid a smile. She'd seen clips of Steve's bike - she wondered when he'd learned to drive it.
She began organising infiltration groups with Orane, the Maquis leader, and Steve looked up from his maps.
"Al, I think you should have someone wait behind in the camp with you, just in case any HYDRA members escape in this direction-"
Orane, who'd understood enough, frowned. "C'est son pays natal, comme nous tous. Pourquoi ne se battrait-il pas?" [This is his home, just like the rest of us. Why should he not fight?]
Silence fell in the camp.
Steve met Alice's eyes, and she gave him a tight smile. She'd known it would come to this: there was no way she could facilitate this meeting and not step into the fight. She'd hoped it wouldn't come to a dramatic head like this. Maybe she should have warned Steve earlier.
"I know what I'm doing," she said grimly.
Steve and his team didn't look happy, but they knew they couldn't protest further.
"Cela règle alors. Nous avons nos équipes," [Then that settles it. We have our teams] said Orane.
Gabe translated for the rest of the team, then set his hand on the still-damp package they'd brought with them. "Nous avons des cadeaux pour vous." [We have some gifts for you].
For the next few hours before the commencement of their plans, the 107th Tactical Team distributed the SSR weapons and armor they'd brought and showed the Maquisards how to use them. The sun streamed into the camp now, making the clean metal glint.
As Bucky demonstrated the properties of the rifles he'd handed out to the sharpshooters, Steve handed Alice an M3 submachine gun, a Colt handgun, and an ammunition bag to strap around her belt. "You know how to use these?"
"Yes," Alice murmured, then stretched past him to grab two pouches of grenades. Steve watched her with a furrow in his brow, and when she met his eyes again she saw him valiantly trying not to express his concern. "Steve…" she pressed her lips together. "Are you going to be okay with this?"
"I can't say I'm happy about it," he sighed. "But I know you know your limits. Just…" his eyes raked over her. "Promise not to do anything crazy."
"I never do anything crazy," she smiled, and allowed herself a fleeting touch to his arm. "I leave that to you."
He huffed a laugh, then his shoulders hunched. "Hi, by the way."
"Hi," she smiled. "We always seem to forget that part."
He jerked his head at the bustle of activity in the center of the camp. "Have you… ever done anything like this before?"
"No," she said honestly. "I've never been a soldier before." She turned over the gun in her hands, which she knew how to use but still felt unfamiliar. She cleared her throat, and when she next spoke her voice came out strained: "Got any tips?"
She couldn't bear to look into Steve's eyes. She sensed his anxiety for her rolling off him in waves; he might have been into dozens of battles by now, but this was his first where he had the woman he loved going in with him. She wondered what that did to a person. Then she realized that she was in exactly the same boat.
Steve let out a heavy breath. "It's different for everyone. I want to tell you to keep your head down and stay out of it, but I know you won't." She looked up at that, and they shared a small smile. You're one to talk, she thought. "I guess… just follow your instincts. Yours have always been better than mine," he finished.
Alice's guts twisted almost painfully. She'd been ignoring it ever since she'd come out to meet the Maquis during the night, but she'd had a steadily mounting storm of fear and anxiety swirling in her stomach as the hour of battle approached. She didn't know what to expect.
Otto didn't even know the extent of her plans. He knew she was here of course, but he'd probably assumed, like Steve, that Alice would stay out of the fight.
Part of her wanted to back out: she wasn't trained for this, this wasn't her job. But the larger part of her did not waver: I signed up for whatever it took. She couldn't pretend that she was a soldier or a born fighter, but there were people trapped and afraid in that town and she was another body to add to the rescuing forces. Just as Steve had balked at being so close to the war and being held back from fighting, Alice knew that she could not sit safe in a camp and wait for the fighting to be over.
Alice checked her watch then looked up to meet Steve's anxious, supportive gaze. "Fifteen minutes until the bombardment begins," she murmured. "We should get in position."
He nodded stiffly, glanced around, and then took a step closer. "I love you," he murmured. His eyebrows pinched together and he nodded almost unconsciously, as if holding back everything else he wanted to express. He hadn't pulled on his cowl yet, so the sun gleamed in his hair. She wanted to smooth out the furrow in his brow.
Alice took a deep breath, drawing courage from him. "I love you too."
~ I have been listening all your life and you
Are almost ready ~
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