Dietrich hesitated for a full minute before finally knocking on the guestroom door. "Anselm?" When he got no response, he knocked again. "Anselm? I can explain everything."

The door opened. Anselm was still wearing a hurt expression, and his pale face was streaked with tears.

Dietrich drew in a breath. "Look… I think it is safe to say that neither of us trusted each other in the beginning."

Anselm looked at the floor. "You're right."

"You did act hostile toward me when I arrived with Moffitt a few days ago. I am glad you are making a turnaround, but given your initial reaction, it will take time before I fully trust you." Dietrich leaned against the doorway, folding his arms over his chest. "What can I do to help you trust me?"

"I already told you that I did trust you." Anselm hugged himself, continuing to look down at the floor.

When he didn't elaborate, Dietrich looked past Anselm into the guest bedroom. The young man had brought nothing with him other than the clothes on his back. The only thing in the room apart from the furnishings was Dietrich's jacket, hanging on the desk chair. Dietrich hadn't even realized that he never took the jacket back, but now, he wasn't going to. It just didn't feel right to take it away, when Anselm had nothing.

"You kept trying to help even though I was pushing you away. Mother told me you were a coward, but… I don't think a coward would have kept trying."

"Helping someone, especially if that someone is being ungrateful, takes a lot of strength. I have a life of my own. I have a wife and a baby to take care of. I chose to come help you. I could have left you for Markus to deal with. I could have left you all alone in that hospital. Do you want to know something else? I hate being in hospitals. They make me anxious. I tried to commit suicide three years after the war ended, and was brought to a hospital after I was found in my apartment. Being in a hospital just makes that day loop over and over again in my head. It does not drive me as mad as it did many years ago, but that discomfort is still enough to make me want to leave as soon as possible." Dietrich sighed. "Do you have any idea how many times the medical officers in the Bundeswehr questioned whether or not to diagnose me with high blood pressure for the first few years I was in? A lot. Fortunately, I have managed my nervousness enough to where that is no longer an issue. Still, I would rather get my appointment done and leave quickly. Sitting with you violated that, but I did it anyway, because you needed it."

It wouldn't have surprised Dietrich if Anselm accused him of lying. Instead, Anselm stood quietly for a few long moments. He started to look a little unsteady, so he slowly lowered himself to sit at the foot of the bed.

"Are you alright?"

Anselm said nothing, but he looked to be in pain. Not excruciating pain, but pain nonetheless. He glanced up at Dietrich when his uncle entered the room, then went back to hunching over.

Dietrich let out his breath. He reached out to touch Anselm's shoulder, hesitated for a moment, then did so. He didn't like how well he could feel the bones beneath the younger man's skin. "Anselm, please, do not let yourself suffer like this. I have made an error in my judgement. Please. Do not just sit here and continue suffering. We can start over. Trust me, I understand starting over is difficult. The memories associated with your former life in East Germany may very well haunt you for the rest of your life. You do not have to deal with them alone."

"How am I supposed to rely on you or Uncle Markus when if I say one positive thing about my mother, you both snap?"

"It is something that we will simply have to work on, but that is not a one-sided thing. You will have to accept that Markus and I did not experience what you did. However, that does not mean that we will not try and understand. It will require patience from all of us, alright?"

Anselm nodded. "Okay."

"I will start by apologizing for my judgement of you."

Another nod, but no words.

Dietrich took that as Anselm accepting his apology. "Now that has been settled, come downstairs and have breakfast, along with your medication." He led Anselm back downstairs, finding Markus and Moffitt sitting at the dining room table. The two looked over at Dietrich, who put both hands on Anselm's shoulders before saying, "We are going to treat him like one of us. That is final."

His brother and Moffitt nodded. Markus seemed hesitant to speak, while Moffitt turned his attention to Anselm. "Don't worry about fitting in. We're all a tad mad in this family."

"Just a tad?" Dietrich said.

"Well, some are madder than others."

"I learned that the hard way," Markus said. "Throwing me in the deep end with Troy right away."

"Who is this Troy you keeping bringing up?" Anselm asked. "He sounds insane."

"I was telling you a little about him yesterday," Dietrich said. "He was the sergeant who kept beating the stuffing out of me in North Africa."

"We joke about him quite a bit, but he is a good man at the end of the day," Moffitt added. "He's part of why Dietrich and I are still here today. Saved both of our lives more times than either of us can count."

"Yes," Dietrich said. "In fact, it was Troy who contributed the majority of the blood used to replenish me after I tried ending my own life. We have the same exact type." He looked at Moffitt. "Let us also not forget that you have a few screws loose yourself."

"No, I don't."

"Perhaps not to the same extent as Troy, but, yes, you do have plenty of quirks."

"Do I?"

"Yes. If I were to suggest getting an animal for Anselm to help with his adjustment, what would you suggest?"

"A horse, obviously. Horses are great for therapy," Moffitt said.

"Alright, fair enough, but you cannot exactly fit a horse in the house."

"That's true." Moffitt took a sip of his tea. "You were trying to get me to say 'a snake,' weren't you?"

"Maybe."

"Well, I wasn't. I understand snakes aren't for everyone. A better suggestion would be a cat."

"Why a cat?" Markus asked. "I thought dogs were considered man's best friend."

Dietrich tried not to panic. "Markus, you are going to regret—"

Too late. Moffitt immediately began his rant. "Cats don't jump on people. They don't smell. They don't need to be taken out in the most horrid weather to do their business. They don't lick you, and when they do, it's not unbearably slimy. They keep themselves clean. They're quite soft to the touch. They make sounds that are much more pleasing to the ear. Earning their trust is much more rewarding, and feeling a cat purring on you has a profoundly positive effect on your mood. Best of all, they don't go and get one of your teammates shot."

Markus looked at Dietrich for answers, and so did Anselm. Their expressions of confusion were remarkably similar.

Dietrich sighed heavily. "Let me get Anselm his breakfast, and then I will tell you that story."

After getting Anselm some food, along with his pills, Dietrich sat down to tell his brother and nephew the story of the Rat Patrol stealing a tank while being accompanied by a stray dog. Moffitt would occasionally chime in with his account of that mission, complete with grumblings about how much of a "stinking menace" the dog was. Dietrich would simply stop, let Moffitt finish his muttering, and continue. Markus was looking increasingly confused, mostly as he tried to process the fact that the Rats had managed to pull off such a ridiculous plan in the first place. Anselm would grin each time Moffitt went off on a long tangent about how the stray dog's "lack of intelligence and situational awareness" nearly got itself and his team killed several times—although Dietrich recalled from Troy, Hitch, and Tully's accounts that the dog had proven helpful by providing Troy with the dud grenade.

When the story ended, Markus sat with his mouth open for a few moments before saying, "Jack, what did dogs ever do to you?"

"You mean you could not figure it out listening to his incessant grumbling?" Dietrich asked, raising an eyebrow. "Would you like to hear the story again?"

"No. I… I'm good. You certainly had an interesting life in North Africa. Far more interesting than what I had in Norway. That was extremely boring… aside from the barracks bombing that killed everyone in my unit apart from myself and one other man."

"Maybe later tonight, I can tell you the full story of when Troy and I were chained together by Arab slave traders." Dietrich looked at Anselm. "In the meantime, I was thinking we should go and get you new clothing, if you feel up to it."

"I have a bit more energy, and… I am tired of wearing these." Anselm looked down at his clothes.

"Alright. We will—"

Markus cleared his throat. "Hans, could I speak to you in private, please?" He led his brother out into the living room, by the window overlooking the side yard bordering the driveway. After glancing out at the dining room a couple of times, Markus said, "What are we going to do with Anselm as far as the legal side of everything goes? I know I said a few days ago that just letting him go felt like an option, but… I wasn't in a good state of mind."

"No, you were not. Anselm is not able to be out on his own, for many reasons. The legality of it aside, he has no idea how to function here."

"He doesn't. Not yet. At least… it seems he is willing to learn. And you seem to be willing to teach him."

"If you are suggesting that I take legal guardianship over Anselm, I would be more than willing to do so. However, I have Esther's input to consider. I would like to bring him up to Hammelburg and have them meet. If she takes well to him, wonderful. If not…"

"If not, I will take him in. It's not like you would not be able to see him."

"We will see what Esther thinks. If all goes well, then we will have to—" Dietrich let out a sigh, "—deal with the paperwork and the bureaucracy and whatever migraine that comes with it, and Anselm has no identification on him, does he?"

"Nope."

"Great. All of that is probably in East Germany, so there is not a chance in hell we are getting it."

"I doubt it."

"We will figure something out."

Markus nodded in agreement.

"For now, we focus on getting Anselm healthy and adjusted."

"As best we can."

"Yes. As best we can."

Dietrich didn't want Anselm to feel crowded, but he also didn't want to be out of Anselm's sight in case something happened. He stayed close, but not too close, when inside a clothing shop in Munich. The process was going to be slow, and Dietrich was alright with that. He offered to remain with Anselm if Moffitt and Markus wanted to go somewhere else at any point.

Anselm was first fascinated with how much more variety was available there compared to in East Germany. He selected a few pairs of trousers and tried them on in a changing room, with Dietrich standing guard nearby. When Anselm came out of the room several minutes later, his expression was one of dismay combined with embarrassment. "Uncle Hans? None of these… fit."

"How so?" Dietrich asked.

"I'm too small. Especially my waist."

"You will fill out in time. For now, you will certainly need a belt. Wait here." Dietrich headed off to a section of the store containing various clothing accessories. He picked out a belt, and returned to the changing room. "Try this."

Anselm disappeared into the changing room, then re-emerged a minute or two later, wearing one of the new pairs of trousers along with the belt. "What do you think?"

"Definitely much better than before," Dietrich said. "Some new shirts will help as well."

They spent more time looking around at various shirts. Anselm, still cold due to his anemia, was more focused on things like sweaters and overcoats, but Dietrich was able to convince him to try on warm-weather shirts. Even after tucking the shirts into his trousers, nearly everything looked baggy on Anselm. At least all his clothing was new now.

With the amount of clothing they were planning on buying, Dietrich and Markus had agreed to split the cost between them, each paying for half the items. When it came time to check out, Dietrich began wondering where Markus was, then saw his older brother jogging over, looking nervous and out of breath.

"Oh, this is not good! Not good, Hans!" Markus was saying.

"What? What happened?" Dietrich asked.

"Jack. I have lost Jack."

"Lost him? Did you check the tea shop?"

"Yes. He's not there."

Dietrich's eyes widened. "Oh. Then he could be anywhere." He wasn't too concerned about Moffitt, but would admit only to himself that the fact that Moffitt wandered off without telling anyone where he was going was a little worrying.

After paying for Anselm's clothing, the three headed out into the streets of Munich in search of the lanky Englishman. Dietrich quietly let out a sigh of relief when they found Moffitt sitting outside a small shop whose windows were full of oddities and things that most people would find a little bit quirky. In Moffitt's lap was a big boa constrictor, looking very content as it was being pet.

"There you are!" Markus said. "Why did you—oh." He pointed at the boa.

"I'm terribly sorry about that," Moffitt replied. "I sensed this old boa's presence and decided to investigate."

"And you could not be bothered to say anything?" Dietrich asked.

"Well… no. I didn't think Markus would believe me."

"We have only told him about Anah how many times now?"

"Fair point."

The boa raised its head, "sniffing" the newcomers with a few flicks of its tongue, then focusing on Anselm.

A nervous look came over Anselm's face. "I don't think you want to eat me. I'm too thin."

Moffitt shook his head. "He's not interested in food. He thinks you look a little lonely."

"How can it tell—I-I mean… that's… not…"

Moffitt gave him a warm smile. "Sit down, Anselm. It's alright. Trust me."

Anselm glanced at Dietrich, then set his shopping bags down before sitting across from Moffitt.

"Now, hold out your hand. Let him get to know you." Moffitt positioned the snake's head toward Anselm. "Don't jerk back. That'll make him nervous."

"He won't bite?"

"No—as long as you don't smell like rodents, or make him feel cornered. Just like any other animal. Plus, he's not venomous."

The boa took his time, crawling over to Anselm's lap. He wrapped once around Anselm's waist, which prompted the young man to tense. "What's it—"

"Just relax. You're alright."

The boa stopped at Anselm's shoulder, draping himself loosely like a scarf and resting his head under Anselm's chin. Anselm remained tense for a moment, then touched the boa's back. He relaxed a little, slowly stroking the snake.

"I never thought I would see something like this and think it's… sweet," Markus said.

Dietrich couldn't help smiling. "Indeed it is." He turned to Anselm. "What do you think?"

Anselm said nothing, but he still held the boa. His expression had become somewhat vacant, then the boa slowly crawled off of him and back toward Moffitt.

"Everything alright?" Moffitt asked. His smile faded. "Was I too pushy?"

"No, no, I enjoyed that. Really. It… felt nice." Anselm looked hesitant to speak further.

Moffitt looked at Dietrich, who crouched by Anselm to say, "Is this getting overwhelming?"

"Maybe a little," Anselm muttered. "It's okay, though."

"Are you sure? You looked like you want to say something. Whatever you feel you need, just say it."

There was another long silence, then Anselm said quietly, "Starting to feel hungry."

"Alright. Would you rather have a lunch here, or at the house?"

"Doesn't matter."

Dietrich looked at Markus and Moffitt. "I will let you decide."

"I'm alright either way," Markus said.

"You paid for his clothing. I'll treat everyone to lunch," Moffitt said. He stood up to return the boa to his owner inside the shop.

Dietrich held out his hand to help Anselm stand. His heart ached when he noticed Anselm flinching. "I have no intention of hurting you."

It took a moment for Anselm to relax again. He took Dietrich's hand. "We never did anything like this back home. Could never afford it. I could never… never really say that I was hungry, or in pain. If she didn't get angry, Mother would just look at me like I was crazy, and say, 'You know there's nothing. Do you think I can just conjure food out of thin air?'"

Dietrich thought back to earlier, when he had told himself, along with Moffitt and Markus, that they were going to try and be as understanding as they could to Anselm's situation. Learning this, he found himself not wanting to. He was tempted to again question why Anselm would miss this woman for even a fraction of a second. He drew in a breath. "You can be open about what you need here." And I will leave it at that. It was hard not to be angry. Dietrich kept telling himself that he had every right to be angry, but couldn't take it out on Anselm. He just hoped this wouldn't impede the progress they had been making.

When they returned to Markus's home after lunch, Dietrich expected Anselm to want to be alone for a little while. Instead, he was letting Moffitt give him an opening lesson in chess. Impressed, Dietrich chose to just observe from a distance, and went into the library, where Markus was looking through a filing cabinet. "Do you need any assistance?" Dietrich asked.

"I am trying to see if I had anything from our mother in regards to records on Anselm," Markus said. "I never really looked through her things when I cleaned out the house."

"I doubt there will be anything, especially if Anselm's mother was already stuck in the Soviet occupation zone before Anselm was born. There is no way of knowing if he ever had proper identification to begin with."

"I don't know much about how East Germany operates, but what little I do know says that there is definitely identification for Anselm—they have to spy on their own citizens somehow."

"Yes, and it is clear from his story that the Stasi had it out for him and his mother. That probably means we will never see any papers whatsoever."

"It is still possible that perhaps his mother got papers out of East Germany, through a secret courier. It is easier to do that than getting people out, I imagine."

"It is also a matter of when, if this is even true. If these papers were smuggled out within the past two years, it is possible they are lost, because our old house is occupied by someone else now."

"Maybe, but if Anselm was told to find me if his grandparents are gone, why didn't I receive the papers? Surely, that was considered."

Dietrich shrugged. "Anselm was told to run with very basic instructions. It is still entirely possible that his identification was never sent out of the country. All that means is he will have to start over. Like I said earlier, it will be a hassle, regardless of whether or not you find any shreds of information as pertaining to Anselm's identity."

Markus nodded. "There isn't a doubt in my mind about Anselm being our nephew. He does resemble Konrad, quite closely."

"We will still have to prove we are related when the time comes." Dietrich turned to leave the room, then paused and looked at his brother. "Are you alright?"

"Why are you asking that?"

"Because I have noticed that for all of today and yesterday, you have not shown much interest in interacting with Anselm."

Markus stopped rifling through his filing cabinet. He closed the drawer he had been in, and sighed before turning to Dietrich. "Where is Anselm right now?"

"In the living room, with Moffitt. He cannot hear us."

"Alright." Markus still looked hesitant to speak. "I don't trust him yet. Not fully. I know what you said earlier, but… I can't. I don't know why. Maybe it's because he was supposed to come to me because I was like Konrad at one point. Maybe it's because I was turned into what Konrad was and what Anselm almost became. I don't know."

"Look at how well he has been getting along with me. Surely that is proof enough for you."

Markus shook his head. "I wish it were, but… it's not like honesty was a value in our house growing up. This could be exactly what he wants us to do."

"I understand that, but I do not think that is the case. The boa constrictor that Moffitt found trusted Anselm."

"How is the action of a snake, or any animal, especially those with no magic, supposed to mean anything?"

"I wish I had an answer to that, but I have found over the years that animals tend to have a way of knowing who they can trust. That, and Moffitt can 'talk' to snakes, telepathically. The boa probably told him what it felt about Anselm. Moffitt would never have let Anselm hold that boa if it did not have a good feeling about him."

Markus nodded a little. "I suppose that makes sense. It will still take time for me to trust him completely."

"What will happen if Esther refuses to let him stay?"

"Then I will take him in. I already—"

"Are you going to be capable of taking care of him? I do not just mean physically. He needs guidance, assurance, and love, no differently than your own children. You cannot provide any of that if you do not show him trust. He will just be a fixture in your house that you have to feed three times a day. That will not do a damn thing for him."

Markus looked down at the floor for a moment. "I understand your point, Hans. Let's… see what happens over the next few days. Let him meet Esther."

"Fair enough." Dietrich turned to leave the library again, and saw Moffitt and Anselm had moved to the kitchen, where Moffitt was introducing Anselm to the delicate art of making tea. Oh, this should be fun to watch.

"We did have tea," Anselm was saying. "Not very good tea."

"That's no surprise at all," Moffitt replied. "I imagine the coffee was rubbish, too?"

"I actually don't know. Uncle Hans was supposed to let me try coffee this morning, but… things blew up and I never got the chance."

"That's alright. There's always tomorrow morning. It's a bit late in the day for coffee anyway. Now… tea. There is only one way to brew a proper cup of black tea. Tea is a bit more delicate compared to coffee. Granted, yes, you can put too much sugar into coffee and it'll ruin the cup, but coffee is… sturdier, I guess. You can do whatever you want to it. Shockingly, coffee is about the only thing that Troy can make without botching it up."

"That is not true," Dietrich said. "Troy can use a grill, and, even more surprising, he can make very good hot chocolate."

"I've never had hot chocolate," Anselm said.

"Never?" Moffitt's eyes widened.

"Never. It was… one of those things that we never bought. Treats were an extreme rarity."

Moffitt set down the empty mug in his hands. "Right. Forget the tea. We're making you hot chocolate."

Dietrich couldn't decide whether or not to be confused at the fact that Moffitt was completely ditching a chance to teach someone the way of tea, or feel his heart be warmed at Moffitt's kindness toward Anselm.

The hot chocolate was finished by the time Liesel returned home with the children. Sophie's jaw dropped. "Hot chocolate?! But it's not Christmas!"

"Oh, we know," Moffitt said. "This young man—" he pointed to Anselm, "—has never had hot chocolate before in his life, so we are not waiting for Christmas to introduce him to it."

"Never had hot chocolate? That's crazy!"

"Crazy it may seem, but true."

The children were allowed to put off doing their homework in order to have hot chocolate. It was fun for them, but Dietrich noticed that Anselm was starting to look overwhelmed. He went into the kitchen, where Anselm was in the corner by the window looking into the backyard. "Everything alright?" Dietrich asked, quietly.

"Bit tired," Anselm said.

Dietrich gestured to the half-empty mug of chocolate. "That must feel good, given how cold you usually are."

"It helps."

Dietrich looked over at where Sophie was trying to get her parents' attention while they were hugging, and Ludwin was getting his homework started with Moffitt's assistance. "We can go somewhere else if it would make you feel better."

"Sure."

They decided to go out into the living room. Anselm sat in the corner of the couch furthest away from the door, while Dietrich sat in a chair quite close, but not so close that he was crowding his nephew. "Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?" Dietrich said.

"What sort of questions?"

"Rather important ones."

Anselm took a drink from his mug. "Okay."

"You did not bring any paperwork with you from East Germany, did you?"

"No. Is that going to cause problems?"

"It might, but, in truth, I have no idea."

Anselm paled. "I'm not going to be sent back, am I?"

"I doubt it. Refugees from East Germany are not exactly uncommon. You have family here who can take care of you."

"I know Mother told me to go to Uncle Markus, but… I don't think her word carries much weight anymore."

"No. I am asking this because I would like to take you to my home up north in Hammelburg, just to see how you like it. Fair warning—my wife does not yet trust you because of your behavior when we first met. Making a good first impression will be key."

"So… are you saying I could choose between staying with you and staying with Uncle Markus?"

"Potentially. I am an officer in the military, so that means I spend a bit of time away from home regularly."

"How much time?"

"Depends on what is required of me. I utterly loathe the desk work and the mind-numbing meetings with other officers, so if I get a chance to spend time working with the enlisted men, I take it without a second thought. My superiors all say I seem to have the best effect on troop morale."

"I can see why."

Dietrich smiled a little at that. "Yes, I do have a gift when it comes to dealing with personal problems, but if I wanted to do that full-time, I would have become a chaplain. Unfortunately, it is not my job. I typically do not do with my soldiers what I am doing with you now. Certain circumstances may arise in which I have to step in, but for the most part, I have to look at my people as a whole. I expect them to follow my command, but I also understand that I am making decisions that could result in people getting injured or killed. That is not an easy responsibility to have, and not one that should be taken lightly." Dietrich glanced over into the dining room at Moffitt, then his gaze shifted to the scar on his right wrist. "I especially… never take such decisions lightly, having thrown soldiers into a meatgrinder toward the end of North Africa."

Anselm didn't say anything for a few moments. Dietrich was tempted to add a few things about his mother's view of him, but bit his tongue. Eventually, Anselm took another sip from his mug, and set it on the table. "I guess Mother really was wrong about you."

"Yes. Extremely wrong." Keep it reined in, Hans…

"She was wrong about the English, too."

"Am I to assume she would have beaten you black and blue for how friendly you have been getting with Moffitt?"

Anselm nodded. "Yes. I was never to associate with anyone she didn't like, even if it was for the dumbest reasons."

"Given how she raised you, I am surprised you understand that."

"It was probably because growing up, no other kids wanted to be around me. I didn't understand why. I later learned it was because they heard from their parents that I was the son of a horrible SS soldier. My mother tried to convince me that it was envy. Now… I know damn well it wasn't envy. But, I knew what it was like to be pushed away because of something I don't have control of. I certainly didn't… handle it well. I was mean in return. Very mean. Mother didn't care. She was proud. I guess… that was why I treated you badly when you and Moffitt came here. I expected you to be just like everyone else, and worse. And then you weren't."

"Being in a strange place with people you have never met can make anyone a little defensive. Was your behavior acceptable? No. Absolutely not. Am I going to hold it against you and constantly bring it up? No. Who you are now and who you are trying to be is what I should be looking at. I see that you are very lost, mentally. You have no sense of purpose. Your physical health is far from optimal, and I have already seen that causes you a great deal of stress. You are lonely, but not yet ready to go out into the world and meet people. For now, you need help."

"I know."

"That means being open about things that hurt, physically and mentally. You cannot just leave me to guess, even though I have picked up on a few things here and there. For example, I have learned that your stare becomes very vacant whenever you are hungry."

Anselm looked a little embarrassed. "You've noticed that?"

Dietrich nodded. "Your mind becomes preoccupied with food because you had very little in East Germany. I imagine the same thing occurs with your other basic needs. Warmth. Shelter. Clothing. Sleep. That is something we will have to manage if we want to move forward and find a path in life for you to take."

"You think that's possible?"

"I know it is possible, because I had to go through a similar process."

Anselm thought for a moment. "I feel like this is just getting my hopes up. What if your wife doesn't want me staying with you?"

"Then you best work on making a good first impression. Do you feel you need time, or would you be alright with going up to Hammelburg tomorrow?"

Another round of silence, then Anselm nodded. "We can go tomorrow."