The remainder of that night was lost to them.

The two rested, bodies nestled into one another; but it never lasted long, as they were far too absorbed with each other.

Shosanna and Fredrick spoke more, of simple things. Things, that, perhaps in the grander scheme of the world, did not matter much, but it mattered to them. It brought them comfort and consolation in the face of all that awaited the two.

Her face nuzzling his neck, Shosanna spoke until her voice trailed off to nothing and sleep claimed her.

Fredrick's voice came broken and rough as he murmured her name. It was selfish of him, he knew, but his want - his need - for her overcame all else. The sound of his voice was enough to pull Shosanna back into consciousness.

She rolled Fredrick onto his back, and stretching her body out over his, the two made love once more for a very long while. They moved together in a smooth, unhurried rhythm until, tremors overtaking them both, they found their release with one another.

Arms wrapped tight around her, Fredrick did not yet want to let go of Shosanna; did not yet want to lose the press of her flesh against his. It was all too perfect, too beautiful when they made love.

Fredrick looked up into her green eyes. They appeared darker now, half-lidded with sleep and infatuation. And there, near her left eye, her scar.

Her scar.

It was a fleck upon her otherwise perfect skin. It betrayed her in a way, revealing that part of herself, her story, which she fought so hard to conceal. Fredrick had noticed it when the two had first met, but he never could have imagined its violent origins.

His mind wandered; back to the night the war ended.

Surely, in the projection booth, Shosanna had felt as he did; trapped in that bell tower. But whereas Fredrick had a home with a family to return to, Shosanna did not. She had nothing left, not even her name, which had been ripped away from her. She had been so completely willing to destroy herself, to end the war and to reclaim all that was rightfully hers.

And he, Fredrick Zoller, a foolish young boy, was unaware of it all. All he knew was that he loved Emmanuelle Mimieux.

Emmanuelle Mimieux, who was beautiful and special, though he couldn't place why.

Emmanuelle Mimieux, who was Shosanna Dreyfus.

If only he, Fredrick Zoller, German War Hero, had known.

Fredrick Zoller, who, in his mad desperation for Emmanuelle Mimieux to understand him, hurt her. She could have killed him. But she, Shosanna Dreyfus, did not.

Throughout it all, she had more than ample opportunity to leave him, to turn him away.

Yet she did not.

Throughout it all, Shosanna was with him. She loved him.

Here, now, in their room, in this bed, Shosanna held tight to Fredrick just as he held her. With her lips against his neck, her breath was a soft whisper against his pulse,

"Rest, Fredrick, rest."

The sky passing by their window now a light gray, Fredrick closed his eyes.

Red.

She was swathed in it.

It was the color of the fever in her blood; oppressive and hot, which consumed her.

It was the color of her blood; warm and rich, that poured from her abdomen.

It was the color of the flames; bright and burning, which rose to meet her.

It was the color that defined her madness.

Red.

Sprawled on the floor, her body ached. Eyes squeezed shut, she turned her head in his direction, to face him. She had to confront the sight of him.

She opened her eyes.

There, he lay where he had fallen; unmoving.

She could have wept, if she had the fortitude to do so. But even in her weakened state, she called out to him, her voice rising above the destruction that surrounded them.

"Fredrick."

He did not stir.

Nearly far too much for her to bear, she still persisted. Throat dry, she roughly swallowed and brought herself to try again,

"Fredrick!"

He gave no response.

Desperately, Shosanna gathered the entire strength of her broken body, bringing herself to roll over onto her stomach. It was a quick, forceful motion; the sickening, wet slap of her bloodied torso against the hard wood floor rang out, both causing her to grimace and struggle for breath.

Reaching Fredrick would be as perilous as scaling the heights of Piz Palü, it seemed, but it had to be done. Time was not on their side.

Gritting her teeth and tightening her body, she cajoled and pleaded with her muscles and tendons into cooperation. Every fiber throbbed, every cell screamed as she clawed and scratched her red nails into the floorboards, pulling and dragging herself to him, leaving a trail of red behind in her wake.

Though she was wracked with excruciating pain and a sob caught in her throat, she could not stop; she willed herself toward Fredrick, her absolute desire and need to be near him providing her momentum.

Joining his side, she managed to raise a hand to his cheek, gently touching his face.

He was unresponsive. Fredrick was dead.

The fire roared around them, the flames having eaten away everything; everything which she had so willingly sacrificed.

She had nothing left.

Shosanna was well and truly alone.

The room fast filling with dark smoke, she clung to him. She touched and kissed him wherever she could; her lips smearing red on his uniform, over his chest full of medals, along the length of his neck, over his jawline, and to his face. Reaching his mouth, she covered it with her own, hard and bruising.

Though her lungs now burned and her body was rife with agony, Shosanna wept; openly and bitterly.

She wept for her family.

She wept for Ada.

She wept for Marcel.

She wept for Emmanuelle.

She wept for Fredrick.

She wept for herself.

Bleary-eyed, she could no longer see Fredrick's features through the haze and her tears. Features which she had come to memorize and know so well in their fleeting time together; features of the only person who had been able to break through her self-imposed barriers to reach the tenderest parts of her.

And so, she held tight to him.

There was never anything more than the two of them.

Shosanna awoke wide-eyed in the pale light of the morning.

Panicked, she rolled onto her side in a near violent jerk. There beside her lay Fredrick, sleeping soundly; his face serene.

She had to be certain.

She watched him; watched as he slept, her eyes fixed on the rise and fall of his bare chest.

The sky outside above them now brightened as onward, they continued towards Munich.

Shosanna could not help but smile.

Needing to feel the strong pulse of his body coursing through him, she curled herself into Fredrick, the rhythmic beating of his heart lulling her back to sleep.

It was mid morning when Fredrick awoke.

Shosanna laid half-way on top of him with her face buried in the crook of his neck, her breath soft and warm against his pulse. Along with that, her hand was palm flat on his chest near his heart, and her leg was hitched up and draped over his thighs. Never before had Fredrick felt so comfortable.

Lying in bed with the woman he loved and on a train headed for home, he was contented, even in the face of the previous night's turmoil.

Soon enough, the two would find themselves in Munich; with his family.

Fredrick thought of Helga; of how she would react to the sight of the German War Hero, back from the dead with the woman responsible for the end of the war in tow. Of course, Helga would see him as he was: her baby brother. She would, above all, be overjoyed to see that he did not in fact perish in a theater in Paris, France.

And that she would - he knew with complete certainty - easily welcome Shosanna into the lives of the Zoller family.

That would be how Helga Zoller would come to know Shosanna; Shosanna Dreyfus, not Emmanuelle Mimieux. Never again would Shosanna have to live under a pseudonym. Never again would she have to hide her identity, her heritage.

No matter what, Helga and the rest of the Zoller sisters would love and accept Shosanna - they had to - because they were his family and because he loved her so.

He smiled, wide and open.

He finally felt a certain degree of peace.

He also felt as Shosanna's body shifted against him with her smooth, silken thigh rubbing against his own; so much so that he found himself terribly aroused.

Sucking in a breath, Fredrick wriggled beneath her with an anxiousness. She moved again; her knee gently, ever-so-lightly brushing against his arousal. Releasing the breath in frustration, he looked to the ceiling.

As Fredrick contemplated how to best handle the situation, he could feel Shosanna move once more as she now nuzzled his neck; could feel as her lips formed into a smile against his throat.

Fredrick stood by the bedside, his fingers fumbling with the buttons of his dress shirt. It was one given to him by Edwige, having previously belonged to her brother. White and long sleeved, it was well tailored with small, polished buttons; buttons which were posing a problem for him.

Dressed in a pale silk robe that belted tightly at the waist, Shosanna was sifting through their suitcase, picking out something to wear. It was simple, mundane even - the daily ritual of waking up and getting ready for the day ahead. However, as Fredrick watched Shosanna lay her clothes out on the bed - undergarments, a slip, and a golden, scoop-neck dress - he realized it was a day-to-day ritual that they would continue to share together; from day-to-day to year after year.

Casually, Shosanna tugged at the belt of her robe, pulling the knot loose. Shrugging off the garment, she let it fall into a heap on the floor, revealing her bare body. Bathed in sunlight as it poured through the window, she was golden and resplendent. Fredrick stilled his manic fingers and watched her; his eyes traveling over her like a man discovering a treasure.

He smiled.

In that moment, a thrill coursed through Fredrick. It went beyond her nude form - though the sight of which never failed to stir him - to something far more vast. With a soft sigh, he finished his task, tucking the shirttails into his finely pleated slacks.

Shosanna, taking notice of her captive audience, turned to Fredrick, her eyes meeting his. There was a seriousness, a tension, etched in his features; for the swiftest of moments, she felt vulnerable, exposed. Shosanna was cautious, expressionless. It made him think of her photograph in her forged papers; not of Rachel Schwarzbaum, but of Emmanuelle Mimieux. Fredrick suddenly felt awkward and imperiled.

The two were silent for a while, holding each other's attention without word or movement. It was as if time stood still. Fredrick could hear the footsteps of another passenger making their way down the hallway, could hear a muffled conversation through the wall in the room next to them. Thinking of the previous night's activities, which carried over into that morning, he almost smirked, knowing that if it were just a few days earlier before his relationship with Shosanna had grown into what it was, he probably would have fretted over what others would have thought, had they heard them.

Even still, surrounded by the goings-on and lives of others, Shosanna remained his sole focus. There was something in the way she looked at Fredrick. It was always there, a kind of intuitiveness; she was able to trace the genealogy of his feelings and thoughts.

The corners of her mouth turning up, Shosanna stepped forward, bringing herself close to him. Carefully, she laid a hand upon his chest, feeling the rise and fall of it as Fredrick breathed and the beating of his heart against the flat of her palm. Then, tilting her head up, she lightly touched her lips to his, kissing him. Tentatively, Fredrick brought his hands to rest on her hips, holding her to him. Shosanna smiled against his mouth, and in response, Fredrick very slightly tightened his grip on her, giving a gentle squeeze.

There was a desire present between the two, but it was fueled by something far more than just a physical need.

Fredrick could feel the immense thrumming of Shosanna's heart through her chest against his own. He slid his hand from her hip to her lower back, and there, it settled, flattening against her flesh with his fingers fanning out and pressing Shosanna to him.

Never before had they felt so safe; their only fear was that of interruption. Neither could feign confusion with what was felt, yet unsaid between them. Neither could deny how far they both had come, nor could they ignore how the difficulty of their connection had increased its ferocity; how alive with courage and fervor it was.

What the two felt within that moment with one another was the center of life; the very core of all feeling and thought. There was coincidence and meaning in all that surrounded them, both a terrifying complexity and simplicity, both agony and delight. Nothing went unnoticed.

Shosanna's mouth against Fredrick's was now not so much a kiss, as it was an indeterminate crush. The pulse of her only intensified; her heart within her chest like a caged bird. It would not recede, nor would it quiet down. His own heart racing, Fredrick just held her.

It was early afternoon when their train arrived in Munich.

Fredrick worked to pack their suitcase and tend to some last minute straightening of their room as Shosanna checked with the train car attendant to collect their identification papers. With his Luger tucked away, cap pulled down low, and luggage in hand, he was ready to leave as soon as she returned to their room. Their affairs in order, the two of them, as Ernst and Rachel Schwarzbaum, were prepared to face the next stage of their lives together.

It was, however, slow going.

The train station was bustling with both civilians and military personnel alike. No one, whether boarding or departing, was going anywhere without having their papers scrutinized under a watchful pair of eyes first. Shosanna, taking the lead, clutched Fredrick's hand in her own. Not one to let down her guard, she surveyed the crowds from the train car windows as best she could. Noting the drab green and tan uniforms mixed in with the rest of the average citizens, she was able to determine that Munich, just as Edwige had clued them earlier at the inn, was occupied by American forces. It was also detectable that there were some English among them; the Allied forces were utilizing as many of their men as possible.

The tension in his body was now evident as Fredrick's grip on Shosanna's hand was becoming increasingly tighter and his palm was growing slick with sweat. Outwardly, he appeared calm, but inwardly, his nerves were fraying. It was of total importance that they get off that train, lest he entirely unravel. In order to do so, Fredrick had to keep his cool. In a show of solidarity and in an effort to placate him, Shosanna rubbed the pad of her thumb over the skin on the back of his hand in slow, lazy circles. Though the strength of his hand over hers did not lessen any, the action worked to bring them both a small measure of comfort.

When their turn finally came, the two were immediately accosted - though rather politely - by a young soldier the moment they stepped off the train. Standing tall and proud, the soldier gave them a salute and an introduction,

"Private James Mayhew, at your service."

Judging by his khaki attire and heavily accented, albeit fluent German, he was English. Red-haired and fair-skinned with a face full of freckles, it was hard for Shosanna to not notice how out of place James looked; he couldn't possibly have been any older than either she or Fredrick.

Wanting to make their ordeal as pleasant as he could, the soldier smiled widely as he looked over their papers. Shosanna and Fredrick, maintaining their composure, remained blank-faced. Reading their names, his bright expression sobered. His eyes meeting theirs, James gave them a meaningful look, followed by a solemn,

"I am sorry."

Fredrick gave Shosanna a glance, as certainly, the soldier's words carried more meaning and weight for her sake rather than his own. She was unflinching, retaining her stoicism. Turning back to the soldier, Fredrick accepted it with a simple nod of his head. It was perhaps more out of protocol than out of personal curiosity, but James persisted with more questions.

"What brings the two of you back to Munich?"

Fredrick stammered. As a German, speaking the language to a non-native speaker in his own country, the reason for his presence should've been obvious. The soldier was insistent, pressing on,

"Herr Schwarzbaum, you yourself are German. But your wife, Frau Schwarzbaum, was born in Paris, France, as indicated on her papers. As you both have stepped off of the train from Paris - and bearing in mind your heritage - I was wondering, what brings you back here to Munich?"

Fredrick was noticeably perplexed by such invasive questioning, and watching their exchange, Shosanna turned to him for clarification. Given the seriousness of their situation, it had all but nearly slipped from Fredrick's mind that she did not understand German.

"He wants to know why we've returned to Munich," Fredrick informed her.

James, keeping a steady eye on them both, took into account how Fredrick spoke to Shosanna in French. His careful observance of them both did not pass by without regard. But before he or Fredrick could say anything more, Shosanna cut in, speaking directly to the soldier; whether he could sense of her words or not was no longer a matter for her. The emotion that colored her voice - which previously would've been to her peril - now served to save her and Fredrick.

"There was no place for my husband here during the war, and certainly not for myself, either. Oui, the same held true in France, but the odds there were better in our favor. But now, this is where he wants to be, and I am to be with him."

James, now flustered, took on an apologetic tone in her language,

"It is not my intent to put either of you at unease, it is just that… we cannot afford to not be too careful."

Shosanna was steadfast with her words. All that she had survived, all that she had felt had risen to the surface of her voice,

"I know how it is to be careful."

Chastened, the soldier handed the two their papers back. Not a word more passed between them.

Shosanna and Fredrick were silent for the duration of their trek through the train station. Upon entering the open city, she spoke quietly, her eyes directed ahead.

"Forgive me, but I've had my fill of uniforms."

Saying nothing, Fredrick reached for Shosanna's hand and took it into his own, their fingers intertwining.

With Fredrick taking the lead, he navigated the two of them through as much of Munich as they could cover by foot on their journey to Das Kino Haus. Along the way, he pointed out all the familiar sights to her. Though it was all foreign to Shosanna, she was nonetheless beguiled with Fredrick's seemingly infinite joy. She was certain that if he were able to, he'd spend the rest of the day showing her every corner of Munich; it was in the way his features lit up with recollection and the lilt in his voice as he spoke. In spite of it all, this was his city and he was coming home.

The bookshop Elsa had worked in still stood, prompting Fredrick to tell Shosanna of how his second oldest sister now lived in Barcelona with her lover, a painter.

"Elsa really fell in love with Spain. After she met Teresita, that was it. There was no way she was returning to Munich."

Shosanna found such particulars nearly jolting; she held no doubt that such a detail went unmentioned to Goebbels. Coupled with all she had come to know of Fredrick and his family so far, it seemed uncharacteristic for a German War Hero to come from such unconventional stock. The differences between the Fredrick depicted on screen and the Fredrick she knew still shouldn't have astounded her, but they did.

It was also by Fredrick's estimation that the elderly Frau Vogt most likely had passed on in the years he was away. His voice hushed at that; away. But Fredrick did not openly dwell upon it. Instead, he cleared his throat and turned his attention to a quaint little candy shop.

A smile spread across his face.

"My sister Annaleisa used to tease me as a child that if I didn't stop buying sweets from there, that'd I grow up to be fat and toothless."

Shosanna, finding much amusement in his story, laughed, and as she laughed, Fredrick's smile widened.

"Yet, she is the one who grew up with a love of baking. I'd have told her the same, but I couldn't. That'd have been too easy."

He then paused, his eyes looking ahead as his mind wandered to thoughts of his sister. Shosanna watched Fredrick; she knew that there was more he wanted to say.

"Annaleisa lives in Berlin, now. She's married to a poet named Max. They reckon themselves to be Socialists."

He turned his face to her, and giving a shrug, Fredrick's smile returned.

"I'm not the only one of us to have gone away from home."

Shosanna, now, too, smiled.

They had both grown quiet, but not uncomfortably so; for Fredrick, just to be back in Munich with Shosanna was more than enough.

More and more, from the cafe in Paris, to their time together at Le Rossignol and on the train, Fredrick was opening up to her and welcoming her into his life. He wanted Shosanna; well and truly wanted to be with her. That was never a question for Fredrick. Now, more than ever, she could feel that want. And, as the two continued through the streets of Munich, hand in hand toward their destination, Shosanna knew that she wanted the same.

There it stood, Das Kino Haus. And there, before it, were Shosanna and Fredrick. As they neared it, he quickened his pace, dragging her along behind him. Seeing the theater which he spoke of so fondly at long last, she now understood its importance. Unlike the sleek modernity once held by Le Gamaar, Das Kino Haus wore its history proudly and openly in its stone and mortar construction. Astonishingly breath-taking, it was intensely beautiful and other-worldly in a way. But whereas Shosanna completely splendored in its grandiosity, Fredrick, she could see, found within its structure a comfort, a safety. For him, much like Le Gamaar was for her, Das Kino Haus was his shelter, his escape from the world; this was where he belonged.

Shosanna looked on as Fredrick's eyes drifted to the marquee. As he read over it, his brow furrowed.

"It says the theater is temporarily closed."

Mouth pursed, Fredrick looked away from her. For as alive as he was, his family was still yet unaware. In their minds, Fredrick Zoller was dead. He roughly swallowed and managed to speak, though it was more of an aloud thought than it was a direct statement. There was a distance in his voice.

"I had forgotten."

Fredrick took a moment more of silence. However discomforted he had felt, it seemed to have passed as he then raised his face; surreptitiously, he looked about them, taking mental stock of their surroundings. Shosanna waited, watching as he mentally processed all he had taken in. Fredrick said nothing, but she could tell he was plotting something.

Her hand still in his, he led Shosanna away from Das Kino Haus, ducking into an alleyway. Silent though thoroughly startled, she complied. Easily, she matched his purposeful, brisk pace as the two cut a path back behind the storefronts leading to the back entrance of the theater.

Shosanna watched him with a cool expectancy. Whatever trick he had up his sleeve, now, she surmised, was the time to deliver. No one, however, was more aware of this than Fredrick. One thing Shosanna had come to learn quickly about him was that he was far more clever than he let on; that side of him was, like so much else about him, something that only she was privy to.

He ran his fingertips over the wall of the theater, until coming upon a wedge of loose stone. With precision, Fredrick plucked it from its place, revealing a copper key. He reached for it, taking it in hand as he put the stone back. He smiled, pleased with his find.

"It was Elsa's," Fredrick elaborated as he went to work unlocking the backdoor, "As she spent less and less time here and more and more in the bookshop, Gerda kept the key hidden here."

The door, large and dense, now budged and with a bit of force, he pulled it open, allowing for Shosanna to enter first.

"Gerda is awfully forgetful of things if they aren't boys or clothes or whatever is currently catching her fancy, you see," He went on, following closely behind her, "And, it seems, that hasn't changed."

It was perhaps out of habit from working in a own theater for the previous four years, but Shosanna was able to hunt out the light switch to the right of her, and illuminate the back room with soft, yellow lighting. Fredrick closed and locked the door before joining her at her side as she looked around her. The room was used for storage: rolled up posters and plush, unused furniture, marquee signs, letters and other decorations; all were organized and covered in a fine layer of dust, all awaiting the moment to fulfill their purpose.

Shosanna moved through it all with careful strides, but Fredrick flitted about, his eyes and hands on anything and everything that piqued his interest. As he became occupied with a Greta Garbo poster, Shosanna glimpsed a bit of a marquee billboard in the furthest corner of the room nearby the room's entrance leading out to the rest of the theater. She found herself drawn to it. Obscured by rolled up posters and other memorabilia, Shosanna could make out part of an olive green uniform as she approached it.

She knelt in front of it and moving aside the posters and other obstructions, she brought herself face-to-face with the stoic visage of Fredrick Zoller. Taken aback, she scrambled to her feet, and froze in place where she stood. Hearing her, Fredrick looked up from Garbo's distracting visage to find Shosanna standing before himself, smartly dressed in his uniform and looking out toward the horizon of a new world once promised by a tyrannical regime.

It was both at once surreal and disarming. There was silence in the room as Fredrick contemplated just what he was seeing.

Shosanna blinked at the sight of it, startled. She wondered about Fredrick, as to how he must've felt, having returned to Munich and his family's theater only to be confronted by the image of himself as he was portrayed in Goebbels' spectacle. She looked to him; his expression was one of complete concentration, his brows stitched together and his mouth set in a thin line.

Fredrick turned his head to face her, their eyes meeting. Body tensing, Shosanna anticipated his reaction.

He gave a slow, crooked smile.

"I told you it was an eyesore."

Though she supposed she expected something different, something more from him, it was definite that after having come this far, Fredrick was not to be deterred. And as he held the door leading out to the lobby open for her, neither was she.

"My father had it built for my mum. He oversaw every detail."

Shosanna stood in amazement. Brightly lit and composed of polished marble floors with smooth stone pillars and walls, Das Kino Haus resembled more of a cathedral than a theater; it was both decadent and reverential. On the walls hung framed posters for all manner of film, from Auf Wiedersehen Doesn't Mean Goodbye starring Bridget von Hammersmark, F.W. Murnau's Faust, to Disney's Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs.

As she wandered the expanse of the lobby, taking it all in, Fredrick stood by and watched her. He watched her with wonder, with love; he recalled how he had first seen her in the lobby of Le Gamaar and all those following moments after, of how he fell under the total compliance of his heart's most desperate desires. It was when he had taken his first steps that diverted far from the pathway that had been determined for him. It was when he had loved, and he loved so deeply. It was because of Shosanna that he was able to find comfort in a foreign country; she brought him solace, she brought him home.

If only either had known then what would become of them now.

Fredrick looked on as Shosanna reached out to run her hand along a pillar, as she stood admiring a poster for The Golem with her hands clasped behind her back, and as her eyes, scanning every detail, would settle back onto him. His arms crossed over his chest, Fredrick stood with his head cocked to the side. His forelocks had fallen into his face as he had since removed the cap, allowing for Shosanna to better see his eyes, which were full of affection and humor. His mouth was set in a slight, lop-sided grin.

Neither spoke; rather, words were unnecessary as the two faced one another, eyes locked.

Shosanna went to him, the click of the soles of her shoes upon the floor echoing throughout the theater. As she closed the space between them, Fredrick raised his hand up to cup the side of her face; her cheek curved as she smiled, fitting so well against his palm. Then, leaning into her, Fredrick bowed his head and brought his mouth down to hers, kissing her. The contact was light, soft, and brief. He trailed his fingertips over her cheekbone and further down, to her jawline; just as Shosanna closed her eyes, just as she allowed herself to ease into his touch, he stopped, pulling back from her.

Grinning widely, Fredrick turned away, silently indicating for her to follow. Playfully rolling her eyes in response, she went along with him.

She always would.

Shosanna had first thought that Fredrick was to lead her up the grandiose staircase to the projection booth. Instead, he brought her to a pair of double-doors at the other side of the lobby, which led them into the theater auditorium.

It was gorgeous. Large and spacious, with a greater capacity than Le Gamaar, it was more than she could have ever expected. The seating was luxurious, complete with a magnificent balcony. However, it was the film screen that captured Shosanna's attention.

Positioned above a small stage and veiled in red velvet, it was a spectacle unto itself. Imposingly enormous, its width spanned nearly that of the entire wall, and centered directly above it hung the comedy-drama mask.

"My mum lived for the stage."

Fredrick's voice was faraway, wistful. As softly as he spoke, his words still carried through, filling the auditorium. Shosanna turned to look over her shoulder at him. He stood by the doorway, watching her.

"After meeting my father and settling down, she found less and less time for it," Fredrick expounded, "And by then, she compensated for that by visiting a little movie house. Most of the other actors she knew were starting to panic; they feared the loss of their profession, their art form."

He shook his head bemusedly at the thought.

"But not my mum. She embraced film. She loved it, she loved the escape it provided."

With a small smile, Fredrick continued.

"They then moved to Munich. She hated leaving that little theater behind. My father wanted to do this for her."

Shosanna raised her face back to the screen, now gazing upon it with a new awe. These were things - important things - she could tell, that he did not share with anyone else outside of his family. Fredrick went briefly silent before proceeding on a melancholic note,

"It became even more important to us that we keep Das Kino Haus going after she passed away. We all grew up here; as soon as we were able to, we all learned how to run the projector along with every other little detail. This place is a part of us, as it was a part of her."

There was a resonance there in his words; of sadness, of loss. But, there was something more to it: an encompassing love.

Das Kino Haus was a monument to love, for love. For Shosanna, it brought to mind Le Gamaar, Ada Mimieux and Marcel; of how Fredrick's parents, like she and him, had taken a risk their hearts had urged upon them. That, for all the German War Hero and the Jewish Girl had been through in order to make it this far, they were not alone. That encompassing love was something they had all shared, and if there was anything that had truly set Shosanna and Fredrick apart, it was their willfulness to take that love beyond set boundaries and sensible limits; their love, which had before seemed so impossible, was now a reality - their reality.

Their love - their reality - was endless.

With her eyes transfixed by the film screen, Shosanna could feel the rise of emotion within her as it manifested itself as a hitched breath within her throat, threatening to spill from her, be it in tears or elation. But just as she was certain she was to be overpowered by all that she felt, Shosanna stilled; the lights in the auditorium dimmed and the red velvet parted to reveal, on screen, Harold Lloyd as the Boy, making the precarious climb up the storefront in Safety Last. Dazed, she spun around on her heel, to find that Fredrick was not there. But Shosanna was not entirely alone, as she craned her neck to see him at the window of the projection booth, smiling down at her.

The projection booth of Das Kino Haus was roomier than the one Shosanna worked in at Le Gamaar. Though indeed, much like her own, it was homey: there were neatly stacked tins of film and film magazines on the floor, posters and other little notes tacked up on the walls, and in the far left corner was a rather comfortable-looking pile of pillows for the projectionist who had tired of a night's particular showing.

She and Fredrick, in all of their training, remained by the projector, standing side-by-side. Her eyes focused on screen as the Boy was now dangling from the department store building clock-face. Fredrick's interest was not so much on Harold Lloyd's antics as it was on her; watching as she watched the film. Even in the darkness, Shosanna could not be obscured.

"The film was left in the projector," Fredrick quietly explained, "My mum loved Harold Lloyd, as does Helga."

Shosanna turned to him; his eyes were averted to the floor. There was no need for him to say anything further, as it was apparent that though Helga had closed the theater, she was spending time there to cope with her grief over the perceived loss of her brother. To no one specifically, Fredrick then nodded and looked away into the soft, formless dark of the projection booth. Without forethought, Shosanna stepped forward, removing all distance between them and reached out to him, laying her hand upon his cheek. As she touched Fredrick, he touched her, covering her hand with his own.

She watched Fredrick as he watched her; the play of light and shadows upon his features and the ardor she found there. There was an intensity and a fearlessness in his gaze, an unconditional earnestness which would have unnerved her, if not for the fact that the energy of their connection was so overpowering.

It was then that she had thought of the two of them in the projection booth that night and how, in the pitch blackness, he had sought her out in anguish. It was the unbearable frustration, loneliness, and incompleteness between them. The parallels between that night and that moment were not lost on Shosanna, and as Fredrick's eyes searched hers, she knew that he was aware of it, too; that all the two had been able to give of themselves to the other now, neither had been able to give then.

Though there was a warmth and familiarity found between them, all else was far too strange, far too unexpected. There was still more yet that they had to overcome; to share and to feel with each other. But here, now, the two had come far enough with one another - far enough to know just where they stood and what they wanted.

Fredrick removed his hand from hers and using the force of his body, he brought them both to the wall of the projection booth beside the room's entrance, pinning Shosanna against it. His strength was intimidating to her on some levels, but oddly alluring on others. With his eyes looking to her with such a ferociousness and his mouth poised above hers, Shosanna looked up at Fredrick, unable to collect her thoughts. Without pause, he inclined his head to hers, his lips closing over her own with an urgency and a hunger. Shosanna closed her eyes, relaxing into him; if not for his body against hers, she was certain she would sink beneath him. Taking her hand, she brought it lightly to his chest, feeling the hammering of his heart with her fingertips. As if to test Fredrick, she pressed her palm to him, feeling his solidity.

A sound catching in his throat, Fredrick broke the kiss. Pulling back from her, he left Shosanna wide-eyed and tremulous, her lips wet. Reaching up, he caught her face between his palms with surprising gentleness. Fredrick watched her with fascination, his mouth forming into a faint smile and his eyes welling up with an unnameable emotion. His voice was hushed in reverence,

"Du bist zu schön."

Within his effortless declaration, Shosanna found a poignancy. All that Fredrick wanted had always been so straightforward, so resolute: Shosanna. He wanted her. Shosanna knew that he always would; Fredrick would never tire of demonstrating his want and need of her. With Shosanna, came the promise of stability, of normalcy. Fredrick had been, she supposed, naive in his desire for her; contented with the simple notion that if the two of them were able to be together, then it would all fall in line. But he learned - and he learned quickly - just how complicated the fulfillment of that desire could be.

All that there was between Fredrick and Shosanna culminated that night in the projection booth; the fire, the war's end, their death and rebirth. It was the traumas of their pasts and the tenuous precariousness of their future. It was their link; all that they had and all that they were. Natural. Inevitable. Never had that felt more true than now, here in Munich, within the projection booth of his family's theater at this point in their lives when the two needed walls more than ever before.

There was more, perhaps, that he wanted to tell her, but the words were lost in the press of his mouth to hers as he slid his tongue deeply inside. There was no cautiousness now as Fredrick moved his hands down from her face and to her body as a means to anchor himself to her as the fierceness of their union increased. For all of the uncertainty and doubt the two faced, there was no questioning what was held between them. In this moment, Fredrick was giving and taking all he could of Shosanna and she was reciprocating, surrendering; responding to his every touch, his every breath.

She felt as his strong fingers skimmed lightly down the front of her dress, seeking the shape of her small, rounded breasts. He cradled the weight of them in his palms, giving a soft squeeze. He then ran his thumbs over her nipples, bringing them to hardened points, eliciting a shiver from her and a rough sound of approval from him. Her receptiveness only encouraged him more. Fredrick was unrelenting as he continued, trailing heat over Shosanna's body as his hands glided along the inward curves of her waist and further down, kneading over the contours of her hips.

As he roamed his hands over the shape and plane of her body, Fredrick groaned and instinctually, he pushed his hips up against her. Shosanna felt his hands slide heavily behind her, up and over her back and down again, settling on her ass. He then used the intimate grip to urge her against his thighs. She could feel the power and readiness of his body; it was uncontrollable and it was consuming them. Shosanna trembled against him, causing Fredrick to break the kiss and mutter a swear in German against her mouth. He didn't release her; instead, he moved a hand to rest at the small of her back and brought the other up to the side of her face.

There was a satisfaction held within his eyes; a flicker of something that made Shosanna draw in a breath. There was no apprehension, only an unexpected anticipation. Fredrick watched her a moment longer, as if debating his next move. A ghost of a smile played upon his lips as delicately, he stroked his hand over her cheek, brushing the pad of his thumb over her scar. Her eyes fluttering shut, Shosanna released her breath in a ragged exhale, her breasts moving against his chest. Fredrick's voice was a whisper - more words she couldn't comprehend - as he then lowered his head to her neck. Her thoughts were now chaotic, feeling as his mouth, warm and demanding, journeyed over the arc of her throat. Shosanna could feel the pulse of him, of his body; the sheer steadiness of it. Her breathing having grown rough now, she gave a muted cry.

Fredrick's mouth now hovered just above Shosanna's parted lips. Eyes opening, she looked up at him. There was something challenging in his stare; something both at once formidable and thoughtful. He tightened his hold around her, pushing hard against her. Shosanna moaned as she felt the evidence of his arousal, knowing that Fredrick wanted her to be conscious of it. He was harder, harder than he had been a moment before. She quivered beneath him, her body arching into his. Fredrick's hand moved from the side of her face to soothe the back of her neck as he held Shosanna with gentle firmness against his mouth, the slick of his tongue once more sliding over hers; the kiss was no less enthralling or forceful than it had been the first time.

It was within his demonstration of his supreme need for her that Fredrick overwhelmed and claimed her as if by right, the solid warmth of him enveloping her. Though it was certainly not the first time he had held her, it was now something more; his body cloaking hers, his heart against her own. The sensation was captivating. Shosanna could feel it pulsing through her now, and Fredrick undoubtedly sensed it, as he gave a low moan.

The film had ended moments ago, as the two became engulfed with each other. Everything was quiet save for the murmur of their straining bodies; heavy and thick, it weighed down upon them. Both knew that here, in the dark confines of the projection booth, the two could give of one another all that they could not that night. It would've been so simple, to do away with the thin barriers that impeded them and be with one another, entrenched with shadow; the world around them blotted out.

But their endeavor, much like that night, was interrupted. Their orchestra of racing heartbeats and gasping breaths was cut through by the intrusive sound of the presence of another in the theater lobby. Immediately, Fredrick went rigid, opening a space between he and Shosanna. Though he released her, he still stood by, shielding her. All his passions were now set aside as Fredrick had his defenses up. Body tightening, his brows knitted together and he frowned as he listened; in the dim lighting cast by the projector, his expression appeared harsher than it was.

There were footsteps, followed by a muffled voice calling out in German.

Fredrick's jaw clenched. Shosanna could sense his hesitance; he wanted to come bounding out of the booth, but he restrained himself. Running a hand through his hair, Fredrick took in a jagged breath. There was more indistinct German from the lobby, followed by a stretch of silence. Looking to the doorway, he gave an infinitesimal nod of his head; Shosanna could see the wheels turning in his mind. She straightened herself from against the wall, and without giving so much as a glance, Fredrick raised a hand, wordlessly instructing her to stay where she stood. Bracing himself, he took hold of the door's handle, yanking it open and stepping out into the hallway.

Shosanna could hear more movement, then a woman's voice, speaking in German. Holding her breath, she went still, waiting for Fredrick's response. His voice was barely above a whisper,

"Helga."

Hurriedly, Shosanna emerged from the booth to find Fredrick frozen stock-still as he directly faced the woman - Helga, his sister - standing at the bottom of the staircase, eyes fixed on his. She couldn't help but be taken aback by the older woman. Tall and lean, Helga possessed cream colored skin, warm eyes, and soft, youthful features much like Fredrick himself had; as she smiled up at him, it was also evident that quirky mouths and uneven grins were a distinctly Zoller trait. Though the brother and sister clearly had their similarities, Helga's complete femininity and loveliness was more than noticeable, even as she stood before them, clad in a pair of dingy work coveralls and thick-soled boots with her tawny hair piled up and pinned back. She was all at once delicate and resilient; it seemed that such contradictions ran in the family.

A knapsack, which had been slung over Helga's shoulder, now fell to the floor as she hardly made any effort to mind it as her body had gone slack. Eyes wide and face beaming, she looked upon him with dumbstruck awe; it was as if that through her tears, prayers, and whispered pleas to the universe, her brother, the war hero, had been resurrected from the dead. Using the last threads of her resolve, she bounded up the stairs towards him, only for her knees to buckle and give out from under her half-way up. Trembling, Fredrick propelled himself toward her, meeting her where she had stumbled. There, the two embraced in a collapsed heap in a flagrant display of unbridled emotion. Words slurred as their laughter and tears intermingled, as their jubilation and sorrow bled into each other. Such a sight it was, that if anyone were to intrude upon them, the two would appear to be outright hysterical. Shosanna remained where she stood, watching years of separation and anguish unfurl into reconciliation and exhilaration.

Wiping away tears from her eyes with the backs of her hands, Helga spoke to Fredrick in their shared language. She reached out to him, placing her hand beneath his chin, tipping his head back and turning it from side to side as she looked him over. She then spoke more, making a comment which made him laugh. It was a rich, vibrant sound that filled the lobby, amplifying its magnitude; it was a sound, Shosanna realized, she had not heard enough of. The siblings carried on with their exaltation, and though Shosanna could not make entire sense of their words, she shared in their splendor nonetheless. The reunion was, for her, both touching and bittersweet as she called to mind the loss of her family. No matter how far and how long she journeyed, Shosanna could not hope to see them again; not as how Fredrick was able to now hold his sister. Her heart lurched in her chest.

It was as if she had sensed this, for it was then that Helga raised her eyes from behind Fredrick's shoulder to finally take notice of the young woman. Obviously shamed at not having acknowledged her initially, a blush rose to Helga's face. Steadily, she brought herself to her feet, and out of nerviness, she brushed back a loose tendril of hair behind her ear. Helga then smiled, wide and genuine at her. Shosanna stepped forward, though she was uncertain of what do or to say; after all she had learned of Fredrick's oldest sister and his family's theater, she almost felt like an outsider on holy ground. It was ridiculous of her, Shosanna knew, but she had developed an admiration for the woman, even if they had not met until now. Fredrick straightened, and turned to face Shosanna, his features marked with a mix of adoration and excitement.

She now held their full attention.

There was a recognition in Helga's eyes and a familiarity in her voice,

"Emmanuelle Mimieux?"

It was quite plain that her reputation preceded her, even in Munich. Shosanna swallowed, wanting to speak. But Fredrick, in all his sincerity, spoke for her,

"She was."

Helga looked to Fredrick, then back to Shosanna. Her brows meeting, she did not wholly follow. Shosanna now brought herself to the head of the stairs, and boldly, she introduced herself.

"I am Shosanna Dreyfus."

A straightforward pronouncement, it was all she needed to say and all Helga needed to know. She gave a slow nod of her head as steadfastly, she climbed up the rest of the stairs that encompassed the expanse between her and the younger woman. Reaching the top, neither said a word as Helga crushed Shosanna to her. Just as easily as she welcomed her into her arms, Shosanna, too, circled her arms around Helga, accepting the gesture and all that came with it.