Disclaimers: all the usual apply.

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Right, so for this chapter I'm going to put my little note at the start. I can't speak French or German to save my life, so I briefly considered writing the applicable dialogue in either language, but then very quickly decided against it. I really didn't want to butcher anyone's language! So, for most of the following 2 chapters you can assume the dialogue is in French or German unless stated otherwise.

Hope you all had a great week and wonderful weekend ahead. Thank you for your continued support and for coming back to the story even though all our lives are busy. Chat soon.

Chapter 13

Arlene POV

France, April 1944

She threw her head back laughing, her dark curls coming undone from the loose hold they were in to tumble down her back. Her laughter, light and girlish, intermingled with the young officer's deep chuckle.

Slowly lifting her head she met her companion's grey eyes, stifling the shudder that ran along her spine, instead curling her lips into an innocent smile.

A jeep carrying two soldiers pulled up behind him, the wheels skidding to a halt on the dirt road. One of the men jumped out, his long limbs elegantly carrying him to them.

"Adrian," the new arrival said as he slapped his friend on the shoulder, "we need to go."

Adrian briefly glanced over his shoulder, pale eyes skipping from the other officer to the jeep and then back to her. "What's the hurry Lutz? It's a beautiful day in beautiful France, what can be so important, huh?"

"We're needed at Head Quarters. They captured a resistance member last night and apparently it didn't take much to break him. The boys didn't even get a chance to have some fun," Lutz casually remarked.

She grimaced as Adrian shot his friend a warning glare. "Really, in front of Genevieve? God man, were you raised by barbarians?"

To his credit Lutz tried to look ashamed, but the ever present cocky grin on his square jawed face gave him away. "My apologies."

She nodded, her lips pursed and hands firmly clasped together in her lap. It was easy to look uncomfortable when you were truly disgusted by the company you were forced to keep.

At face value both men were attractive, with broad shoulders and sharp jaws. Both had blond hair, but Adrian's was nearly white while Lutz's was more golden. Adrian's eyes were grey and cold and Lutz' was a deep blue, almost black.

Two perfect Nazi soldiers, she thought darkly.

"So, since I'm being called away my dear, I need to know your answer?" Adrian asked as he stood, holding out a hand to her.

She took it, delicately curling her fingers around his palm as he pulled her up and towards him. Looking up at him through her lashes she asked, "What was the question again?"

He smiled indulgently. "Will you accompany me to the ball tomorrow evening?"

Before she could reply Lutz interjected. "And will your cousin Sophie join me? I've asked her three times and every time she smiles and tells me to ask again. I swear at this rate I'm going to have to kidnap her to get an answer."

She blushed and dropped her gaze to the ground, trying her best to look embarrassed. "I think she's been avoiding you because she doesn't have anything to wear to a ball. And neither do I."

Adrian sighed, curling a finger under her chin and lifting her eyes to meet his. "We can help with that. We'll send some men to drop of dresses we acquired in Paris."

She smiled, green eyes twinkling as she looked adoringly up at the young man.

"Is that a yes for both of you?" he asked.

"Yes. For both of us."

The jeep's engine revved to life, it really was time for them to go.

"We'll send someone to pick you two up tomorrow evening. We have to be at the Manor House before the commander's guest start to arrive."

Turning her attention to Lutz she said, "Sophie will be ecstatic."

He gave her a lopsided smile. "Good, she's the life of the party when she's in a good mood."

Adrian lifted the hand he was still holding to his lips, placing a soft kiss on the top of it before nodding and walking away.

She watched them leave, staring adoringly after them until they were out of sight. With a heavy sigh she picked up the empty basket she'd been carrying when Adrian had intercepted her. She'd told him her Uncle, the local baker, had asked her to take bread to the German company stationed nearby and she'd been on her way back when he'd accidently run into her.

Half of that was true. Except her Uncle was in-fact the local resistance leader and she knew he was looking for her so she made sure she was alone when he found her.

Upon entering the town it didn't take her long to get to the bakery, after spending nearly four months in the place she knew it like the back of her hand. The town was beautiful, a quintessentially French place that had been spared most of the trauma of a war that had torn so many other places to the ground. She suspected the fact that the local German commander had decided to take up residence in the majestic Manor House situated on an estate just a few miles away from the town had helped. He didn't want his view marred by a charred mess.

The bell attached to the door chimed as she entered the small bakery, the fragrance of bread and cigarette smoke immediately enveloping her.

The man that played the role of their Uncle was behind the counter, his slender, tall frame dwarfing the skinny old woman standing on the other side of the counter.

"Genevieve, did our German guests get their bread?" her Uncle asked in his nasally voice.

The old lady glanced over her shoulder, shooting her a dirty look.

"Yes Uncle. Is Sophie upstairs?" she asked, placing the basket down on the wooden countertop.

He nodded and she smiled politely.

Francois, or her Uncle depending on who you asked, wasn't a very talkative man, but he was very intelligent and ruthless in his goal to expel the German army from France. Both his sons had been killed during the initial invasion. His wife and daughter had fled to England days before the invasion had begun, a precaution none had thought necessary. He hadn't seen them since and only had limited contact.

He was in-charge of the local movement and had been tasked with housing the two of them and helping them to gather and pass on vital intelligence.

Just as she reached the bottom of the stairs which led to her room she paused. "Uncle, there was one thing. The soldiers found one loaf they didn't like, burned they said, and threw it to the ground. There was some excitement about it, so we'll need to see what comes of it."

He turned his dull brown eyes onto her, his razor sharp jaw tense and the muscle in his neck straining against his skin.

The previous evening a young girl had come by in the dead of night with a message that her father had been taken away by the Germans. He'd been a member of the resistance. Not a high-ranking member but a member none the less. It was only a matter of time until the Germans broke him, and now all they could do was wait and see what he'd told them.

The tall man grunted and turned back to his customer and she ascended the stairs.

Jessica POV

She heard the floorboards creak and the bookcase which hid her complained against the person who was moving it aside. She unclipped her side-arm's safety, muscles tense as she held her breath.

The room she shared with Arlene was on the third floor of the bakery. It was small, made even more so by the space hidden behind the oversized bookcase. After stuffing a small table and single chair into the cavity there was hardly any space left for one of them, let alone two, and yet they often spent hours inside the cramped space.

With a hard shove the bookcase finally relented and sunlight streamed in, nearly blinding her after hours spent working by candle light.

"It's me, don't shoot," Arlene groaned as she finished pushing the bookcase aside.

She dropped her arm and put the safety back in place.

Arlene leaned against the side of the bookcase, arms casually folded across her chest. "How'd it go today?"

She leaned back in the chair and lit the cigarette she'd discarded when the bookcase had started to move. "Let's see," she paused as she took a drag, "I was able to get the intelligence out along with a short message to Clark." She exhaled and leaned forward, handing the cigarette over to Arlene. "Our orders for the ball are still unchanged and everything is set up for that."

Arlene nodded, cigarette resting between her lips. "So good," he friend replied in a cloud of smoke.

"Yours?"

Arlene handed her back the cigarette, a grimace on her face. "Went to plan. Ran into Adrian, and your friend Lutz."

She pulled a face causing Arlene to chuckle as she held out her hand for the cigarette

Leaning back in the uncomfortable chair she asked, "When will they drop off the dresses?"

Arlene shrugged. "Whenever it suits them. Probably tonight or tomorrow morning. You know we were lucky they had. It would have raised a few eyebrows if two girls that had lost their homes had ball gowns lying around."

"Well, Lutz couldn't stop bragging about the loot he'd picked up in Paris. God knows why they took dresses with them though."

Arlene disappeared from view for a second, walking to the window to put the cigarette out in the ashtray they kept there. "Probably expensive dresses. Figured they'd ship it back home when they got the chance or use it to win favour with some local girls," she heard her friend reply.

"Oh, aren't we the lucky winners," she remarked dryly.

She heard Arlene snort before her friend appeared back in the opening. "What did Clark say?"

She scratched around on the table until she found the scrap of paper she was looking for. She handed it to Arlene, waiting for her to read the short message.

Arlene pursed her lips and nodded, neatly folding the paper. "Seems things are going well. They should be moving out of Aldbourne soon, can't be long now."

"M'hm," she replied. Clark's message had been understandably short, nothing more than an assurance that they were all fine and a request for more information from her.

Arlene's eyes ran over the small space, a deep frown etching a line down the middle of her forehead.

"The girl's father is dead?"

Arlene shrugged, her eyes still wandering over the space.

"Do we know what he told them?"

Her friend shook her head. "Apparently they broke him quickly, I assume he's dead. We don't know what he told them, but he didn't know about us and the baker had been feeding him faulty intelligence for weeks. Just in case."

"All part of our grand plan, huh?"

"Yeah," Arlene replied, her voice showing the strain the last few months had placed on both of them.

She closed her eyes, pushing her palms onto her shut lids. In the last four months their days had fluctuated between tedium and exhilaration so wildly they were often left drained. Of course having to constantly look over your shoulder didn't help. They never slept at the same time, one of them always standing watch, they hid sidearm and knives underneath their clothing despite the risk of it being found during a random search. She could no longer speak English without a French accent. Arlene was the only one she didn't speak French to and then only when they were alone in their room. Even her German was starting to sound off to her ear, and she often worried her accent had faltered.

"Everything's ready for tomorrow night?" Arlene asked.

She dropped her hands from her face, blinking a few times to ease the sting behind her tired eyes. "As ready as it can be. The documents are set up and our aliases are ready for our next posting."

"And our Uncle?"

"He knows what to do if they come asking questions. His nieces died in a tragic accident after a night at a ball where they had too much to drink and not enough to eat. It happens. Besides, there'll be bodies."

Arlene pushed herself away from the door and stood to one side. "Get some sleep, I'll take the next shift."

She was too tired to argue, but the distance to the bed seemed vast so she seriously considered just staying where she was.

"Any day now," Arlene said, her foot tapping out an impatient rhythm against the floorboard.

Hauling herself up she replied, "Yes, ma'am."

Joe POV

Aldbourne

"How we doing today fellas?" Bill asked Hunt and Parker as they joined their table in the mess hall.

The table fell into a hush, everyone watching the two men as they waited for their reply. They all knew what Bill was really asking. Any news on Arlene and Jessica?

It had become somewhat of a routine, whenever the men from Arlene's unit joined them, to ask them if they'd heard from the two women. None of them really believed they were safely tucked away on British soil.

The two men exchanged a loaded glance before Hunt replied, "They're fine. Enjoying the warmer weather. So far they'll still be joining us for the jump into Europe."

"Here," Malarkey said, handing the two men a smoke before starting back up the conversation he'd been busy with before their arrival.

He watched Bill study the two men, his thick jaw working back and forth. "You know, I got a 48-hour pass this weekend. Was thinking of visiting them. Some of your officers visited them a week ago, can you get me the address?"

Parker's fork faltered mid-air as he looked up to find Bill staring him down.

"Yeah, I got a pass to. I'd go with Bill," Luz chipped in.

Parker looked away from Bill to Luz and he could see Hunt's shoulders tense up even though he kept eating in silence.

"Captain Clark said they were moved a few days ago to an undisclosed location. None of us can see them until the drop," Parker finally replied, his eyes moving from Luz to Bill, daring them to question his story.

Bill took a last drag of the cigarette he'd been nursing. "You could get a message to them? Just want to make sure they know we're thinking of them."

"Sure," Hunt replied through a mouthful of food.

"Joe," Bill said, pulling him into a conversation he was happy to sit and listen in on, "you wanna send a message to Arlene?"

He scowled at the Philadelphian. He always made sure to be within earshot of any conversation where Arlene was concerned, but he rarely contributed to one. On the one hand he didn't feel he had the right to say anything, not after what he'd done, and on the other he didn't trust himself to keep his emotions in check when it came to her. He couldn't ignore the gnawing feeling in his stomach, the dark cloud in the back of his mind that the day she'd walked out of the mess hall was the last time he'd see her.

Before he could form a coherent reply Hunt said, "No, he doesn't have anything to say to her. Right Liebgott?"

He smirked to hide the embarrassment. "Yeah, right."

He knew Hunt and Parker, along with the other sergeants from Arlene's unit, tolerated him but none of them would be torn up to see him go.

"Hey, anyone interested in a game of cards?" Luz interjected, slapping a pack of cards between his palms.

He shrugged, inwardly glad Luz had taken it upon himself to lighten the mood.

Arlene POV

She bent forward, feeling the fabric of her royal blue dress strain across her ribs.

"What are you doing?" Jessica asked.

"Seeing if I can move in the dress," she replied.

She could sense her friend rolling her eyes. Straightening out she asked, "What?"

"You are so special."

"Like you didn't test it?"

"Darling, look at me. I'm wearing a canary yellow dress. I look amazing, but heaven knows if I need to worry about my range of motion it's probably already too late. The Luftwaffe could spot me from the air on a moonless night with a half-blind pilot."

"You chose to wear that dress."

"We flipped a coin remember? I get to cause the diversion, so I will do my damnedest and if that means wearing a yellow dress with a scandalously low neckline, then so be it."

Screeching tyres coming to a sudden stop outside their window and the German voices that followed put an end to their conversation. She instinctively reached for the small handgun strapped to her inner thigh, their other guns already packed away.

Heavy footsteps climbed up the stairs and stopped right outside their door. They held their breath, two pairs of eyes fixed to the door.

A single knock was followed by their Uncle's voice. "Girls, can I come in? Your escort is here."

They collectively exhaled. "Come in," Jessica called.

Francois opened the door and stepped inside the room, leaving it open behind him just in case their German escort decided to come looking for them.

"You ready?" he simply asked, he wasn't a man of many words.

"Yes. Are you?" Jessica replied.

The Frenchman nodded. "We'll meet you at the rendezvous point afterwards. Things are in place."

She glanced at herself in the mirror one last time. "Well then," she said, turning away from her reflection, "time to attend a ball."

Ron POV

"Damnit Nixon, you know something! What is it?" He rung his cap in his hands, glancing around the empty yard in-front of the Easy mess to see if anyone had overheard his outburst.

It had been month's since Jessica and Arlene had abruptly left Aldbourne without so much as a goodbye. Yes, Clark had found him and spun some story, but he never believed a single word of it. In the short time he'd known the two women he never once got the impression they were the type to sit quietly behind a desk collating information.

Nixon shook his head. "Speirs, I know as much as you do."

"Bullshit! You're an Intelligence Officer and you lived with Jessica. If you don't know anything concrete then you definitely have your suspicions."

Nixon took a deep breath, his thick eyebrows knotted into a single line.

For months the man had dodged his questions or him, but he'd finally been able to get him alone when he followed him from the Easy mess after dinner. Even though the officer was no longer part of Easy, it was the surest place to go looking if you needed to find him.

"Please Nixon," he said, desperation tinging his words.

God, what has become of me?

As if finally relenting the other officer sighed heavily before replying, "I don't know anything of sure, but I have an educated guess."

He waited patiently for Nixon to continue, but his insides were clenched in a tight ball, ready to lash out at the slightest provocation.

"Clark once mentioned their unit works with British Intelligence on the odd occasion. I may also have seen some very confidential reports which briefly mentioned the fact that agents on the ground in certain occupied territories had been lost. All of that combined with the fact that both women left in a hurry and didn't take most of their gear with them means there's a possibility they've been loaned out to the SOE."

He simply stared at the other man, words momentarily escaping him as anger boiled inside of his chest. He'd suspected as much of course, but to have it all but confirmed was like a punch to the gut.

"Speirs, are you still there?"

He snapped his eyes to Nixon's and the other man instantly took a small step backwards. "I'm sure Jessica's fine. Clark's still on contact with them. No matter where they are, she's still alive."

He glared at the other man, his anger flamed by the fact that he'd been so easy to read. He wanted to know where both women were because that would tell him where Jessica was.

Nixon eyed him cautiously as he said, "She took your knife with her."

"What?" he barked, eyes flashing.

"The Christmas gift you gave Jessica. She showed it to me the day she got it. After she'd left I went into her room to see if she'd left any clues as to where she was going. She didn't, but the knife was gone. They barely took any personal belongings with them, but she took that."

He stared at Nixon for a heartbeat before simply nodding and sharply turning around, marching off into the night. He could feel Nixon's eyes boring holes into his back until he rounded the corner of a nearby building. He slumped against the brick wall, all the fight leaving his body as soon as he rested his back against the building.

He quickly lit a cigarette, the warm smoke settling his insides and slowing his heart rate to a more respectable pace.

He wasn't sure what he hated more. The fact that Jessica was off fighting in Europe without him or that, even in her absence, she still managed to destabilise him. When Nixon had told him she'd taken his gift with her, his heart had nearly exploded in his chest, an elation which was quickly followed by the violent image of her using it in the line of duty.

Get a grip.

He threw the half smoked cigarette to the ground and stomped it out. Looking around the dark town he made up his mind. He needed a distraction.

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