Chapter 27

Verklempt

Holland

October 1944

Lina exhaled and watched the smoke billow towards the wooden beams of the barn. The hay pile she'd claimed was making her legs itch, but she was too lazy to move. The lethargy also had something to do with the empty beer bottle she had stashed under an old horse blanket in the corner, but no one needed to know about that.

A wet nose nudged her ear and sniffed inquisitively, its whiskers tickling her neck. She turned her head and pushed the German Shepherd away gently. "No, Bärli."

"Trigger," Tab called. "Here, boy!" The dog ignored him and gave Lina's neck a lick with its warm tongue. She chuckled and rolled over to escape, but Trigger only inched closer on his front paws, his tail wagging wildly.

Lina settled on her knees and pushed the hair out of her eyes. The dog crouched down low, ready to play, but she cleared her throat and stuck out an upward palm. "Sitz."

Trigger sat.

"Come on," Luz groaned from across the barn floor.

"Oh, braver Hund." Trigger's tail whipped back and forth, sending bits of straw flying.

"Well, he is a German Shepherd," Don said. "He understands German."

"I like dogs," Lina said to no one in particular. "Fuß!" Trigger bounded to her side and rammed his head into her thigh. She scratched the soft fuzz behind his black and brown ears and smiled at Tab. "He might be my dog now."

"You wish," Tab replied. "He knows where the food comes from, ain't that right, boy?"

The replacements were staring at her again. Lina met their eyes and waited until they looked away to reply, but Tab had already turned to speak to Winters. Luz caught her eye and gave her a shrug. She hadn't made any headway with the new guys – it wasn't that she was really trying to get to know them, but she wasn't able to merge into their conversations without them sending guarded, hostile looks in her direction. She didn't really care but it was like a rock in the bottom of her boot: annoying, a little painful, and a reminder that something was amiss.

Then again, a lot of people weren't talking to her anymore. Perhaps she shouldn't be surprised.

She took a deep drag from her cigarette and ambled towards Luz. "They look like babies."

"I swear, one of them has never shaved," Tab said with a shake of his head.

"Yeah... kids," Winters added. He dug out a dried clump of mud from the end of his rifle and it crumbled to dust in his hand.

"Got anything on this?" Tab asked, fiddling with the receiver of Luz's radio.

"Nope," Luz replied. "It's all -"

He didn't have the chance to finish his words before the barn doors flew open behind them. "We've got penetration," Liebgott shouted, hauling in an unconscious and bloody man. "Alley's hurt, we need the Doc."

Lina dropped her cigarette in Tab's coffee and jumped up to grab one of Alley's leg. "Table!" Lipton called, and she heaved the man's legs onto the tabletop that the replacements had been lounging on not a minute before.

"Alright, I got this," Roe said, coming up from behind her. "Alley, you're going to be okay." He nodded at Lina. "Help me with his shirt."

Lina grabbed the lapels of Alley's shirt and jerked, ripping the buttons from the drenched lining and splattering blood over her hands. Alley jolted from the motion and blinked rapidly, groaning as the pain began to hit him anew.

"Where did this happen?" Winters asked.

"Crossroads," Liebgott replied.

Lina wiped the blood off Alley's chest and found the first bullet wound. "One right here," she said to Roe, who shoved a bandage at her. She unfurled it with a shake of her hand and pressed it against the jagged hole in his side, and Alley yelped. "Sorry."

"If it wasn't for your loud mouth they would've never known we were there."

Lina rolled her eyes as Liebgott dived headfirst into the argument, and Roe nodded at Alley's neck. "One there as well. Get that one secure, then fix up the other. Gotta find a syrette."

"Lipton, assemble me a squad," Winters said, and as First Squad scrambled for their weapons, Winters looked down at Lina's bloody hands. "Mind staying here, holding things down?"

"No," she grunted, lifting Alley's hips to tie the bandage under his back. "Let me know if you need another translator. I will come."

"Get his boots off," Roe said. "Use the sulfa, but not too much. Let's get this done quickly."

"Shrapnel in knee," she pointed, and Liebgott moved to the other side of the table.

"Hey Alley," Roe said, looking in the man's eyes. "You're gonna be alright."

"You think he's going to make it?"

She twisted her head when she heard the German coming from Liebgott's mouth. He rarely ever spoke to her in her native tongue. His eyes were creased in worry, and she shrugged. "Stop the bleeding and then we'll see. I've already counted four shrapnel wounds."

"Fucking grenades," Liebgott swore.

"I remember the one that almost took you out in Carentan."

He scoffed. "That was more like a bazooka."

"If you're done," Roe said loudly, interrupting their chatter. "Help me lift him onto the stretcher."

"Sorry," Lina muttered. She and Liebgott made a basket under Alley's legs and walked him over to the loitering jeep.

After the taillights of the jeep had disappeared around the corner of the road, Roe turned to her and Liebgott. "Let's grab our gear," he said to Liebgott.

She watched the two of them grab their gear and run off into the night. Without thinking about it, she wiped her hands on her thighs, and then looked down with a sigh when she realized what she'd done. There went the last pair of clean pants she had.

Trigger the dog was still in the barn, pacing a whining near Tab's pack. "Come here," she said in singsong, but the dog was too distressed for an ear scratch. Lina shrugged and found her canteen.

She rubbed the blood off her hands with water and sat down on the ruined table. It had been so quiet, and then the explosion of noise and blood - she should be used to it by now. She exhaled and listened to the silence of the woods. No crickets tonight.

She hauled her rifle onto her lap. Might as well clean it while she waited for the next crises to burst through the door.

They didn't call for her until early the next morning. She had spent the night sitting on the floor with the dog, trying to shush his constant whine.

Easy had taken an entire platoon of SS soldiers, Lipton had told her, thanks to Winters, who took them by surprise when he ran over the dyke. Now they were swamped with Krauts who had no idea who they were or what was going on, and those with officers' insignia on their coats were claiming they had stolen them off dead Germans in desperation.

"It's a mess," Lipton had said, wiping the dirt off his face. "See if there are any higher ups that we missed or are hiding in the crowd."

Lina ambled past the prisoners, scanning them from the points of their lapels to the jackboots on their feet. Definitely SS. They looked underfed and were plastered with grime, their faces blank masks of disappointment and disbelief. One of them spat at her feet and she gave him a little grin in return. Dying mules always kicked the hardest.

Before she could pass by end of the line, one of the men grabbed her arm.

She had her pistol drawn in a matter of seconds. She leveled it at the chest of the prisoner, and he snatched his hand away as if he'd been scalded. Lina took a step back, her gun trained over his heart. Her legs locked in place when she glanced up at his face.

He was so skinny. His cheekbones were more pronounced than she remembered, and they had always been sharp regardless of his diet. Those bright blue eyes which had always been creased in mirth – usually at the expense of others – now had a downturned slant, a hangdog expression. A blood vessel had burst in his left eye, staining the white a cloudy pink. His blonde hair was grey with dirt, the straggled ends peeking out from under his helmet. He was staring at her in shock, in sorrow.

She lowered the gun.

"Hey!" Liebgott shouted, just now aware of the little scene unfolding behind him, but Lina couldn't look away.

"Wie get's?" she asked.

Dieter Werner threw his arms around her. His whole body began to shake as he grabbed at the cloth of her jacket. "Help me," he cried, his voice cracking. "Please."

She pried her face away from the front of his bloodstained coat. All movement around them had stopped. "Dieter, let go." She heard boots approaching from her left. "Stop this."

He was yanked away from her, and he stumbled down onto the gravel road. Liebgott stepped in front of her and pointed his rifle at Dieter's chest. "Get back in line," he said. "Now."

Dieter defiantly looked down the barrel of the rifle and then up at Lina's face. "Do as he says," she said quietly. "Don't be difficult." He pushed himself off the ground on his palms and rose to his feet, swaying slightly. He hadn't stopped staring at her, hadn't looked away from her once.

Liebgott pressed the tip of his bayonet into Dieter's stomach. "Move."

Dieter took his place in the line of prisoners and raised his hands over his head. He turned to face the front of the line, but his eyes flickered back to her. Liebgott gave her a piercing look before poking the prisoners forward, leaving her standing in the road by herself.

She stared at them as they walked away. Physically she was there, in the crossroads, but in her mind...

The popping of champagne bottles.

The drunken swaying of the basement dance floor.

A blonde boy jumping out of an oak tree, scaring her to death, laughing at her screech.

Phillipe's smile, his dark hair shining in the streetlights as they stumbled home.

She knew the rest of the company was staring at her, but she couldn't walk away yet. If she blinked, the day would resume, the men would unfreeze, and everyone would have questions. She wanted to stay in her memories for just a moment longer.

But she couldn't control time.

A hand patted her shoulder gingerly. "Hey."

She blinked. Lew's face came into vision. There was a glint of suspicion in his eye. "Are you alright?"

She exhaled. "I'm fine."

He pulled her to the side of the road. She could already hear the whispers. "You sure?" he said, his voice low.

She breathed out a short laugh. "It does not matter."

He walked her over towards Skip and Don, who were pretending not to eavesdrop. "Old friend?" Perconte asked from his perch on the dyke. His tone was sharp, and she met his sharp gaze.

"Of course," she said, not thinking. His eyes widened slightly.

Lew handed her his canteen and pushed her gently down on the grass. "Drink that, and just sit there for a minute," he commanded. "I've got to go find Dick, but stay put for a second, okay?"

She nodded. The cold air had chilled the sweat on the nape of her neck, and she shivered. The water in the canteen tasted like gin – actually, it was pure gin. She grimaced and swallowed a gulp.

Her hands shook as the wind blew around her.

"We want you to talk to him."

Colonel Sink walked with them to company headquarters. Correction: Winters, Lewis and Colonel Sink were escorting her to company headquarters. A choice to go there had never been presented to her.

"I've got Liebgott and Webster working on the others, but your pal let it slip that he was an intelligence officer."

"He is, sir," she replied. Her forehead felt hot to the touch. "We worked together, before."

That stopped Sink in his tracks. "Really now," he mused. "How fortuitous. What's his name?"

"Dieter Werner," she replied.

Sink raised an eyebrow. "Well then, at least we know that's true. Some of the bullcrap he's been spouting, though..." He trailed off. "We think you can clarify some of his answers."

Lewis placed a hand on the small of her back. She flinched and stood up straight. "Whatever I can do to help, sir."

"Good," Sink said. "We'll get you some paper and a pencil."

"I write better in German," she replied. "But I can translate it to English after we speak."

"Do whatever works best for you," Sink said. He stopped at the door of the barn and met her eye. "I mean that, now. These boys might have some pertinent information that could save us a lot of time and grief."

"We'll be nearby," Lewis said, motioning towards Winters. "If you need anything."

She nodded slowly and stepped away from them towards the opening of the barn. The captured soldiers had been separated into groups of three, except for Dieter, who sat on the far side of the room on top of the table where Roe had worked on Alley the previous evening. His hands were bleeding, and he wiped the blood on the one swath of his pants that wasn't caked with dirt.

She approached him slowly. He had changed, lost the baby fat in his face, but so had she. They were both sharper, leaner, with a feral energy radiating from their hardened bodies. For a moment, she worried about what she looked like – she hadn't seen her reflection in weeks, and she was sure that her dark hair was growing at her roots, edging out the fake blonde dye.

She hopped up onto the table beside him, taking him by surprise. Lina dug around in her pockets before pulling out a pack of Lucky Strikes and offering one to him.

"You smoke now?"

She shrugged. "Picked them up one day and haven't been able to put them down."

Winters and Lewis took up a position on the wall across from them, chatting to each other in low voices. Dieter nodded towards the two men. "Your handlers?"

"Honestly?" she sighed. "Yes." She shook the pack of cigarettes at him again, and he plucked one from the box. She opened her lighter and he leaned into the flame.

"They want you to talk with me," he said after taking a puff.

"How good is your English?"

"I understand it," he replied. "But still can't speak it well."

"Lina," Lew called. He held up a notepad and a pencil, and she slid off the table and met him halfway. He nodded over her shoulder towards Dieter. "Let us know if you need anything."

She gave him a small smile and a nod before turning back to Dieter. He was still looking at her with that peculiar mix of shock, fervor, and sadness. "Have you spilled all your secrets, then?"

She huffed as she climbed back on the table. "Not all of them."

"You were always an opportunist," he said bitterly. "I shouldn't be surprised."

"Fuck you," she replied. "You always wanted what I had."

"Fuck you, too," he snapped. "Race traitor."

She let him smoke his cigarette in silence for a few seconds before reaching out and flicking him in the forehead with her pointer finger. "Ow."

"Time to talk," she said, picking up the notebook and pencil.

He rubbed the cherry of the cigarette on the tabletop before tossing it to the ground. She crossed her legs, and he rested his hand on her knee and gave it a squeeze. "How are you alive?"

She pushed his hand off her leg with the end of the pencil. "How many men were in your company?"

The stars were brighter tonight than they had been in a long time. Or maybe there wasn't as much smoke clouding the air. Nevertheless, the difference wasn't lost on her.

She stood outside the barn and smoked with her arms crossed against the cool breeze. Lina had spent the better part of five hours interrogating Dieter, if chain-smoking cigarettes and chatting about everything and nothing constituted an interrogation. Her eyes hurt from the fumes and her hand had cramped from gripping the pencil too tight, but she had handed over a full notebook to Lewis with the promise to begin work on a translation as soon as possible.

Dirty pair of heels. Dieter finding a kitten on the street and buttoning it inside his jacket. Biergarten Saturdays with peanuts and lagers.

She ground her palms into her eyes. The fucking flashes of memories – they hadn't stopped since he had started talking.

When she had left everyone behind – when she and Phillippe had chosen to sail away – she had put all those people into a little box in her mind and shoved it into a dark corner. They belonged in a time far gone. She never expected them to crawl out of their confines and cross borderlines, or waltz past her in her new life.

If you could even call what she was living a life.

She took another drag off her cigarette.

Once, years and years ago, Phillippe had told her that Dieter had told him that he loved her, and Phillippe had punched him in the jaw. He felt the need to defend his sister even though Phillippe knew Dieter didn't have a snowball's chance in hell with her. Lina was too far gone in the extracurriculars of the Berlin underworld to wear a neat little dress and hold hands in the cinema with an aspiring SS lieutenant. When Phillippe had started to bring Dieter with them to the cabaret, she had rolled her eyes and danced far away from them for the entire evening. But now she wondered if it had been an attempt at connection. Maybe he was willing to venture into her world just to see if she would go with him into his future.

Something twisted in her chest. Future.

The man she had known had been shattered, just as she had. But he was still loyal – how could he still believe the Reich's bullshit? But he did. He had told her so.

"When the Allies retreat," he said, waving his cigarette. "I'll go back to Berlin, take up the office position again."

At first, she thought he had a mild concussion. But he harped on and on about returning to his desk job and working for the government. She had stayed silent and let him weave an extravagant image of what post-war life would become for him when he returned a hero. Psychosis?, she had written in the margin of the paper.

She threw her cigarette on the ground. Lewis had told her to come find him after she had a break, and she assumed that he was in the abandoned carriage house the company had repurposed into a mess hall. Goosebumps rose on the back of her neck; she whipped around and stared into the field behind her. There was no one in sight, but that didn't mean that no one was there. She pushed away from the barn wall and walked quickly towards the road that led to the mess building.

There was hardly anyone around, but of course Cobb and his fellow replacement goons were perched on the end table by the door. He sneered at her and bowed his head to whisper to his pal, and they both sent her caustic looks. She returned his hard glare and made a beeline for Lewis and Welsh at the back of the room.

Harry smirked as she walked up. "Guten Nacht," he said.

She shook her head. "You butchered that."

"When in Berlin," he said. "Oh, wait."

"Enough, Harry," Lewis said, holding out his hand. "She's exhausted."

She sat down and pointed at Lewis' canteen. "Is that still full of gin?"

He pushed it towards her. "Have at it."

She picked it up took a slow sip. "Thanks."

Harry glanced at his watch. "About time for my letter to Kitty," he announced, rising to his feet. He patted her on the shoulder. "Don't drink too much of that."

Lewis propped his head on his hand and watched Harry leave. "You-"

"If you ask me if I am okay one more time," she said quietly. "I will stab you."

"Noted," he replied. "Sink is planning on shipping out the captured soldiers tomorrow morning."

She pressed the canteen to her forehead. "Mmm."

"He'll want your conversation translated and typed up as soon as possible," he continued. "You two certainly had a lot to chat about."

"Lewis."

"Yeah?"

She gave him a sidelong look. "You know Dieter can't leave."

He blinked. She glanced around them – Cobb and his friends had vacated the building. The only person left was a D Company man having a smoke outside, checking his watch.

"What do you mean," Nix said dryly.

She looked into his eyes. "He knows me."

"Obviously."

"Lewis," she said slowly. "He knows me."

He took the canteen away from her. "You think he's going to talk."

"You heard him back there," she said. "He thinks he is going back home. He wants to rejoin the Reich's intelligence service."

"Which is never going to happen."

She shook her head. "What do you think he's going to do when he enters a prison camp full of captured German intelligence officers?"

"They could smuggle out info," he granted. "But the long arm of the Reich isn't long enough to reach you in Holland."

"It strangled Ella in Aldbourne."

That was enough to erase the serene expression on his face. "That was different."

"How?"

He played with the cap on the canteen, avoiding her eyes.

"What I'm asking," she said slowly. "Is if you'll help me."

"No," he said immediately.

She raised her hands. "You did not hear what-"

"I don't have to hear it," he said, anger blooming across his face. "I know what you want to do."

She sighed and set the canteen on the tabletop and looked him in the eye. "Why does it bother you so much? The killing?"

He opened his mouth, paused, and then shook his head. "Why doesn't it bother you?" he retorted.

"What would it take," she said softly. "For you to help me?"

Lew stared at the ground and clenched his jaw. "You don't have anything that I want."

She stared at her boots. "I can do it myself. I could do it alone. I would have to lure him out of the barn somehow, but the guards would never let me take him out of their sight." She picked at the dirt beneath her thumbnail. "Woods nearby, knife to the throat, easy enough - but he would be visible. Or... an accident. No." She shook her head. "That is too simple. Maybe if he was running, and if he tried to escape. A shot to the back. It would require no explanation."

"That still doesn't get rid of the guards," Lew said quietly. He was staring down at her with a resigned look on his face. "If they transported the prisoners elsewhere, it would be easy to snatch him out of the line."

She ran her tongue over her teeth. "I could steal a pack, give it to him."

"Would he trust you enough to follow you to the woods?" Lew said.

"I can make him trust me," she said. "He used to be in love with me, you know."

"That seems to be a common theme around here," Lew said dryly. "Is protecting yourself worth betraying an old friend?"

"He was never my friend," she said firmly. "And I am not only doing this for myself."

"Ron wouldn't do the same for you," Lew said dryly. "Not anymore, at least."

Lina kicked the dirt under her heel. "Selflessness," she said carefully. "Is that how you say it?"

"Yeah," Lew sighed, clapping her on the shoulder. "Something like that."

Ron hadn't been there to see it, but thanks to the gossip that had buzzed through the ranks all day long, he could paint a picture of the scene in his head: a blonde German, his hands on Lina's back, her shocked face. The man's hand sliding up her leg as they shared a cigarette, her smile, their heads together as they tittered back in forth in the barn, his grin growing wider as she rolled her eyes. Soft laughter, softer voices, a familiarity that spoke of years spent together, of secrets shared, knowing each other's thoughts, bodies.

He had been jealous before, back when he thought Nixon posed a threat. But this, this was overwhelming, this was something foreign. A repulsion, a fury, a desire to slit the handsy German's throat and back Lina into a corner, make her tell him the truth, to make himself face the reality that at the end of the day, she was exactly what she had declared herself to be: a Nazi, one that couldn't be trusted, one that had stoked his obsession on purpose. One that apparently still had liaisons, men other than Ron, who she cared for deeply. And he needed to know if she cared for them more than him. He needed her to confirm that it had all been a deceit on her part, because if she did, then he could kill the part of him that still longed to find her in the dark and tuck her short hair behind her ear and feel her breath on his lips.

It had felt good to be the rejector rather than the rejected when he had turned away from her in the barn, it had felt good to see her feel as he had. But it rankled that she could fall into the arms of someone else as if nothing had happened, as if he hadn't mattered to her. And that thought led to another: maybe it was an old German friend today, but tomorrow, who would be the next man? God forbid that the mystery man was in the Airborne, in Easy Company, in his platoon. He might not be able to kill the blonde German, but if Lina began to look at other men around him the way she had looked at him, then accidents might happen on purpose.

Ron had gone for a walk to clear his head and only stopped when he realized he was outside of the barn where the German prisoners were being held. This was a mistake - he didn't need to be anywhere near the Krauts, not in his current mood, but it was suspiciously quiet and dark inside the building as if no one was on guard duty. He straightened his shoulders and walked towards the front of the barn but stopped short at the corner of the building.

Lina was standing in the field in front of the barn with the German, her palm on his cheek, their heads close together. Too close.

The man was shaking his head, one hand resting on her shoulder, the other wrapped around her waist. An army pack was on his back, and he had smeared his face with grease to avoid detection in the dark. Lina was speaking to him softly, urgently, pushing him away now with both hands. The man stepped back and stared down at his boots before he leaned forward, kissed her on the forehead and turned towards the woods at the edge of the field. He didn't look back as he jogged away.

Lina watched him run, her hands fisted at her sides. After a few more seconds of stillness, she wiped the remnant of his kiss from her face and walked towards a truck parked under the branches of a scorched oak tree. She crouched down and reached under the body of the vehicle, drawing out a rifle from its hiding place in the shadows.

She returned to the dirt clearing and took a knee, adjusted the rifle on her shoulder and peered into the scope. It took her less than a minute to find the fleeing German in the dark, and the crack of the rifle round echoed across the empty pastureland. She lowered the rifle slowly and slung it over her shoulder before making her way towards her prey.

Out in the woods, someone began to yell, a dog barked a warning, and soon there were a handful of men running from all four corners towards the barn, alerted by the crack of the lone round.

Ron moved into the melee, nodding to a few confused men from Dog who had arrived on the scene. "What's going on, sir?"

"Don't know," Ron said casually. "Heard the shot, came to see what all the trouble was about."

A twig snapped in the woods behind him, and the group aimed their weapons at the sound. "Flash," said a disgruntled voice, and Nixon emerged from the tree line, a lone leaf tangled in his unkempt hair.

"Thunder," Ron replied, lowering his pistol. "We heard live fire."

Nixon shook his head and plucked the leaf from his hair. "One of the Krauts tried to make a run for it," he said. "They were moved to HQ earlier this evening, and he slipped away and got ahold of a pack. A man on duty was able to take him down before he crossed the dyke."

A man on duty. Ron squinted at Nixon through the darkness, and Nixon returned his look with slightly narrowed eyes. "Had to be a good shot at this time of night."

"Yeah, it was a real stroke of luck," Nixon replied, his tone flippant. "You men can go back to your positions. Hopefully there'll be no more action tonight."

Ron stayed put as the others filtered past him, returning to their original posts. Nixon grabbed his pack of cigarettes from his pants pocket and flipped open his lighter, not bothering to offer one to Ron. Nixon inhaled slowly, regarding him with an unreadable expression. "Something else you wanted?"

"Who was he?"

Nixon scoffed. "Ask her yourself."

"An old friend." Lina's voice came quietly on the breeze that drifted over his shoulder. He turned and found her standing a few feet behind him, twirling a cigarette of her own between her pointer finger and thumb. She ignored Ron's pointed stare and walked past him towards Nixon, who held out his lighter for her. She raised the flame to her face - the light shone on a splatter of fresh blood above her eyebrow.

"Thank you," Lina said quietly, knocking her shoulder into Nixon's arm.

"No more favors," he replied.

She shifted her gaze towards Ron. He fought the urge to shudder - a chill had settled on his spine. It was just the night air, he told himself. Not her emotionless eyes, not the way she had licked her thumb to wipe a spot of blood off her knuckles. "I assume you saw everything," she said.

He nodded once.

She sighed and waved a hand dismissively. "Tell whoever you want," she said, suddenly exhausted. "I'm sure you would love to see me court marshalled."

Nixon glanced at Ron's clenched jaw before he patted Lina on the shoulder. "Play nice," he said sourly and walked towards the barn, leaving them in the dim moonlight.

He bit down on his tongue. I'm not going to tell anyone. But let her second-guess his intentions. She didn't need to know that he'd never do anything that would separate her from Easy.

She took his silence as a rebuke, nonetheless. She squared her shoulders and took a step closer to where he stood. Her eyes were distant, distracted, but her face was somber. She seemed to be waiting on him to say something, and when he didn't, she gave a soft sigh and faced away from him to stare out into the field.

"You two seem close."

The side of her mouth quirked up into a small grin. "You would be jealous of a dead man," she said smoothly, and the hair on the back of his neck prickled. Look at me, he wanted to say. Look me in the eye and say that.

"He kissed you."

She huffed a laugh. "Of course, that is what bothered you the most." She took a drag from her cigarette and cocked her head. "You should be careful. I might think that you still care."

He hated these little games, had hated them when he dated girls in high school and hated them now. "Don't play with me."

Oh, that got her attention. She threw her cigarette into the dirt, marched forward until her fingernail stabbed him in the rib. "Fine, then you stop this game as well," she said, her voice shaking, her hands shaking, too. "I killed that man to protect everyone here, including you, even after you made me cry." She dropped her hand, anger blooming over her face. "I am not going to allow anyone else to die because of me, okay? I told you that. I told you."

God, his blood was boiling now. He grabbed her shoulders and shook her once. "Why won't you let anyone help you?" he asked, his control slipping. "Why do you have to do it all by yourself?"

She blinked. "I asked Lew to help me."

"Goddammit," he spat, letting her go and walking towards the field. It was the same argument, over and over again - it would always be the same argument with her.

She was stomping after him. "Stop pushing me away!"

He turned quickly, stopping her misstep. "Why don't you want me to help you?"

She grabbed on to the sleeve of his jacket and yanked it, stabilizing herself in the muddy field. "I will not allow you to get hurt."

"Lina," he said. He was overcome with anger, but still, he loved saying her name. "We are at war. People are dying all around us, all the time."

She pushed him away and balled her fists, crouched down in the grass and punched the loamy soil. "Ach," she spat. "I know that, du verdammter Idiot." She collapsed on her backside, her chest heaving as she panted for air. "But I have to try to control it, I have to keep it away from you, and Lewis." She exhaled shakily. "I will not have what happened to Ella happen to anyone else. Not while I am still alive."

Oh, she was going to stay alive. That much was certain.

"I would kill for you," he said quietly. "If you asked me, I'd do it." She looked up as Ron sank down to the dirt on his knees. "I would have taken that Kraut and shot him in the head to spare you from doing it yourself."

"I know," she mumbled.

"I really wanted to," he said. "After I saw that kiss."

She rubbed her eyes. "He used to love me," she said quietly. "Apparently."

He didn't want to ask. He had to ask. "And did you feel anything for him?"

She plucked a blade of grass from the ground and tore it in half. "Pity."

Ron snorted. He felt himself falling back into the same pattern of banter that they'd had before, despite his better judgement. "Any other Nazi romances I should know about?"

She glared at him from under her lashes.

"I want you to tell me what you're thinking," he said quietly. "You have to let me in to what's going on in your head. I can't read your mind."

She chewed her bottom lip and looked down at the toes of her boots. "You said you didn't want me."

He grimaced. "I was angry."

She let that rest between them for a moment, and then shook her head. "It was cruel."

He leaned back and sat on the grass. His pants were getting wet, but he didn't care. "What you did in Paris was pretty cruel as well."

"I apologized," she said, the fury seeping back into her eyes. "And you made me feel like I was nothing to you."

He nodded silently to himself for a moment, pondering her words. He ached for a distraction, something to occupy his hands so he wouldn't be tempted to grab her and never let her go. "May I have a cigarette?"

She scooped up a clod of dirt and threw it into his chest, jumping to her feet. "No, you cannot have a cigarette, you horse's ass! If you think you are too good to apologize to me, then you can go shove -"

"Karolina," he said gently. She stood over him, vibrating with rage. "I'm sorry. If I didn't have you, I don't... well. None of this would be worth anything to me. My life is already bleak." He laughed bitterly. "But when you were gone, it was just... dark."

She went rigid. "I don't believe you," she whispered.

"Why not?"

She choked out a laugh. "Because you go back and forth. One day you hate me, today you must have me. You do not talk to me, then you offer to kill someone for me." She ran her hands through her scraggly blonde hair and tugged the roots. "Make up your mind."

"Would it help if I apologized?"

She shrugged.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I tend to be upset when I don't know where you are, or if I think you might be hurt. I want you within arm's reach every day. It's not possible, but it's what I want."

She shook her head. "It does not work like that."

"I know," he said. "But if I was in command, I'd have you by my side at all times."

"None of us are in control," she said sadly.

He stood up as she wiped the blood off her eyebrow. "Will you let me help you?" he said. "Not restrain you, not order you around. Just tell me what's happening in there." He tapped her forehead, and then wiped away the remnant of the other man's blood from her skin with the pad of his thumb.

She sighed deeply, the nodded once. "Yes," she said. "But I still don't believe you about the other thing."

He pursed his lips. "The fact that I need you?" He wiped his palms on his pants. "If I didn't, I would have killed you by now."

She tilted her head. "That I can believe."

He rested his hands on her hips, pressing down until he had a solid hold on her. "Don't run away again."

She hummed to herself and reached out hand, brushing his neck as she pinched the fabric of his collar. "I have been told that running away is not allowed in the Army."

He grinned. "It's called 'desertion'. Punishable by law, actually."

"Oh no," she mumbled. She tilted her head forward to rest on his shoulder, and he wrapped his arms around her fully. "Not the law."

He pressed his nose into her hair and inhaled deeply. "You smell warm."

"You smell like dirt," she replied, and the breath of her laughter tickled his ear.

Lina found Lew huddled under an abandoned cowshed in a nearby pasture. She crouched down beside his blanket-covered legs and shook his knee, startling him awake.

"What do you want?" he grumbled.

"Can I stay here?"

He sighed, long and low, and then threw the blanket back from his shoulders and held it open for her. "Come here."

She dropped her pack and rifle against the shed's wall and scooted under his blanket. She touched the edge of the paper in her pocket and patted his hand. "Want to see my brother?"

He lifted his head. "What?"

She slid the photo into her palm and held it above them until it was visible in the moonlight. Two men stood together, one blonde and one brunette, both in SS uniforms. She tapped on the man to the right. "That's Phillippe."

Lew took the picture from her hand and sat up to get a better look. His grumpy expression softened. "Where did you get this?"

"Took it from Dieter when I went through his things," she said softly. "He had it in his coat pocket." She watched Lew's eyes flicker over her brother's face. "They were best friends."

He lowered the photo slowly and stared at her. "Do you think about him often?"

"Every day."

Lew placed the picture back in her hand and settled against her on the ground, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. She reached up and squeezed his wrist.

"It was not supposed to be like this," she said. "He just -" She swallowed down the tightness in her throat. "He was just gone, so fast."

"You can cry," Lewis said quietly. "I won't tell."

"I'm tired of crying," she said. "Sometimes, I just cannot understand how... how all of this happened to me."

Lew was silent behind her, giving her all the time she needed. "I don't think I was meant to have a happy life."

"Hey, none of that," he said quietly. "No pity parties allowed in my cow shed."

She sniffled and laughed. "Your cow shed."

"Did you two make up?"

She nodded silently.

"Good," Lew replied. "You two are scary when you're getting along, but you're terrifying when you fight. The rest of us have to take cover."

"He wanted me to stay with him."

"Why didn't you?" Lew asked.

She chewed on her answer. "It's hard to believe all the things he says."

Lew had no trouble believing that if it came down to it, Ron would set the camp and everyone in it on fire before he let them harm a hair on her head.

"But I want to believe," she said. The hopefulness in her voice made Lew's chest ache.

"I think he loves you," Lew said quietly.

Lina breathed out a laugh. "Impossible."