The look on the faces of the men, both the soldiers and the victims, when he ordered the prisoners back into the camp would never leave Dick's mind. He knew it had been necessary. It would keep them safe. They'd be helped.

He knew he'd have to thank Harry and Lipton for convincing Alice to stay behind in Landsberg. Watching Liebgott crumble before his eyes, something he'd never anticipated, had been hard enough. Nixon had voiced the same thoughts on the way back to the town. At least, he had until they'd both fallen into silence.

With every click of the typewriter, Dick typed up his report. Though the words formed on the page, he couldn't help but think about how inadequate the paragraphs were. They couldn't capture the scene that had greeted them in Kaufering. And from what he'd heard from the other Battalions, the scene that had greeted them at the women's camp.

Dick sighed as the typewriter dinged for the last time. He pulled the paper out of the machine and glanced down at it. Insufficient to describe the sheer evil they'd encountered. But it would have to do.

He got up from the circle table in the study and back into his bedroom. Laying the three page report on the dresser, he took off his jacket and lay it on the chair of the desk. Dick closed his eyes as he stood in the center of the room.

Footsteps in the hall forced him to pay attention again. Dick moved to the foyer. It didn't surprise him to find Doc Roe walking towards him. "Doc," he said. "Report."

"Just finished speakin' with the medics from 3rd Battalion," said Gene. He walked over to Dick and offered him a cup of coffee. "Figured you might need this, sir."

Dick flashed him a small smile. "Thanks." He took it. "Have you checked on Alice?"

Gene nodded. "Yes, sir. She's asleep, which is prob'ly good. I checked on Liebgott as well. He's doin' better. I made everyone aware to watch for feelin' ill. Who knows what the prisoners were sick with, sir. Could'a all been exposed."

"Right, right. Good." With another deep breath, Dick nodded more to himself than to Gene. "Report any signs of sickness to me immediately."

"Yes, sir."

Dick watched Gene leave. The medic didn't say anything else, just nodded and turned away. Dick didn't miss the sag of his shoulders. With a sigh, he went back into the bedroom. The coffee tasted good; trust him to know what absolutely everyone needed at any one time.

Sitting down at his desk, Dick worked on taking a few deep breaths. He took a moment to jot down a few goals for the next few days, things he didn't want to forget. But before long, more footsteps made him turn in his chair. Nixon, looking worse for wear, strode inside.

"Turns out, I'm staying in the only dry frickin' house in Germany," he muttered.

With a tiny scoff, Dick shook his head. "I thought you weren't drinking the local." He watched as Nixon looked through several different bottles of alcohol.

"Yeah, well."

At his bitter smile and pour of a drink, Dick bit his cheek. Nixon had been doing better for several days, drinking a little less. Dick had a feeling he'd started seeing the positives of Kathy's divorce. As much as Dick had warned Nix time and time again about the problems with letting himself fall for Alice not only as a married man, but as officers in the Army, recently he'd wondered if they needed each other more than he or any of them realized.

Now, though. Now, Dick worried that Alice had experienced one too many heartbreaks. And Nixon, well Nixon seemed about as lost at what to do as he did. He sighed. "Heard from Division. They've been finding camps like this all over the place."

"Jesus."

"Seems the Russians liberated one a lot worse," he added.

Nixon stared at him. "Worse?"

"Yeah." Dick nodded. He'd been just as disbelieving when he'd heard about it. "Apparently. Ten times as big. Execution chambers. Ovens." At Nixon's shock, he tried to explain, "for cremating all the bodies."

"Jesus." Nixon shook his head. He raised the liquor bottle but paused before he downed a drink. "The locals claim that they never even knew the camp existed. They say we're exaggerating."

Dick couldn't stop himself from letting out a bitter laugh. "Well, they're gonna have a hell of an education tomorrow. General Taylor declared martial law about an hour ago. Ordered every able-body German in town aged fourteen to eighty to start burying the bodies and that'll begin in the morning." He paused. "10th Armored are gonna supervise cleanup."

"What about us?" Nixon asked.

"We head out for Thalem tomorrow. 1200 hours," said Dick.

Nixon's shoulders dropped as he looked away. With a tiny shake of his head, he downed a quick drink. Then he turned back. "Have you talked to her since..."

"No," Dick admitted. "No, but Doc was in here. Said she's asleep."

He nodded. Then he took another drink. "Right."

Dick watched him closely. He sighed. Standing up, Dick moved himself so he sat against a table at the end of his bed. He folded his arms over his chest. "Nix, getting drunk isn't going to help her or anyone in this company."

"I know, Dick," he snapped.

Dick checked his watch. Almost 2000 hours. He frowned. "Any idea where Harry and Speirs are?"

"Not off the top of my head," he said. "Why?"

"Stay here. I'll be right back." Dick pushed away from the table and walked towards the door. When he got to the doorway, he turned. "Don't get drunk before I get back, Nix."

The man sighed but nodded. Leaving Nixon in the first floor bedroom, he moved through the mansion-like house until he set foot outdoors. A gentle breeze moved through the town, but the fresh air still couldn't erase the stench of death that Dick had experienced at the camp. He frowned at the memory.

Enlisted move through the street, less than in daylight but enough to be of use. He spotted the person he was looking for. "First Sergeant Talbert!"

The man looked up from where he'd been chatting with Sergeant Grant. Talbert pushed off the fence and walked over. "Sir?"

Dick nodded to him. "I need you to track down Lieutenant Welsh and Captain Speirs for me. Send them into HQ. Grant?"

The other sergeant moved over to him quickly. "Yes sir?"

"Find me Sergeant Luz. Send him to HQ as well."

With both of them heading off to do as asked, Dick stood in the center of town. He looked around at the calm that had descended back on Landsberg. Besides the soldiers walking in pairs, enforcing the martial law that Taylor had put into effect, it seemed almost peaceful. Unsettling, really.

He hadn't realized he'd been standing there for awhile until he saw Harry making his way over. He had a cigarette in his mouth. When he caught sight of Dick, he nodded.

"What's up?" Harry asked.

Dick bit his cheek, looking around. Then he turned back to him. "I'll explain in a minute. Come on."

They headed back inside the Battalion Headquarters. Harry didn't pester him for more information and before long, they rejoined Nixon in one of the living rooms in the mansion. It relieved Dick that Nixon didn't have any alcohol with him, just a lit cigarette. He sat on one of the red velvet couches and it didn't take long for Harry to plop down next to him.

Dick nodded. He leaned against a wall nearby, arms across his chest. Moments later they heard boots on the wooden floor and Ron came around the corner. He looked from Dick to the others and nodded. He took a chair opposite the couch.

After a few tense moments, he looked at them. "We need to talk about Alice. All cards on the table."

Just as he finished, another set of footsteps filled the hall outside. Harry, Ron, and Nixon looked over in confusion. In the doorway stepped George Luz, but he paused in surprise at the gathering of officers.

"Sir, Grant said you needed me," he said. He tore his eyes away from the three on the chairs and turned to Dick. "Am I interrupting?"

"No," Dick told him. With a nod of his head, he had George come in. When he had done so, Dick closed the door. Folding his arms over his chest, he looked around. "This discussion is off the record. I'm concerned about Alice. George-" the man looked over, so Dick continued- "you're the closest to her in the enlisted. I want you in on this."

"Yeah, 'course."

Ron looked sharply at Dick. "In on what?"

"Keeping an eye on her. We need to watch her for odd behavior, anything that would warrant taking her off the line. My goal is to nip it in the bud before that point is reached," he explained.

"Jesus Christ, Dick, off the line?" Nixon asked.

"Only if there's no other options," he assured them. "For her safety."

"Off the line to where, exactly, sir?" George asked.

Dick looked at him, surprised at the sharp edge to his tone. But when George looked away, pulling a cigarette out of his pocket, he nodded. "Your point?" When George hesitated, he sighed. "I wouldn't have brought you in here if I didn't want your opinion."

"She gets pulled off the line, then what happens?" George pointed out. "She's lost basically everybody. Her family is Easy Company now, and if you pull her off the line, she loses that too."

"He's right, Dick," Nixon added. "You can't pull her off."

Dick didn't miss the glance and nod shared between George and Nixon. For a moment he dreaded if those two would ever team up against him over something about Alice. But he shook himself and sighed. "Obviously we want to avoid it. Harry, Speirs, thoughts?"

Harry took a deep breath and shook his head. After taking out his cigarette, he nodded. "I agree."

"As long as she isn't a danger to herself or this company, there's no reason to pull her off," Ron added.

"And if you pull her off the line, where does she go?" Nixon pointed out. "France? England? She doesn't have family to go home to, Dick."

Dick nodded. "I hear your points. And I agree. So, that brings us back to the first point. We need to get an eye on her. All of us."

He let his gaze travel between the gathered men. With a nod, he considered his options. Someone needed to stay with Alice, and though he knew Nixon would usually be the first to volunteer, he also knew Nix was in no state himself. He turned back to George.

"George. Once Alice wakes up, I want you to stick by her until I tell you otherwise. Treat this like the Samaria," he explained.

George nodded. "Yes, sir."

A knock at the door pulled everyone's attention away. Dick stood off the chair he'd been leaning against and called him to enter. Doc Roe opened the door and stepped inside. He looked as surprised as George had when he first entered the room.

"Sirs," he started. "Uh, Major, Lieutenant Klein's awake."

"Right. Luz," he said.

George nodded. He turned from the officers to Gene and back to Dick. When Dick gave him a nod, he turned and left the room with Gene. They left the officers behind. George yawned as he walked next to the medic, neither speaking. As they stepped into the night air of Landsberg, George pulled out his pack of cigarettes.

"Doc?" he offered.

Gene released a deep breath and nodded. He took one and lit it. "Thanks." He took a deep breath of it before nodding to George. "She's taking a shower. I left her there, told her I had to report to the Major Winters."

"She alright?" asked George.

He didn't respond, just turned to look at him. George knew that look. The look was said everything; Gene didn't know, and to ask was stupid. He shrugged and looked away.

The place Alice had been house stood three doors down from the HQ. George nodded to one of the radio ops from Dog who stood with a guard. When they finally reached the front door, George was only a bit surprised to find Malarkey heading their way.

George turned to Gene. "Hey, Doc, go get some sleep. I'll watch her."

After brief hesitation, Gene nodded and turned away. While waiting for Malarkey, George watched the medic walk down the lane and out of sight. Each puff the second cigarette he'd lit helped him stay calm. Shuffling in place, he took a deep breath.

"She awake?" Malarkey asked, walking up. He pointed to the door. "I was gonna check in on her."

George yawned. With a nod, he finished up his smoking and stomped it out. "Doc said she's up. I haven't seen her since we found that... hell."

"Yeah."

"Guess we should go in," George muttered.

Malarkey paused. "Yeah."

George didn't know why he felt so concerned over what they'd find inside. He supposed he just felt tired. He'd spent all day caring for men who had been brutally treated, abandoned by society, and it had drained him in a way he had never experienced. And for once in his life, George didn't know how to help, didn't see a way to make it better. He realized he was worried he couldn't help Alice. The talk of potentially taking Alice off the line had made it even worse.

After another deep breath, he went to the door and opened it. He didn't bother knocking. It swung open easily. The hallway opened to a stair of dark wood on the right, and on the left, a living room. The only light they saw came from further down the hallway. With a glance at Malarkey, he followed the lightsource.

Photographs of a family with three young boys lined the walls to either side as they headed back into the large house. The boys in the photos aged the further back they walked until the last few photos had them all in German uniforms. They stepped into the back of the house, a living room to the right and a kitchen to the left. Alice sat on a couch, a mug in hands, a fireplace roaring. She'd shed her uniform except for her tank top. In the light of the fireplace and the lamps, George could see nearly every scar she'd acquired; the bullet wound from Holland stuck out particularly vivid. Her hair, scraggly and wet, had dampened the parts of her shirt that it touched.

She turned towards them when they walked in. The smile she flashed them fooled no one: not George, not Malark, and not she herself. But she nodded. "Get bored hanging with the others?" she joked.

George scoffed. "Yeah, well, Tab was being a pain in the ass. Figured I'd escape here."

"Right," she said. "Well, there's tea over there if either of you want it. Since I assume you're staying here for the night?"

"Your place is certainly nicer than ours," Malarkey said, smirking. He wandered away to the kitchen. "George, you want tea?"

"Jesus, Malark, is that even a question," George shouted back.

"So, no?"

George rolled his eyes and shouted back, "It's a yes, yah idiot!"

Alice chuckled as George turned back to her and shook his head. With his own little smirk, George plopped down on the other end of her couch. It didn't take long for Malarkey to come back in carrying two china tea cups. He handed one to George before settling down in a chair nearby.

"How's Lieb," Alice asked, voice low. She pulled her feet up to sit criss-cross on the cough, angling herself towards the other two. "I heard what they made him do."

"He's okay," Malarkey assured her. After a pause, he continued, "Angry. Really angry."

Alice nodded. She bit her lip, not responding. Her eyes closed more out of instinct than anything else, her chest suddenly hurting as she thought about what she'd witnessed. When she opened them, it didn't surprise her to see both men had their full attention on her.

"I'm fine," she assured them. "At least, as fine as can be expected," she muttered. Then she looked to them. "How are you two? You actually went in, and, and uh, saw them."

Neither of them spoke. She watched as they both clammed up, looking at the ground or their tea cups with all the intensity they could muster. Somehow their non answer hurt more than anything she thought she'd hear from them.

Alice stared into the fireplace. A hot amalgamation of fear, anger, and despair swirled inside her chest, her heart. She felt more sad than anything else: sad for the victims, sad for herself, sad for all the people Germany had hurt.

As tears welled in her eyes, Alice squeezed them shut. Her throat stung from suppressed emotions. One thought dominated all the others. This could've been Elsa's fate. But she would never know, never have answers.

As her chest continued to burn in repressed agony, she opened her eyes. Alice watched the fire again. Impulse took over. Setting the teacup on the table to her left, Alice instead grabbed a stack of letters that had sat there. Elsa's letters.

"What are you doing?" Malarkey asked, voice low. "Alice. That's all you've got left!"

She took a deep breath through her nose. Turning to Malarkey, she bit her cheek. "I don't want it."

"What are they?" George asked.

Alice wiped a few tears off her cheeks. "Letters. From uh, a cousin of mine. Elsa."

"Alice, if you burn those, you can't get them back," argued Malarkey. "They're gone."

Her breath caught. She looked from him, to George, to the letters. But as she remembered what they'd said, the terror that Elsa had experienced, the anger she'd harbored, the questions she'd asked, she felt like they burned her hand. She wanted nothing to do with them. All they did was bring pain.

"That's the last of your family," Malarkey reminded her.

Alice let out a small laugh through her tears.. She shook her head. "No. That's the last of Adélaïde's family."

With a flick of her wrist, she tossed them into the flames. Neither of the men behind her spoke. Her full attention remained on the letters, white turning brown and black as the flames scorched through them. She knew burning the letters wouldn't change reality. But burning the letters felt like the only tangible thing she could control.