Francis pushed the door of the safehouse back, so that the morning light streamed into the dark hll. Dust swirled lazily in the shaft of gold that extended from the door to Georges Guingouin's black boots. He stood silently, almost thoughtfully, his arms crossed and head tilted to one side, eyebrow raised.

"He didn't give you much trouble, I assume? Kämpfe, that is."

Francis shook his head, still numb. Kämpfe, Goebbels, Hitler, it didn't matter. If he was German, that made him guilty in the eyes of Francis Bonnefoy.

Guilty of beating and raping his sister.

Guingouin smiled. "Good, I'm glad. I must admit that I am impressed. That was quite efficient."

Francis said nothing. He just stared back at Guingouin coldly. He had nothing to say. He just wanted to see Estelle and get away from the stench of blood that now clung to the inside of his nose.

"Sir," he finally said, "With your permission, I'd like to be able to go back home and see my sister. She was admitted to the hospital early this morning, and I'd like to be able to check on her and see that her condition is improving."

Guingouin paused to think, one finger tapping against the arm of his jacket, before nodding his head. "I think that would be wise. Jean will go with you." Francis nodded his thanks and strode past Guingouin, but the man grasped his arm in a firm grip, effectively stopping him. His fingers curled around his bicep fiercely until his knuckles were white.

"Be careful. Please. When word gets out of this, as I'm sure it will within a couple of hours, every Nazi is going to be out for blood. They'll want the head of the man who pulled the trigger on a stick. Kämpfe was a war hero to them. Now that he's dead, anything and everything is permissible in order to gain vengeance. This execution has the Resistance's fingerprints all over it, they'll suspect everyone. Get out of town. If you can, take Estelle with you. I want her to be safe as much as you do."

Francis nodded, and moved to keep walking, but Guingouin stopped him again.

"And Francis," he added, almost as an afterthought, "You might want to wash the blood off of your face."

-x-x-x-

For nearly the entire ride back, neither Francis nor Jean spoke. The tense silence built up with every hole that the car came across in the road, every jolt that slammed Francis' shoulder into the metal passenger side door until he knew he would have a nice purple bruise in the morning.

It wasn't until they were almost half an hour away from the hospital that Jean spoke, effectively dismissing the taut silence between them, while simultaneously addressing the elephant in the room.

"You seemed strange today."

Francis paused for a moment before he replied.

"Today has been a strange day."

"You know what I mean."

"Yes, I suppose I do."

Jean didn't reply. The crackle of the car's engine filled the empty space between them, as did the warm summer air. He waited a while minute before he spoke again.

"You seemed pretty relaxed in there, with Kämpfe."

"And this is strange to you?"

"No, it's just…"

"Just what? Spit it out, Jean."

Jean peeled his eyes from the dusty road before them to meet Francis' eyes.

"It's just that… It almost looked like… I mean, it came easier than normal. And you rushed it, and then you just… Shot him. But… It seemed to me that… You enjoyed it."

Now it was Francis' turn to pause. He had to chose his words carefully.

"Helmut Kämpfe is not a man. He is a swine, just like the swine that raped and nearly killed my sister. They showed my sister no mercy, so I showed none myself."

Jean was starting to see what was going on here. He knew he had to tread carefully if he was going to get anywhere with this. "Francis, he wasn't the one that raped your sister!"

"And who are you to tell me that I cannot find solace in repaying a wrong for a wrong?"

Their voices had risen louder and louder until they were both shouting at each other.

"Francis, he didn't do it!"

"He might as well have!"

"He never touched your sister!"

"The German pigs call themselves a brotherhood. If one brother is guilty, then they are all guilty, and therefore all pay the price!"

Both were now screaming at the top of their lungs.

"Francis, listen to yourself! They're people!"

"They are not people, Jean! They are less than that! They don't deserve to be called that! They aren't even human!"

Silence fell.

The steady rumble of the car engine seemed to fade away to nothing.

Francis panted, full of emotion, and now, with the realization of what had just come out of his mouth.

Jean sighed, pursed his lips, and opened his mouth.

"That makes you no better than them."

Francis tried to say something, but no words came, because he knew that Jean was right.

-x-x-x-

"She doesn't sleep, she doesn't eat, I don't know what to do." Adeline stood outside of the hospital in the cool of the morning a day later, and Francis stood with her. They were watching the people walking past, just so they could get out of the crowded white rooms and see the outside world. "We've tried everything, but I think she just has given up."

Francis sighed and crossed his arms. "She can't have given up, she's stronger than that, I know it!"

Adeline rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands. "I don't know what to tell you. Your sister was gangraped, and she's showing the classic signs of shock and trauma. Hopefully she'll recover, but you and I both know that she will never be the same person she was before that night."

"I know that, Adeline, I just believe that she can beat this!"

"Well she can't do that alone, now can she?"

Francis was silent.

"Where have you been? You take her here, then you leave, and you don't come back until the wee hours of this morning. Explain that to me, please, it doesn't make any sense to me at all."

"Look, not everything can just be explained away."

"Then try!"

"I wish I could!" Francis turned to face his girlfriend. "But I can't tell some things to you, for your own sake, alright?"

Adeline threw her hands up in mock surrender. "What on earth could you be doing that you had to keep secret from me, while your only sister is lying in a hospital bed after being brutally raped?" When Francis didn't answer, she lowered her hands and narrowed her eyes. "Are you seeing someone?"

"What? No, no, what-no, I'm not seeing someone!"

"Then what were you doing all day yesterday?"

"I was busy."

"With what?"

"I'm sorry, but I can't tell you!"

"You can't tell…" That's when it dawned on her. "Francis, please tell me you're not in the Resistance."

Francis' hesitation was answer enough.

"Francis, you have got to be kidding me."

"Don't say it like that, please."

"Francis, you're putting everyone you've ever known and loved in danger!"

"I realize that, you don't think I thought about that before I joined?"

"Yeah, but did you think that you being in the Resistance would result in the rape of your sister?"

As soon as she said it, Adeline knew that she had crossed a line. Francis' darkening face was confirmation of that. "Francis, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it-"

"Yes you did, and don't deny it." His words were sharp, and cut deeply. He started to turn back toward the main door of the hospital, but Adeline grabbed onto his arm to stop him. "Francis, please-"

Francis jerked his arm from Adeline's grasp. "Sorry, but I have a sick sister to tend to." He left Adeline standing outside and walked into the hospital, alone. Adeline didn't follow.

-x-x-x-

Adeline checked in on Francis every couple of hours, but she didn't disturb him. Every time she looked in, he was sitting in a chair at his sister's shoulder, holding her hand, sometimes whispering something into her ear, sometimes stroking her hair gently. He didn't leave her side, even to eat. By the time midnight rolled around, and Adeline's shift was ending, he was still there. He hadn't moved at all. She very nearly left him there, but… He needed someone, especially now. She was in the wrong here, and she needed to rectify that as soon as possible. She had a small ham and cheese sandwich in her bag that she was going to save for herself, but she could just pick up another one once she got home.

It took her a moment, but she pulled the door to the hospital room open slowly. The hinge creaked slightly, but Francis didn't react. Once she was in, she shut the door behind her. She remained there by the door for a few seconds, and she nearly left the room then, but decided against it. Her heart melted at the sight of Francis so broken. He couldn't do this alone.

A voice came from across the room, from Francis' huddled form. It was thick, and shook in the mouth that held it.

"Did I do this to her?"

Adeline didn't respond. She only crossed the room, set the sandwich on the bedside table, and wrapped her arms around Francis. He held her face to his with a calloused hand. She could feel his body shake. The skin on her arms was sprinkled with the warmth of salty tears.

Adeline placed her lips on Francis' hair, and tears of her own spilled over her eyelashes.

"I love you Francis, you know that, don't you?"

Francis nodded.

"I really do, and if I watch this kill you, it'll kill me too."

Francis nodded again.

"Don't let it. Please."

Francis didn't hear Adeline anymore. He simply watched his sister, who had only just fallen asleep. She was his world. If he could, he would do anything to bring her back. Anything.

But he knew that there was nothing that he could do. No matter how hard he prayed or how much he loved her, odds were that she would never leave that house, no matter how far away from it he took her.

Her body may see the light of day, but he knew that her mind never would.

All he could do was whisper in her ear how much he loved her, and take vengeance into his own hands, in his own way.

It was time to get back with his boys.

It was time to kill some Krauts.

-x-x-x-

Adeline left the room shortly after in order to return home. She just couldn't stand being in that room any longer. It was just too much for her. Seeing Francis like that… It cut her too deeply. She couldn't do anything for him, and she had a feeling that her presence was intrusive at the moment.

She couldn't stay in there.

Especially now that she knew his secret.

Why it surprised her, she didn't know, and she had a feeling that he must have been involved from the very beginning. He would do that. Francis was that kind of man, to do anything and everything he could to save France. He was a patriot of the highest caliber, and she had never seen a man love his country more.

If anyone found out that he was doing this, he would most certainly be taken away, interrogated, or worse.

But what would happen to someone who knew, but failed to say anything?

What if she was caught? What if they thought that she was working with the Resistance herself, or helping Francis?

She'd be dead before she would have a chance to tell her side of the story.

But… This was her wonderful, sweet, dedicated, gentle, beautiful Francis. There's no way she could do something like this to him, she'd never be able to bring herself to it…

Or could she?

If it could save her life, or possibly the lives of her family, could she hand Francis over to the Germans for being in the Resistance?

Adeline stopped walking down the crowded street, but it was empty to her. Someone pushed past her, bumping into her shoulder. How can I even be entertaining this idea? This is Francis!

An image of her family being drug away by Gestapo flashed in her mind's eye, and every thought of Francis disappeared.

Adeline spun around in the middle of the sidewalk and started walking briskly-not toward her apartment, but to the post office. She was there within five minutes, and she pushed the door open with one hand. Once inside, she grabbed a pen and paper, scribbled a note to an old flame, addressed it, and slipped it into the box.

The slamming of the metal door made it final. She could hear the envelope slide down the chute, out of her reach.

The envelope, and information inside, was addressed to Hauptsturmführer Gilbert Beilschmidt of the Waffen-SS.

I'm sorry Francis. Forgive me.

Thanks for reading! Reviews are always welcomed, freaked out over, loved, you know...

Have a very merry Christmas!

Love, HarleyMarie