Thank you for all the fantastic suggestions about what story Maggie and Glenn could concoct for Beth to tell the Governor. I'll talk more about that at the end so there aren't any spoilers.

Thank you to my lovely boyfriend for the Governor's military history.

And thank you Nine Bright Shiners for the idea about the scene with the record player and the Governor. The extended Blake scene is particularly for you. (And me, haha! And anyone else who wishes that the Governor had the goodness to match his hotness.)

…

Shawn came into the flat, slamming the door behind him. Beth and Maggie, who were in the kitchen preparing dinner, both jumped. They heard him stomp through to the lounge room and begin unlacing his boots, muttering to himself.

'Everything all right, Shawn?' Maggie called, peeler in one hand, carrot in the other.

No answer.

Several minutes later Shawn came through to the kitchen, uniform jacket undone, shirt loosened. His hair stuck up at odd angles like he'd been running his hands through it.

'There was an escape today.' His voice was raw, his body was clenched tight.

'Oh yes?' Maggie said mildly, chopping the carrot. Beth could see her ears were pricked with interest, but her face gave nothing away.

Beth turned her back to stir the pot on the stove, not trusting her expression. If it was Daryl plan with the car, then Shawn's anger meant that it had been a success.

'Some … fascist took the windscreen off his sports car and drove it under the barriers. I've been saying for weeks that the checkpoint isn't secure, but will they listen to me? No. But now they'll have to do something. More barriers, and better ones. We're going to look a fool in the Western media in the morning. How they'll laugh at us!' He struck the back of a chair with his hand and stormed out.

Maggie reached over to the wireless and turned it up. 'Lucky bastards,' she muttered to Beth. 'Was that Daryl's idea?'

'No. Yes. It was, but – oh my god, Maggie. I've got to warn him.' Maggie looked over at Beth, who was clutching the wooden spoon in both hands. 'He's been working on almost an identical plan. A Lada, and the roof comes off. If they change the barriers then it's not going to work.'

Maggie peered toward the lounge. 'Quick, go now. I'll tell Shawn you forgot to do something at Stasi Headquarters. He'll like that.'

Beth took off her apron, wondering if she should go to Daryl's flat or straight to the warehouse where the Lada was. Probably his apartment. He said he was going to work on it in the afternoons, and it was nearly nine p.m. now.

Maggie grabbed her arm. 'Tell him about an idea Glenn and I have had – that you saw Conrad with a Stasi officer or Party official not long before he escaped. See if he thinks that's good enough to take to Blake.'

Beth thought about that for a moment. 'That is a good idea. Conrad's long gone and it won't implicate anyone innocent.' Should she pick an officer or Party member to implicate, or was that going too far?

…

She'd been right – Daryl was at home. And no Merle, thankfully. When he opened the door and saw her he hurried her inside.

'All you all right? What's happened?' he asked urgently, his eyes running over her.

'I'm fine. It's your plan I've come about. The one with the car. Did you hear that there was an escape today?' Daryl was wearing a rumpled white t-shirt, one that fitted properly. He shook his head.

'Someone took a sports car through Checkpoint Charlie this afternoon without stopping. My brother just came home and told us.'

Daryl rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. 'So someone else has had that idea.'

'Yes, and apparently Shawn says they're going to secure the barriers. All yours and Tyreese's hard work will be for nothing.'

Daryl cursed, reaching for his coat, looking at the floor as if thinking hard as he pulled it on. 'I'll have to finish workin' on the engine tonight. Can you go to Tyreese and get him to tell the others they'll have to be ready to leave and at the warehouse by dawn? Then go straight home.'

She nodded. 'I can do that.'

'Good girl. Cover your hair, try not to be seen.'

'Wait, before you go – Maggie and Glenn wanted me to tell you their idea for me to take to Blake. That I saw Conrad Mueller with a Stasi officer or a Party member not long before he escaped.'

Daryl thought about this for a moment. 'I like it. And I know just who you can say you saw with Mueller.'

…

Beth got to her desk just after eight-thirty the next morning and busied herself with her typing. She didn't know what time Tyreese and the others were trying for the border. It wouldn't be too early, as daylight and activity on the Western side meant safety from bullets. The East German border guards were less likely to shoot in front of witnesses, preferring to maintain a humane façade. In the dark they wouldn't hesitate to gun them down, like they had Ana.

Beth thought she heard small noises from behind the commandant's door but resisted the temptation to ask Lori if he was in there.

Just before ten a.m., she heard his telephone ring. The commandant answered it. There was a pause, and then a few angry words, and then the phone was slammed down. The commandant's door flew open and he appeared, pulling on his peaked cap. He strode past Beth and Lori without a word, his face like thunder.

The two women watched him go.

'What do you think's got into him?' Lori ask.

Beth tried not to smile. If Blake was angry then maybe it was because another car had made it through Checkpoint Charlie. 'My brother said there was an escape at one of the border crossings yesterday,' Beth offered.

Lori nodded. 'Yes, I heard that too. But that wouldn't mean there'd be an emergency today.' The woman shrugged. 'Oh, well. Coffee?'

…

Blake came back around four in the afternoon looking tired and drawn. Beth still hadn't heard any news about an escape, but she wasn't likely to anyway. It wouldn't be on the broadcasts. But from the look on Blake's face, something had gone wrong in his sector.

Lori left the office just after five-thirty in the evening. Beth sat at her desk, looking at the commandant's office door. Should she go in and talk to him now, or wait till he was in a better mood?

There wasn't a sound from inside his office. At ten minutes to six she got up and knocked softly on his door.

'Come.'

She pushed it open and peeked inside. 'Hello, sir. I, um …' He had his boots up on his desk and a tumbler of whisky in one hand. The air hung heavy with cigarette smoke. 'Sorry, is this a bad time?'

He looked at her through the blue-grey haze, his expression tired and downcast. If he wasn't a Stasi officer she might feel sorry for him. He'd obviously had a terrible day. He put his booted feet back on the floor, heavy and deliberate, and sat forward at his desk. He attempted to look business-like, clearing his throat. 'Not at all, Beth. Come in.'

She hovered uncertainly in front of him. 'It was about what you said the other day. About if I heard something or saw something. To come to you.'

One eyebrow lifted, interested. 'Oh?' Then he glanced about the room. 'Look, I'm sick of this place today. Could we get out of here? My apartment isn't far.'

Beth felt a lurch of panic, seeing him and Lori in her mind all over again. 'I probably shouldn't, I …' I … can't think of an excuse.

He gave her a tired smile. 'I know. You've been avoiding me since you walked in on me and Lori. I have regretted it every day since. But I hope we can still be friends.'

She forced a smile. 'So do I.'

'Then will you go with me, as a friend? I could use some company, and we should talk. About many things.'

He looked so beaten down that she felt sorry for him. She didn't trust him, but at the same time she thought he would act like a gentleman. She might learn some inside information or about his methods. And she was dying to know whether there'd been a successful escape that day. 'All right.'

She went to fetch her things. He appeared by her desk a few minutes later, shrugging into a long, heavy coat with wide lapels and fitting his cap over his head with gloved hands. She'd forgotten how tall and formidable he was when he wasn't behind his desk.

He smiled down at her and offered her his arm. 'Fräulein.'

…

His apartment was in an art nouveau block a few streets away, very well kept and appointed. They went up to the third floor and he opened the door onto a large lounge with a high ceiling and views toward the Brandenburg Gate. The room was wood panelled and hung with bevelled mirrors that reflected the soft yellow lamplight.

Beth sat on the sofa, divested of her coat. Blake brought her a glass of chilled Gewürztraminer and then disappeared again. She sipped the white wine and looked about the room. There were a lot of leather-bound books on a shelf, and a large framed map of the USSR on the opposite wall.

Blake appeared a moment later, changed out of his uniform and wearing a plain black open-neck shirt. He was rolling the cuffs back to his elbows.

'I am sick of that uniform today,' he explained, sitting down next to her on the sofa and pouring himself a glass of wine. 'Prost,' he said, toasting her, taking a sip and settling back.

Beth said nothing, hoping he would just start talking.

'I'm a good officer, Beth. I've always been good at anything I turn my mind to. But I can't be a zealot.' He glanced at her, smiling. 'Not something you've probably thought to hear a Stasi officer say.'

Beth bit back a smile. He was bragging a little, but then again, he did seem like the sort of man who would find himself coming out on top. 'When you say zealot, do you mean about the Party?'

He nodded. 'Exactly. About the Party. Unlike them I can see why our citizens might wish to leave, why they fight to leave, and why they'll only get more desperate the longer that Wall is in place. And when people do escape, who do they blame?'

She drew her brows down in an expression of concern. 'So it's true. There was an escape yesterday. I couldn't quite believe it when my brother –'

'Yesterday!' The commandant said, laughing. 'There was one today, as well. The exact same method, though this one seemed to have required more preparation.'

Beth's heart leapt. Daryl had done it. Tyreese and the others were over the Wall. Focusing on the conversation at hand, she asked, 'Why do the Party not tell the Soviets that the Wall is not working? The people don't seem happy with it.'

Blake gave her a wry look. 'Who do you think wanted the Wall in the first place?'

'Why, the Soviets. We are their western-most border.'

'No. They were against the idea. They thought it would look like admitting that communism wasn't the better system. That people preferred the West. It was the East Germans who insisted. Our own Party.' He turned toward her on the sofa. They were quite close, their crossed knees almost touching. 'You see, Beth, this is what I meant when I said I wasn't a zealot. I believe in communism. I have since I was a young man. I believe that it looks after the people. But I don't believe that everything that comes out of Party headquarters is manna from heaven.'

Beth drank her wine, thinking. If he really believed that then it was a strange job for him to be in, enforcing Party policy.

Blake got up and went to the record player in the corner. It was an old-fashioned one from during the war, in a wooden box. It played 78s, and Blake flicked through a pile of records before selecting one and dropping the needle onto it. A song Beth didn't know filled the air, with a languid beat and tinkling piano music.

'What is it?' she asked.

He smiled down at the record player. 'Jazz, from the United States. From during the war. I used to keep it hidden.'

A woman's soulful voice joined in. It made Beth think of nightclub scenes in the black-and-white films that were sometimes shown on Western television channels. The women wore spangled dresses and danced with men in tuxedos, and they all drank champagne from saucers.

Blake sat down with her again. 'I was a very young man in the war.'

Beth studied his face and did a quick sum. Yes, he would have been very young. He was older than her, but his hair was thick and dark brown. She guessed he would have been not quite twenty when war broke out. 'You served in the Wehrmacht?' she asked.

'Yes, I was an officer. Hitler hated jazz music like this. I played it as often as I could.' He laughed again.

Beth listened to the music. The woman sang in English so she didn't understand the words, but it was very beautiful. 'Who is she?'

'Billie Holiday. My girlfriend and I used to dance to this in underground clubs.'

His girlfriend. Beth wondered what had happened to her. Perhaps they'd broken up, or she'd died when the allies had bombed Berlin, like so many others had.

He seemed to be in the mood to reminisce rather than talk about the present, so she asked, 'What happened to you during the war?' She smiled. 'I don't remember any of it.'

'No, you wouldn't. I was in Berlin for the first few years, hence all the dancing. But then I was transferred to the Afrika Korps and posted to Egypt. When the British invaded in 1942 and we lost El Alamein I was captured and sent to a prisoner of war camp.' He shrugged. 'And that was me for the rest of the war.'

He spoke in so off-hand a manner, but it couldn't have been easy, a POW camp in the desert. Despite herself, Beth was interested. She'd never had the money to travel and even if she'd wanted to she could only have gone to Poland or Hungary. To have seen Egypt … Had he seen the pyramids? The Sphynx? Probably not, as a prisoner. 'How terrible it must have been.'

He thought for a moment, tapping the stem of his wineglass with a long forefinger. 'You know, it was not as bad as it could have been. Once they realised I was a soldier by trade – my father was an officer and his father too – and not because I loved Hitler, and that I believed in communism and not the master race they gave me more freedom than the others. I was allowed books. Karl Marx. Leon Trotsky. I was encouraged to educate the other German officers. As I said, I'm not a zealot, but if preaching to the disinterested got me out of the cells, then I was happy to do it.'

Beth shook her head. 'How strange that the West and the Soviets were allies back then, and not two years after the war finished we became enemies ourselves.'

'It was bound to happen. Our ideology is too different.'

Beth looked him over, puzzled. Why had he become a Stasi officer? If he'd been a soldier all his life then how did he end up in the secret police?

Blake noticed her puzzled expression. 'I know. Why the Stasi. It's an odd place for me if I can't stomach Party ideology. But I believe in the principals, if not the way they're put into practice. What the Nazis did during the war was so shocking, and at its heart, communism doesn't see race. I suppose it was what happened to Hannah that drove me to the Stasi.'

Beth wondered who Hannah was. His girlfriend in the war?

The record ended. Blake got up and turned it over. He looked down at the record spinning on the turntable. 'I haven't listened to this in years,' he murmured. 'Have you ever been in love, Beth?'

She shook her head.

He sat down close to her, his arm along the seat back. If he moved it just a few inches he could caress her neck. 'I met Hannah through friends just after the war began. She was so beautiful.' He glanced at Beth. 'A lot like you actually. Blonde. Slender. She made me feel … so many things. Like a man. When we became lovers I couldn't quite believe that she'd chosen me. And then we fell in love. I wanted to marry her, and she did too, but there was the war, and people weren't so picky about conventions at that time. We weren't in a hurry, though perhaps we should have been. She told me she was pregnant just before I left for Africa.'

Beth stayed quiet, almost motionless. Blake spoke softly, fondly, but she could tell that the story wasn't going to have a happy ending.

'When the war ended I came back for her.' He shook his head. 'She'd gone. She'd had the baby, a neighbour told me. A little girl. Inga. Dark, like me. But when Inga was not quite two they'd just disappeared. I tracked down everyone who had known her, and finally someone was able to tell me: Hannah was secretly Jewish. She and the child had been sent to Dachau.'

Beth turned cold. Dachau was an infamous concentration camp.

'They were murdered in the gas chambers at the end of 1944. I found the records.' He passed a hand through his hair. 'I don't know why she didn't tell me she was a Jew. Perhaps she thought I'd reject her, but I wouldn't have. I served in the army but I wasn't a Nazi. I loved her. I would have protected her, got her out of Germany.'

They were silent for a few minutes, listening to the music. Beth pictured him as a young man, searching for the woman he loved and the child that he'd never even seen. She placed a hand on his arm. 'I'm so sorry. That is truly dreadful.'

He looked down at her hand. 'They killed my child. I thought, this is what the West is capable of.' He gave Beth a sad smile. 'And this is why I'm here. Why I do what I do. You know, I haven't told anyone about them in such a long time. I don't think I've ever told a friend.' He reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. 'You're a special girl, Beth.'

She felt herself blush and looked away.

Blake studied her face. 'Is there anything I can do to undo what you saw? I saw the look on your face when you walked in on Lori and me. You were horrified. Does it help that I haven't touched Frau Grimes since?'

Beth wondered what he was asking. Help in what way?

He said, 'I thought at the party that you and I might have something special. Then I ruined it.'

They had shared a connection at the party. When he'd kissed her the whole world had fallen away for a moment. There'd just been him, and his arms around her and his mouth on hers. She'd given herself over to him in that moment.

'I – I should tell you what I overheard,' Beth said, remembering why she was there.

Blake looked a little disappointed, but he smiled. 'Of course.'

'Do you remember Conrad Mueller? He lived downstairs from me with Ana. He disappeared a few weeks ago. She disappeared too, but later. It's so strange.'

Blake nodded. 'I remember them.'

'Do you think that they escaped somehow? Well, anyway, it didn't occur to me what I was seeing at the time, but after Ana disappeared I started thinking. It didn't seem right that they would be meeting like that, but then perhaps it's nothing.' She trailed off.

'What did you see, Beth?' he asked gently.

She took a deep breath. 'Conrad and Comrade Walsh. I saw them talking together several times. I came home quite late sometimes, as my shift at the factory was long and then I'd have to queue to buy food for hours. I would see them speaking in a dark doorway, or walking together.'

Blake frowned. Beth wondered if it sounded too preposterous. Blake and Walsh were friends. Though they couldn't be terribly close if Blake enjoyed cuckolding him like Lori had said.

'How many times?'

Beth thought for a moment. What would be realistic? 'Three, I think. Over the space of a few weeks.'

'I see.' He looked serious, like he was thinking, but Beth thought that he believed her. 'Commandant, what happened to Conrad and Ana? Did they escape?'

He nodded. 'Conrad first. Then Ana tried later. It was strange that they didn't go together. We found out how Conrad had done it and waited to see if anyone else would try.' He glanced at her. 'This is in the strictest confidence, of course. I only tell you as you work for the Stasi, too. Ana shot at my men. They had no choice but to return fire, and she was killed.'

Liar. Ana hadn't had a gun. Beth stayed silent and kept her face carefully blank.

'I'm sorry,' he said. 'I know you were friendly with her. We had no choice.'

Beth nodded and put her wine down. 'I'd better go. My sister will be wondering where I am.'

…

Blake watched Beth leave, and then swallowed the last of his wine in one go. He hadn't made many mistakes in his life, but letting Beth walk in on him taking his frustrations out on Lori was up there with the most idiotic. From the first moment he'd seen Beth she'd reminded him of Hannah. That same delicate prettiness and trusting nature. Clever, too, questioning the world around her, speaking her mind.

When he'd kissed Beth it had brought all those old memories back. All the things he'd lost. He hadn't been close to a woman since Hannah, but with Beth in his arms he'd realised what he'd missed out on. Here, then, was a chance to start over. He'd done so many ugly things after the war. As he'd risen through the ranks of the Stasi. But Beth didn't need to know about those. And maybe with her in his arms he'd be able to forget them.

In other circumstances he would have taken the wine glass out of her hand and kissed her. Picked her up in his arms and carried her to his bedroom. Made love to her. Maybe started another life in her. A baby he could hold, to replace the family that had been murdered.

But Beth was still afraid of him. She was softening toward him, he thought. It would take time, but he could wait. He was a patient man, and he always got what he wanted.

…

Thanks to StrangersAngel for suggesting Shane and An Amber Pen for suggesting that it be someone in the Stasi. Thank you everyone else for your ideas too!

Quite a few of you have mentioned that you really love the East Berlin setting. If you're interested in learning more about it then I can recommend two German-language films, The Lives of Others and Westen (or West in English). Also Anna Funder's journalism/history/memoir Stasiland is so interesting and told in this chatty/informal style.

Thanks for reading, following and reviewing! I love hearing what think.