***
Verbena Beeks made it to the visitor's room just in time to see a lab coated figure dash out of it. She had a good idea who the figure had been and she sighed; as if she didn't have enough problems. Such as how it had been learned who the visitor was. That, and what would become of that information when and if it became common knowledge. She wondered what the project's creditors would think if they knew that there was a Nazi in the waiting room.

She shook her head. She certainly didn't plan on treating him differently because he was a Nazi. At least, she thought, he wasn't in charge of a concentration camp. She wasn't sure where her cool professionalism would have been then. But, as it stood, she was in charge of the mental health of the visitor, be it an abused house wife or a Nazi soldier, and she planned on doing her job.

The first thing that Verbena noticed about the visitor after she entered the room was how quiet he was. Sitting on the cot, he bore the look of a man who was weighing his options carefully. He sighed, obviously noticing her presence, although he didn't seem inclined to actually look in her direction.

"So, you finally made it back. How wonderfully nice of you."

He sounded very sarcastic, but he was allowed a little sarcasm, she figured with a touch of guilt. She really should have tried harder to get back here. "How are you feeling?"

Now he did look at her, his expression one of frustration. "How am I supposed to feel? I've been taken prisoner. I've been interrogated and gawked at." He stood up and glared at her. "I'm also tired of not getting any answers to my questions. I've been very patient so far, and I think that I am entitled to some kind of explanation."

"What do you want to know?" She asked, knowing full well that there was much that she couldn't tell the visitor.

The visitor looked surprised, as if he had expected a bit more of a fight than that. In fact, he seemed a little off guard. "Well, I . . ." He swallowed before continuing. "I'd like to know why I'm here."

She considered. She didn't want to out and out lie- that wasn't fair to anyone. But she also couldn't tell him the truth. The possible damage to the timeline could be devastating if the visitor remembered anything about his time here. She doubted that he'd believe the truth anyway.

"You can't tell me, can you?" Obviously, she had been taking longer with her internal debate than she had thought.

"No."

He nodded to himself and sighed. "You probably can't tell me how I know your name either, Verbena." It wasn't really a question.

"No."

The visitor closed his eyes, as if trying to make a difficult decision. "Maybe you can help me understand something then."

"Maybe." She agreed warily, not wanting to be trapped by her own words.

He opened his eyes. "Maybe you can help me understand why two of the three people who've come in here have acted as if I were the Devil. Or why that young lady who was just in here wanted to know what "us monsters" were like or why Al looked like he was going to punch me. Do you think you can tell me that?" Not waiting for an answer, he looked away from her and started to pace. "Because I don't understand. I've tried to be a good officer and a gentleman. I do what I can for my country. I've tried all of my life to be a good person, and what do I get? People running out of the room in tears." It seemed as though he was talking more to himself than he was to her. "I'm not very popular at home- but everyone knows me there. I know a little about most of you- from those memories in my head- but how are you supposed to know anything about me?"

She chose her words carefully. "It's not you exactly. It's what you stand for."

He stopped and stared at her. "'What I stand for'?" He echoed her words hollowly.

Nodding, she continued. "For them, you are a Nazi first and a person after."

The visitor didn't seem surprised. "I had already figured as much, I just wanted to hear someone say it. So I 'm a Nazi." He cocked his head and narrowed his eyes, "I know no one has any reason to love Nazis; sometimes I have no reason to love Nazis. But I don't understand what you've heard to make you all hate us so much. It's like 'Nazi' 's another word for evil to you."

Verbena stared at him in shock. Was it really possible? Did this man have no idea what the Nazis were doing in 1943? How naive could he be? But then, to be fair, the Nazi's hadn't exactly advertised the Death Camps- although, the public view on Jews and everyone else who would join in their fate was painfully clear. It seemed inconceivable that he shouldn't have so much as an inkling of an idea about the truth of the matter.

Maybe he did know about it and didn't consider it evil. That was possible- after all, there had to have been some people who thought that they were doing what was best for Germany, people who enjoyed their "work". While she didn't think it was true, at least not in the visitor's case, how could she be sure? She had talked with him for less than an hour. He didn't seem like an evil man, but that didn't mean anything.

And even if he didn't know, how much could she tell him? How much did she want to tell him? Some people tended to take responsibility for things even when there was no way, as a single person, to prevent them. The Holocaust was a great evil to be atoned for- and the last thing she needed was a suicidal visitor who wanted to take it all on himself. Did she really want to take that sort of chance with the visitor's psychological welfare?

"It is another word for evil to us, but I can't tell you why," she said, deciding to make a compromise. "All I can tell you is that we do have a reason and unless you can find it yourself, I can't explain it to you."

"So let me see if I understand you. You can't tell me anything at all about anything?"

She nodded. That much was certainly true.

Plopping himself back on the cot, he made an obvious effort to keep his frustration out of his voice. "Can you give me something to do then? A book? Some cards? Something?"

She smiled, feeling more glad than she wanted to admit about the change of subject. Of course, anything that the visitor was given would have to be screened for copyright date and content; but it would be relatively easy to arrange. Most visitors, after getting over their initial fears of imprisonment, death or alien abduction, would complain of being bored. She found it helped them feel more comfortable if they were given something to take their minds off of their troubles.

"Yes. I'll send some things down in a little while." She looked down at her watch. "I would stay longer, Colonel- "

"Please," he said mildly, "call me Wilhelm."

"I would stay longer, Wilhelm, but there's something that I have to do."

His smile looked a little forced, but it was a smile. "Go ahead, leave me. Just remember to come back."

"I will."

With that she walked out the door, now in search of that lab coated figure. She had an idea who it was and where she could be found.

***

Sammy Jo felt stupid. It was not a sensation that she was very familiar with or liked very much and right now, she felt very stupid. What did she think she was going to accomplish by going in there? What did she expect to see, anyway?

All she had seen was an understandably irritated man and all that she had accomplished was to completely embarrass herself. Her face still felt hot as she entered the break room.

The break room was empty. It seemed to Sammy a clear indication that there really was a God. She hastily grabbed a tissue from the box on the table and wiped her eyes. Why was she crying? She honestly could not figure out why this whole thing was bothering her so much. It wasn't as if she were Jewish or knew anyone who was directly involved in the Holocaust. It just didn't make any sense.

But there she was, hiding out in the break room, drying her eyes and praying fervently to whatever God that would listen that no one would come in until she had calmed down a little.

However, it didn't appear that any gods were interesting in answering her prayer. When Verbena walked into the room, Sammy knew any hope of pretending that this entire mess had never happened was futile. Sammy slapped on a "hopefully" convincing false smile and tried to sound casual.

"Hello, Verbena. What brings you here?"

Verbena looked at her calculatingly, obviously not buying it for a moment. "I think you know."

Sammy let the smile slip and sighed. She wasn't a good enough actor to fool Verbena.

Verbena sat down and motioned that she should join her. "What happened?"

After taking her seat, Sammy stared down at the floor, unable to look Verbena in the eyes. "I just made a fool of myself- that's all." When she was greeted with silence she continued, knowing that she had not truly answered Verbena's question. "I went to see the visitor. I know that I shouldn't have," she said quickly to forestall any criticism that Verbena was likely to offer until after she had finished her thought. "But when I found out what the visitor was, I couldn't help myself. I wanted to see."

"What did you want see?"

Sammy gently tore at the tear stained tissue in her hands. "I wanted to see what made this guy good enough for Dr. Beckett to risk his life for. I mean, he's a Nazi- one of those psychos that you always hear about on the History Channel. Why should he be saved?" Almost forgetting that she wasn't alone, she thought aloud. "I felt bad thinking that way- I'm not God, I can't just arbitrarily decide who lives and who dies. So I went down there to justify myself." She trailed off as she noticed that her hands were empty. She looked down and saw tiny scraps of the tissue littering the floor under her feet.

Verbena seemed to take this as an opening. "But you couldn't justify it." It was not a question.

Sammy only shook her head.

"Would it have been easier if he had horns and a pitch fork?"

Sammy felt herself smile a little. As ridiculous as that image was, she had been expecting something like that. She told Verbena as much and was relived to hear the psychologist chuckle in response.

"If only it were that easy, Sammy." Abruptly serious, she continued. "But it isn't. Judging is something that must be done and it is something that is hard to do. No one is well equipped for the task, but everyone wants to do it."

Sammy didn't answer. What could she say to that? It was true.

"You were wrong, I know it and you know it. The question is, what are you going to do about it?"
She could tell by the way Verbena asked the question that she already knew the answer.

Sammy also knew what that answer was and she didn't think that she could do it. "I can't go back in there." When she received no answer she looked up to see a smiling Verbena.

"Did I say you should?" Smiling wider she brushed away the question before Sammy could answer it. Her tone grew serious. "Sammy, you have to do what you think is right. I can't force you to do anything and I don't want to. You have to figure this one out on your own and I think you're on the right track."

Sammy sighed, knowing that she had lost. "I don't know, Verbena. But I'll think about it."

Verbena put a hand on her shoulder. "That's all I ask."

***