As they slipped through the maze-like streets, Eren heard shouts in French and German. The noise bounced off the stone buildings until it sounded like police whistles were blowing all around him. His heart raced in fear, but he kept telling himself, so long as he still heard those whistles, it meant they had not found Levi yet.

"Please, God, let him be safe."

They came to a spot where the narrow alley opened to a main avenue. A young teen with thick-rimmed glasses raced into their pathway. He held up his hands to stop them and whispered urgently.

"Attendez un instant s'il vous plaît."

Alexeï took hold of Eren's shoulder. "He's warning us to stay here."

"Who is he?" Eren asked suspiciously.

"He used to be one of Yelena's men."

Eren's mouth dropped as he watched the young teen peek around the corner of the building. "He's a child!"

"Levi kicked him out for being too young. He had no place to go, so he's been working for me." Then Alexeï asked the boy in French, "Udo, is it Levi?"

"Oui," he replied. "I ... I saw what happened," he said with an anguished face. "I followed him. He's with Madame Duvalier."

"As I thought. We were heading there."

"You need to wait. The police are out there. We're redirecting them."

"We?" the old man asked in surprise. "Are they with you?"

Udo looked back with a grin. "Yes! They're my friends, after all."

Through the downpour and thunder, Eren could hear three children's voices speaking in German, and he crept forward as they sounded familiar. Out in the street, he saw Falco and Gabi dressed in their Hitler Youth uniforms and rain gear, facing off with Colt and the French police. With them was a taller girl with blondish-brown hair, large gray eyes, and a Greek nose.

"You should be at school," Colt scolded his little brother. "You're going to catch a cold."

"We were sent on an errand, I swear!" Falco yelled.

The tall girl nodded. "We were just walking when this person in a blue coat with a gun ran by."

"Wait, Zofia, are you saying you three saw him? Where did he go?"

Zofia pointed east. "Down that street."

Gabi added eagerly, "We can help you follow that partisan trash."

"No. Head back to school, and avoid Place Saint Simplice."

"Oooh, are there dead bodies?" Gabi asked in excitement. "We heard the gunshots. Are there any left for me to shoot? Please!" she begged.

"Get back to school," Colt snapped. "Gabi, you should be glad that I won't tell your parents you were out playing hooky."

She stubbornly folded her arms. "Sheesh! Falco told you, we're on an errand for the teacher."

"Then finish up and hurry back. Get out of this rain. We don't have enough medicine to spare on two miscreants." Colt waved to the French officers and led them down the street Zofia had pointed out.

"Have fun chasing that partisan trash!" Gabi called out. She kept up her smile until they were past, and then her face went into a scowl. "I can't believe those police pigs follow around a German."

Falco sighed. "I'm sorry."

She waved it off. "I've told you a million times, it's not your fault. Your brother didn't choose this life, just as none of us has a choice in wearing this," she said, pulling at her own Bund Deutscher Mädel uniform, the same as Zofia's, while Falco wore a tan Hitlerjugend uniform. Gabi turned and waved to Udo, calling out in French, "Tu peux sortir, c'est bon." You can come out, it's okay.

Udo shouted to them, "J'ai des amis avec moi." I have friends with me. He stepped out and motioned for Alexeï and Eren to follow.

Upon seeing a German officer, Zofia, Falco, and Gabi all pulled out their tiny knives and cried out, "Que fait-il ici?" What is he doing here?

Udo held up his hands to stop them. "C'est d'accord ... j-je pense." It's okay ... I think. The bespectacled boy looked back to Alexeï, finally showing how worried he was and wondering why the old man was with a Wehrmacht officer, of all people.

Alexeï approached the children with a gentle, calming smile. "Il est avec moi. Cet Allemand aide la Résistance." He's with me. This German is helping the Resistance.

Gabi's mouth dropped in shock. "Un traître?" A traitor? She lowered her knife and asked Eren in German, "Kämpfen Sie für die Befreiung Frankreichs von den deutschen Unterdrückern?" Are you fighting for the liberation of France from the German oppressors?

Eren's mouth opened, unsure what to say. German oppressors? They won the Battle of France fair and square! If anything, he felt that Germany had been quite generous with their treatment of the French citizens.

Well, most of them. Not Jews.

"He helps however he can," Alexeï explained in German, so Eren would also understand him. "He was with Levi Ackerman when the Resistance was raided."

"Is it true, then?" asked Falco, and he looked distraught. "My brother..."

"He did not fire his gun. His hands are clean."

"But he was still there. He still let it happen." Falco gritted his teeth in frustration. "I hate that I can't stop this."

Alexeï placed a hand on the boy's shoulder. "No single person can stop an entire war, but we can at least save lives. Right now, Levi needs this soldier's help. You three should head back to school."

"We can help!" Gabi insisted.

"You've helped enough, ma chère fille," said Alexeï. "Meet me tomorrow at the bookstore. We'll have many guests."

"The Resistance?" Falco asked in eagerness. "Did they survive?"

"Thirteen total were killed."

Zofia looked to Udo. "How many were there?"

Udo looked grieved. "After I left, and not counting Yelena, there were twenty-five."

Falco looked anguished as he whispered in shock, "Half of them are dead."

Gabi sternly insisted, "Half are alive, including the leader. With Levi around, and with us helping, we can still fight!"

Udo shook his head. "Levi won't allow us. He doesn't want anyone underage to fight."

"To hell with him!" Gabi cried out. "We will fight whether he likes it or not."

"All right," Alexeï said with a soft chuckle. "Back to school so you don't get in trouble. You too," he said to Udo. "Tomorrow, try to bring extra food in your lunches to help feed our guests."

"Someone should watch your back," said Gabi. "They won't get me into trouble because of my parents. I can guard you."

"I'll be fine. Look!" Alexeï said, waving to Eren. "I have this young German officer escorting me through the dangerous streets to go check on a widow."

Gabi glared again at Eren. "I don't trust you, you German pig."

Falco pulled her back. "Be nice. He's helping, just like I am." He looked up apologetically to Eren. "I'm sorry about her. She gets a little ... intense ... but she means well." Then he pulled on Gabi's arm. "Come on, we're really going to be in trouble now."

The children left down the street, and Alexeï continued with Eren.

Eren glanced back as the children hurried through the rainstorm. "I've seen those two before. Falco is Colt Grice's little brother."

"Yes, and strongly anti-fascist, despite his brother being in the Gestapo. Gabi is the one who surprised me. Her parents are some of the strongest pro-Nazi supporters in the city, and she truly is a national socialist, but not for Germany. She's proud of France, her French heritage, and wants the liberation of the French people. She acted so fiercely loyal to Hitler for years, but it was all to fit in. Bless her, I think she honestly does believe he's a good leader, but only for Germany. When Levi kicked out the underage partisans, Udo started his own Youth Resistance and recruited his two school friends. I didn't want them to get into trouble, so I've been having them work for me, fetching things, keeping an eye on the Resistance, but from a distance so Levi doesn't realize they're around."

"You're using these children!"

"No, I'm protecting them. If children like that aren't guided toward safety, they'll run headfirst into danger. I simply give them a sense of purpose and steer them away from anything that could get them killed, which is more than what anyone else has done in their lives. Plus I'm trying to instill a love of literature into them as they hang out at my bookstore. Now that is what will get them far in the future."

"Speaking of the bookstore," said Eren, "you'll be getting more than just the French Resistance showing up. Kriminalassistent Grice told me that the Gestapo plans to imprison the rest of the Slavic prostitutes. I told Carly's second-in-command to take them to your bookstore before that happens. I'm sorry, I couldn't think of any other place where they might be safe."

"Oof! A dozen beautiful young women in my shop? If I was sixty years younger, this would be the best day of my life," he said with a laugh. "I wonder if I have any Russian books. I may have an original copy of War and Peace in the back. Perhaps one of those pretty girls will read it to me." He winked to show he was simply making light of the horrific situation.

Finally, they came to a shop with a staircase to the side leading up to a private residence. Alexeï easily climbed up the wet stairs. He knocked a pattern on the door, and they heard a woman's voice calling out to enter.

"In here, monsieur," Alexeï said, and he pulled Eren through the door.

The noise of the storm suddenly stopped. No lights were on in the house. The place smelled of lavender and garlic. A small radio played Mozart, and sitting in a rocking chair was an ancient woman, her eyes completely gray with cataracts, yet she was knitting as she rocked to the orchestral music.

She called out, "Alexeï, c'est vous? Vous sentez comme les vieux livres." Alexeï, is that you? You smell like old books.

"Nous recherchons un petit ami. Très petit." We are looking for a little friend. Very little.

From a back room, they heard Levi grumble, "Qui traites-tu de petit, vieux bâtard?" Who are you calling little, you old bastard?

Eren gasped at the voice. "Levi?"

The Jew rounded a corner, glaring peevishly. "De tous les endroits où je vais me cacher, c'est la maison de l'ancien amant de ce vieux bâtard." Of all the places I go to hide, this is the house of the former lover of that old bastard.

The old woman tittered, and Alexeï looked flustered.

"Madame Duvalier était la sœur de mon meilleur ami, pas mon amant." Madame Duvalier was the sister of my best friend, not my lover.

Eren ignored whatever they were saying and ran forward to Levi. He barely held back from grabbing him into a hug. Instead, he looked Levi over in dread.

"Are you hurt?"

"I'm fine. This lady is the mother of one of our men. She's provided shelter to the group in the past."

Madame Duvalier called out, "Cachez-vous à l'arrière, mon cher. J'entends la police arriver. " Hide in the back, my dear. I hear the police coming.

Levi pulled Eren into the adjoining room. They held hands but said nothing. They listened to the sound of men running by, then waited until the boots faded into the distance. Levi let out a sigh of relief.

Madame Duvalier called out, "Je pense qu'ils sont partis." I think they left.

Levi looked weary as he walked back over to the old woman, dropped to a knee beside her, and took her frail hand.

"Pardonnez l'intrusion, madame." Pardon the intrusion, ma'am.

Her eyes gazed out blindly with a shine to them. "Je ne peux pas me battre, mais je peux résister." I can't fight, but I can resist. "Restez aussi longtemps que vous en avez besoin, mon cher." Stay as long as you need, my dear.

Levi reached into his pocket and laid down a few coins for her. "Compensation."

"Vous ne me dérangez pas du tout." You don't bother me at all.

Levi walked over to Alexeï. "Merci de l'avoir amené ici." Thanks for bringing him here.

Alexeï tipped his head with a smile. "Ma petite girafe aurait fait pareil." My little giraffe would have done the same. Then he bid farewell to both the knitting lady and to Levi before stepping back out into the storm.

Levi walked back to a tiny kitchen and collapsed onto a chair. His head sank to a table, folding his arms and hiding away where no one could see the anguish on his face.

Eren walked over and rubbed Levi's back, knowing how painful this must be for him. "Why did you come out of hiding like that?"

"Because I fucked up. Yesterday, I got into an argument with one of my men. I should have just let him be mad at me. Instead, I lost my temper, and I said something I shouldn't have. I've told my men about you, but I never once said your name. Yelena was the only one who knew who you were and what you look like. A whole month, I made sure never to say your name, to protect you." He growled in frustration. "Yet I said it, and two seconds later, I realized I fucked up. Duran was about to tell the Gestapo your name. I had to stop him. I had to! Now they're all dead because of me."

"You know that's not true," Eren said, kneeling beside him. "The fault lies in the man who betrayed you."

"He wouldn't have betrayed us if not for me! If I hadn't yelled at him ... if I hadn't taken over ... if I had never joined them in the first place ... Fuck!" Levi caught himself a moment later and growled to hold back his voice. He hissed in an enraged whisper, "J'irai pisser sur sa tombe." I'll piss on his grave.

Eren pulled a chair up beside him and wrapped his arms around Levi, sheltering him. He wished he knew what to say, but nothing came to mind. Those men were Levi's comrades. How would Eren feel if he had watched the Americans line up his men to execute them, and he could do nothing?

He recalled how horrible he felt seeing Thomas and Franz being burned alive, and the guilt of realizing that when he sent Moblit back to the town hall, he had sent him to his death. Now Levi was suffering that same emotional hell, only many times over.

Levi muttered, "May God welcome them home, and may that bastard Duran suffer for a million years."

The clicking of knitting needles stopped, and they heard the old woman walking with her cane to help her feel around. She entered the kitchen and began to search through cupboards.

"Vous parlez tous les deux anglais." You both speak English.

Levi replied, "C'est la seule langue que nous comprenons tous les deux." It's the only language we both understand.

"Il est allemand." He's German.

Levi looked over at Eren in the drenched Nazi uniform. "Oui, et c'est mon ami." Yes, and he's my friend.

Madame Duvalier chuckled to herself as she continued to pull out food from an ice chest in the corner. "Votre ami, ou petit ami?" Your friend, or boyfriend?

Levi let out a scoff. Even this blind old lady saw them for what they were.

She made up two plates and set the food down on the table. "Messieurs, mangez à votre faim." Gentlemen, eat your fill.

Eren saw the food and, despite the language barrier, realized what she was offering. Surely, this old woman had very little food and relied on the mercy of others, yet she was willing to share.

His heart aching with gratitude, Eren whispered, "Merci."

She spoke in slow, broken English, "You Germans ... are not bad. Only war is bad. Il n'y a rien d'héroïque à tuer des enfants. Et soldats, vous êtes tous des enfants."

Levi's lips tightened to hold back emotions. "She says, 'There is nothing heroic about killing children. And soldiers, you are all children.'"

Eren sighed heavily. He thought of his men, most of them unmarried, teenagers with their lives ahead of them. Even he was only nineteen. "Yes," he muttered. "We're all scared children pushed onto a battlefield and told it's a big game." He looked up at the woman. "Some out there really are evil, and I'm sorry for that."

Levi translated all of this for the woman. She tipped her head and returned to her rocking chair in the other room.

Although they had skipped lunch, Levi did not feel like eating. The food was tasteless, and he swallowed with stiff, automatic movements, a tangible barrier between his actions and the dark prison that trapped his mind.

He looked down at the cold chicken, apples, and cheese. He could hardly believe the meals he had been enjoying since arriving here. Compared to slave labor with watery broth twice a day, getting to lounge around, read, take naps whenever he wanted, and eat chicken, fruits, pastries, drink wine, dine in restaurants again ... it had felt like liberty! He had almost begun to take it for granted.

As Levi ate the slices of cold chicken, he thought to himself how he was so lucky. Too lucky.

Why had he survived?

Again and again, massacre after massacre.

Why him?

Why had some former assassin with his hands soaked in blood survived, and not a sweet, innocent woman like Petra? Why had he lived and not the other Jews in his group? Weren't they more loyal to God and actually followed his commandments? Why someone who spent four years avoiding getting involved in this war, and not the French Resistance who had spent those years fighting for their homeland? Why hadn't any of them gotten a chance to enjoy a meal?

Why someone unworthy like him?

Swallowing became harder. His hand did not want to move, and he started to tremble. He suddenly felt too heavy, like all the ghostly hands of the people he could not save were pushing down on his arms and legs, until all he could do was stare straight ahead.

Voices screamed in his ears.

What right do you have to eat this? I went a week with no food. My child died of hunger. I went to temple every week and observed Kashrut my whole life. I fought the Nazis while you were hiding. What makes you special? What makes you more worthy than me? Tamey! Unclean! Unworthy! Traitor to your people! Traitor to France!

He glanced up at Eren, and his eyes drifted over the medals and Nazi symbols that adorned his gray-green uniform. He despised Nazis, he hated everything they stood for, yet here he was, eating with the enemy, kissing and sleeping with a man whose country wanted to exterminate his whole race.

Yet this soldier...

He would never be able to repay the debt he owed to Eren. Too many souls rested on his shoulders.

Eren looked up from his food. "Are you okay?"

Levi lowered his gaze back to the platter set on the table.

What right did he have to enjoy this?

Eld should be the one here enjoying chicken and dreaming of his boyfriend who went to fight the Vichy regime. Or Oruo. Or Flagon. Or any of the others who had spent years fighting for their people.

Or Moses who had a girl waiting in London. Or Abel, a prodigy professor at a university who could have educated the next generation and brought a spark of goodness to this world. Or young Rashad, barely old enough to shave, with his whole life ahead of him.

Or Petra...

They all deserved life more than him!

"Levi?"

Eren's voice was filled with so much concern and warmth, it stung Levi's heart.

I don't deserve this! I shouldn't be here. It should have been me, not them! Why couldn't I save them? Why did I leave them just before the Gestapo came? What sort of leader am I? I couldn't save my men. I couldn't even save my wife. Fucking useless!

A warm hand came to rest over his fingers. He flinched away, but Eren quickly gripped tighter.

"It'll be okay."

Those soft words were so sweet, but how long would he get to hear them? Slowly, shivering, his eyes raised.

"I'll lose you as well one day."

"We don't have to worry about that anymore. I'll be right by your side from now on."

That angered Levi. Didn't the brat understand? Nothing was forever! Especially not happiness.

Every time he felt safe, disaster struck.

Every time he felt joy, it was stolen from him.

Eren too. One day, this sense of security and happiness...

Levi abruptly rose to his feet and walked to the window. He looked out at the heavy rain. This city, once a jewel of France, now had red banners marred with the swastika dripping like blood from every building, reflecting crimson in the flooded streets.

Just like the blood of the Resistance that had flowed out into the street.

"I'll lose you," he whispered again. "One of us will get caught, or shot, or bombed into a million pieces, or dumb bad luck. I'll lose you."

"No. I'm staying with you. You won't lose me, Levi, I promise."

His teeth gritted, and he suddenly yelled, "Don't you think I've seen it a hundred times before? Don't you think I've been the one to separate lovers? I once watched a man kiss his wife goodbye, and minutes later I shot him and dumped his body in the Danube. Just yesterday I killed a man, his only crime being that he was late on his patrol, met up with me, and decided to be a pervert. Nothing is certain in this world, nothing but death. And I've brought death to more people than you ever will! Yet I'm still here. Why? Fuck!"

Eren walked over to him, but Levi furiously pulled away.

Don't you see? I'm a murderer! I'm walking Death! I don't deserve to have you touch me!

"What can I do to help?" Eren whispered, grieved to see Levi weighed down with such intense guilt.

Levi could only shake his head. I don't deserve help!

"Levi?" Eren whispered, ready to cry at that hollow, hopeless void filling his gray-blue eyes. It was a darkness Eren knew all too well, and he wished he could save Levi from its depths.

Softly, his mind trapped in grief, Levi whispered, "Why am I still here?"

"The will of God?" Eren guessed, trying to smile with hope.

Levi slowly shook his head. "If God was merciful, he would have killed me four years ago, when all this shit began. No, long before that. God should have killed me before I murdered all those people. If it weren't for me, that little girl in Poland would still have a mother. If it weren't for me, Petra never would have left her parents. She'd still be alive, married to some farmer, living a peaceful life. If it weren't for me, Moses and Ruth would have never gone to that village, he would still be alive, and she wouldn't have suffered. If it weren't for me, Duran would still be with the Resistance; he was an asshole, but he would have stuck with them. Fuck, I never should have gotten married, I never should have teamed up with any Jews, and I never should have joined the Resistance. I never should have been fucking born! My mother should have aborted me! If it weren't for me..."

His words choked off.

It's my fault they're all dead. Even my mother. If she hadn't needed to care for me, she wouldn't have moved to Paris, and maybe she wouldn't have gotten sick. It's all my fault! I kill everyone I meet!

Eren countered, "If not for you, that little girl in Poland would have been killed by the SIS agent who you stopped. Petra never would have known the happiness she had being your wife. All the Jews in that village would have been killed if not for you constantly protecting them. And the Resistance, you can't blame yourself for that. You had a traitor in your group. He would have turned against them eventually. Due to your training, half of your men escaped. So many people are alive because of you ... including me."

Levi looked up into those teal-green eyes, and his lips tensed until they turned white. None of this was fair. None of it was right. Yet all he could do was feel angry until he went numb.

His heart had been here before. He knew the drill. Bury it down. Hide everything.

Eren smiled painfully, trying to look hopeful. "God has a plan for you, Levi. Trust in that."

"God doesn't exist," he snarled. "What sort of God would allow all this to happen? What is it all for?"

"To teach a lesson—"

"Oh fuck that!" yelled Levi. "Teach a lesson? I fucking hate that excuse. Do you know the one story in the Bible that I hate more than any? Iyyov."

"Iyyov? What's that?"

"He was a righteous man, God's favorite, but when Ha'sāṭān came and challenged God, saying Iyyov was only righteous because of his blessings, do you remember what the Lord did?"

"Are you talking about Das Buch Hiob?" Eren furrowed his brow and thought back to Sunday lessons. "If this is the same story, God allowed Satan to kill Hiob's livestock, then his servants, then his children, and finally to strike him with—what is the word—Furunkel, sores, but Hiob continued to bless God—"

"Stop right there," Levi snapped. His brow tightened deeply as he looked aside. "You know, there was a time when I thought that story was teaching about how material wealth shouldn't decide our faith, and I thought that was a great lesson ... until I watched my wife and unborn baby being butchered. The Catholic priest who took me in told me to remain faithful, because God blessed Iyyov doubly for remaining true to him in trying times, including more children. I told him, fuck that. I didn't want God to give me more children. I wanted that child. I wanted my wife and my baby. I wanted them to have their futures. Is a child less righteous than a man like me? Less worthy? A stupid bet between two celestial beings, and ten children paid the price, all for what? Was God trying to teach Iyyov a lesson? No, he was already faithful. He was trying to teach someone else a lesson, and he killed Iyyov's family just to do it. Do you really think God is trying to teach me a lesson here? Do you think the millions of Jews who have suffered and died are all just collateral damage because God is bickering with Ha'sāṭān again? If God is that petty, I don't want to pray to such a monster. Someone who would kill children just to prove a point doesn't deserve to be loved."

"Levi!" Eren cried out.

Levi turned away, seething and his teeth clenched. "I was an idiot for thinking there was a God, or that he gives a damn about us. We Jews have a saying: Mann tracht on gott lacht. Man plans and God laughs. God doesn't care about your plans. God doesn't care for your happiness. God doesn't care about your children, or the safety of your wife, or the lives of your comrades. If all God actually cares about is being praised, then that isn't a god. It's an arrogant asshole with an ego the size of the fucking universe."

Eren frowned, but he said nothing. Levi needed to vent, and he let him.

"Iyyov's friends told him to curse God and die." Levi stared up to the ceiling. "Fuck you, God! You wanna prove you're real? Kill me right now! Eat shit and die, God! You're the god of turds and piss, so why don't you fucking kill me already?" He burst out into tears, only to catch himself and try to bury it down hard. He softly growled, "Prove you're real and kill me. I don't deserve to live, so fuck you, God. Fuck you..."

Eren finally stepped forward and folded Levi up into his arms.

Levi squirmed and tried to push him away. "Let go of me! God needs to strike me down..."

"If he does, he will strike me down with you, because I'm staying by your side."

"Eren, no!"

Eren suddenly yanked Levi around and pulled him into his chest, letting his uniform muffle the sound of Levi's cries. "It's okay to be angry. Let it out."

No! He tried to bury it. Shove the pain away, ignore it, hide everything, keep fighting...

"You let me cry this morning. It's my turn now. It's okay to cry."

Okay to cry?

No! Bury it all!

He buried his face deep into Eren's uniform to smother a scream of rage and pain. He hit the gray tunic, as if it represented all that the Nazis were, and he could take his fury and sadness out on that uniform.

Eren put a hand on Levi's head, making sure his cries were smothered so anyone sneaking around outside would not hear him and grow suspicious. Levi's fists did not hurt, but hearing this strong, proud, fierce man shattering and feeling his shoulders shiver as he struggled to hold back tears ... that hurt worse than any bullet wound.

They were both the same. They had both lost comrades who had relied upon them. They both led their men through this war but could not help them make it to the end.

Softly, sounding tiny for once, Levi whispered, "Why them and not me?"

Eren squeezed him tighter. "I don't know. I've asked myself the same thing for months. In Anzio, I blamed my lack of experience. I kept thinking, if I wasn't fresh out of Offiziersschule, maybe I would have done something different and saved more of my men, although each attack wasn't my choice; it was an order. In the last battle, it was purely my choice, my orders. I can't even place the blame on my captain. The fault was mine, so why did I survive?"

Eren paused for a moment, hearing in his mind the bombs, flames, and ghastly screams.

"After we left Anzio and were sent to Paris, I woke up one morning with so much guilt, I didn't want to live. I took a piece of paper, and I wrote down every ... um, Warum-Fragen ... why-questions? Why couldn't I do more, why did I live but they did not, why did God spare me? All the questions, all the dark thoughts, I wrote them down. Then I climbed to the top of dem Eiffelturm, folded the paper into a little airplane, and I threw it. I sent those questions up to God, because God is the only person who knows if I have a greater purpose in life.

"Was ist meine Pflicht? What is my duty? Die Befehlskette—um, command chain?—it's not my duty to find an answer to such questions. That duty belongs to God alone. Maybe he will tell me the answers, maybe it is streng geheim ... um, strict secret?"

"Top secret," Levi mumbled.

"All I know is, I'm here because God wanted me to be here. I have to forgive myself for not being able to save more, for giving orders that got men killed, and for being here when they're not. Sometimes, I really want to give up. It hurts to live, and putting a bullet in my head, or cursing God so he strikes me down, feels like the simplest choice. But I have to forgive myself, because I promised you I would live. That promise saved me, Levi. It stopped me more than once from ... from giving up!"

His throat choked up as Eren thought about how, just one week ago, he had held a gun to his own head, feeling like there was nothing left but darkness, until that tiny spark of knowing Levi was somewhere out there made him lower the gun. He squeezed Levi's shoulders, glad to feel they had stopped shivering with suppressed sobs.

"I tell myself, as soon as I'm out of Metz, I'm going to write down all my why-questions, climb the tallest tower I can find, and launch that paper up to God. I have to trust in God now more than any other time in my life. I have to believe there's a reason I'm here, because otherwise..." His throat clenched again. "Otherwise, it hurts too damn much!"

Levi listened to his words, while his ear pressed into Eren's chest, hearing the vibrations of his voice. It kept him in the moment and calmed him.

Throw his questions to God, huh? That was shockingly good advice, and it reminded him that Eren had already lived through so many horrors at only nineteen years old.

Why was he here? Why was he alive? Why had he lost Petra? Why had so many others died and he lived? Why was he so often the sole survivor? Why had God given him this opportunity to find love and be happy again?

No! All those questions were up to God to answer. Even if God was a petty asshole with a huge ego who would allow children to be slaughtered just to win a bet, those were still questions only he could answer. Maybe there was no answer, maybe there was no God, but at least Levi could stop carrying the weight of guilt on his shoulders.

He still felt like he did not deserve to be here when so many had died, yet here he was. Either there was no God, and this was just dumb luck, or there was a God, and Levi still had a purpose in life, blessed to continue on over a mountain of bones made of all those he killed or could not save.

He opened his eyes, getting a glimpse over Eren's shoulder. Standing by a shelf of spices, he thought he saw Petra, her brown eyes gentle and warm, her bobbed hair shining with an auburn glow, her tiny smile silently encouraging Levi in her tender way. He blinked and the vision was gone.

God, if you really are out there and you really do have a purpose for me, it had better be fucking worth it!

Eren whispered, "I don't know the will of God, but at least to me, you being here with me ... it's an answer to my prayers." He rested his cheek on Levi's head and sighed, "Maybe God kept you alive so you could be here with me."

Levi grumbled, "That's egotistical."

"Well then, maybe God kept me alive to be here for you. God knew we needed each other."

Levi scoffed, but Eren was right about one thing.

They needed each other.

Yet at the same time, together they were at greater risk.

Levi was confident that, on his own, he could survive, and on his own, Eren could continue to fight.

On their own...

Levi finally pulled away, tugged out a handkerchief, and wiped his eyes. The dark circles under his bloodshot eyes were even blacker than usual, but at least he had calmed down.

Eren whispered, "So, where do we go now?"

Levi neatly folded the handkerchief and tucked it back into his pocket. "You need to go back to your hotel."

"Why go back? It would be dangerous for you to come with me."

"Eren," Levi sighed miserably. "I can't protect you anymore. On your own, your chances of survival are higher—"

"On my own? What are you saying?" At first, Eren's mind was unable to comprehend the words, or perhaps unwilling. Yet slowly, Levi's meaning became clear, and he felt the pit of his stomach drop. "No! I'm your prisoner. I have to stay by you."

Levi gazed at the anguish on Eren's face. His heart ached, but Levi knew the risks he now faced without a safe haven to hide in. "I'm sorry. How things are now, the best way for me to protect you is to not be anywhere near you."

Eren shook his head, stubbornly refusing to accept that. "No! I promised. I promised that I wouldn't run away."

"I know. I'm sending you away."

"Levi!" Eren cried as his heart felt like it was breaking.

"If you abandon your post and you're caught with me, you'll be executed on the spot. If you remain in the army, you'll either keep fighting, maybe retreat back to Germany, or you'll get captured."

"Or I'll be shot, or blown to pieces, incinerated by a flamethrower or a napalm bomb—"

"If you stay with me, you'll die."

"If I go out to battle, I'll die! Please, Levi! Please, don't make me go back out there!"

Levi looked away, pained with guilt. After all, Eren was the one who had requested to be taken prisoner. He wanted to leave this war behind. He was scared, he had seen the worst horrors war had to offer, and now Levi was telling this poor, broken soldier to march back into Hell.

Levi thought to himself: If he stays with me and we get caught, he'll be killed for helping a Jew, and his blood will be on my hands. I can't allow that. But if I don't take him with me and he dies in battle, his blood will be on my hands as well. Either way, it's the same. His life is tied to mine. He trusted me enough to surrender to me, but how do I keep him safe? Fuck, what do I do?

Levi muttered, "You have two more days, right?"

Through shaking fears, Eren nodded. "We leave on the ninth."

"Then I'll look around. Tomorrow, we regroup at the Cathedral, then we'll head to the bookstore. That's our emergency plan. I don't know where we can go from there. The Gestapo has really cracked down on us. Now that they've raided our headquarters, they're going to find a lot of our contacts. Most of it is in code, but no place is safe anymore. Still, I'll look around. If I find a place to hide, or maybe a way to escape, then I'll come for you."

Levi sighed as he thought about how desperate this all sounded. They were merely words to comfort Eren, but Levi knew the brutal truth. The Resistance was out of options. The brothel had been their last resort. Duran might have told the Gestapo about the wine cellar and all the people who helped them. Even coming to this house had been a huge risk.

Still, if it kept Eren's hopes alive, he would at least try to reassure him with empty, hopeful words.

He softly touched Eren's cheek. "I'll do my best to keep us together, okay?"

Eren's lips pressed together tighter to hold back his emotions, but he nodded his head. He leaned into Levi's hand. "You being safe, that's what matters most."

"Those are my thoughts exactly. I will choose whatever keeps you safe. Right now, at least for today, the most dangerous place for you to be is by my side."

"Which is why I want to stay with you!"

"And it's why I can't allow you. I can't lose you too, Eren. Please, try to understand."

Eren did understand. Levi worked best alone—he had said so many times. He knew that having the freedom to act on his own was the safest thing for Levi. Their chances of survival plummeted whenever they were together. If letting Levi go was the only way to save him...

If it was just for today, he would put up with it. However, he feared that if he returned to the army, he might not be able to convince himself to escape again. Without being a prisoner-of-war, it meant Eren had to leave his men willingly. Eren looked down at his uniform, at the Knight's Cross tied around his neck like a collar showing who owned him, and a dark reality began to set it.

Levi was safest without him.

The old woman called out, "Tout va bien, messieurs?" Is everything okay, sirs?

Levi stiffened up, realizing his outburst had been overheard, and this tenderness they were sharing was not private. "Oui, madame, tout pour nous va bien." Yes, ma'am, we're fine.

They returned to the table and tried to eat a little. Eren picked at his food listlessly, but Levi seemed to have regained an appetite. He placed some cheese on a slice of stale bread and bit in.

"Those girls," said Levi. "We need to rescue them. I'm not going to leave them for the Gestapo. Do you know where they were taken?"

"Feste Göben."

Levi squinted his eyes, trying to recall something. "That's to the south. Eld called it Fort de Queuleu. He said it used to be an internment camp up until this summer. A lot of the early Resistance got arrested and sent there. Do you have a map of the place?"

Eren jolted. "Huh? Oh. I can probably get one."

"Good. Schematics of the fort too, if you can."

"Schematics?"

"A blueprint, like a map for a building."

"Ah, Blaupause, okay. I doubt I can get that, but I'll try."

"Just don't get into trouble."

"Are we breaking them out?"

"I will, alone. I'm not risking more lives."

Eren's face sank in dejection. "Oh. I thought ... I could help. As an officer, I can get into places—"

"You would be shot. I forbid it." Levi watched as Eren's head dropped like a scolded puppy. "Look, I owe Carly a debt, but I'm not going to put your arse on the line just to save hers. If I can prevent her from being sent off to a labor camp, that'll repay all that she's done, but if it's too dangerous, I may need to abort the mission and get the hell out of there as quickly as I can. I wouldn't have time to warn you or rescue you."

"I get it," he said, although his eyes were lowered and despondent. "You go and do what you do best."

Levi frowned. He ached to see how the light in those eyes had dimmed.

Levi ate a little more, but Eren barely moved. Levi sipped some drink, watching the downcast pout. After a moment, he aimed his voice to sound lighter, hoping to help dispel the dark mood.

"What I wouldn't give to take a long shit right now! I wonder if this old lady will let me stink up her toilet."

It worked, and a tiny laugh snorted out of Eren's nose, followed by a sniffle as he tried to recover. Levi watched the response carefully. At least it seemed to work, and the smile lingered, warming Eren's cheeks.

"What's really fucked up is all my stuff was in the brothel. My supplies, my clothes, my mother's Tanakh..."

"Actually," said Eren, "Carly found the book earlier and hid it in the floorboards. It should still be safe."

Levi sighed. It was a tiny speck of hope.

"I'll get your book," said Eren. "I can go to the brothel and say I left something in the room."

"Don't get in trouble over it."

"I won't." Eren gripped Levi's hands. "I know it's precious to you. I'll do what I can."

Eren looked calmer, less depressed, but Levi saw that this was all part of the mask he wore. He was forcing himself to be strong, because the alternative was to completely crumble apart.

"Find a way to free those women, and then escape the city with them," Eren whispered. "Don't worry about me. If I'm sent out, I'll surrender right away. We've heard stories of men simply walking over to the American side to surrender. I'll lay down my gun, raise my hands, walk over ... and pray my own men don't shoot me in the back." The fake bravado nearly cracked, and a single sob sneaked out. "It was a nice thought, being your prisoner-of-war. It ... It would have been ... really nice."

"Eren," he whispered, feeling brutally guilty for getting his hopes up, only to fail him in the end.

"Just be safe. Promise me! Promise me, you'll be safe and you won't give up."

"The same goes to you. Don't you dare die in this war. Live, no matter the price! That's an order."

The mask cracked, and Eren laughed and sobbed at the same time. "Jawohl, mon capitaine."

Levi snorted a laugh, remembering other times Eren said that. "Pick a language, brat."

Eren began to laugh, but it turned into a grimace of pain. He suddenly flung his arms around Levi as a sob burst out.

Levi squeezed him, hushing him and stroking his hair. "I'm so sorry, Eren. I'm truly sorry."

Eren snuffled up his fears. "I'm just glad you're alive." His arms tightened. "That's all that matters now. Whatever keeps you safe."

Levi rested his head on Eren's shoulder and stared ahead. He was lost in his own grief at losing his comrades, but the fact that he had failed Eren weighed even heavier. He mourned friends, dreams, and a hope for a happier life.

All of it destroyed by Nazi rifles.

* * *

It was late in the afternoon when Eren entered the hotel foyer, wet and miserable. He shook off the drenched coat and stomped mud off his boots before marching through the foyer with a bag clutched in his hand. He realized that if anyone demanded to check his bag, he would be arrested on the spot. Luckily, those who noticed him saw only a soldier with the dead eyes of someone who had seen battle and would be haunted for life.

Holger, Surma, Samuel, and Daz were standing around and chatting. Holger began to smile, but upon seeing Eren's dour face, he held back.

"Hey, Jäger!" Samuel called out instead. "You left the party so early last night."

Eren paused, sighed, but realized that talking to them was less suspicious than ignoring them. He turned with the mask of a smile on his face. "I went to the brothel with Daz and Jean."

Daz declared, "The best way to celebrate is seeing how many women you can get through in a single night. My record is six."

"I didn't get through that many. Daz, were you there during the Gestapo raid?"

"Raid?" he cried out.

All the others surged forward to listen.

Holger asked, "The place was raided? When?"

"Shortly before noon," said Eren. "Madame Carly was caught harboring partisans and arrested."

"No!" Daz howled. "Not Madame Carly!"

"What happened?" Surma asked in concern.

"The Gestapo and local police arrived and dragged out at least a dozen partisans from the basement. They were all executed. Madame Carly was arrested, as well as a few of the prostitutes."

Holger looked stunned. "The Resistance were hiding in the basement this whole time?"

Daz looked heartbroken. "No, Madame Carly..." Then he jumped, "Wait, are all the rest of the women okay? There's still prostitutes for us, right?"

Samuel let out a scoff. "Seriously? You think only with your dick."

Daz snapped back, "It's the most important part of a man!"

Eren's teeth gritted in rage. Levi's friends were dead, Jean's sweetheart imprisoned, their tiny slice of domestic bliss and his one chance at getting out of this war, all gone ... and Daz only cared if he could still fuck girls.

"Well, I need to dry off," said Eren. "Let's have dinner together."

"Yes!" cheered Holger. "Let's find Jean too. He arrived a while ago and looked awful. I wonder what happened."

"Oh, one of the prostitutes they arrested was the one he was with. I guess he didn't get to finish with her."

Daz groaned, "Oh man, that would make me cranky too."

Eren turned to head to the staircase, eager to get out of there before his mask shattered. He trotted up four flights to his floor, unlocked the door to his room, stepped inside, and suddenly all the rage and grief burst onto his face in a hideous scowl. He slammed the door shut and just barely held back a long scream.

Hide everything!

He threw the bag with the Tanakh into the closet. Then he yanked off the drenched coat and threw it at the bed in rage. He walked into the bathroom and grabbed a towel to dry off. While there, Eren looked in the mirror.

He looked awful. His hair was far too long for a proper soldier, and worse, his mask was not coming back up.

"Pull yourself together, Jäger! You need to hide it. Hide everything!"

If he and Levi had been in that brothel during the raid...

If they had decided to stay and make love...

He felt like vomiting just imagining it.

Where could Levi hide now?

What was he going to do?

He had two days left.

Then, separated.

Maybe forever.

"Verdammt!"

Eren glared at the Nazi staring back at him in the mirror, the swastikas on his uniform, the black crosses on his tunic, like a cruel mockery of the man he was inside. His jaw clenched, seething, and his hands shook from all the years of buried rage.

Suddenly, Eren punched the Nazi reflection, shattering it. He looked at all the broken pieces, like the sharp and broken pieces of his soul. At least that despised image would never look back at him, judging him, tormenting him with what he was expected to become.

It took him a moment to realize his hand was bleeding.

"Scheiße."

He washed off the blood and wrapped his hand in some bandages meant for his burns. The pain helped him to focus.

Eren walked back out into the main bedroom area and found the lemon he had cut a couple days ago. It was dried out, but he sliced off the old part and placed the fresh, juicy rind up against his nose, letting the smell force him to remain in the moment.

He sat by a desk and stared ahead at nothing. The storm raged outside, wind and thunderous rain hitting his window. He inhaled the citrus aroma of the lemon to keep away the nightmares.

He was sad, but too empty to cry anymore. He pitied Levi's loss of friends, but he felt torn about the idea of the Germans rooting out some partisans.

Wasn't that a good thing?

Not when they were his boyfriend's companions.

It tore at him so painfully, his fingers dug into his palm, driving his nails into his skin.

He knew one thing for certain.

There was no way he could go back out into battle. He was certain that his mind would break if he did. It was already so close to getting sucked away into darkness.

"Dammit, Levi, I need you," he whispered.

If he was feeling this miserable, he could only imagine how Jean felt.

Oh shit! Jean!

Eren left the room, marched over to Jean's room, and pounded on the door. A few seconds later, the tall man with a long, lean face slowly opened the door. Eren could see right away, he had been crying.

Eren barged in and pushed the door closed. Without a word, he handed the lemon over. Jean looked down at it, confused for a moment, only to snort a laugh.

"You, being thoughtful? The world must have flipped on its head."

"Shut the hell up and take it," Eren snapped.

Jean took the lemon and lifted it to his nose. "How did you know?"

"I figured you're feeling the same way I do, maybe worse. Hand over your gun."

"Like hell I will!"

"Trust me," Eren said, looking serious.

Jean scowled, but he yanked his Luger out of his holster and handed it over. Eren walked over to Jean's wardrobe and tiptoed so he could place the gun on the very top.

"You're tall, you can reach that, but at least it's not where you will grab it without thinking too hard. I know that's rare for you anyway," he quipped with a teasing smile.

Jean scoffed at the joviality, walked over to his bed, and sank down on the edge of the mattress. He leaned over to sniff the lemon some more. "So, did he escape?"

Eren nodded and sat on a chair by Jean's desk. "He's safe for now. We talked a little, he wants to save the girls, but the French Resistance needs maps."

"The Resistance are dead."

"Only some of them."

Jean glared at Eren, but then he merely shook his head. "I don't even care anymore. That there are even more terrorists in Metz, how you know this, the fact that your lover is their leader, I don't care anymore." Jean sneered and drew his hands up into fists, squeezing the lemon until the juice dripped to the floor. "What are we going to do about Annie?"

"I don't know yet. Carly had records on all of the prostitutes. I doubt she would have anything possibly linking them to Jews. If the records hold up, the girls will be released."

"You know that's not true. They wouldn't risk it. Besides, they're Slavs. I heard Colt; they're next on the list. Jews, Romani, Serbs, Slavs. The Nazis will one day kill them all. And then who's next? Will I one day be killed because I don't have blue eyes and blond hair?" He let out a disgusted scoff. "How did we all fall for the lies?"

"We were never given a chance to know the truth. Not our generation, at least."

Jean sank his head down between his knees. "Do you ever feel like..." He stopped and slammed his lips shut, knowing the next few words about to come out of his mouth were traitorous.

"Yes," Eren answered, knowing precisely what he was about to say. He had felt it many times himself over the past few months.

Do you ever feel like we're on the wrong side?

Eren confessed, "I was going to get out, leave with him. We had a plan, but it all crashed down when the Gestapo burst through those doors. All I've ever wanted was to make sure he was safe. I was willing to fight anyone to protect him." Eren sighed heavily in grief. "I can't even get him out of the city."

Almost inaudibly, Jean muttered, "I don't want to fight anymore. I used to think that I wanted to fight long enough to be a war hero so I could get girls back home. Five years later, here I am, an officer! Yet all I want to do is take Annie home with me, have a bunch of babies, and forget all of this. Dammit!"

Eren stood, walked over, and placed a hand on Jean's shoulder. "We'll come up with a plan."

With a heavy sigh, he gazed up at Eren. "You're leaving soon, right?"

Eren pouted. "In two days."

"Then we need to act fast!"

"Jean..."

"What do I need to do?" he yelled.

"Levi said he'd take care of it. He's forbidden me from helping."

"Because he loves you and he's worried about you. He doesn't feel that way about me ... or, he better not," Jean said with a teasing glint in his eyes. "I'm not asking him for permission. I'm stating, I will be getting Annie out one way or another, and I would rather it be with someone skilled and tiny enough to get into places where I can't fit. Once the girls are freed, I'm grabbing Annie and getting the hell out of here. Maybe we'll run away to Switzerland together." He punched Eren's shoulder. "I could use a French translator and someone who is good at reading maps."

Eren looked stunned. "Are you serious?"

"I've never been more serious in my life. You grab your boyfriend, I'll grab Annie, and we'll make a run for it."

"Breaking them out of Feste Göben will take one hell of a plan."

"Armin," Jean stated. "If anyone can plan a jailbreak, it's him."

"He'll need maps, lots of them. Levi asked me to find a blueprint of the fort."

"Leave that to me," Jean said sternly. This gave him something to focus on, a goal to fight for.

Eren smiled as he squeezed Jean's shoulder. "You really love her, huh?"

Jean's lips twisted, refusing to smile but struggling to hold back. Eren saw the hidden smile, though. Maybe because he was used to seeing Levi hiding his smile, he caught it now.

"Keep up hope," Eren encouraged.

Jean slumped down. "Easier said than done! Dammit, it's all so complicated now. I hate myself for even thinking this, but I miss being your NCO. It was simpler back then."

Eren just had to tease him. "Aww, do you like me that much? Sorry, I'm taken."

"Go to hell!" Jean yelled with a laugh.

Eren chuckled. "Admit it, I'm the best officer you've ever served under."

"Like hell would I admit it."

Eren was stunned. In Jean's own way, that was a confession.

Jean scoffed. Slowly, weariness sank into him. "I want to get drunk tonight and put off my worries until tomorrow."

"The others are downstairs. I wouldn't mind getting drunk too." Eren thought about how the day had started with so much hope and ended with so much grief. "This has been one of the worst days of my life."

They both stood up. Eren returned to his room, combed out his hair, pulled his cap back on, wiped down his wet coat, and pulled it back on.

Hide everything!

The mask needed to come back up. He needed to pretend for a little bit longer.

He stepped outside and found Jean waiting. They both left down the stairs, eager for at least a small escape, even if it was in the bottom of a bottle.

* * *

Eren returned later that night, stumbling but not much happier. He simply felt exhausted from keeping up his mask around all the other soldiers.

He changed out of his uniform, letting it fall to the floor, collapsed into bed, and closed his eyes. The world began to spin and sway. Just how much had he drank? He opted for wine rather than beer to make certain he would get drunk, and it certainly worked.

Did he really drink two bottles on his own?

All that red wine ... like the crimson blood that flowed from the French Resistance and soaked the street.

Thunder cracked like a cannon outside. Suddenly, Eren bolted up, ran to the bathroom, and vomited in the toilet.

"I really did drink too much. Shit."

Maybe it was more than just all the drinking, though. His mind swirled, and with it the scene from that morning. His stomach surged again, and he spewed out what little he had for dinner.

Eren cleaned himself up, washed out his mouth, and collapsed back into bed. However, the lightning and thunder kept him awake. He hugged himself as the thunder pounded in an overture of the battle to come. In frustration, he slammed the pillow over his head, but that did not help.

After a few minutes, Eren sat up sharply, stomped over to the wardrobe, pulled out the bag he had hidden there, and plunged his hand down. Levi's clothing, the Tanakh: he had grabbed everything in such a hurry, eager to get out before anyone got suspicious.

That included a shot glass that still had a pill inside.

Levi had told him not to get drugged, but Eren figured, this was as good a time as any. He knocked back the pill and drank some water to wash it down. Then he collapsed back into bed, glaring into the darkness.

Maybe it was the pill freeing his mind, loosening the tight restrictions, but Eren began to cry. It all poured out as he felt his brain drifting, floating, and swirling like a whirlpool. All the fear, the anger, the feeling that life wasn't fair ... it spun around and surged out in noisy, jolting sobs.

He felt so broken. Part of him wanted to run out into the storm and find Levi. Damn it all, he would tie himself up just to stay as Levi's prisoner. Anything to stay by him!

Mercifully, the drug kicked in, and darkness swallowed Eren whole, sucking him away from cold grief and fiery rage.

Outside, rain washed away blood, the thunder threatening to shatter the whole world, and lightning flashed as if even Heaven was taking part in this damned war.

# # #

# #

#

We get to see the kids again!

Udo was too young for the French Resistance, but he managed to recruit his best friends into his own little Youth Resistance. (For readers of my first draft re-reading the story, THIS is why I replaced Zofia with Annie, because I wanted her to be here with her friends.)

Gabi seemed overly-eager to support the Nazis at first, but it was all an act. While she has many of the same prejudices as the Nazis, she's fiercely loyal to France ... maybe a little too much. In my imagination, she would be part of the Front National, now Rassemblement National or National Rally Party, a far-right political party in France. She's definitely a fierce nationalist and a bit antisemitic. She's also just a child with pro-Nazi parents, so she picked up a lot of that hate and can outgrow it as she gets older, just as Gabi in the anime grew and changed.

As for Falco, the poor kid is stuck, strongly opposed to Fascism but forced to be in Hitler Youth, with a brother whose job is to carry out the will of the Nazi Party. Although he's German, Gabi befriended Falco because he agrees with her that France should be governed by the French and the Germans should return to their lands. The poor kid just wants to go home.

(Now I'm kicking myself for already using Zofia and she can't join these three. Oh well.)

I considered a side story with these three, and I even outlined a scene of Eren meeting them in school to give a speech, but it really didn't work out this close to the end of the Metz Arc. So sadly, this is the last time we'll see them.

Youth Resistance - While media portrays the French Resistance as a group of adults who rose up against the Nazi occupying forces, in reality it began with—and relied mostly upon—youths. Teenagers were the first to gang together and subvert the German troops. The Nazis did not spare partisans due to their age, and many of these children were sent to labor camps or shot.

One of the most inspiring stories was Jean-Raphaël Hirsch. He was 10 when the war began, but he rode his bicycle all across the southwestern French countryside, meeting with groups hiding Jewish children from the Vichy Regime. When he was 13, his parents were arrested and deported to Auschwitz. His mother did not survive the camp. Jean-Raphaël avoided arrest only because a friend warned him. Without his parents around, 13-year-old Hirsch assumed full responsibility for the safety of groups hiding Jewish children. For the next two years, he biked all over southwest France as a messenger, helping to save many Jewish children.

Girls who wanted to join the Resistance often found their way blocked due to sexism in the mostly-conservative French groups. Women were not even allowed to vote yet (that wasn't until April 1945) and men felt women could not be trusted with missions. However, women who joined Communist Resistance cells were welcomed, and they trained alongside men as equals. It took three years of occupation before the conservative Resistance groups finally allowed girls and women to join, and even then they were discouraged from actually fighting.

War and Peace – Alexeï mentions he may have an original copy of War and Peace (Война и мир). First published as a serial in the magazine The Russian Messenger between 1865-67, Leo Tolstoy was unhappy with the book. He rewrote the ending, but he still was not satisfied. He would spend three years writing and rewriting. He ended up making SEVEN different versions before he was satisfied. And remember, this was long before computers with cut-and-paste, even before the invention of the typewriter! That was all written by hand. The first edition was 1,225 pages, over 600,000 words, 361 chapters, and 24 of those chapters are philosophical with Tolstoy making author comments and his own views. (And I thought MY author notes were lengthy!) Its daunting length makes it a common comparison to other lengthy stories. "My teacher wasn't satisfied with my 10-page essay; what does she want, War and Peace? That movie was so long, I thought I was watching War and Peace. My fanfic is over 700k words long, so it beats War and Peace." (That's true.)

Levi's PTSD moment has been moved around and rewritten so many times, I honestly don't know if elements of it already got used. I don't think so ... but let me know if I repeated anything. It's a case where I had what I knew was a good scene, but no good place to put it until now.

Levi's Raunchy Humor – Levi attempting to lighten up Eren's mood is based on a scene from the manga where he sees Eren spaced out with worries and uses a shit joke to make him laugh.

Iyyov/Hiob – Base on אִיּוֹב (transliterated as Iyyov, Iyyob, or Iyov) English speakers know him as Job, as in the main character whose name is the 18th book in the Christian Bible. English also notoriously mispronounces his name. Hebrew: Iyyov. Yiddish: Iyob. Latin: Iob. Greek: Ióv. German: Hiob. Polish: Hioba. Armenian: Hobi. Romanian: Iov. Russian: Iova. Maori and Hawaiian: Ioba.

English? ... JOB (dʒob, rhymes with robe)

For the sake of English readers, I will spell it "Job" for these notes. Just remember: the "J" in Job is not supposed to be pronounced like "Jump" but like "Jäger." Iyyov like yoyo, not Job like robe or job hunting. (Which I'm doing right now. Does anyone have a job for me? Seriously, I'm getting desperate.)

The Book of Job is in the Sifrei Emet or "Documents of Truth" in the Tanakh. The term Documents of Truth comes from the fact that the first (farthest right) letter of the names of the three books — תהלים Tehillim (Psalms), משלי Mishlei (Proverbs), and איוב Iyyov (Job) — create the acronym אמ״ת or EMeT, and emet is the Hebrew word for truth.

Ancient Hebrew scribes were word nerds!

If you're not up on Abrahamic religions, Job was the most faithful man of his time, and God blessed his dedication by giving him huge herds, many loyal servants, and ten children. This preferential treatment was challenged by a being called Ha'sāṭān (The Accuser) who questioned whether Job was faithful only thanks to living a privileged life, or if he would remain faithful without all of these blessings. God granted Ha'sāṭān the freedom to test Job by inflicting all sorts of misery upon him: killing his livestock, his servants, his children, striking him with painful boils, and having his wife and friends turn against him, telling him to "curse God and die." Although Job cursed being born, he never cursed God. In the end, God blessed him with double of what he had before ... except for the kids. He got another ten children, 7 sons and 3 daughters, and the three girls grew up to be the most beautiful women in the land.

Just a quick clarification, because I definitely learned this wrong in church: Ha'sāṭān is not the Devil, despite cultural appropriation of Jewish concepts to match Greco-Roman beliefs.

Satan (שָׂטָן֙) means "one who opposes, obstructs, or acts as an adversary; to show enmity to, oppose, or plot against." The term is used for pretty much any adversary, from the prosecutor in a legal trial, to enemies in warfare, to online haters. When written as Ha'sāṭān, it is a noun that means The Accuser or The Adversary. (Ha indicated an individual.) Rather than an evil spirit, it is used to describe God's heavenly prosecutor.

Jews don't believe "satan" is an evil, sentient creature. It's a metaphor, representing yetzer hara, the congenital inclination to do evil by not submitting to the will of God. It is not a demon out tempting everyone, but a natural part of God's creation, the temptation that allows us to practice Free Will.

Satan did not create evil, because God said, "I form the light and create darkness; I make peace and create evil; I, Yahweh, do all these things." (Isaiah 45:7) What may be listed as a sin like lust is also what draws two people together, crave sex, and bear children. Meanwhile, Greed is the driving force to start up a business and work hard. Without yetzer hara, humans would not procreate and civilization would not exist. So it is not evil unless you excessively succumb to these baser inclinations—craving sex to the point of rape, or becoming so greedy you turn to robbery and extortion.

Satan simply means an adversary. For example, David became a satan against the Philistines in 1 Samuel 29:4-5:

But the officers of the Philistines were enraged against him, and the officers of the Philistines said to him, "Return the man, and let him return to his place, where you have appointed him, and let him not go down with us into the battle, lest he become an adversary [sāṭān] to us in the battle. And with what will this one reconcile himself to his master? Is it not with the heads of those men? Is this not David of whom they sang with musical instruments, saying, 'Saul has slain his thousands and David his ten thousands.'"

In Numbers 22, when Balaam was riding his donkey to the Moabite king Balak to curse the Jews, God placed an angelic satan in his path to thwart him—(לְשָׂטָ֣ן ל֑וֹ) "l'satan lo"—except his donkey kept refusing to go forward. God granted the donkey the ability to speak, and she told Balaam that there was an angel right in front of them, about to kill him. Only then did God open Balaam's eyes so he could see the angel for himself.

Which gave us the funniest titled Sunday School stories: Balaam and the Talking Ass.

So, sāṭān was used to describe angels carrying out God's will, Israeli kings fighting God's enemies, prosecutors in trials, and mentioned in daily Jewish prayers, to be rescued from "the destructive spiritual impediment [sāṭān]." (The Complete Artscroll Siddur)

Yet some Christians interpreted sāṭān as their own big-bad, the Devil, prince of darkness, ruler of Hell, fallen angel banished from the Heavens, creator of all evil.

A look at the scenes where Ha'sāṭān pops up makes it clear that this is not the Devil. Ha'sāṭān is free to walk the Earth and come sit at God's right hand, high-ranked enough to speak freely with God, its opinion is respected enough for it to challenge God, and while it does things we humans would see as cruel (like killing children) it only acts with God's permission, and most importantly, it follows God's commands, something the Devil surely would NOT do.

Some scholars reckon that, since Ha'sāṭān had the ability to take a human life, something only God could approve and only the Angel of Death was authorized to carry out, then Ha'sāṭān and the Angel of Death are one and the same. In Balaam and the Talking Ass, the angel described as satan was about to kill Balaam, so that at least was definitely the Angel of Death, the only angel allowed to kill humans.

So, the heavenly being in Job wasn't a horned Devil. It's an angel, most likely the Angel of Death, who is allowed to wander the Earth (taking human lives), high ranked enough to speak with God directly, had the authority to kill Job's children and servants, but followed God's order NOT to kill Job. This angel opposed Job and stood against him as an adversary.

An Accuser. An Opposer. An Adversary. A Ha'sāṭān.

For a religion that does not believe in a supreme evil Devil, Christians have spent centuries murdering Jews on the claim that they worship Satan. Even today, some Christians call Jews anti-Semitic slurs, like American Evangelist Billy Graham's infamous rant about the Synagogue of Satan to President Richard Nixon, saying Hitler had the right idea about wiping Jews out and making the hypocritical claim that, "A lot of Jews are great friends of mine [...] but they don't know how I really feel about what they're doing to this country."

It is all part of a centuries-long attempt to paint Jews as evil. It's ironic that Jews do not believe in Satan the Devil, but that Evil is an ingrained part of the human soul, placed there by God to tempt people and give them the free will to either pick righteousness or to fall into hate, greed, and bigotry ... precisely what these anti-Semitic hatemongers are succumbing to.

References:

https://www.myjewishlearning.com/article/satan-the-adversary

https://bibleportal.com/encyclopedia/international-standard-bible-encyclopedia/adversary

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Yetzer_hara

https://www.learnreligions.com/jewish-view-of-satan-2076775

https://www.jewsforjudaism.org/knowledge/articles/the-jewish-view-of-satan

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Balaam

https://medium.com/@mikeh_50175/billy-graham-the-synagogue-of-satan-681360ae5b99

Just a little personal note:

If you can't tell, I have a pet peeve with English translations of the Bible, probably due to being raised as a Jehovah's Witness, but being told "Jesus' name is actually Yeshua and God's name is really Yahweh, but we call them Jesus and Jehovah because we speak English." Even as a small child, I thought that was rude. I mean, this is GOD! Why don't we pronounce his name the way HE says it? When I asked, I was told, "Don't question the wisdom of the Society." (Yet JWs swear they're not a cult. I mean, wisdom of the Society? That sounds dystopian!)

So, how did Yeshua become Jesus? Blame the Greeks for not having enough letters.

- The letter Yod (יְ) sounds like "ye" but Greeks don't have that sound, so they wrote it with the Greek letter Iota (Ἰ).

- The letter He (ה) sort of sounds like "eh" and becomes Eta (η).

- The letter Wah (וֹ) with the dot on top is called Vav Chaluma and sound like "oh," which the Greeks decide to simply ignore.

- Shin (שׁ) has no Greek equivalent, so it becomes Sigma "σ" changing the SH- sound to a S- sound.

- There's another Wah (וּ) this time with the dot on side, called Vav Shruka, and it sound like "ue" as in glue, which the Greeks spell with Omicron and circumflex Upsilon ("οῦ") which is a OU- sound.

- Ayin (ע) is a voiced pharyngeal fricative "ah" which the Greeks leave out since the sound is foreign to them.

- Finally, in both Greek and Latin, an "S" ending is added in the nominative case (i.e. when the name stands alone or is the subject of the verb). The "S" ending is not used in other cases. This is how we get both Jesus and Jesu. (I often wondered that whenever my high school band played Jesu Joy of Man's Desiring for Christmas. Every. Single. Year.)

The Hebrew name יְהוֹשׁוּעַ (Yehoshuaʿ) was spelled in Greek as Ἰησοῦς (Iēsous). The Catholic Church translated this into Latin, they kept IES-, but OU is close to the Latin "V" (think of it as a U) so they simplified it, and kept the final "S," creating IESVS, which became Iesus.

(Shakespeare's grave has non-standardized spelling: "Good frend for Iesvs sake forbeare")

Iesus (or Iesvs) was the original English spelling in the Tyndale Bible (1526), the Cloverdale Bible (1535), the Great Bible (1539), the Geneva Bible (1560), and the original King James Bible (1611) which would change the spelling of Iesus to Jesus in 1629. To make things confusing, if you buy the 1611 version of the King James Bible today, it's actually the 1769 version, which really peeved me because I wanted the ORIGINAL spelling!

Why all these versions even exist is fun and based on the politics throughout British History (what I studied in college, so I'm going to explain):

1526 Tyndale Bible – William Tyndale was the first to print the Bible in English, but he only managed to publish the New Testament and part of the Old Testament before he was burned at the stake in 1536, for the heresy of translating the Bible in a language other than Latin (this was banned under a Catholic Church edict). He was the first English translator to take advantage of the printing press, the first to draw upon the original Hebrew and Greek and NOT the Latin Vulgate (which would later make his version highly controversial with the Church and Crown), and the first to use the name of God (which he spelled Iehouah) as it was preferred by English Protestant Reformers.

1535 Cloverdale Bible – Myles Cloverdale took over the job of finishing Tyndale's work, managing to print the first COMPLETE English Bible a year before Tyndale was executed. Cloverdale wasn't burned at the stake, but he was exiled ... THREE TIMES!

1539 Great Bible – All these radical Protestants were fine and dandy, but the newly formed Church of England wanted their own official Bible. King Henry VIII commissioned Myles Cloverdale to fix up Tyndale's version and his own. However, the bishops didn't like that Tyndale's true-to-source translation of the original text made it seem like their teachings were NOT actually in the Bible ... which they weren't; entire passages were added into the Latin Bible that were NOT in the original Greek in order to give the clergy more power and instill intense hatred against Jews. Since Tyndale worked ONLY with Hebrew and Greek text and IGNORED the Latin Vulgate, he did not include all these later Catholic additions. So ironically, these Protestant bishops wanted to be as powerful as the Catholic bishops had been, so they ordered Cloverdale to put all the Catholic additions back in. This version would be called the Great Bible, because it was so massive. It was also nicknamed the Chained Bible, because the Bibles were chained to the podium in churches to prevent them from being stolen. (Heaven forbid PEASANTS read the Bible for themselves!)

1560 Geneva Bible – In 1553, Bloody Queen Mary took the throne, ousting all the Protestants, chopping heads and burning people at stakes. Protestants fled England and settled in Switzerland (much like Jews later would flee there as a refuge). They eventually gathered in the city of Geneva. Cloverdale was exiled along with them, and he helped them to create what would be called the Geneva Bible, published in 1560. In the earliest printings of this Bible, the name of the Son of God was spelled like the Latin: Iesvs (with a "V"). By 1576, English spelling was morphing, and newer Bible editions had both Iesvs and Iesus, as well as the first time we see Jesus used as a spelling option. The spelling is really all over the place in the Geneva Bible! By 1599, the Geneva Bible was more-or-less consistently spelling the name of the Son of God as Jesus. (Mind you, both Iesus and Jesus were pronounced as Yay-soos until the 1700s.) The Geneva Bible was the first time a Bible could be owned by literally anyone. No more chained to the podium! Because it was meant to be a Bible for the People, Cloverdale added a bunch of margin notes, so readers could easily look up how Jesus is talking about what happened in The Book of Numbers, or Paul is referencing the Book of Daniel. It quickly became the most popular and influential Bible of the 1500s, used by Shakespeare, and carried to America by the Pilgrims. Even though Queen Elizabeth commissioned her own rendition, the Bishops' Bible of 1568, it simply could not compete with the popularity of the Geneva Bible.

1611 King James Version - King James didn't like that the Geneva Bible made it seem like the king—GASP!—should not have total power. He despised that it described monarchs as "tyrants," had passages that told about how Daniel "disobeyed the king's wicked commandment in order to obey God," said such Bible passages promoted republicanism, and thus King James declared the Geneva Bible was "very partial, untrue, seditious, and savoring too much of dangerous and traitorous conceits." He particularly hated that it used extensive margin notes. (Personally, I like Biblical margin notes, they are helpful to remember how one scripture is referencing another, but I've also seen how they can be used to sway readers into interpreting the Bible in WILDLY prejudiced ways, so while I love margin notes, I am EXTREMELY skeptical of them.) King James therefore commissioned a new version, one of his very own, taking a personal role in sculpting the translation into something HE APPROVED: the King James Version (KJV). He ordered that anything he deemed anti-government, Calvinist, Puritan, or in any way not in line with the Church of England and the authority of the Crown, be stripped from the Bible, and most importantly, NO MARGIN NOTES! Ironically, the KJV was incredibly unpopular. It was poorly printed, it contained many errors, and no one wanted some government-influenced pro-monarchy propaganda bullshit. The commonfolk LIKED the margin notes. Plus, the original King James Version used the spelling IESUS, and by this time the British were getting used to JESUS (still pronounced "Yah-soos"). Thinking these commoners were being rebellious against the Crown, King James banned all printing of the Geneva Bible, but first he ordered that the spelling of names starting with "I" be changed to "J" which gave us "Jesus." However, his own King's Printer Robert Barker ignored the ban and kept printing Geneva Bibles all the way up to 1625, although he would place the date "1599" on them, so people could claim they were USED copies, and it skirted right under the royal decree. (Literature Rebel: I love it!)

Fun fact: Despite his position as King's Printer, Robert Barker was actually considered to be a terrible printer. His lines were uneven, his blackletter typeface was poor, and there were tons of spelling errors. In 1613, he mistakenly printed Judas instead of Jesus in Matthew 26:36, and his 1631 print contained a HUGE printing error: "Thou shalt commit adultery." This has come to be known as the Wicked Bible. For that mistake and the humiliation it caused the Crown (now King Charles I), Barker was heavily fined, lost his printers license, and ended up dying in Debtor's Prison. While most of the Wicked Bibles were burned, 11 are known to have survived.

One other KJV mistake has still not been fixed, found in Acts 7:45. You see, the name of the Son of God is the same as another Biblical figure, Yehoshua (Joshua) who led the Israelites after Moses and brought them into the Promised Land. Mother Mary named her son after that guy: Yeshua, literally the SAME NAME, just pronounced a little differently. Sometime long, long ago, someone in the Vatican decided to spell Yehoshua and Yeshua differently so readers don't get them confused. This worked because one is transliterated from Hebrew (יְהוֹשׁוּעַ) the other from Greek (Ἰησοῦς). So one name went from יְהוֹשׁוּעַ (Hebrew) to IOSVE (Latin) to Joshua (English), while the other went from Ἰησοῦς (Greek) to IESVS (Latin) to Jesus (English).

However, when Torah-era Yehoshua gets name-dropped in the Greek Scriptures, guess what? Yehoshua and Yeshua are the exact same names, so both are spelled in Greek as Ἰησοῦς.

So when Joshua gets named in Acts 7:45, the translators of the King James Version saw Ἰησοῦς and went, "That spells Jesus!" And so it says, "Which also our fathers that came after brought in with Jesus into the possession of the Gentiles, whom God drave out before the face of our fathers, unto the days of David." Which makes no historic sense. It should say that JOSHUA took the Israelites into the Promised Land after driving out the nations (because in the Old Testament, genocide is always the first option).

While the KJV fixed many of Barker's other spelling, translation, and wrong-name mistakes (again, there were LOTS of mistakes at first, Barker really sucked at his job) and one case of accidentally encouraging adultery (OOPSIE!) it still defiantly holds on to this one mistake. The New King James Version did finally fix it, but the regular KJV that so many continue to use has a we-meant-to-do-that excuse that is a masterclass in stubborn denial and made me laugh so hard, my stomach hurt.

-

So, if Iesus and Jesus used to both be pronounced as Yay-soos, what the heck happened? Why is it now JEE-ZUS? To answer that, I need to explain about English's puberty phase: the Great Vowel Shift.

Dun-dun-duuuuun!

Etymology nerds like me will either have their eyes light up when we hear that name, or we start to sob and have flashbacks to Early English Literature class.

For everyone else (especially people who do not speak English as their first language) as briefly as I can: Between 1350 and 1700, English changed our vowel system at the same time that we began to standardize spelling, right as printing presses were invented and began to spread a London dialect into all regions of the British Isles, confusing the hell out of people.

No one knows WHY spoken English shifted so drastically, but the result is that the Great Vowel Shift is why English spelling makes no sense. The vowel "e" evolved from the "ay" sound (as we use in Latin and Spanish) to the long "ee" and short "eh" vowel sounds we have now; the "u" also developed a long "ou" and short "uh" sound in English. This shifting occurred in basically all of our vowels, yet the spelling did not always shift alongside the vowel shift.

The result: words spelled with a long vowel suddenly became short, letters that used to be sounded out became silent, yet the spelling was already being standardized, and the printers in London were slow to change in order to reflect the new pronunciations.

If you are a student of Medieval and Renaissance English poetry (HELLO!) you will realize that old poetry often doesn't rhyme, like this from Shakespeare's First Sonnet.

From fairest creatures we desire increase,
That thereby beauty's rose might never die,
But as the riper should by time decease,
His tender heir might bear his memory

Back then, die and memory rhymed. Err rhymed with her, one with alone. Play, prey, sea, and thee all rhymed together. Reason and raisin sounded exactly the same, which makes this line from Shakespeare suddenly make sense:

If raisins (ray-sons) were as plentiful as blackberries,
I would give no man a reason (ray-son) upon compulsion.
– Henry IV, part 1 act 2

Or the hilarious line that gets lost in modern performances: "from hour to hour, we rot and rot" actually should sound like "From whore to whore, we rut and rut." Which makes the line so hilarious, the London crowd would go into an uproar of laughs, yet it is completely lost in renditions today.

As the letter "I" no longer sounded the way it used to, all of Europe began to experiment with standardizing not just spelling, but our alphabets. First, we added a little tail to the end of the Latin consonant "I." Some people separated the two with a dot or a hat. Printers each had their style: their font.

Gradually, all of Europe began to use this new letter "J" to spell the Latin consonant "I."

Yet right as English decided to add the letter "J" to our alphabet, everyone else began to shift away from each other on precisely how to pronounce that new letter. In Italy, it change to "dge," in French it shifted to "zhe," in Spanish it got airy and became "heh," in Germany, it retained the sound "yeh" and this better matched the first syllable in Jesus' name, the Hebrew letter Yod (יְ).

Up until the 1700s, the English also pronounced "J" as "yeh," but the tricky Great Vowel Shift ended up affecting our newest letter too, and ye mutated into dʒe. In fact, you can judge the age of a word by its spelling, and whether it uses "DG" or "J" - like edge or eject.

By 1769, most English Bibles were spelling the name as "Jesus," and in just a few hundred years, the pronunciation of the Latin "IESVS" evolved from "Yay-soos" to "Jee-sus."

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Another fun note on the subject of the name of Christ:

By the first century, the name Yehoshua was commonly shortened to Yeshua (like William becoming Willy). The Bible also makes it clear that Jesus, Peter, and the other Galilean Apostles spoke Aramaic with a distinct Galilean accent (Matthew 26:73). The Talmud describes it as a "sloppy" accent, very rural and sounding uneducated, which was part of why the Pharisees hated Jesus so much. They would have spoken with a Jerusalem urban accent, and here comes this guy speaking like a country bumpkin, and people are listening to him while ignoring them.

So he not only shortened the name Yehoshua to Yeshua, but as a Galilean, he would have left off the last Ayin, which was part of what made their accent "sloppy." In fact, in the Talmud, his name is spelled "Yeshu" since that is how Jesus himself would have pronounced it. Again, like "Willy" getting shortened to "Will."

It'd be like if Jesus showed up in today, spoke like a redneck, Outback, or Yorkshire accent, went to shake your hand, he introduced himself, "G'day, 'ey up, howdy, I'm Yeshu', how y'all doin', I'm chuffed to meetcha, mate?"

(Holy stereotyped accents, Batman! I'm laughing too hard after writing that.)

This is also how we got the name "Job." The Hebrew name Iyyov became the Greek Ἰώβ which became Latin Iob, but English changed the I to a J and then decided to change "Yohv" to "Dʒob."

Why a "B" at the end? Phonetically, "V" and "B" are extremely close, and many languages will replace one with the other. In classical Latin, "V" is pronounced like "W." ("Veritasium" = "Weary-tass-ium.") So the Romans often changed foreign "V" sounds to "B" since it was close enough.

What is wilder, if anyone in America pronounces the Biblical names correctly, Christians have the audacity to get huffy. "His name is JEEZUS." No, it's not, Karen. You can't claim "I love Jesus" if you can't even say his NAME right because you're too goddamn stubborn.

... And I say this as an American who absolutely does use the English pronunciations in my day-to-day life because it's easier, yet I internally cringe when I hear Biblical names being mispronounced in a church. It's a frustrating habit. I can't sit through a sermon that uses the wrong names for the Son of God, because I keep cringing. "It's Yeshua. His name is Yeshua, you ungodly ignoramus. Get it right!" Yet all English Christian churches use the wrong pronunciation, and I will use the wrong one when talking about religion, although it still makes me cringe. It's a personal conundrum of mine.

Jesus Christ on a pogo stick, we've got such a weird language!

References:

https://allthatsinteresting.com/yeshua-jesus-real-name
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wicked_Bible
https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Acts%207%3A45&version=KJV
https://www.kjvtoday.net/home/jesus-or-joshua-in-acts-745--hebrews-48
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Great_Vowel_Shift
https://www.bbc.com/culture/article/20150605-your-language-is-sinful
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Galilean_dialect
https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Matthew%2026%3A73&version=NLT

Hetalia Mini Play

Italy: "Englaaaaand! What are you doing?"

England: "I was just sipping some afternoon tea and reading the Book of Iob."

Italy: "Ohhh, Holy Roman Empire used to read that to me, but I always fell asleep."

England: "Yes, well, I have decided that his name is going to sound like Dʒob from now on."

Japan: "...Dzhohb? How do you spell that?"

England: "With the letter "J" of course!"

Germany: "That is pronounced Yob."

England: "I decided to pronounce it Dʒob."

Italy: "Isn't J-O-B the English word for employment? I am soooo confused."

England: "Oh, right, well, last decade I decided sometimes "O" is short, sometimes it's long, and sometimes it's open."

France: "Ménage à trois vowels? I like it! How do you write the three sounds? With the little hat on top? Maybe a cute little umlaut like Germany?"

Germany: "Who are you calling cute?"

England: "Oh, no, no! No accent marks! We're getting rid of all of them. The spelling of vowels shall be utterly random." (leans over to Iceland) "It keeps France confused."

Iceland: "...Not hard to do."

France: "Hey!"

England: "Oooh, and we're going to pronounce Jesus as Dʒee-zus, and Jehovah as Dʒeh-ho-vah, and Jerusalem as Dʒeh-roo-sah-lem, and..."

Israel: "Whoa, whoa, hang on there, England."

Palestine: "You don't exist yet!"

Israel, ignoring Palestine: "I understand changing your vowels, I 100% support that, but it's Yeshua, Yahweh, and Yerushalayim! You've pronounced it that way for 1600 years. The last one is a real city, you can come here and ask the citizens what the city is called, and they will say Yerushalayim, not Jerusalem."

England: "Well, that's not the way it's spelled. It has a J."

Prussia spits his beer: "OF COURSE IT'S SPELLED WITH A "J". YOU HAVE BEEN PRONOUNCING "J" AS "YEH" THIS WHOLE TIME. WHY THE HELL WOULD YOU CHANGE THAT?"

England: "Well, you know how it is. You finish a Civil War, fight a few skirmishes with France, Spain, and the Dutch..."

Portugal: "And us, you bastard Brit!"

England: "Oh, I can't keep up with how many of you little countries we're fighting these days!"

Russia: "Look who is talking about being little!"

England: "... Anyway! You know how it is: one day you wake up and decide, I wanna change something about myself, so you chop off a bunch of letters, grab the alphabet dye, and change the way your entire language sounds. We've all had those type of centuries, am I right?"

Italy: "I hear the ghost of Ancient Rome speaking in Latin... wee-ah, wery-tas, wee-tah..." (via, veritas, vita = The Way, the Truth, the Life = John 14:6)

France, in mild horror: "England, are you all right? Do you need help?"

England, awkward laugh: "This is fine. Everything is fine."

Prussia: "YOU CAN'T JUST DECIDE TO CHANGE THE NAME OF JESUS AND GOD. PRONOUNCE IT RIGHT, FOR GOD'S LITERAL SAKE!"

England: "Nah, we like it this way."

Spain: "We?"

America, Canada, Australia, and New Zealand suddenly pop up: "Hello! Let us introduce ourselves."

Germany: "Verdammt, he multiplied!"

Italy: "New friends!"

.

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(I miss writing Hetalia fanfics. My American Civil War fic is still not finished.)