It seemed as though Zimmermann had planned this well; he knew who was on guard duty, how bright he moon was that night, the blind spots behind buildings that the sentries couldn't see. He had left his heavy rifle back in his quarters, instead opting for a lighter Luger. Emilie was having an internal battle with herself; one half reasoned that she wasn't personally guilty of desertion, that she was simply helping a man that could break down at any time; but that damn devil that sat perched on her shoulder shot that down, retorting that she was betraying her very army. She was sick and tired of constantly feeling guilty, but it had almost become her default setting.
"Duck," Emilie hissed, instinctively dropping to the ground as she saw a lounging guard turn their way.
"Duck?" Zimmermann echoed softly, looking confused, before realisation followed closely by alarm sprang onto his face. "Oh, duck down." He crouched down beside the medic, blinking rapidly a few times, "I thought you were warning me about a bird flying too low or something."
Emilie rolled her eyes with a grumble, waiting for the sentry to turn away once more before running lightly alongside a building, her back brushing it the entire time. She felt like a sleuth in one of those murder mystery films, avoiding capture by the police in the dead of night. She used to take Tobias to see films like that every fortnight, at the pictures, sneaking him into the cinema where children weren't allowed… Oh, what times they had. Emilie had always prayed that she was adopted, not wanting to have the blood of those horrible people that dared to call themselves her parents rushing through her veins, but, after her little brother had been born, all she had wanted was to be his big sister. Stop! Thinking like that makes you weak. Focus. God, in times like these all she wanted was a cup of tea and a… Leave Eugene out of this, fuck, it's not that hard!
Finally, she stopped at the edge of the village, the man behind her almost crashing into her as she stopped so abruptly. She turned to Zimmermann, fighting to speak past the lump that had risen in her throat. "Off you go, then," she ordered in barely more than a whisper, dragging her eyes from him to look around quickly for any shapes concealed in the shadows, "I'll watch your back and make sure no one sees you. Move quickly."
Zimmermann nodded, eyes huge and sad, like a fucking doe. "Thank you for doing this, Emilie," he murmured, sweeping her into a tight embrace. She patted his back a little awkwardly, but still she was glad these moments had not been spent in conflict, like so many of her previous goodbyes had been. She had almost stopped believing that saying farewell could ever go well. And, in a way, this one wasn't. But whatever made him happy, she guessed.
He let her go, sucked in a deep breath, tightened his grip on his duffel bag, and began to walk away quickly. Thankfully, there was no crunchy snow underfoot to make his departure any more conspicuous that it had to be. He turned back a few times to wave goodbye, and each time she would gesture for him to hurry along. At one point, he turned back, not looking where he was going, and tripped in some mud, falling straight onto his ass. Emilie cringed and her hand flew over her mouth, half to conceal her surprise, and half to stifle a loud laugh. But Zimmermann was back on his feet in an instant, rubbing his tail-bone, and was off again. She knew from experience just how much that hurt.
Then, with one last, lingering wave at the top of the hill, Zimmermann turned and disappeared from sight. Emilie let out a breath, dabbing at her eyes. God, how she hoped she had made the right decision in letting him go.
