Today was the day. Cosima was finally getting out of the hospital. Danielle had been kind enough to bring over a simple skirt and blouse for her, well-cut and fitting, and some summer sandals. She checked herself in the mirror again. She hadn't been able to do her hair as usual for a while now, so it spilled down in dark, glossy waves. She put it up in a loose bun, and applied some of the make-up Danielle had also delivered. She was finally starting to feel human again, as if she could take some time to make herself feel good. Maybe it was not working for some days, maybe it was the relative peace in Paris, as the Allies pushed westward, maybe it was just being able to take a breath, to feel as though she didn't have to fight for her life, or for the lives of the people she felt deeply about.

Maybe it was something else.

She knew she'd have to get in contact with the military again, eventually. That she couldn't, wouldn't spend too much time out of the war effort, that there was so much more to do, to contribute.

But not yet. Not right this second, while her ribs and her wound and her lungs were still healing, while she was finally about to be able to walk the streets without hiding.

And while she was able to spend time with Delphine.

She paused, looking into her own eyes in the mirror.

"Get yourself together," she said. Don't be a dreamer, she thought, don't ruin things. But don't let possibilities pass you by…

There was a soft knock on the door, and she whirled, unsure what she had said aloud, what the visitor had heard, to see Delphine's face in the doorway, beaming. She was in a flowered dress, gauzy and almost floating. She had done her hair. It was blonde again, in a golden chignon. She had on red lipstick, striking against her pale skin.

"You look together to me," she offered. "Are you ready? I was thinking it's not too far to walk, and there is a vendor now selling glace… ice cream, if you would like a treat."

Cosima's grin spread across her face.

"That," she responded, "sounds like the best idea I've heard in a long time."

Delphine hooked her arm around Cosima's as they exited the hospital, turning to look when her friend stood still for a moment, tilting her head back and letting the sunshine warm her face. Just looking at the enjoyment Cosima felt in that simple gesture brought her a smile. The American took a deeper breath than she had yet managed in the hospital, and let it out. She opened her eyes.

"Alright, cookie, let's blow this pop stand!"

It was a beautiful late summer's day, with a bright cerulean sky daubed with a few small, puffy clouds, and just a hint of a breeze. One might be forgiven if one wished to forget there was a war going on not far away for a moment. As much as Paris had suffered, the city had functioned and remained closer to normal than almost any other occupied territory. Businesses had been open, hospitals run, daily life, though tense, had gone on, for many. Now citizens were strolling along, taking in the sun and fresh air. Some certainly had family and friends in danger, and many needed to recover from pain and loss. Nevertheless, the illusion of a full return to pre-war routine was a comforting temptation.

They bought their glaces and walked on, tasting each other's treats. There were very few American troops left on the streets, as most had continued to push right through their the Paris parade route and on to the east, to the front lines. Policemen were present, but some who had been the most vicious of the collaborators were gone. They moved from a wide avenue to a smaller street, and talked about happy, distracting things, like Cosima's favourite soda shop at home, and how in winter one could buy warm chestnuts on the streets.

They neared a small cross-street, and heard a din, a cacophony of voices, raised in jeering and angry tones. They looked at one another and slowed, peering around the corner.

A crowd was gathered, mostly men, although some women were also involved. They were pushing around someone, someone who was crying. Coming closer, Delphine and Cosima could see it was a woman in a tattered dress. Her hair had been completely shaven down to stubble, and she sported a swelling eye and a busted lip. Delphine briefly hesitated, but when Cosima decisively began striding toward the scene, she quick-stepped to join her.

"Hey, what's going on," Cosima asked the group.

A tall man who had been shoving the woman looked at her.

"We caught a spy. This woman had Nazi boyfriends."

Cosima looked the situation over again.

"A spy? Nazi boyfriends? How do you know that?"

"She's a slut, a whore. She slept with many of them. She's a collaborationist."

"She lived next to my boyfriend, a resistance hero. She was watching him and he was taken away," a woman piped up.

Cosima's jaw twitched and she looked at Delphine. She could see her friend's wide-eyed confusion beginning to become infused with anger.

"Those are pretty serious accusations," Cosima said, turning back. "Why don't you bring her in to the authorities? They can question her. If you're going to find out the truth, they can determine if a crime could have been committed, and maybe she'll get a fair trial."

"Half those dogs are collaborationists, too," the man spat, clearly angered by the intrusion. "We're giving her the justice of the people."

"Look, I worked with the Allied intelligence services. You've punished her. Why don't you let us take her in to…"

"What is it to you, anyway, American," the man sneered. "You want to come in here and claim victory like the rest of your countrymen?"

"Enough."

All turned to look at the source of this indignant growl. Delphine Cormier, with her lady-like appearance and angelic, golden-curled glow stepped forward, her face creased in anger.

"Do you know who you're talking to," she snapped at them. "This American risked her life to come to France, grew medicines for the needy, and helped guide the French army into Paris. She worked with French agents as well as British and Americans, she helped Spanish guerillas. Show some respect."

"And as for this woman," Delphine indicated the accused woman they held, battered and shorn, "where is your evidence? When does she get a chance to explain herself? If she was prostituting herself, she was probably doing it to survive. It's not like there has been so much work and money for single women here, of late. If she had boyfriends, so what? Sometimes people date, or fall for, foreigners. Some people do what they do because they must. Honestly, have you never visited a prostitute before, yourself? As for Germans, I doubt you would turn down Marlene Dietrich if she were available to you…"

The group was stunned. The man pushed the injured woman roughly to the side to step toward Delphine.

"Who the hell are you?"

Cosima saw her chance and grabbed the battered woman's arm, pulling her away. She didn't yell when she spoke again, but her voice was firm, precise.

"She is a true 'resistance hero.' She got information out to the Allies and helped coordinate resistance efforts. She sacrificed herself to have a so-called 'Nazi boyfriend,' as you put it, a high-ranking officer from whom she got information vital to the cause. She put her life on the line and she paid for it. Now, why don't you calm down, and we can all work together, here. This woman's already been beaten up, so let's take her to the police or army and they can sort out the truth."

The man paused, and looked back at his friends. Another man stepped slightly forward behind him, fists clenched, in support of his buddy. Other people stood, taken aback, or eased away. When the man who had been arguing turned back to look at the women again, his eyes were narrowed. He looked close to action, leaning forward.

"You want to know how I paid? This," Delphine said, stepping forward and sliding aside the neckline of her dress to show the still-pink and tight scar on her upper chest. "This," she touched the scar behind her ear. "This," she pointed down at her shin. "I was beaten, and I was tortured, and I was sent to go to a prison camp. But that's not the worst of it. My parents were executed, and I spent years among the company of the people I hate. I hid in fear, wanted by the S.S., and saw my family and friends disappear and get injured."

She raised her fist, then extended her pointer finger and shook it.

"We have all suffered, but I will not see us free French turn into the thugs who cowed us." Her arm swung to point at the trembling woman now leaning on Cosima's arm. "I don't know what this woman may have done, but she's not a soldier, and the only way to peace is to have her investigated properly, not beaten on hearsay."

There was a still moment. Then the man blinked.

"Come on," Cosima urged, and took Delphine's arm, as well. She turned them all and marched them out to the avenue.

They all walked quickly, almost robotically, each caught up in their own emotions — fear, despair, anger, determination. Seconds ticked by until Cosima could finally turn her head to look behind them.

"Whew," she exhaled. "No-one's following us. Now let's get Mademoiselle…?" She looked at the woman.

"Matilde. And it's true… I… I had German boyfriends…" Her face began crumpling, tears squeezing out of the corners of her eyes, blood dripping from her lip. They both looked at her.

"And," Delphine asked quietly, "did you act against your countrymen?"

"N-no," the woman choked. "I… I spent time with Germans, but they were everywhere, in charge… so many people mingled with them. I tried to ignore the fighting, the politics… One of them was so nice to me, so handsome… I just needed some money, to be cared for… but maybe I deserve…"

Delphine's lips formed a thin line.

"Don't. We'll get you to the authorities and you'll get questioned. I'll have someone from my lawyer's firm stop by and check on you. What you did, who you were with, it might not have supported the resistance, or been noble, but you were far from the only person who did as much. Attraction, desires… they're strong, but not simple at times like this. If you want to think the beating was what you deserved, then take it as your penance and move on. But I think nobody deserves trial by mob. Reflect on your true actions, your motivations and conscience. What they did, assaulting you, was wrong, and that should weigh on their consciences."

Cosima looked over at Delphine, seeing a fierce light, a strength born not solely of anger but of consideration and righteousness. She had never seen her quite like this, and the revelation, the depth of her friend's being and conviction, shook her deep inside.

They proceeded to the gendarmerie, each lost in her own thoughts.