***I almost wish I could have told him***

He was going to live but his family was dead.

But the Book Thief remained.

I didn't tell him it wasn't his time.

I had no time for special treatment.

For the longest time, Max Vandenburg thought that the only sensations he would feel would be the crack of a whip, the burn of his lungs in exhaustion, the hollowness of his stomach, and the undefinable smell of death that surrounded him like a familiar woolen cloak. . There was one officer, not much more than a boy who would slip them bits of bread every once in a while. Max prayed that he wouldn't be caught for all their sakes. He thought that the only sounds he would hear would be the harsh words of men both cruel in nature and too afraid to step away from the atrocities for fear of their families alike or the agony of the men that surrounded him. Most cared little for speaking, but some would whisper into his ear, carrying on about their long lost families. But at one point, the sensations shifted and the scenery changed slightly. The camp was quickly overrun, SS officers were killed or fled, but that boy pretending to be a man remained and proved that he was a man, as he stood up straight with his shoulders back despite the uniform he wore and he spoke in halting English.

"Thank God. You must save them."

His hat and his jacket were torn from his shoulders and dropped on the ground before him as he waited for me.

***A Note on Werner Obinger***

This soldier never wanted to be there.

He let them do these horrible things.

He thought it was only fair to meet me now.

Max watched through heavy bleary eyes as the world he had come to accept was turned on its head once more and he hoped that maybe, just maybe, it would be better this time.

***They didn't kill the Nazi boy***

They pitied him enough to let him help.

Later Werner Obinger would learn his street was bombed.

He met me at the bottom of a drink.

This fact no longer held any relevance for Max. He no longer cared for the physical manifestation of the reason he was probably still alive. He only cared for the small amounts of bread and broth the Americans were allowing him to eat, watching him with pitying eyes as he devoured it all without pride. It was only then that he realized he could live. He could possibly live and get out and try to find his family. His poor family that he was forced to abandon for the sake of survival. Those who thought that dying together was better than living apart were who he could seek. He could also find Hans and Rosa, and thank them so much for their care.

Then there was Liesel She was literally the only thing he thought of when he tried to sleep. The little book thief would linger in his thoughts, reading aloud from her stolen books and filling him with a sense of calm that no other thought could provide. His illusions of Liesel would soon morph into delusions and hallucinations as time went on, but as his mind went back to some semblance of normalcy, he no longer thought of the little girl stuck in the time he spent in her basement, but the woman she would almost be becoming by now. She must think he was dead. He had to get better, stand up, and walk back to Himmel Street to see her again. It was a new goal in a steadily growing list.

Max Vandenburg thought that a street called Heaven would be invincible.

They were German civilians.

Himmel Street was supposed to be safe.

Instead, Max wandered through the wreckage that still remained two years after the bombing. They were all dead two years and he hadn't even felt it. He doubted he would have had the energy to care at the time even if he knew.

***That was a lie***

"Excuse me, can I help you?" A weary looking man with hair like dishwater asked.

"This is…all gone." It was all Max could express. How could he explain to this complete stranger that his hope for at least one aspect of his life to be intact had just been shattered completely? How could he explain how the will to live practically seeped from him the moment he realized he would never see his little Word Shaker all grown up? Years at The man seemed to take pity on him, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"It was a misread on a map. The sirens didn't go off. Everyone died except for one girl. I think she was fourteen or so—" In that moment, Max dared to hope. Two years ago, Liesel would have been around that age. "—She was in the basement writing something. I drug her out myself."

"Liesel?" The name slipped through Max's lips before the other man could go on.

"Yes…" The stranger looked at him curiously, "Do you know her?"

"S-she's my niece." Max lied halfheartedly, "Where is she?"

The man shrugged, his disbelief obvious and his apathy more so."I don't know where she went."

Liesel was alive. That was something to cling to, that was a small bit of hope he had even if he had absolutely no clue where she was. She was alive and she was able to grow up. No doubt she would be a beautiful girl almost a woman by now. She had the makings of a very pretty creature when he last saw her, a fledging with dangerous eyes. Intelligent eyes.

***Intelligent eyes are always dangerous***

After learning that Liesel was alive and there was a chance that he could have some scrap of something resembling a family, Max decided he would see her. While others were searching desperately for their lost family members or trying to get healthy and a job to work and survive so that eventually they might live again, a Jew was searching for a German. It was a laughable concept really. Many would think that he would regard Germans with hatred, even those brave souls that hid him in their basement but he felt no such resentment. He felt pity for these souls, so easily led in their fear. Hans Rosa and Liesel (especially Liesel) were so brave. Even in her youth, Liesel knew the importance of keeping him a secret, she knew that the Fuhrer was a figure to be feared and hated, not idolized, and she understood the power knowledge had.

Max went through the town asking around before he was led to Herr Steiner's Tailor Shop. Apparently, even in times of crisis, even as the Americans troops overran the town, people still wanted suits. It felt as if he were starving all over again, and a small bit of bread was rolling around his stomach and making him nauseous as he stood in front of the shop. There was no way he would ever look like a customer. In fact, he knew for certain that the moment he walked in, Alex Steiner would see a run down and haggard looking Jew. He would see a man that looked much older than he actually was, who had been beaten down and starved but not killed. Without thinking about it any longer, he pushed open the door and walked in.

Before he could even finish his inquiry Liesel flew out and into his arms, much to the surprise of Herr Steiner.

They both cried. He littered her face with kisses and found that their knees could no longer support them and they both ended up on the ground, crying and reveling in the fact that the other was alive. He was invited to a tense and silent dinner with Ilsa and her husband, both former Nazi sympathizers as far as Max was concerned. Liesel would later refer him the words that Ilsa Herrmann confided in her one evening in the library.

***I hate the Fuhrer too***

He still felt uncomfortable living in the home of the Bürgermeister, Ilsa insisted adamantly on Liesel's behalf that there was no need to spend the tiniest bit of money he had on a room for the night. Liesel hadn't said a word the entire time. It felt as if the words had been shaken right out of the Word Shaker. Max so wanted them back, especially as he laid on a bed far too comfortable for a coward like him and stared up at the ceiling wondering what she was doing. He wanted to hear new words from her, wanted a sign that her obsession continued because that girl had a real talent for plucking them from the air and forming silken lace. Max wandered to the library and low and behold, Liesel was there, still dressed in clothing finer than anything that she wore on Himmel Street, her hair still swept up into a bun, and the only thing familiar was the book in her hands. Liesel was foreign and alien now, but still the same.

"Liesel." The name still felt like clay on his tongue.

She looked up at him, not remotely startled, "Nightmares Max?"

***What Max did next***

He shook his head.

He didn't bother telling her that he'd have to sleep first for nightmares to come.

A/N. Thinking about continuing this. Tell me what you think and I might!