Levi woke up slowly. The bed under him was heavenly, far better than the stiff military cot he had been sleeping on for over a month. The air was warm, not cold and damp. He realized he was naked, but that was fine with the cotton sheets wrapped around him.

Comfort! What a simple yet odd experience in war.

He heard humming. Eren. He was so used to it now.

That idea struck him. They had not known each other for very long—not really known one another, at least—and they had been separated for over a month. So why did hearing Eren hum in the bathroom feel like an old, familiar, comforting experience?

As he rolled over, Levi saw a stack of clothes set on the nightstand for him. How thoughtful! He must have really been sound asleep to not hear Eren set the clothes out. Sitting on the top of the pile was the house key on a chain necklace. Levi recalled taking it off last night as he was preparing for the pleasure that came after both were naked.

Right away, Levi strung the key back around his neck and smiled down at it. Then he pulled on a white undershirt that was far too big and some cotton boxers that drooped off his hips.

The humming stopped, and quiet English words said, "I'll be out in a minute."

Levi rather missed the thick German accent. Eren had teased him yesterday that perhaps Levi thought it was sexy. He had to admit, that was true. Now, there was a distinct American softness to the words. Rather than stern, it was cute with those gentle vowels, a softer 'T' sound, and unique American 'R.'

Just how much had Eren needed to practice to get that American accent? Then again, in a life-or-death situation like war, being able to trick the enemy by speaking like them was vital.

Levi looked around the room. He had noticed how bare it was last night, but with the sunlight beaming through the curtains, he now saw that Eren had not even unpacked. The room was mostly empty, save for a duffel bag that had been opened and rummaged through. Likely, Eren searched the bag for these clothes.

This showed Eren was fresh off the battlefield, without even the time to put away his gear.

He did not mean to pry, but Levi drifted over to the bag. Not much was in there, but he saw an envelope. Levi plucked it out and looked it over. He pulled out the folded paper and read the first line.

My dear husband...

Louise!

Just then, Eren stepped out, shirtless and only wearing his underwear. He saw Levi dressed in his clothes, and his heart warmed up. However, he saw the letter in his hands, and Eren's face fell in worry.

All of his things were blown up in the Maizières-lès-Metz town hall. His books, his childhood mementos, the letters from Louise, everything. That letter arrived while he was healing in the hospital. Apparently, when Floch packed his things and took them to the hotel, that included the letter.

"Are you jealous?" he whispered.

"No." Levi folded the letter back up without reading it and tossed it into the bag. "I know you have no romantic feelings for her. At this point, she's part of your act, nothing more."

Eren walked over and sat on the bed, hunched over as he realized he had not explained Louise's part in the past month of hell. "We wrote back and forth. Her letters were a comfort to my men: descriptions of her farm, her family, simple things. It was a reminder of what we're fighting for."

"You're fighting for French farmers? I doubt it."

"Her family is Deutsch," Eren pointed out. "Many people in this area are from Deutschland."

Levi heard the strong German accent return. Nationalistic pride changed Eren's way of speaking. He gave a wide shrug. "So long as you don't fall in love with her, I don't mind that you two write to one another. It keeps up the appearance." He grumbled to himself, "Of all things, I fall for a married man."

"That's not fair."

"No, but it's funny." Rather flippantly, he asked, "So, have you been fucking prostitutes while you were gone?"

Eren brow pinched, not amused. "You know I'd never."

"Even to keep up appearances? You know, some new little whore for you to marry and save like a fairy tale hero."

Eren's eyes stared hollowly for a few seconds. "I've been fighting this whole time, watching my men die ... hearing the artillery ... Bomben und Granaten..." Bombs and grenades.

That German accent was back as Eren got sucked into the past. Levi lowered his eyes, wishing he knew how to keep Eren out of that hell. He walked over, sat next to Eren, and placed his hand over the rough, scarred fingers.

"I know. I'm just teasing you," he whispered. He saw Eren struggling, like he wanted to scream but knew whatever he was seeing was not real. Levi squeezed his hand. "Are you okay?"

"I will be." Eren took a deep breath and let it out, pushing aside the nightmarish memories. "Sorry about that. I'll make it up to you. We'll go out to eat. We can celebrate some more."

Levi smirked. "I think we did enough celebrating last night."

Eren laughed quietly, and the pain of grief eased away. "I can't agree that it was enough."

Levi leaned in closer. "Does that mean you want more?"

Eren bit his lip as he gazed into those gray-blue eyes and whispered, "Yes."

Their eyes were locked as memories of last night stirred their imagination. Eren fought against licking his lips as he remembered the feel of Levi's cock in his mouth. Levi felt tingles along his skin as he recalled the way Eren explored his whole body, yet he did not get a chance to return the favor. His eyes drifted over Eren's shirtless chest.

Oh, the things he could do to him!

Eren raised his hand, hesitated, then slowly reached forward to touch Levi's cheek, like he was scared to make this whole magical moment disappear. Yet here he was, his cheek so soft, those cheekbones, that sharp jaw, every crease around his eyelids still the same as he remembered.

Wistfully, Eren sighed, "It still feels like a dream."

Levi turned his cheek into the touch. "What do I have to do to convince you it's real?"

A tiny laugh shot up, and Eren's cheeks turned bright red. "I can think of a few things."

"Oh?" Levi leaned in close and challenged him, "Tell me!"

Eren struggled, humiliated to say all the erotic ideas running through his head. He also had no clue how to say them in English. Were there specific words for such actions?

"You ... You could ... be the one to use your mouth."

Levi's eyebrow shot up high. How bold of him!

"Oh! You don't have to," Eren swiftly insisted. He recalled now, Levi had a bad memory that related to oral sex.

"I told you before, I would think about it."

Eren felt a leap of hope. "And?"

Levi slid his hand down to Eren's crotch, and he watched as the young man's throat hitched at the touch. "And ... I've thought about it."

Eren bit back a moan as Levi's hand mischievously fondled him. "Was ... Was it ... g-good thoughts?"

Levi only smiled as his fingers felt along Eren's underwear, stroking him as he began to stiffen.

Yes, he had tried to imagine it.

On one hand, if he were to suck any person's dick, it would be Eren's. Pleasuring this man would be the greatest way to show him just how much Levi cared for him.

On the other hand, honestly thinking about a penis in his mouth triggered an instant gag. How filthy! Even freshly cleaned, what if it leaked? Wouldn't it smell? How bad would it taste?

There was also that bad memory from childhood: his uncle Kenny bringing some old man home with him, threatening Levi to be nice to the old man and make them some money, the man dropping his trousers, trying to force Levi's mouth open, Levi struggling against him, grabbing a nearby fountain pen, aiming for the man's throat with a scream of rage and fear...

That was different. That was Kenny being an asshole.

With Eren...

He knew it would be different, but it had to be on his terms.

Levi kept his hand down, feeling the outline of Eren's bulge. He was curious: how far could he push things? If Eren began to moan, people would think he was being pleasured by his wife. They had a perfect cover story.

That meant Levi could get him to make all sorts of erotic sounds.

He imagined Eren moaning as he got his dick sucked. That was a nice idea; however, Levi's mind halted at imagining it was himself on his knees.

Just as Eren's eyes fluttered closed and his hips made an instinctive thrust toward those warm fingers, Levi pulled his hand back.

"Later," he whispered.

Eren looked crushed, almost in pain as his body craved more. Levi smirked at that yearning, flushed face. Why did he like to tease him so much?

"We'll go out to eat first, and then ... you have the day off, right?"

Eren nodded. "At least the morning. It sounds like Reiner wants to go out drinking tonight."

"You can tell him your wife has plans."

Eren made a soft gasp. Levi snorted a soft laugh. Eren was so easy to rile up.

"Breakfast first." He pulled away and walked to the bathroom before his own body had a chance to fantasize too much.

* * *

An hour later, Levi was back in his wig, dress, and blue coat. Eren was in his uniform, looking like a proud German officer, loyal to the Führer. He escorted Levi out of the hotel with the air of a gentleman going out on the town with his beloved wife, despite the distant echoes of bombing to the south. He had opted not to call Floch to drive them, not wanting to get the man involved in this yet again.

However, when they had walked down the street a bit, a tall figure suddenly loomed in their way, emerging from an alley and standing in front of them on the sidewalk. Eren stopped short at the thin, tall blond, and Levi scowled. Yelena!

"Bordel, tu fous quoi ici?" What the hell are you doing here?

Yelena looked at both of them but spoke to Levi, "Vous devez tous les deux venir avec moi." You both must come with me.

Levi folded his arms stubbornly. "On n'ira nulle part avec toi, chien-barbe!" We're not going anywhere with you, dog-beard!

Yelena looked agitated and turned away from Levi. If he would not listen, maybe the lieutenant would. "Es ist wichtig, dass Sie mitkommen. Jetzt!" It is important that you come with me. Now!

Eren stiffened at being ordered by this Resistance woman, of all people. "Wieso sollten wir dir folgen?" Why should we follow you?

Yelena looked around and waited until a military truck drove by. Her voice was low as she spoke to Eren first, then to Levi. "Es gibt jemanden, der Sie und Levi retten kann. Il y a quelqu'un qui peut vous sauver vous et Eren." There's someone who can save you and Levi/Eren.

They looked at each other.

In Eren's mind, this was what he had wanted ever since they rolled into Metz: a way to get Levi past the city walls and safely into the open, where he could walk back into Allied-controlled France and find a way to America.

In Levi's mind, the last thing he wanted was for Eren to be sent back out into battle. If someone could help save him, either get him reassigned to a safer location, or maybe help him to go into hiding and escape the Wehrmacht ... it was worth the risk to save Eren's life!

Yelena asked, "Herr Oberleutnant, sprechen Sie Französisch?" First Lieutenant, do you speak French?

Eren shook his head. "Nein."

She turned to Levi and spoke to him in French. "Marchez jusqu'au restaurant de Nicolo. Je vous rencontrerai là-bas." Walk to Nicolo's restaurant. I will meet you there.

"Nicolo? N'est-ce pas le restaurant chic où Eren a été drogué?" Isn't that the fancy restaurant where Eren was drugged?

"Ne vous inquiétez pas. Nous n'y mangerons pas à moins que vous n'aimiez vraiment le petit-déjeuner hors de prix de Nicolo. Mon contact nous y retrouvera. Je dois l'avertir que vous venez. Ne lambine pas." Don't worry. We won't eat there, unless you really like Nicolo's overpriced breakfast. My contact will meet us there. I must warn him that you're coming. Don't dawdle.

Yelena rushed off. Eren and Levi looked at one another again.

"What did she say?" whispered Eren.

"She told me where to go." He looked ahead at where Yelena had fled to an alley. "Should we follow her?"

"I don't trust her, but ... but if she can help..." As much as Eren hated to lose Levi when they finally found one another, if he could get Levi out, he was not going to waste the chance. "Do you trust her?"

"Not really, but she would never do anything that might get me killed, and she knows better than to do anything to you when I'm around."

They decided to chance it.

They walked along the eerie streets, empty of people, muddy from a lack of street cleaners and weeks of cold rain, only troops marching by and military vehicles rumbling down the roads.

As they neared the restaurant, life seemed to return. They saw a civilian car go by. There were workmen walking along the sidewalk. It was not much, but Metz still held some life.

Just as they approached the restaurant, they heard a shout.

"Du Stück Scheiße! Judenäckern!" You piece of shit! Jew-lover!

Levi froze at the shout, and Eren flinched in a moment of terror as he feared that maybe someone was yelling at him. Then they saw a fight happening right outside the restaurant.

A Wehrmacht officer was beating the young restaurant owner. Nicolo had fallen to the ground and was trying to shield himself as the officer hit and kicked him.

"Greiz?" Eren whispered, recognizing the lieutenant whom he had seen just the night before.

The Black waiter named Onyankopon stepped up. "Stop it. Please, stop."

"No!" Greiz yelled, giving Nicolo a swift kick to the stomach. "I saw the letter he was writing to his Jewish lover. He was practically drooling over her, saying how much he missed her, how he'd soon join her in England. All sorts of disgusting..." He kicked again. "...obscene..." Another kick. "...perverted things written to his Jew-shit lover."

"Shut up," Nicolo sneered, looking up with a defiant face despite a bloody nose. "Don't you dare talk about her that way."

Greiz sent another swift kick to his stomach, and even from where they were standing, Eren heard a rib bone snap. Nicolo let out a scream of agony as he tightened up into a ball to protect himself from the onslaught.

"She's nothing but a filthy Jewish harlot trying to tempt your pure Aryan blood. She was always skulking about the restaurant. I felt like vomiting every time I saw that filthy Jewess. I should have shot her while I had the chance." He brought out his gun and pointed it down at Nicolo. "That whore of Israel! That daughter of a—"

A gunshot burst through the air, and Greiz collapsed as blood and brains sprayed out over the street. Eren instinctively reached for his gun, but Levi yanked on his arm to hold him back.

Yelena stepped forward, slowly lowering her pistol. A half-crazy, murderous look was on her face.

"Yelena?" Eren whispered in shock.

Nicolo gawked at the shooter. "Yelena! What are you doing here?"

Her massive eyes turned to him. "It's time. We're leaving."

Nicolo cringed and shook his head. "No, I can't go yet. My orders. I have to find—"

"He's here."

"What do you mean..." Just then, Nicolo's eyes met Eren's. "My God, you found him."

"Talk later. I'm getting both of you out. Are you ready to go?" she asked Nicolo.

Nicolo shook his head. "This soldier came. He dragged me out here. I couldn't ... I have papers to burn."

Yelena yanked on Nicolo's arm. "We'll have to get them later. There's no time. I just found out ... she's here!"

Nicolo struggled, but he was unable to stand. "Who?"

A woman stepped up to them. "Me."

Yelena spun around, and her face went pale as she saw a dark-haired woman in a field-gray blazer a black with a lightning bolt SS patch, matching knee-length skirt, black leather gloves, and a silver embroidered Parteiadler on her black peaked cap. A thin black arm band on her left sleeve read SS-Helferin.

(SS-Helferin uniform)

"Pieck Finger!" Yelena whispered in horror.

She turned to run, but Colt Grice was also there. He instantly grabbed Yelena and yanked both of her wrists behind her back. She struggled, but he was swift, snapping handcuffs on her before she could put up a fight.

Colt said with professionalism, "Yelena de Marly, you are under arrest for escaping from prison, murdering two Waffen-SS guards, murdering a Heer officer, helping an anti-government terrorist organization..."

Yelena spat in his face. "Nous sommes la Résistance française, espèce de connard." We are the French Resistance, you asshole.

Colt ignored the defiance. "Assaulting a police officer. Shall we tack on a few more?"

"You Gestapo pig!" She struggled but to no avail. Then suddenly she froze, and her eyes widened in terror. "Oh no. No!"

A stern man with graying hair walked forward, also wearing a Gestapo uniform. Eren's heart raced as he realized this was Kriminaldirektor Theo Magath, head of the Gestapo in Metz.

"We need to get out of here," Eren whispered to Levi.

Levi breathed softly, "If we leave, it'll be suspicious. They've already caught sight of us. Don't ... move!"

Magath walked up to Pieck. "Is this her, Fraulein Oberaufseherin?"

The prison overseer gazed up at the tall woman, then down to a photo in her hand. "Yes, she looks the same. Yelena de Marly. Born the 21st of January, 1907, Marly, France. Blond hair, gray eyes. Height: 202 cm. You don't see many women this tall."

Yelena sneered, "Va te faire foutre, salope." Fuck you, bitch.

"I've been called worse. Your file says you speak fluent German. That will make interrogating you easier."

Magath gazed over the tall Resistance fighter. "She doesn't look like much of a woman. Are you sure this thing is even female?"

"That's in her file too. She tends to disguise herself as a man, thus her Resistance codename: Mi-homme, Half-man. What a disgusting nickname!"

Magath stepped forward, standing in front of Yelena, who cowered slightly before him. Suddenly, he grabbed Yelena's crotch. She let out a scream of shock and disgust at being so crudely groped.

"Fuck off, you old pervert!"

Magath pulled his hand back. "She doesn't have a dick, at least." He ripped the fake beard off, which made Yelena flinch in pain. "That doesn't really improve things."

Pieck tittered softly. "You really don't look feminine at all."

Yelena snarled defiantly. "You look too small to be a prison overseer. Did they send a real guard, or a child playing dress-up? A tiny thing like you must have fucked your way into your position, you Nazi whore."

"Maybe I did," Pieck said with an amused smirk. "What do you think, Untersturmführer Galliard?" she asked the SS officer beside her.

"About what?" he asked with a slight blush on his cheeks.

"About her, of course. Do we have our escapee?"

"Oh, that." Galliard turned and addressed Magath. "It's her, Herr Kriminaldirektor. She escaped from Ravensbrück on the sixth of September and was believed to be heading to this city, where she has family. Pieck was in Metz overseeing the transfer of prisoners from Feste Göben, so she was asked to bring this ... thing ... back in for incarceration. Hopefully execution. Whatever this creature is, it shouldn't be allowed to exist. Are we really not allowed to kill her here, Pieck?"

"Now, now, love, we're on duty. It's Oberaufseherin Finger, not Pieck," the woman corrected, and she nipped him under the chin. "No need to get informal on the job. Or should I call you Pokey in front of your men?"

"Please don't," he growled softly in humiliation.

Pieck gave a heavy sigh. "I leave for two months, and Dorothea loses another inmate. I shouldn't have to deal with that bitch's mess. Especially when they kill our officers." She gazed down at Nicolo, who was still on the ground, staring in horror at Greiz's dead body. "Or scare cute restaurant owners. What's your name? Do you speak German?"

On the ground, Nicolo looked between the female camp guard, the SS officer by her side, the two Gestapo inspectors, and over to Yelena. "Y-Yes, ma'am. I speak ... I..." He looked back over at the bleeding body and held back his voice in terror.

"You poor thing. Do you need help up?"

Galliard scoffed. "Don't touch him. He's French."

Yelena bellowed out. "Mort au Fascisme. Liberté au Peuple." Death to Fascism. Freedom to the People.

Pieck raised her gun and said casually, "I think Untersturmführer Galliard has the right idea. May I shoot her?"

"No." Magath stepped up to Yelena and gazed impassively up at the towering woman. "I have some questions for Mi-homme."

"Burn in Hell, you Nazi swine," she sneered back.

He leaned in close and said quietly, "When I'm done with you, you will wish you were in Hell. I will then send you to the worst possible camp. You won't get Ravensbrück this time, oh no. There are ... other camps far worse than that." He stepped back and gazed down at Nicolo. "What's your relationship with this French Resistance woman?"

Nicolo looked over at Yelena, whose eyes were wild as she stared down at him and softly shook her head. "She's my cousin, sir. Her family lives south of here."

"Shut up! Tell them nothing!"

"I have nothing to hide, unlike you," he screamed. He turned to Magath in a panic. "We're family, but I'm not involved in the Resistance. I swear to God, I'm not. She's always been into politics. I just run a restaurant."

"We'll see about that," Magath said in a quiet threat.

Yelena scoffed with a half-crazed smile. "This coward is not with the Resistance, you pigs. We take soldiers, not chefs! Just let the weakling go."

Magath intoned, "I will make that decision. Grice, bring her in."

"Yes, Herr Kriminaldirektor," Colt Grice said, and he shoved Yelena forward.

"Untersturmführer Galliard, Oberaufseherin Finger, you may have her after I'm done. For now, keep this restaurateur here. I have questions, but I want to personally make sure this dangerous murderer is secured at headquarters."

"Sure, sure," said Pieck. "Mind if I have a meal while I'm here?"

"Just don't let him escape," he warned. "Shoot him if he tries."

Nicolo cringed at the threat.

"One more thing," Magath said, and his eyes went straight to Eren. "You. You're familiar. I've questioned you before."

Eren stood up straighter. "Yes, sir! I was poisoned back in September. You investigated the case."

"Oh yes, I recall there was a rash of suspicious cases of food poisoning and drugging throughout the city. Jäger, right? Are you a witness to this murder?"

"Yes, inspector," Eren replied swiftly. "I saw her shoot Lieutenant Greiz."

"Greiz? Do you know the victim?"

"Not well, but he's an officer housed in the same hotel as me."

"What is your purpose being out here?"

"I was taking my wife to breakfast, sir. I heard shouting, and then I saw that Resistance bitch shoot Lieutenant Greiz."

"I see," Magath said, taking mental notes of all that. "I shouldn't need to call a witness for someone like her, but if you could write a statement, that would be helpful."

"I'm happy to bring her to justice, inspector," Eren said primly. His hand shot out. "Heil Hitler."

Magath casually lifted his hand. "Heil Hitler." Then he walked off, easily catching up to Colt. The two Gestapo detectives left, dragging Yelena toward a waiting car as she continued to scream over and over.

"Mort au Fascisme. Liberté au Peuple."

Pieck gave a long, weary sigh. "A shame we got here too late to save this poor thing." She tapped the dead body with the toe of her shoe. "At least he's not that handsome." She looked over to Nicolo. "It sounded like he knew you quite well. Were you two close?"

Nicolo slowly raised up with Onyankopon helping him to stand. "He was an officer who frequented the restaurant for the past couple years. He mostly knew my parents before they left to seek refuge in the countryside."

"He sure seemed friendly with you."

Nicolo flinched as he held his ribs. "I wouldn't call it that."

"And the woman, if you can call that monstrously tall thing a lady?" Pieck chuckled softly to herself. "For being just a cousin, she must love you greatly. She came all the way to Metz just to find you, and at a rather auspicious time, with the Americans right on our doorstep."

Nicolo shook his head. "I hadn't seen her in ages. She showed up about a month ago. I knew she was around, but I never asked her about what she was doing. I assumed she simply came back home to help our grandfather with his bookstore. He refuses to leave, and she always loved him the most."

Pieck pried a bit more. "Just as I stepped out of the car, I heard her say, 'I'm getting both of you out.' Who was the other person she was referring to? You and who else?"

Nicolo looked uncomfortable with all the questions. "How should I know?"

"Your Negro waiter here, perhaps?" Pieck asked, eying Onyankopon with a slight smile.

Nicolo shook his head. "She doesn't even know him. Maybe she's planning to finally get my grandfather out. I've been trying to convince him to leave for months."

Pieck hummed, not buying that explanation. "What were you saying just after that? I couldn't hear well from that distance, but it almost sounded like you were talking about burning some papers. Surely not, right?"

Nicolo now gasped, and Eren saw him struggling not to look in his direction, holding Pieck's gaze, but the pressure was building. "I don't even remember what I was about to say. I'm sorry. This is all so overwhelming." He held his mouth as he looked down at Greiz lying in a pool of blood. "I'm really sorry. Maybe give me a moment. I'm ... in shock."

Pieck stepped up and patted his cheek. "You poor thing. You're used to people eating food, not people getting killed. Still, you must admit, something stinks here. Cousins with a terrorist, lover of a Jew, and a Negro in your employment," she said, glancing to Onyankopon again, who flinched back in fear. "A fishy smell, no? Not good for a restaurant business."

Nicolo gulped hard.

"Quite a busy operation you've got going here, especially still being open in the midst of battle." She turned toward the restaurant. "I've heard of this place. Many officers claim it's got the best dinners in town. Is the food really that good?"

Nicolo laughed awkwardly. "I'd like to think so. They're my mother's recipes."

"Your mother's? How sweet! Yes, but I heard that many officers also got quite sick after eating here."

Eren's brow furrowed. Was he not the only person to get poisoned in this restaurant?

"I heard about that," Nicolo muttered. "The river is polluted with all the fighting going on. Some of the fish and other meat was bad. The Gestapo questioned me back then about people getting sick. It's horrible and bad for business, so I'm more careful about where I get my supplies now."

"How thoughtful of you! You know, Porco wanted to invite me here many times. Such a sweetie!"

Galliard rolled his eyes.

Pieck glanced in through the windows at the diners inside, oblivious to the drama unfolding outside their tiny slice of gustatory heaven. "Swanky! I'm not much of one for fancy dining, but perhaps I should try it while I'm still in town. You don't mind if I have lunch here, do you?"

The question stunned him. "N-No, ma'am. I ... I'd be honored to serve you the best wine in the house."

"Delightful. A '29 Burgundy, please."

Nicolo looked dejected. "My apologies. We sold our last bottle of 1929 vintage over a month ago. I can offer the '28. It's an equally fine wine."

"But not quite as good, right?" she pointed out with a smirk. "I do know my wines, and I'm rather particular. You don't mind if we search your restaurant's cellars, do you? For a suitable vintage, of course," she said slyly.

The young man hesitated with a panicked look. "The '28 ... is perfectly fine."

"You don't have anything to hide in that cellar, do you?" she asked, deathly quiet.

"N- ... N-No, it's ... we don't have any..." Suddenly, the fake panic on his face vanished, and a fierce determination broke through. His eyes turned sharply to Eren. He shouted in desperation. "Your brother contacted me."

Eren felt his blood run cold. Zeke? How in the world did this restaurant owner know about his half-brother in England? No one was supposed to know about him!

Nicolo reached into his inner pocket as he shouted frantically, "He tried to get you. He told me to—"

As his hand grabbed something inside his coat, Galliard jumped in front of Pieck. He pulled out his gun and immediately fired two shots. The blasts shook the air, and Nicolo fell over dead, one hole in his chest and the other in the center of his forehead. Eren jolted, shocked at just how quickly it all happened.

"Thank you, dear," Pieck said, patting Galliard's arm. She slowly turned around and followed where Nicolo had been looking, seeing Eren and Levi there. "You. Jäger, was it? What was this man talking about just now?"

Eren shrugged. "No clue, ma'am. I don't even have a brother. I'm an only child, you can check my papers."

"What about your girl there?"

"This is my wife. She has two brothers, but they're just little boys living on the family farm. They definitely don't know anyone in Metz."

She hummed thoughtfully and mumbled, "Then who was he talking to? We need to search the area."

Galliard holstered his gun. "I told you we should have brought some local police with us."

"They're French. I don't trust them. Jäger, be a dear and search the perimeter."

Galliard added sternly, "That's an order."

Eren saluted stiffly. "Yes, sir! May I send my wife back? She would only get in my way."

Pieck waved it off. "Yes, yes. Get rid of her. Just don't leave the city. Kriminaldirektor Magath said he may want to speak with you."

"I will write up a report as soon as I'm done with my patrol. Do I need to report back to you?"

Pieck gave a laconic shrug. "Only if you see anything suspicious. Otherwise, I don't care."

Eren leaned down and whispered into Levi's ear, "Let's go."

Levi immediately began to walk away, knowing it was far too dangerous to stay, especially someone like him. Eren hesitated and looked back again. Greiz was sprawled out on the street, blood poured out of his skull into a purplish-red puddle.

Eren yanked himself away and hurried after Levi, not wanting to stick around long enough to be questioned more.

In front of the restaurant, Galliard shook his head in disapproval as he looked down at the two bodies. "A shame. We could have interrogated him. He obviously knew something."

Pieck shrugged without much concern. "He was cute, but his voice annoyed me. That French accent is so sickening."

Galliard knelt by the body and reached into his coat. "Huh. I guess it wasn't a gun after all. Damn. Waste of a bullet."

Pieck leaned down and rested her hand on Galliard's back in an intimate way. "What was it?"

He rifled through the coat and pulled out the contents. "A piece of paper. It has a date, some numbers. A code?" He reached in again and pulled out a silver coin. Galliard spun it around in his fingers. "British shilling, 1925. Stupid looking money."

"British money?" she mused. "The Gestapo will have a field day with this. None of my concern. Put everything back where you found it." She saw Galliard starting to feel around other pockets. "All right, I said that's enough. Don't loot the body. Leave it to the inspectors. Magath will want to examine both him and the restaurant, see if he was funneling information to the Resistance or the Allies." Those listless, sleepy eyes turned to the waiter who was looking down at Nicolo with grief watering his eyes. "You, my little Black friend. What's your relationship to those two?"

Onyankopon held his hands up as he sniffled back tears. "Please don't hurt me. I just work here."

Pieck hummed and eyed him up and down. "How does a Negro like you get into France?"

He gulped down sobs and answered, "Nicolo's parents were missionaries in Côte d'Ivoire. They brought my parents back with them as servants. I've been in Metz since I was born. I just carry food and wash the dishes, I swear."

"A servant? I see," Pieck mused, with a tiny smirk. She took a step closer to him. "I need a young, strong servant who can carry my things on my way to Ravensbrück. You look quite muscular." She reached out and felt along his arms. "Oh yes, that will do nicely. Let me see your teeth, boy."

He looked uncomfortable, but he forced a grin with his lips drawn back.

"Nice teeth, good hygiene, clear skin." She grabbed his face and turned it to the left, then to the right. "A perfect specimen of the African variety. You're fluent in German, I assume."

"Yes, ma'am," he whispered, looking more awkward by her examination, like he was an animal about to be purchased.

"I'm feeling in a good mood today and rather generous, so I'm offering you a place by my side. If you agree to be my servant and come with me, it'll get you out of the city before the battle begins. That'll probably save your life. Unless you have a reason to stay in Metz."

"No, ma'am, not really." He gazed down at Nicolo in grief. "Without Master Nicolo, I ... I have nothing."

She patted his cheek. "You poor thing. That means all you have now is me." She leaned in close and whispered, "And that's all you'll ever need. I'll take good care of you. What's your name?"

"Onyankopon."

"I can't remember that. Your name now is Oskar."

Onyankopon lowered his head and nodded subserviently.

"A well-mannered servant! Well, Oskar, I like you already." Her eyes slid down his body. "One last question. Were you ever subjected to sterilization?"

Onyankopon gasped. "What?"

"Answer me," she ordered.

Shivering in terror, he shook his head.

She leaned in closer to him. "Would you be willing to? I'm told it doesn't hurt much."

He gulped hard. "If it'll keep me alive, ma'am," he whispered, shaking hard.

"It will." Her eyes trailed over his body again with a smile of approval. "Good! I believe you'll satisfy me quite nicely."

Galliard looked outraged by her blunt hints of sexual interest. "But Pieck, you have me! Why do you need some ... some ape?" he said, sneering at the waiter.

She smiled at him with those half-lidded eyes. "Oh, Pokey."

"I said, don't call me that," he grumbled again in annoyance.

"You're needed here, love. This man may be strong, but he's not trained to fight. You are." She patted him on the shoulder with a syrupy smile. "Germany needs every able-bodied man it can get."

He grabbed her arm in rage. "You dragged me here, you whore. Are you now going to leave me here to die and take some nigger as your new bed-warmer?"

She glanced at his strong grip on her arm, then coldly up at him. "Remove your hand from me before you're the next person to end up as a corpse in the street."

"I am an officer of the Waffen-SS. You wouldn't dare!"

"I wouldn't even think twice before pulling the trigger," she said so calmly, Galliard flinched back in alarm. With a disapproving shake of her head, Pieck patted his cheek. "It was fun, but you make a better soldier than a lover. Stick to what you're good at." She turned to leave. "Have fun with the Americans. Oskar, follow me," she said curtly.

Onyankopon hurried behind her, sparing only one sad glance back to his fallen friend. Porco Galliard was left sneering at the dead bodies in the street.

"Fucking Resistance terrorists!"

# # #

# #

#

Thank you, Puppy Brat, for helping me with the translations.

Ugh! I feel dirty using the N-word. I've never used it in a story, I hope I never will again, but I felt it was needed here to show the depth of the racism that was rampant among many Nazis, especially SS officers. I have no idea what the German equivalent to that word would be in the 1940s—frankly, I don't care to find out—but I wanted that gut-punch reaction I know (at least American) readers will have at hearing Porco use that word. If it is beyond redeemable even in this literary and fictional situation, I am totally willing to remove it. (Better than getting reported!)

If it isn't already clear, there are some people who die in the manga but survive in my story, and some who survive to the end of Attack on Titan but who die here. Which adds to the "you never know who will make it to the end" element that makes Attack on Titan such a great, unpredictable story.

American Accent – British English has non-rhoticity (dropped the "R" like in "wah-tah" for water) but most Americans strongly pronounce all R's in words—with the exception of some Southern and New England dialects, particularly Boston ("Pahk the cah in the Hahvahd yahd" = Park the car in the Harvard Yard) and Brooklyn, which has both non-rhoticity and diphthongal changes to vowels ("We'ah gwoin' foh some cwafee" = We're going for some coffee). We also soften T to D in the middle of words. Thus the word "better" in British sounds like "beh-tah" with strong T and no R at the end, but in American it sounds like "beh-dur" with softened T-to-D and pronounced R at the end.

I was asked which American accent Eren uses. Probably Midwestern/Standard, although he might mix in others since he learned by listening to American military chatter on the radio. I can imagine, he'd be speaking with a Midwestern accent and tosses in "Let's get some cwafee y'all." His American accent is pretty good, but the German accent is still there and would be noticeable to any native English speaker. (And yes, that is absolutely hinting at something later. Mwahaha!)

Personal aside: Most Americans can't hear the accent, but I struggle between my family's Southern drawl and trying to fit in with the Pacific Northwest. Usually, I speak pretty well Midwestern/Standard, but once in a while the drawl slips out, enough so people know I'm not from around here. However, because I've lived in a few places and picked up other accents, no one can pinpoint where I'm from. Secret identity!

(Art by Simi.braun, go follow, the art is utterly astounding!)

Pieck Finger – She is an Oberaufseherin, "senior overseer," which means she is a SS-Helferin commander working within the concentration camps.

Porco Galliard – In this story, he is a member of the Waffen-SS and was probably a camp guard. In the Japanese anime, her nickname for him was "Pokko" and in the English dub it's "Pock," but I thought it was cuter if she called him "Pokey." (You do the hokey pokey...)

Marly, France – You have no idea how excited I was to actually see that there is a village called "Marly" south of Metz! (Spelled differently, but still, eeeek!) Many years ago, while plotting this story, I picked Metz as a staging ground for Act Two, long BEFORE the nation of Marley was ever shown in the manga. The sheer luck of that being the name of a town near Metz blows my mind, so of course I had to mention it in this story. I even gave Yelena and Nicolo (who had no last names in the manga) the surname "de Marly" since that is where their family was originally from.

Regarding Yelena's height - According to the AOT manga wiki, Yelena is 190 cm (a bit under 6'3" for Americans). However, many websites list her anime height at 202 cm (6'7"). There is no official word on her height in the anime. This would make her even taller than Bertholdt, who is 192 cm (6'3") and thus, by far, the tallest character (not in Titan form).

(Nazis did NOT dress like this. Ever.)

Side note: In trying to find images of a SS-Helferin uniform to describe Pieck's dress, I was disturbed—though not surprised—at just how many "sexy Nazi" costumes exist ... although, the dominatrix look kinda fits the sadism these female camp guards were known for.

Modern depictions are usually stylized in the all-black SS uniform. (FYI, those were not issued after 1939 because they were a pain to keep clean in battle; an order from Himmler in 1942 recalled all remaining black military uniforms so they could be repurposed for police uniforms, but the scary black uniforms were made popular by Hollywood.)

(Alexandra Śląska as SS officer Liza)

I was also amused by how many purported photos of female camp guards are actually from the 1963 unfinished Polish film Passenger. One guy was even trying to sell photos of Alexandra Śląska in costume on Ebay claiming it was a legit WWII photo. I had to laugh.

(SS-Helferin reenactors. The black diamond with a lightning bolt patch was worn by the Signal Corps, so Pieck would not have worn that.)

There were many photos of Nazi reenactors, which was honestly helpful to see the color of the uniforms rather than black and white photos of the time period. It was also a little uncomfortable. I mean, I love living history museums and period-appropriate reenacting events—there's a lot to be said about portraying characters out of history, both good guys and bad. However, there's a big difference between my friend who dresses up as a British Red Coat for American Revolution reenacting, and someone who dons a Nazi uniform.

(Dorothea Binz)

"Dorothea loses another inmate" – Pieck is talking about Dorothea Binz, Stellvertretende Oberaufseherin (Deputy Chief Wardress) of the Ravensbrück concentration camp. She was known for her insatiable cruelty, and her torture was later described as "unyielding." Once, Binz bludgeoned a slave labor inmate with a pickax, wiped off her bloodied shoes with the dead woman's skirt, and continued on like nothing happened. She dated a fellow SS officer at Ravensbrück, and the couple often went on "romantic strolls" around the camp. They would laugh and make-out as they watched the female inmates being flogged, beaten, and murdered by the camp guards. She trained over a hundred other SS-Helferin to be just as sadistic, creating some of the cruelest female guards in the entire Nazi system. After the war, she was tried for war crimes and sentenced to hang.

(Newspaper announces the results of the Ravensbrück trial)

Sterilization in Nazi Germany – Germany had African colonies, and some soldiers who went there returned home with African wives. Children of these mixed-race marriages were called "Rhineland Bastards." When the Nazis rose to power, such biracial issues became a matter of law. Often, the mixed-race couple (be they African, Jewish, or other non-Aryan people) were forced to divorce. With Jews, the children were often taken along with the Jewish spouse to live (and likely die) in a concentration camp. However, with the so-called Rhineland Bastards, these were children of military veterans, so they could not simply slaughter them. Instead, Hitler instituted compulsory sterilization of the children. The fact that Germany treated their dark-skinned colonial immigrants so horrifically is a reason why today, there is a political clash between parts of the German government that don't want to make the same mistakes of refusing citizenship to refugees, and groups of Germans who are just as xenophobic now as their ancestors were 80 years ago.

As for Onyankopon, he is not mixed, and he's in France. There were no laws demanding compulsory sterilization nor internment for people of pure African heritage. (Hitler wanted to, but Himmler decided it was too much work for such a small and easily-identifiable race. Instead, they made it illegal for African people to attend school, marry, or get a job.)

As it seems Pieck wants Onyankopon for a lover—and it would be illegal for her to have a biracial child—she requests he be sterilized. Sadly, it was not unheard of for members of the SS-Helferin to take prisoners in concentration camps as lovers, regardless of race, so long as the men agreed to sterilization. Considering it was either that or death, many agreed to the procedure and obeyed their captors. (It was even more common for male prison camp guards to push female captives into sex, promising food and sparing them from the gas chambers so long as they were obedient sex slaves.)

Despite all that, there actually are cases of Black people serving in the Wehrmacht, especially in North Africa. The relationship between people of color and Nazi Germany is more complex than simply "they were all super racist and wanted to kill anyone without blue eyes and blond hair."

(Nazis of color)

Knowing that Aryans descended from immigrants of Iran and northern India (Iran means "Land of the Aryan") Hitler's cabinet deemed them to be "pure Aryans" and there was an obsession with Ancient India. Over in British Colonial India, more than 2.5 million Indian troops fought for the Allies, but factions who opposed British colonialism felt an alliance with Germany or Japan would free their country from oppressive rule, especially as millions died due to Winston Churchill's starvation of Bengal. They formed the Free India Legion, a part of the Waffen-SS, and even fought at Normandy. (I mentioned this in detail in the notes for "Monster in the Closet.")

In addition, Hitler had an intense fascination with East Asian people, thus the coalition with Japan. Hitler said, "I have never regarded the Chinese or the Japanese as being inferior to ourselves. They belong to ancient civilizations, and I admit freely that their past history is superior to our own."

This high honor and respect of Asian people continues to this day among Neo-Nazis, who often have a fetish for Asians. Alt-Right leader Richard Spencer has dated many Asian women, and the Neo-Nazis fully embraced Vietnamese-American reality TV star Tila Tequila, who calls herself "Hitila, the Alt-Reich queen."

(Tila Tequila's banned photo)

The above image is from Tila's Twitter before she got banned. She's wearing a Waffen-SS cap, swastika armband, holding a German gun, and striding the train tracks leading to Auschwitz. She also posted pictures of her toddler with a Hitler mustache, selfies of her giving the Nazi salute at an Alt-Right convention, and photoshopped herself in Nazi garb standing next to President Donald Trump in the White House.

(J-pop band Kishidan wearing pseudo-SS uniforms)

So, Neo-Nazis have a fetish for Asians, and in return, some Asians have a fetish for Nazi uniforms and fashion. "Nazi chic" is a whole genre of fashion that is popular in many Asian countries.

In some Asian countries, World War II "is not taught in schools as a battle of political ideologies, but as a conventional war. This type of education treats Hitler and the Nazi Party as charismatic and powerful leaders of countries during wartime, instead of war criminals as elsewhere."

Since Nazi symbols do not hold a connection to racism, antisemitism, homophobia, and mass genocide—which are the focus in history lessons in Western countries—Nazi cosplay has become popular recently. J-pop and K-pop groups like BTS have used Nazi-inspired uniforms, causing uproar in Jewish communities and Western countries.

(Western and Jewish BTS fans were shocked when Rap Monster wore a hat with a swastika and Waffen-SS skull)

Restaurants like "Hitler's Cross" and "Hitler Fried Chicken" exist. (Hitler would hate that since he was vegan.) Neo-Nazi music companies claim they get some of their best sales in Japan, since those sorts of Japanese people see themselves as the "master race of Asia." There are even softcore porn Nazi-themed manga and Nazi dating simulator games.

(fem-Adolf Hitler from "Mein Waifu is the Fuhrer")

So in a sense, Neo-Nazis love Asians, and some Asians are enamored with Nazi fashion while not being taught what atrocities happened—or (as was explain by a reader I was chatting with months ago) they don't really concern themselves about it because they've never met a Jew in their life, therefore the death of millions of Jews doesn't emotionally mean much to their society ... much like how the genocide of the Uyghurs means little to Western countries who continue to do business with China, despite knowing about the concentration camps, slave labor, rapes with forced pregnancies, and massacres currently ongoing.

Yep, I went there! The Uyghur Genocide needs more public discourse.

Many of us live in a country that tolerates China's use of slave labor and government-sponsored forced marriages (rape) of Uyghur women and sterilization of men. That's something we have to own up to.

Just like in Nazi Germany, where the citizens knew Jews were being abducted, shipped away on trains, and forced to work in factories, yet they turned a blind eye to just how their products were being made because, hey it was CHEAP, many people today ignore the fact that their Walmart door-buster deals, Starbucks coffee, Nestle chocolates, Nike shoes, and the newest coolest Apple phones are made with slave labor.

It's hypocritical to diss Asians for dressing in "Nazi chic" outfits, while buying "Made in China" clothes, toys, and electronics manufactured in slave labor factories filled with at least 3,000,000 starved, beaten, raped and/or sterilized Uyghurs. Many will say "Nazis are evil because they enslaved and killed millions of Jews," yet tolerate China killing and enslaving millions because it's "economically convenient."

So before you sneer at BTS for wearing Nazi officer caps, realize you likely support the UYGHUR GENOCIDE with your hard-earned money. Try putting that energy toward helping those affected by China's Uyghur Genocide!

https://supportuyghurs.org

https://campaignforuyghurs.org

https://uhrp.org/take-action

https://jww.org/site/uyghurs-china

82 companies directly or indirectly benefiting from the use of Uyghur slave labor: Abercrombie & Fitch, Acer, Adidas, Alstom, Amazon, Apple, ASUS, BAIC Motor, Bestway, BMW, Bombardier, Bosch, BYD, Calvin Klein, Candy, Carter's, Cerruti 1881, Changan Automobile, Cisco, CRRC, Dell, Electrolux, Fila, Founder Group, GAC Group (automobiles), Gap, Geely Auto, General Motors, Google, Goertek, H&M, Haier, Hart Schaffner Marx, Hisense, Hitachi, HP, HTC, Huawei, iFlyTek, Jack & Jones, Jaguar, Japan Display Inc., L.L.Bean, Lacoste, Land Rover, Lenovo, LG, Li-Ning, Mayor, Meizu, Mercedes-Benz, MG, Microsoft, Mitsubishi, Mitsumi, Nike, Nintendo, Nokia, Oculus, Oppo, Panasonic, Polo Ralph Lauren, Puma, SAIC Motor, Samsung, SGMW, Sharp, Siemens, Skechers, Sony, TDK, Tommy Hilfiger, Toshiba, Tsinghua Tongfang, Uniqlo, Victoria's Secret, Vivo, Volkswagen, Xiaomi, Zara, Zegna, ZTE." (https://www.aspi.org.au/report/uyghurs-sale)

* * *

Pieck's History

I know you all LOVE Pieck, and since the beginning, readers have been asking if she would make an appearance in this story. I regret to say, this is the only time we'll see her. It's not easy to find a place for a woman in the middle of a WWII battlefield.

I have a whole write-up of what happens to Pieck after Germany loses. I made these "After The War" post-story ideas for almost every character, and I will share them near the end of the story. (It'll probably be the second-to-last chapter, so there are no spoilers on who actually survives to the end of the war.)

Still, since we won't see Pieck again, and you're all huge Pieck fans, let me tell you a little about her life.

*

Pieck Finger was born in view of the Alps. Her father was a teacher, her mother a botanist, so Pieck grew up both surrounded by books and nature. Her mother teased that she loved plants so much, she crawled on all fours until she was three years old, just to be closer to nature.

Her father was a proud member of the Nazi Party since the 1920s, liking the ideas of socialism, while her mother held views of race that she based on her knowledge of plants, how some were heartier than others and thus better qualified for tasks in nature. Pieck learned to have strong nationalistic views in school, which were boosted by her love for the natural beauty of Germany.

When she came of age, rather than get married right away, Pieck joined the SS-Helferinnenkorps. She was sent to Ravensbrück, an all-female concentration camp, where she was trained by Emma Zimmer alongside the likes of Dorothea Binz and Herta Bothe. She rose to the rank of Oberaufseherin, a camp overseer. After two years working there, she was placed in charge of overseeing prisoner transfers, which allowed her to travel to various internment camps across the German-occupied lands.

In her travels, she got to know other female guards, like Ilse Koch "The Bitch of Buchenwald" and Irma Grese "The Hyena of Auschwitz." Pieck grew to be on friendly terms with Hermine Braunsteiner, the infamous "Stomping Mare," called that for crushing the skulls of prisoners under her metal-studded boots. Herta Bothe was later transferred from Ravensbrück to Stutthof, where she became notorious as the "Sadist of Stutthof" for her enthusiastic beatings of prisoners, leading a death march near the end of the war, and insisting her whole life, up until 2009, that she did "nothing wrong" besides being unlucky that concentration camps ended up with a "bad reputation."

Pieck was sent to Metz to oversee the final stages of clearing prisoners out of Feste Göben, an internment camp to the south of the city (AKA Fort Queuleu). When she heard that an escaped female prisoner from Ravensbrück was in the area, she took on the task of tracking down Yelena de Marley. She came close near the end of September, but suddenly Yelena became even more elusive, as if she was getting help from a master spy. (I wonder who that could've been!) She stayed on the case through October with little luck, working closely with the Gestapo. Finally, she got a tip from a spy within the French Resistance, and on November 1st, she helped in the arrest of Yelena.

Soon after, she left Metz with Onyankopon, whom she called "Oskar." She claimed he was there to carry her things on her way back to Ravensbrück, but she had plans to seduce him. She left behind her lover, Porco Galliard. Onyankopon remained with her until the Ravensbrück concentration camp was liberated.

After the war, like many other female concentration camp guards, Pieck was arrested but released when the Allies misunderstood what role the female camp guards actually had. They confused the SS-Gefolge, where only 5% were members of the Nazi Party and considered to be a "civilian unit," with the SS-Helferinnenkorps, who were staunchly loyal to Nazism, trained at the Reichsschule-SS in Oberehnheim with a curriculum steeped in Nazi propaganda, after which they were accepted into the Waffen-SS. To this day, some accredited historical websites still get this wrong and insist the women "weren't part of the Waffen-SS" when they definitely were seen by the Germans themselves as part of the military, not civilians just because they were women. (That has a lot more to do with American sexism, where women were not allowed into military academy until 1976.)

After denazification, Pieck came to regret the ideology she had back then and wanted to make amends. She started by finding "Oskar," which proved to be difficult since she never used his real name. Still, she tracked Onyankopon down, begged forgiveness, and offered to help him fulfill any dream he wanted. He opted to go to his parents' homeland of Côte d'Ivoire, where he opened his own French restaurant.

Like her father, Pieck became a teacher. More precisely, a sociology professor at a university, and she was dedicated to teaching the next generation not to succumb to the nationalism and bigotry she fell for.

She was unique in not trying to erase the history of the Nazi years, a choice that sometimes got her in trouble with the university, yet she firmly believed that they should not hide from their transgressions. She tried to make reparations in her own way, donating to Jewish community groups.

While on vacation to the coast, she met Porco Galliard again. She was shocked to see him and broke into tears of regret about how she had treated him back in Metz. He forgave her. She learned that he was there as a mental health retreat after having lost his wife in a car crash, so she volunteered to take over watching his children so he could truly relax. He was impressed with how easily she handled the children, and he still thought she was a beautiful woman.

After she had to return home, they wrote to one another and started up a long-distance relationship that lasted two years, at which time Porco proposed. However, Pieck did not want to give up her job at the university. Porco moved to her city so they could marry and she could continue to teach. Pieck had one child with him, as well as raising his two children from his previous marriage. They lived a decently moderate life together.

She considered her life truly a success when her daughter became a docent at Ravensbrück, the concentration camp Pieck had worked in, preserving the camp and teaching the next generation about the atrocities committed there.

...

Side note: In the manga, Pieck was originally intended to be a middle-aged man named Oliver Pieck. I'm curious (but could find nothing to prove it) if the inspiration was from Dutch artist Anton Pieck. Does anyone know for sure who inspired the name "Pieck"?

Fun behind-the-scenes note: Pieck was almost given the role that Louise eventually took. As I developed this prostitute-turned-fake-wife, I realized Pieck didn't fit that role, plus I wanted her to be with Porco (I ship them) and let's face it, he's totally SS material.