May 1st, 1945

Alice swayed where she stood. Comprehension went out the window. For a moment, she just stared blankly at Dick and Nixon on the other side of the room. Their mouths moved, but she couldn't hear them.

Hitler was dead.

The world spun. She couldn't breath. Her heart raced.

Hitler was dead. 

He was dead. 

A hand grabbed her arm, grip firm. The sudden contact sent Alice reeling. She realized they were watching her closely, Lipton, Shames, Foley, Peacock, Harry, Nix, Dick, and Ron. Her gaze traveled from the hand on her arm to Ron. 

"You alright?" he asked.

Alice released a breath she had no idea she'd been holding. Oxygen filled her lungs again, chasing away the dizziness. She could've heard a pin drop with how silent the room had gone. Taking a moment to breathe again, she nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, sorry."

"Right." Dick nodded. "Dismissed."

Ron finally released his grip on her arm as the officers began to leave the room. Alice watched them leave, hesitating. For the first time in days she felt something. But she didn't know what it was. Almost like an odd contradiction of anger and relief.

It didn't take long for the anger to take over. How dare that monster die and yet the war continue. How dare he take the easy way out. He needed to pay for his crimes. They all did, every single one of them. Realistically, Alice had never expected to be the one to put a bullet between Hitler's eyes, but oh how she'd thought about it since Bastogne.

For the first time in days, Alice felt more than exhaustion. Rage filled her entire being, a fire burning through her. Her muscles tensed. She felt her breathing increase rapidly. The war should've ended. It should've been over with Hitler's death!

Ron looked at her again. "Take a breath."

She faced him head on. Alice realized Harry, Nixon, and Dick were still in the room too. It took a moment to calm herself enough to take a breath, but she finally did so. "I'm fine!" she snapped.

"Calm down," Ron said again. His voice stayed flat, calm as he spoke to her.

"Don't tell me to calm down, Ron," she hissed back. Based on the way his jaw clenched, Alice guessed he held back some sort of biting retort. For a moment, Alice felt bad about snapping. She forced her voice to return to a more even timbre. "I just need some air."

"Alice, we're moving out in an hour." Dick told her.

She nodded, forcing her body to relax as much as she could. "Right." Turning on her heels, she moved out of the CP and into the overcast afternoon. The harmonies of a string quartet made her pause in her step.

In the center of the main square, surrounded by rubble heaps and half-destroyed buildings, four men had set up with their instruments. It sounded like Beethoven. She couldn't place the piece, though. And yet that small reminder of better times had her frozen in place.

While soldiers and civilians alike moved about picking up or smoking, Alice stayed where she was just outside the door. The music calmed her. Hitler's death could only be considered a good thing. She tried to push thoughts of dashed hopes of revenge as far from her mind as possible. Maybe all she'd needed was air, and a little Beethoven.

Nixon stepped up next to her. The sound of him taking a sip of his flask identified him to her immediately. "Ron asked me to go tell Easy's men who are up on the roof."

"I'll come," she agreed.

They moved off to the right, having to go around the back of the building where several of Easy's men had situated themselves over the town. It had become a popular smoking spot since they'd arrived a few days prior. She'd been up there once, late a night. She'd sat alone, a bit cold, but at least the cold had made her feel something.

They passed a mother cradling her sobbing child. Alice paused in her step for a moment. The infant's cries echoed off the walls of the building next to her, joining with the string quartet in a perfect, melancholic lament. When she hurried a few steps to Nixon's side, he slowed.

They moved through a massive hole in the wall of the one-time breakfast nook. The stairs were still intact, but glass and rubble crunched beneath each step they took. Nixon led the way up. Each footfall sounded clear against the wood. She followed.

"I'll tell you one thing about the Krauts," George muttered, "they sure do clean up good."

Any other time in the years she'd known him, Alice would've corrected him for his slur. But she didn't. Instead she looked past Nixon who moved to stand parallel with the sitting Liebgott, just behind George. Perco was there too, and Bull and Webster. They sat on some chairs or piles of rubble while George stood at the front, one leg propped up on a fallen stone. Most of them smoked.

Liebgott nodded, hunched over. "Yeah. All you need's a little Mozart."

"Beethoven."

Alice grinned at Nixon's correction. Of course he'd known that. She had to hide her grin behind her hand as best she could. The sensation of laughing felt odd, a strange lightness in her chest. 

"Sorry, sir?" Liebgott asked.

"That's not Mozart," he explained. "That's Beethoven."

The boys stayed quiet. Below, the strings continued on without ceasing. The music soothed but also hurt. It became a sort of painful reminder of what had passed. But when Nixon finally spoke up again a few moments later, the reason of their visit crashed into her.

"Hitler's dead."

As one, they snapped around in his direction. At first, silence. George made eye contact with her a moment later, noticing her for the first time. 

"Holy shit," Liebgott breathed.

Nixon nodded. "Shot himself iin Berlin,"

Another moment passed. Bull followed up, "Is the war over, sir?"

"No." Alice snapped.

At the same moment, Nixon answer a bit more calmly. Though his tone was laced with anger. "No. We have orders to Berchtesgaden. We're gonna move out in one hour."

"Why? The man's not home." Webster's mutterings dripped with sarcasm.

A few half-hearted snorts of laughter sounded around the men. They began to pick themselves up from their spots, maneuvering off the ruined corner of the second floor. With a gentle pat on George's shoulder, Nixon moved closer to the front.

Webster muttered again. "Shoulda shot himself three years ago. Saved us a lot of trouble."

Alice nodded at him as he passed her. He flashed her a small smile. The others continued by, some of them too engrossed in their own thoughts to even notice her.

"Yeah, he should've," Nixon said. "But he didn't."

He didn't. He didn't. Alice felt her heart sink even further. When George passed her, he gave her a gentle pat on the arm. All she could do was nod in response. Soon just Alice and Nixon stood on the ruined outcropping of the building.

"I better go see if Dick needs my help," he muttered.

She took a deep breath. "Yeah. Yeah..."

They left the house together, Alice following behind. She felt herself distancing again, pushing down the anger and sadness that cropped up as the quartet ended and only the sounds of war returned. The thought that all this, everything that had happened, the dead in their wake, had been for nothing made her sick. Had Skip and Alex, had Hoobler, had Jackson or Webb or Julian died not to end the reign of a sick, twisted man? But instead, died for a war that would go on endlessly?

The Germans crumbled by the day. And yet even so, they wouldn't surrender. Would anything be left but ashes? Should anything be left but ashes?

Alice stopped in her tracks at the thought. When Germany's destruction becoming a thought she entertained had entered her mind, she didn't know. With a deep sigh, she stuffed those thoughts away. Germany didn't deserve to burn. Only the Nazis deserved to burn.

A freezing shiver cascaded down her body. Memories of letting the Nazis touch her flooded her mind unbidden. Alice tried to stuff it down, away, into a little box in the corner of her soul. She couldn't afford to think about that. She couldn't afford the weakness.

Go through the motions. Alice put one foot in front of the other. Soon enough she'd tracked down some work and helped the men prepare the caravan of trucks. The trip to Berchtesgaden would take only a few days. After filling her canteen with some of the scotch in her house, Alice rejoined the group now ready to depart.

She slept most of that day. When they stopped for the night in a large, half vacant town, she assisted Ron and Dick with getting the civilians out. Five minutes. They always had five minutes. 

Before long, she stood in a hotel room by herself. Alice stood in the center of the small room, hands at her side, cigarette in her mouth. She'd gone through an entire pack in two days. She only had two cigarettes left total, until they got issued more in two more days. But she pushed the thought away. She'd get them from someone somehow.

When someone knocked, she finally pulled herself from her musings. The cigarette had died. She felt jittery, but all she wanted was another one. As she fumbled for her second to last smoke, Alice opened the door. Her eyebrows raised when she found Gene and Dick standing at her door, the latter with his arms across his chest.

"What?" she asked.

Gene glanced over at Dick. The slightly taller man paused for a moment. Then he nodded. "We need to talk."

"About what?"

Gene frowned. "You been smoking way too much, Alice. Dangerous amounts. Even Luz talked to me about it."

"What, is this some sort of fuckin' intervention," she snapped. 

Dick looked at her harder. "You need to convince me, and Doc Roe, that you're sound enough not to pull off the line," he said simply.

"What?" Alice staggered for a moment where she stood in front of them. Her mouth wide in shock, she just glanced between the two of them. "You're joking, right?"

"No," he said. "Listen, we're all concerned about you-"

"All? Who's all?"

Dick shook his head. With a frown, he glanced back down the hall. "Do you trust us?"

Alice frowned. "Yes."

"Why did you say you were the reason Bernadette got taken?" he asked.

The question hit her like a sucker punch. It knocked the wind out of her and she stumbled back for a moment as if she'd actually been hit. She'd only told one person that story, Malark, and she'd hoped it would never really come up again. But she trusted Dick. She trusted Gene. Alice slammed her eyes closed, fighting with herself. Her throat constricted. Her whole body screamed at her to send them away.

"I assume Nix wants to know as well," she whispered, opening her eyes. "He's the only way you'd know."

"Nixon, Speirs, and Harry," he told her. "If you're willing to let us listen."

She glanced up at him. Let them listen. The way he staged the question made her pause. She felt a little less scared when he said it like that. Did she trust them?

She did.

"Fine, yeah," she said, sighing. "Ok. Ok."

Hugging her arms across her chest Alice stepped between them out into the hall. Trust. She had to trust them. She had to. When Dick took the lead, she walked behind him next to Gene through the hotel hallway. Dick stopped in front of his door. When he opened it, she paused in surprise. They were already there. As her shock wore off for a moment, the fact that they'd known she'd trust them hit her hard. They'd known. She hadn't even known. 

Gene nudged her from behind. Alice realized she must've looked like a deer in headlights. The second half of the bed, next to Nixon, sat open. She moved over and pulled herself up onto the mattress, cross legged. She put the pillow in her lap.

"It's is a fucking intervention," she muttered, covering her face. "Scheisse." Nixon cracked up next to her. The sound put her more at ease and she relaxed her upper body a bit. With the door shut, Dick leaning against it, she shuddered. "Fine. What'll convince you to let me stay," she muttered with all the sass she could muster. But then she changed her tone. They didn't deserve her bite. "What do you want to know?"

"Start at the beginning?" Dick suggested.

The beginning. As she looked at him, her mind reeled. Which beginning? The beginning beginning, or the beginning of the end? Alice shuddered. She looked away from Dick, glancing at Ron and Harry. The former half sat, half stood against a desk to her right while Harry occupied the chair.

"Right. The beginning." She took a deep breath. "Right. Right." Alice tried to formulate her thoughts into something coherent. After a moment, a conversation she'd had in Bastogne flooded back to her. "Well, I was a pretty pathetic kid," she said, breaking out into a small smile. "I was really scared of uh-" Alice realized she didn't know the translation so she turned to Gene- "uh...un ver de terre. The squishy worms that live under the ground?"

"Earthworms," Gene supplied.

"Yes, that. Earthworms. Anyways, Marc thought it was hilarious. Used to chase me everywhere with them when we'd be out in the country. They're horrible." She shivered. "I much preferred being inside and playing piano to do anything at all involving nature." She smiled to herself again. "Bernadette, she, well she knew I was really good at braiding her. Made it her personal mission to get me to do it for her day in and day out. Anyways, needless to say joining a resistance group based in the mountains was not on my agenda," she tried to joke. After a pause, she nodded. "I met Geneviève when we had classes together at the University of Paris."

"Geneviève?" Ron asked.

Alice let out a small laugh. "Sorry. I don't know why I thought you'd know her. Geneviève de Gaulle, General de Gaulle's niece."

Harry choked on his drink. "General de Gaulle's niece?" 

The others mirrored his shock. Even Dick looked at her in surprise. Alice couldn't help the grin spreading across her face.

"Yeah, you didn't know?" She shook her head and her smile fell though. "She's been missing since 1943. Caught by the Gestapo." After several moments of potent silence, she continued on. "I helped her distribute an underground newspaper. A local group of resistance members also had me act as courier since we had many of the same contacts. The Nazis stopped a lot less women than men," she tried to explain. "Then they asked me for help with something bigger." 

Her voice faltered. Alice couldn't help but feel she should've turned down the job. If she'd have turned it down, she'd have been able to stay in Paris. But then she'd have died too.

"Bigger?" Dick prompted.

Alice glanced up. Straightening her back, she nodded. "They needed a woman who was either German or could pass as German to try to get some documents out of the possession of a Herr Shultz. He was a high ranking Nazi officer, I can't recall what rank. He'd been recalled back to Berlin. The OSS reached out to the resistance movement in Paris, who in turn, turned to me."

Again, she paused. She could feel them watching her. She could feel it, but it didn't matter. All she could think about was that night.

"I found him at a bar. I talked to him for a couple hours. I think he enjoyed hearing a woman in Paris sing his praises in German. Men are easy to flatter, especially men in power," she added, a bit bitter. "Once he'd had a few drinks, I offered to walk him back to his hotel." Her breath caught. Her throat clenched as she forced down the emotions threatening to explode. Alice gripped the pillow in her lap as tight as she could. "Well, needless to say, he enjoyed the company that night. More than I did at any rate." Her chest hurt. 

"Respirez, chérie," Gene reminded her. 

Breathe. She glanced up at him and nodded. In through the nose, out through the mouth. "After he fell asleep, I was able to get at the plans. I grabbed them, left, and hoped I'd never see the man again. And I didn't. But four days later a member of the SS identified me at La Maison Rouge and you know what happened there."

"How'd you get out of Paris?" Ron asked her.

Alice nodded, flashing a tiny smile at the memory. "Germaine. The limping lady. La dame boiteuse." At their confused expressions she laughed a little. "I don't know her actual name. We called her Germaine. Allied spy, worked for the OSS. She had been tracking Shultz and found Robert and I in hiding that night. She helped get maquis groups organized and got us a way out of Paris. The Gestapo took a while to realize Marc hadn't been acting alone." She sighed. "Once we were in the Alps, I learned to shoot and found out I was damn good at it, too."

"And you changed your name," Harry inferred.

She nodded. "Yeah. Seemed a good idea."

The room quieted again. No one really knew what to say, Alice included. She'd said her bit. They didn't need to respond. But secretly Alice couldn't help but feel proud at herself for getting through that without breaking down into tears or clamming up. The pride she felt spread all through her body and she loosened up a bit. She saw Gene nod to Dick.

"Right." Dick nodded, pushing off from the door he'd been propped against. He looked at her closely. "You can stay. But lay off the cigarettes."

Alice turned from Dick to Gene. He shot her a tiny smile to which she rolled her eyes. "I danced well enough for you?" she muttered.

Harry and Nixon both tried, and failed, to suppress the laughter at her estimation of what had happened. But Dick just shrugged. "I don't want to pull you off the line. But I have to do what's best for this whole Battalion."

"Yeah," said Alice. "Yeah I know." 

It took only a few more beats of silence before she yawned and got up to go sleep. Gene moved out of the room with her. But just as she went to shut the door behind them, she smirked. Alice leaned back in. "Hey, Harry?" When he looked up, she added, "My favorite color's pink."

She left him snickering and flashed a smile at Nixon. Leaving them behind, suddenly she didn't feel as numb. The men around her trusted her, and respected her enough not to let her past define her. And that thought helped. It didn't repair the ache in her heart when she thought about her family, but it made her realize how fortunate she'd been to find a new one. And as much as a part of her wished she'd died alongside Bernadette, her mom, and her father, or her two brothers, she knew that they'd have yelled at her for even having that thought. No. She had to live because they could not.