To the guest who said that she normally goes by Berlin: What you said truly moved me, and you are wise beyond your years. I wish that more people could see the way that you do. You are incredible. Thank you for your honest feelings, I appreciate them. More people need to hear those exact words. Anywho, here's the next chapter!

Adeline had avoided spending much time with Francis ever since their argument two weeks ago, and Francis was getting worried. He knew that he had probably hurt her, and he felt sorry that he had said what he had said. She didn't deserve to hear that, especially from him of all people. He should have known that telling her about his involvement in the Resistance would be a bad idea, that it would shock her into silence, but what other choice did he have? Besides, he trusted her. She wouldn't tell anyone, so his secret was safe with her.

Or so he thought.

A week and a half ago, when Francis went to Adeline's apartment to pict up a book he had left there, he found the incriminating letters wadded up in a desk drawer at her apartment. He thought that his eyes were playing tricks on him. He sat on her couch, reading and rereading them over and over again, waiting for his eyes to see something different. But they never changed. It was her handwriting on every single one, and they all named him specifically as a key member of the Resistance. They looked like drafts for a final letter, and they were all written to a man, Hauptsturmführer Gilbert Beilschmidt. A stamp was also missing from her sheet.

She had done the unthinkable.

The unforgivable.

She had turned him in, when he had trusted her explicitly with information that had the power to end his life.

She might as well have signed his death certificate.

While he was at Estelle's bedside for nearly every waking moment, he racked his brain as of what to do next. Should he run now while he had the chance? Should he stay with his sister, who needed him now more than ever. Should he confront her or play dumb? Should he tell one his friends in the Resistance? Maybe Jean, Jean might know what to do… But he also might say that Francis was a liability that they couldn't afford to have. He even asked Estelle what she thought of it all, but she never answered. Francis was stranded, alone, in a sea of circumstances, and he was slowly being sucked under the surface.

If he was caught, he would be taken away and tortured, no doubt. He knew too much to be spared from that. He doubted that they would want anything of his sister. She was too far gone now. She was of no use to them, and for that, Francis was grateful. It was the only good thing to come out of that night, and Francis took it without question.

When he ended up confronting Adeline was far from what he had deemed as ideal, but once it started, he couldn't stop it. Everything had to play out from start to finish, despite no one knowing where exactly the finish was.

He had left the hospital to meet with Jean at a café down the street to get an update on how everything with the Resistance was going. Jean had told him of an upcoming mission with a small group of Americans, but Francis said to not put his name down quite yet. Jean was puzzled, since Francis was usually the kind of man to jump at chances like this, but Francis' reasoning was that his sister was still in too critical of a condition to warrant a mission like that at the moment. He kept the "the woman I love more than anything turned me into the Gestapo, and now I'm just waiting for them to kick my door down and drag me into the street to shoot me" part quiet.

He was only a block away from the hospital when he saw her. She was walking toward him, with a coffee in one hand, a book in the other. She looked up, met Francis' eyes, and stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. Her mouth was open, but no words came out. Francis kept walking toward her. He was numb. With one hand wrapped around her arm tightly, he pulled her alongside him into an alley about twenty feet away. "Francis, please, you have to listen to me-!"

"No, you listen to me!" Francis whipped her around so that she faced him. He leaned in close, so close that his nose nearly touched hers. "You turned me in, didn't you?"

Adeline's voice was pleading, and tears streamed down her face. "Francis, please-"

"Yes or no!"

His scream made Adeline cower down against the brick wall behind her. Her shoulders shook with sobs. "I-I'm so-sorry!" She slid down the wall until she rested on the concrete ground, knees drawn up to her chest.

Francis cursed under his breath and ran his fingers through his hair. "Why? I just want to know why."

It took her a moment to answer. "I thought… If they knew… They would kill my family if I didn't say anything!"

"Oh, and did you think about what that will do to my family? Did you?"

"Francis, I'm so sorry-"

"Shut up." Francis closed his eyes and sighed. When he spoke again, his voice was quiet. Eerily quiet.

"You know what? I don't even care anymore. Save your own skin for all I care. Just leave."

"Francis, you don't mean that-"

"I said go!" Francis screamed.

Adeline scrambled to her feet and sprinted out of the alley, the sound of her sobs chasing her out.

Francis was done. The one person he trusted more than his own sister and himself had abandoned him.

There was no forgiving this. The ultimate betrayal would bear the ultimate consequences, not only for him, but for her as well. It cut him deep to watch her leave, but he had to remind himself that this was what he signed up for when he started up with the Resistance. This was the price he knew he would have to pay eventually. Everyone knew that you could only go unscathed for so long, before you were bitten.

It had finally caught up to Francis.

He left the alley with his own eyes welling up with tears. If he hurried, then he might just be able to catch Jean before he left the café. He had changed his mind about that mission. He was going to take it.

-x-x-x-

Days later, he sat in a room with four other Americans. Right about now was when he really wished that he knew English, but one of the other Americans knew enough French to provide rough translations for him.

All of the other men were United States Marines. They introduced themselves as Gunnery Sergeant Robert La Salle, Sergeants Charles Perry, John Bodnar, Frederick Brunner, and Corporal Alfred Jones. All were hardened combat veterans, except for Jones. Jones was the rookie, the one with hardly any combat experience at all.

"So," Bodnar said after some small talk about the war and the man who had called them together, "Anyone know what the heck we're doing here exactly?"

The door to the room swung open, and two men walked in. "That seems to be the question of the evening," the first man said, "And gentlemen, I have all the answers." The man was tall and broad shouldered, with a smile full of ivory teeth. "I'm Major Peter Ortiz, and I'll be your commanding officer for this mission. This is Army Air Forces Captain Frank Coolidge, you're to listen to him as much as you listen to me." Coolidge nodded to the men, and Ortiz continued.

"This mission on which we are about to embark on is top secret, code named "Union II". We'll be going to the Vercors Plateau in the Haute Savoie region, close to Normandy. There's a large population of French Resistance in hiding there, and in desperate need for weapons and supplies, so we'll be making a delivery to their front step. They'll be down on the ground radioing us into the DZ. Shouldn't go off with much of a hitch if we can get in and out fast, but there's a heck of a lot of Krauts down there that would love to put a US Marine six feet under, so I wouldn't be too careful. You all will be provided weapons, maps, and other equipment you may need for when you drop down. Francis will be flying for us, and from what I understand, is quite the pilot." Francis smiled, and one of the men clapped him on the back. "Jump day is August 1. Any questions?"

"No sir," the men all chimed in.

"Good!" Ortiz rested his hands on his hips and sighed. "I sure do have a fine bunch of men here. The free world thanks you, as do I."

-x-x-x-

All of the men were lying in their bunks later that night. All of them were trying in vain to go to sleep, but their minds were too full. The upcoming mission was keeping them awake. They had tried to talk about it, but the subject fell flat. That's when Brunner brought up something that was sure to keep them talking long into the night.

"So… Any of you have a girl?"

A chorus of "Yeah!"s and "Oh buddy!"s erupted in the small barracks, and everyone leaned over to fish a photo out of their bags. Everyone except for Alfred and Francis.

While photos were being passed around, La Salle asked amid the whistles why they didn't have a picture to show, and Alfred said that she hadn't sent a photo yet. "You'd better show it to us the second it comes in the mail, or you're gonna be real sorry, kid!" They all laughed, and La Salle turned to Francis. "What about you?"

Francis didn't say anything, only looked down at his hands for a moment. He looked up and, with a sigh, said, "We were together for over a year and a half. I loved her with every part of me. I was even going to marry her after the war ends." The barracks had fallen quiet. Only Francis and Perry spoke, Perry translating for the rest of the men. "But… She turned me in to the Gestapo for being in the Resistance. I don't know why. I thought she loved me, but I guess… I guess I was wrong."

No one said anything for the longest time. No one could say anything. Everyone slowly leaned back in their bunks and let the darkness fill the empty space around them.

"That sucks," Perry whispered to Francis.

"Yeah," Francis sighed as he rolled over to face the wall. "Yeah, it does."

Thanks for reading! And as always, feel free to leave a review. Hope your new year has had a great start! Love all of y'all! 3