Thanks to the person who pointed out the language tip for me; despite lots of reviewers having quite mixed opinions over the use of "Liebchen" (and I don't even speak German, so I smile and nod every time), I think it's safe to change certain usages to the other options.

Sakura stood stock still for about four seconds before she screamed and threw her arms up defensively. This was it. After surviving endless weeks on battlefields here and there, she was doomed to die by a rogue hand grenade dropped from a plane. She closed her eyes. That had to be what it was. Maybe they disguised them to look like birds now to throw people off.

But hand grenades don't bleed, do they? Pull yourself together, girl. Sakura slowly opened her eyes and let her arms drop down to her sides, relieved when she felt the blood flowing back into them after being held up for so long. Peering at the pot and trying to ascertain as many facts as she could based on appearance alone, Sakura stood on tiptoe to ogle the star-crossed kitchenware from several yards away where she had thrown herself in fear.

She couldn't see directly inside, but the top of the pot was smeared with the gossamer blood often ascribed to fowl decent, and the snow around the base was permeated with the blood and littered with primary feathers.

Sakura inched toward the unfortunately inscrutable pot, resituating her hands in front of her face, wanting to at least get a look at the pigeon. I'm sure it's just a normal pigeon. They're everywhere around here. And maybe I can find out what happened to it. It could mean bad news for Deidara and me. Finding herself at the brink of the circular array of carnage, Sakura stood on her tiptoes again and leaned as far forward as she dared without falling. What she saw had her forcing her tea back down.

Oh, gross.

Dropping to a crouch, Sakura hop-walked on the balls of her feet in an attempt to keep her hands from the freezing earth as she braved the final inches to her goal. The frigid air was already beginning to work on the blood, which started to ice over and sparkle with a morbid gaiety.

Sakura extended her arm as far as she could without hurting herself and delicately reached inside the opening, groping about apprehensively for a tail feather or a beak that she could draw the carcass out with. She squealed when her hand blindly encountered a moist and pulpy something that stained her skin dark red, down clinging to the wetness. Determined not let a dead bird dominate her senses, Sakura impulsively grabbed a clutch of feathers and hauled a dripping, quickly hardening pigeon out of a puddle of blood and entrails.

Backpedaling as gracefully as one could while squatting, Sakura swiped a depression into the snow and transferred the body quickly (without making an unnecessary mess) to her makeshift observation facility. She wiped the snow on her clothes, wary of the risk of ice forming on her skin. The last thing anyone needed right now was an elite nurse getting frostbitten. Placing her hands on her knees, she leaned in close, hoping to discover the origin of this bird's murder.

It was an unusual injury, but typical of its breed. The shot had apparently entered at precisely the right angle to cross—through the body and out the other side—under the bird's wings. The power of the impact had then completely blown the wings off and caused the poor animal to drop tens of feet to his death in Sakura's pot. She gingerly turned the bird over, exposing the frozen entrance hole of the bullet.

It was small and round, as any other run-of-the-mill bullet wound look to an amateur nurse. She was far from being an amateur, however, and grimly frowned as a quick glance at the other side of the bird confirmed her fearful suspicions. The exit wound was very large, surrounded by flaps of skin, and distorted veins mapped out a clear verdict for Sakura. This was clearly the work of a sniper. A long-range sniper, probably, but even that didn't bring a shred of hope. This meant the German troops were four, five days away. A week if they were lucky. This is bad.

"This is bad." Deidara suddenly appeared behind her, unconsciously echoing her thoughts as he gazed first at Sakura, then the bloodied pigeon. "My countrymen will be here soon. If they should be called it. You should go back inside. Leave the bird. Wash your hands. It is not right that women are covered in blood."

Sakura huffed. Even though it was kind of touching, she didn't appreciate men domineering over her, not even a cute one. Not even one with an inappropriately enduring accent. Still, she could use the time inside to write this strange occurrence in her journal. This certainly was a strange week. First men drop into the snow, and then birds drop out of the sky. Nothing is right. She looked at Deidara, who, in turn, was looking off into the woods with a deep expression painting his features.

Raising herself to full height and wincing as her joints popped in painful protest on the way up, she walked towards him so she was standing on his left, looking out into the woods with him.

"What are you looking at?"

Deidara made a noncommittal grunt. "Now I must take care of some things."

"What do you mean?"

"I will return, yes."

Sakura narrowed her eyes. "You can't just go roaming in the woods! We don't know who's out there, and you're sick, and—and—I'm not letting you go!" She grabbed his arm. "You're staying right here, mister!"

"Gott in Himmel, Frau! I go to piss!"

Sakura blushed furiously. "…Oh. I—I'm sorry."

Deidara snorted, shoved his hands in his pockets, and began sauntering off to the snow-laden trees. Where did he get—oh! Sakura ran back in the tent to check the chest at the foot of his cot. If he'd taken all of those clothes…oh, he was so in for it. She would go out there after him, peeing or not, and give him a piece of her mind, that was for damn sure. Actually, I have to go out there anyway. The soporific effect of the lingering fever could kick in any time. He's endangering himself by galloping around like nothing's wrong. He'll pass out in the snow and die before I get there, practically. Not like I care...

She stomped the last few feet to the entrance, kicking snow along the way. I fall in love too fast. Just don't look at him unless you have to, Sakura. Then nothing will ever happen. She sniffed from the cold and rubbed her nose with the back of her hand. Why can't I believe it, though?

It wasn't until later that Sakura realized she hadn't thought to worry about her regiment all day.

--------------------

Deidara strolled through the woods, hands still in pockets, trying to find a good tree. Women would never understand this, but a man couldn't relieve himself against just any tree. The ideal one had spongy bark, which would absorb the—Deidara shook his head violently. Was that the fever talking? Did people normally think about piss in their spare time? Then again, Deidara wasn't much of an ordinary man.

Neither was that Sakura girl. Crazy bitch. He wished she wouldn't nag so much, but then again, he liked her nagging. Besides his grandmother's loving scolding to be careful and wear your sweater, Mein Schatz, when he visited in the Summer, during Christmas, anytime he could, really, women didn't seem to care about him enough to give him the time of day, let alone pretend concern for his health.

He knew she was a nurse, and therefore obligated to care for him upon his grievous illness, but there was nothing dictating this…this extra giving of concern that provoked her to order him to get back inside, those simple words that meant so much to him and evoked feelings of some emotion that Deidara didn't care to explore further upon, and simple embarrassment at having that emotion. Deidara frowned as he came upon his perfect tree. There he went again lashing out at her in the wrong way. This was no way to get a girl to marry a man!

She'll warm up to me. Eventually. And then we'll get married. And have lots of babies. He unzipped his American military-grade fly. Because I am completely qualified to become a baby-making machine. No one has to look far to see that. He sighed, eyes blissfully closed, and leaned his forehead against the tree trunk. He really had to go. Deidara just couldn't get rid of the feeling that he'd been too harsh with this whole ordeal, though. And crude. Women didn't deserve to be treated like that. Women did everything. Those trips to the farm proved that and more still.

He could remember watching both his grandparents work in the fields all day, and then his grandfather would collapse in his chair in the living room and turn on the radio, but his grandmother never sat down. She went straight into the kitchen, where she made a snack for Deidara and brought his grandfather some of her homemade Bier.

Come to think of it, Deidara had no memories whatsoever of his grandmother sitting, save for when she had his head in her lap when he caught his annual flu, telling him the story of Hansel and Gretel, Rumpelstiltskin, or whatever she knew he wanted right then. He zipped his fly up again and began to stroll back down the path, thoughts straying back to that Sakura girl. She had really nice ankles. Being an artist—the production of explosives also counted as art, not just sculpting—Deidara learned over the years to appreciate the beautiful things in life and human nature. No, not just appreciation, survival.

Germany was becoming just a bit weird, in the kindest of words, and what better way to completely ignore your impending judgment day with the censor-happy Third Reich than to immerse yourself in the wonders of nature? Women were lovely. He had no problem admitting that to himself or anyone else. He adored the soft curves and gentle transitions from legs to hips to waist to breasts and everything in between, everything that made a woman a woman and artistic, even, without even trying.

Sometimes Deidara felt like he could stare at a woman all day and never get bored. Unfortunately, for him, most women took this the wrong way, tended to avoid him, and tended to tell other women to avoid him. As he was hit once again with the realization that this situation was his first experience for real with women, not just prostitutes or his grandmother—a rather pathetic grand tally—he decided that from now on he was going to work this out. Really, he was.

As Deidara snorted at his own insolence (no one was around to see him make funny faces at himself, so what the hell), luck decided to fall upon him in the form of a son-of-a-bitch, dried-up leaf from the very tiptop of an Ardennes tree. The leaf had nothing against him, really, but that was of no concern to Deidara, who swore vehemently when it landed right in his eye at the exact moment he looked up.

He was only trying to shake his non-existent bangs into place (it was a habit by now), but now instead of mourning his lack of real hair as per usual, he was clutching his eye and eliciting more and more creative versions of 'shit' by the second. And now he was stumbling off the path into some dehydrated, low tree branches (which fell on him as he brushed past them, also sending down pounds of snow under his jacket and into his pants) and tripping over a fucking root, sending him careening onto a smooth, rounded, metal surface, on which he slid down and, immediately following, collapsed in the snow.

Wanting to cry with frustration but refusing to, Deidara fisted his hand and punched the unseen metal object, damning it, the leaf, and various other inanimate objects in his immediate vicinity. Suddenly, he froze. Metal?

Making a furious effort to blink the rest of the leaf dust out and victoriously succeeding, Deidara sprang up and hastily brushed the snow from his extremities, staring speechless at what met his eyes. This was certainly a change in plans. Screw knocking out the girl and carrying her over enemy lines, eloping, and having seven children. Now they could go out in style. …Although he did still plan to carry out that last half. No, I'm getting way ahead of myself. Don't count your chickens before you boil them in hot oil. Isn't that what the Americans say? This could've been here for years. Just calm down. Don't get your hopes up, Deidara.

It was a plane. A Lockheed P-38, to be exact. Deidara smiled and ran a hand over the chipped paint. Might as well check it out inside, if I can figure out a way to open it, or at least look in first.

A few more strings of curse words, numerous falls into the snowdrifts, and some serious problem solving got Deidara panting and clinging to the cockpit window for dear life. Prying open the pitiable excuse for a door at the side of the windshield, Deidara balanced himself on the thick outer and inner layers of plane covering and leaned in to look, hoping that what he found wouldn't completely crush his temporary optimism.

She peeked out of the flap for the fortieth time, the molested metal chest tipped over behind her as though prostrating on the floor to plead its suffering. One would expect the contents to be strewn haphazardly about the tent floor, but the problem was there was nothing in it. Sakura fumed and balled her fists.

"That idiot. He may be a patient, but I don't have to stand for this nonsense. I was going to get him something to wear, but oh, no, he had to go and filch someone else's clothes. Damn German. I guess it's true they're born like that. He is so dead when I find him. So dead."

Sakura stomped in a circle, debating what to do. She wanted to go out after him, but…well, what was there to think about? Maybe he'd collapsed in the snow and was dying. That would be a blessing from God Almighty. Wait, what am I saying? That's not right! No, Sakura, no!

She drew her fists to her temples, trying to assuage a growing headache and only serving to agitate it further. Oh, why am I so damn nice?

Grabbing some nearby boots and jacket, Sakura sat on the closest cot and quickly dressed, thoughts running through her head too fast to catch. He'd better be okay. I'd feel so guilty if he died. Why am I so nice? They don't deserve it! None of them do! They don't care about me, only themselves!

But there was Naruto, who always had a smile. 'Hey, tiger. Got some string? I really ripped one today.'

And there was Captain Kakashi, who always had a motto. 'Sakura, when are you going to learn that it's not the soldier, it's the unit?'

And there was Sasuke—before he defected to the Italians, anyway—who always had…an attitude. 'Just get out of the way. I can give my own self a bath. I don't need a woman's help, especially not yours.'

Sakura clutched the coat around her and stepped outside into the snow, tromping through Deidara's still-visible footprints towards the treeline. "At least it's not snowing now," Sakura murmured to herself. "At least I—we—can find our way back properly." A harsh, mechanical sound resounded from deep within the foliage, shattering the pristine tranquility. Sakura gasped. "Deidara!'"

Breaking into a run—having a difficult time staying upright—Sakura dashed towards the noise, trying desperately to pinpoint a location. Were the other Germans there? Was this all a trap? Should she keep going? Something inside of her knew that either way, she'd regret it if she never knew what happened. Besides, if there were other Germans, she was dead either way. Better to die with a satisfied curiosity than a satisfied ignorance. Even if being ignorant meant to die, which would be unfortunate, but—Sakura jumped.

There was that horrible noise again! It sounded like someone was trying to scrape two shovels together, or a file on concrete. She quickened her pace, blinking when Deidara's footsteps took on an erratic turn and began to lurch around. As visions of his horrible death scenarios chose that particular moment to have a free cinema showing inside Sakura's imagination, a great number of which included tree branches impaling a pallid Deidara, all for a low, low price with free popcorn, she held her breath hopefully. She forgot to let it out when anger suddenly took the place of terror.

Deidara paused and whirled around, sheet of metal still clutched in his hand, looking, for all intents and purposes, completely ignorant and naïve. To Sakura's surprise, he smiled brilliantly at her and gestured happily with his free hand as he greeted her cordially in his pitiable, attractive, unpracticed English. No, wait a second. Not attractive. …Dammit!

"Stop yelling, Frau. The trees will become deaf because your screeching."

Sakura sighed. She would never be able to understand how he could smile and insult someone spontaneously. Surely, it was a man thing. Then again, Sai was a bit weird about the whole smiling thing. He'd come to their regiment from the National Guard in Arizona or something, but always refused to get any more technical than that, which left some to wonder at his authenticity.

Naruto gradually warmed up to him. She was glad, as that ordeal with Sasuke left Naruto needing another guy to hang out with besides Neji all the time. Neji was just too weird sometimes. Spending most of one's free time staring at birds and murmuring their possible prophetic meaning of existence—instead of 'going out in the woods,' as the men were wont to phrase it, or sneaking some French wine when the nurses were turned away—was unnerving, to say the least.

"Take this. We put it on the other side, ja? I have the tool; I found it…inside the windows." Deidara's statement broke Sakura out of her reverie, and she looked up to see him waving the metal sheet around in her direction. Walking over to him and bracing her feet—Deidara scoffed—she clutched the other end and assisted him in moving the unwieldy sheet to the other side of the plane, where a gap in the right wing section alerted her where to maneuver her heavy parcel.

She slowly released the wing section and backed away, allowing Deidara to expertly pound the part in the place and produce some sort of bulky tool, with which he did something to put the sheet in almost perfect symphony with the rest of the wingspan. Apparently not finished, Deidara moved to the tip of the wing and positioned himself to see directly across the flat surface, relaxing once again and putting his hands into his pockets when he finished admiring his work.

Sakura wondered…no. It was impossible. Still…

"…Deidara?"

"Hmm."

"Could this thing…fly?"

He grinned and brandished the mystery tool. "Your mouth steals my thoughts. Or perhaps you are a bit more intelligent than I have thought."

Sakura smiled back and stood up straighter. "Why, thank y—"

"It almost makes me forget that you are a women."

Sakura stiffened and glared. "Excuse me? And it's 'woman,' not 'women.' If you're going to insult me you should do it in proper English, Nazi."

Deidara dramatically rolled his eyes and juggled the tool distractedly. "Women are nice, but they can not do some things. Zum Beispiel…fix this plane, yes. A woman only fixes the plane. A man can feel the plane's suffering and knows perfect what to heal."

Sakura snorted. "That was the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard. I am fully capable of fixing a plane."

"Oh, ja?" Deidara's eyebrows rose. "Why do you stand and chatter like a bird when there is work to be done, yes?" He gestured to the plane.

Sakura smoothed out her skirt primly. "Well, I meant I would fix the plane if I knew how." She blushed when Deidara resumed laughing. "Well—well, you don't know how to fix a broken leg! You'd probably do one of those stupid battlefield techniques that aren't really healthy in the long run, and—and—and then come to me expecting me to fix it—heal it when you just completely screwed up the arteries in the breaking area, and then I try to fix it and people get mad when I can't, and then don't look at me like that I have to do whatever I can, night and day, to—"

His kiss took her completely off guard, and she found herself taking one step back in the snow. He followed accordingly.

Other than being unexpected, however, the kiss wasn't too particularly special. He was putting in tremendous effort and all, running his hands up and down her arms and then moving one to her lower back and head to push her against him, but it just wasn't right.

She didn't want to have to go through this kind of experience with him, she realized. Everything was too soon, and she was having those terrible flashbacks now, those ones where…

She clenched her fists and put in her own effort to be as static as possible.

Probably discouraged at his failed attempts to insert his tongue unceremoniously down her throat—Disgusting Nazi—Deidara broke away from her with a sigh and briskly walked back towards the plane.

He paused after a moment, back facing her. "…You talk too much."

Sakura was too shaken to say anything, and tried to curl into herself as much as possible while still standing. Deidara's actions, which she had admittedly anticipated, shocked her to the point of mere passive resistance and an absence of physical retaliation. She felt violated, in some strange, ridiculous way, and she abruptly wished that Naruto were there to comfort her…and maybe beat the shit out of Deidara while he was at it.

Still, there was no hope for her here, alone in the woods with an insane enemy soldier who was probably very deprived of female interaction. Most soldiers were. That was no ready excuse to Sakura, though, who felt the beginnings of fury seep in from somewhere deep in her chest, overtaking the previously presiding helplessness. The remaining passiveness ebbed away as she stared at Deidara's hunched form over the wing, trying and failing to make it look like he was currently engaged in some elaborate fixating of some sort. She felt like going over there, grabbing his shoulders, and jamming her knee where the sun didn't shine.

Shuffling the metal around was hopefully enough to divert her attention from his increasingly reddening face, and he prayed she would be too docile to come over and give to him what he admitted he deserved. He heard her footsteps crunching methodically in the snow, coming towards him, and paused in his administrations once more, unconsciously bringing his legs closer together. You never knew what women planned on doing. Precautions and that sort of thing.

She sighed loudly, and Deidara waited for the bomb to fall.

"So can this thing fly or what?"

He blinked. "What?"

Another sigh. "The plane. Can the plane fly? Like…take off and go up in the air. Fly. The plane."

He glared at her over his shoulder. "I know what you said. I was only—yes. Yes, the plane can fly."

Sakura looked down at the snow and began digging a hole with her foot. "Why?"

Closing his eyes, he wondered if she was this dense or if she was just messing with his head. "You know why, all right? The German Army is surrounding this area. Your friends got deployed to fight the Army, yes? They will not survive. We have surrounded you. Unternehmen: Wacht am Rhein has been planned to perfection.

"You Americans are too proud of yourselves," he continued. "You have not guarded well against the Germans. You are too busy with your attack plans, and have not flown planes in order to search in the air." Deidara heaved himself up atop the wing and walked slowly to the cockpit area, arms out for balance. Reaching the main entry window, he patted it fondly. "Like this plane. It is in good condition, and there is…the fuel in it. But you feel you didn't have to use it, and because of this, you suffer, yes."

He looked back at Sakura, not at all perturbed at the anger in her stance. He was even enjoying himself a bit. She was such an explosive woman. Respected or not, he wished more than anything now to just see her completely lose control, scream and stomp her boots on the ground; then when she exhausted herself, she would be back to normal once more, and he could do it all over again. What a swell idea! But…it wouldn't do to have her cry again. Better be more careful.

"The Germans are running out of fuel. They will be in this area if we do not escape somehow. We can take this plane over the Western Front, as you call it. The Germans will not expect us, and this plane fast enough so that when they come alive in their heads, we will already be past them, ja. We should look for…lost fuel cells. This much in this tank will only get us a little past the line." He paused for a moment. "I was thinking…we should go to my house. The Army has now taken my things, but I have a hidden place in basement. Very secret. Will not be found, I think."

"W—we?"

"There is some money. Worthless in war, yes. But also some explosives. My art, you know. And—what? What is it now?" Deidara paused and looked at the girl, her face void of all aggression, replaced instead by some sort of emotion that he refused to think about.

"'We'? You mean you're taking me, too?"

Deidara suddenly felt very uncomfortable, and he turned back to look inside the cockpit, hands against the glass to ward the unholy brightness of the snow glare, trying his best to look nonchalant.

"It is not wise to leave someone to die in a hopeless situation. You will come, maybe leave when we come to a town, hide until the war is over. You do not have to stay. If you do, perhaps we can go to Sweden. They are neutral, but they are giving Germany things, metal, and other things, in order to…not be invasion, ja." Deidara shrugged, feeling very proud of his act.

Her embrace took him completely off guard.

How she got so close to him, up on the wing, even, completely baffled him, but that was suddenly a very trivial thing compared to the feeling of her body warm against his, a paradox of her earlier behavior and an almost sensual juxtaposition to the biting air all around them. Aside from grunting softly at the initial impact, Deidara was at a loss as to what he was supposed to do next, and backed up automatically at the pressure she put on his body until they were both flush against the cockpit. That thing is sure getting a lot of action today.

Wanting to put his hands on her hips—It wouldn't be groping. Really.—but not wanting to provoke her further, Deidara waited for some sort of explicit sign that it would be acceptable to engage in this touching ordeal, which was soon becoming a favorite on his list of things he enjoyed doing. Unfortunately, the—hug? Attempt to slowly strangle him? Pre-sexual intercourse ritual?—broke off as Sakura slowly pulled away, sniffing, wiping her eyes with her hands.

Shit. "Are you well, yes?"

She shuddered. "I'm fine."

Deidara nodded awkwardly. Why was everything so difficult all of a sudden?

"…Thank you, Deidara."

He blinked, and desperately tried to think of some way he could escape. Got it. "Yes…I go fix Flugzeug—I mean airplane." He pointed two thumbs at the airplane. "I go fix it now."Why was it so hard to recall a foreign language when you were flustered?

Eyes lighting up, Sakura reached for his arm before he had a chance to hop off the wing and dash to the other side. "There's no way this thing will fly before they get there. You won't be able to make it by yourself. You might be able to fix—heal it, whatever, but it'll be hard to get it out of all this snow.

"I…could learn to fix some things, too, if you wanted to show me. I'm a fast learner. We should go back and eat something now, I'll just make something with whatever I can find." She smiled coyly. "And maybe I can teach you how to properly bind a broken leg while I'm at it. Come on."

Deidara blinked and allowed her to get a better grip on his arm. He jumped off the wing in sync with her motions, following her blindly as she steered them back onto the main path and towards the camp once more.