A/N: A small piece that grew. The '-0-' signifies anything from three minutes to three months to avoid confusion. Don't ask me, it just seemed to fit like this in my mind. Shoddy pacing/progression is totally my fault. Tell me how I did, please!

-0-

Es gibt ein Haus in Neu-Berlin,

man nennt es Haus Abendrot.

Es war der Ruin vieler guter Jungs,

von mir, mein Gott lebt ich not.

Hätt ich meinem Anführer zugehört

Ich wäre heute Daheim

war jung und dumm

war ein armer Jung

auf dem Abweg geführt und gemein.

-0-

The patrol route was nice. Routine and calming. It took Eckhart along the park, where he could stroll through the park, enjoying the sight of nature. He'd even made a friend, a small squirrel that went by the name of Kaiser Wilheim.

He liked field rations.

The patrol took him past the café where the kommandant liked to stay for hamburgers. He'd caught her every now and again, once with her mouth half stuffed and a smidgen of sauce on her lips. She had looked like Kaiser Wilheim... until she'd glared at him.

The route took him up past the primary school, where the kids would either be fascinated by the mask or the Buzzsaw, or fearful of his admittedly very intimidating look. He didn't mind. He was there to protect the little tykes, not to be adored. He always kept an eye out for suspicious activity around there.

It took him around and past the bar, a roudy and messy place where men and women went to cool off.

There where a few squadmates that he knew who went there on off days. It was even then, half reconnaissance, half pleasure. The uniform never really left you. You where as much the facade as it was a part of you.

Sometimes you could spot off duty Werhmacht. They had a certain sway of their chest. The shift of their eyes. People tended to get out of their way even if they weren't sure why. Subliminal even. That and they would look you in the eye as you strolled past. Some even nodded ever so slightly if you where looking.

Eckhart's boots stopped. His helmet turned, mask husky and low. A normal, uneventful day was to take a turn for the interesting. A woman, blonde hair and prim features, was about to be mugged. Two males, one Caucasian and the other Black, who where chatting 'casually' at the mouth of an alleyway. One had a knife tucked into his belt within easy reach of his hands that was just visible to Eckhart's optics. Reinforcement struts whined as his hands clenched. The Buzzsaw wasn't exactly necessary here. He had his fists and his nightstick that doubled as a bipod. His stance went 'see-me-not' and he put himself out of the way. His drab, near black uniform melding with the city seemingly at will. He moved closer. They had 'incidentally' stepped out as the woman began to pass. A few words muttered too low for Eckhart to make out and suddenly all three where in the alley.

He was not far behind.

"Easy does it. Just give us what we want real calm like. No one gets hurt here, we just all need to make a livin'." The black was calm, at ease even. The white was holding the wicked looking knife in a vaguely threatening manner.

"T'is hardly a living if it is plied out of ze good working volk, no?" Everyone in the alley stiffens. The voice was low, sweet and muffled in the worst possible way.

The man with the knife gets a nightstick to the wrist. The crunch of bone audible over the meaty thwack. Its followed by Eckhart scooping up the knife and with a quick flick and massive heave, sends it whistling into the running mugger's calf. He stumbles.

"Excuse me, Fraulein, let me round up these swine. Are you hurt?"

"N...no, I'm... I'm fine." Her voice is shaky. Equal parts from the mugging and his attention. Eckhart wasn't unawares of his affect on people.

"Excellent." He was further silent as he grabbed the black and hauled him effortlessly to his feet. He clicked his radio.

"Echo to Vandire, Cougar to Friday and Main Drive road for pickup of two muggers." His voice was insidious. He had no love for those who couldn't do honest work.

"Confirmed, Eckkie, dispached." He didn't respond further, he turned to the woman who was clutching her handbag nervously. She gave him a hopeful smile as he cuffed the two men.

"Can... can I have your name, sir?" She looked into a completely unflinching combination of gas mask and helmet as he stood. The only way she knew he was human was the voice that filtered through. Even then it was a maybe.

"Why would such a pretty Fraulein need this soldiers name, hmm?" Eckhart had his suspicions. She didn't look searching, merely thankful. And scared. His eyes flashed to the two men now lined up on the pavement, they looked uninterested, hateful even.

"I would like to thank you. Its a small thing, but inconsequential. May I leave, sir? Or do you need a statement?" The mask was impassive. A slow rasp of exhaling air. She began fidgeting.

"No. No statement is required, I saw it happen. Name, ID, then run along, Fraulein, go about your business..."

"Tabitha Hichen, sir." The woman supplied a standard ID, no signs of fakery and matching out with her own appearance, gave him a moment and then started to walk off.

"Eckhart. Michael Eckhart." The woman catches herself, turns and smiles at him. Genuine teeth-flashing. It was a novel experience, not having happened since... Eckhart thought. Since his mother had wished him luck many years ago as he turned eighteen and signed up for the military.

She left and something finally caught up with him as he watched her disappear. There was the odd spectator, peeking from windows and doorframes. He adjusted the Buzzsaw on his back and looked down at the two muggers.

"Gentlemen, I believe you have made a big mistake. Bigger zan you think." He was met with groans and an expletive or three. He was silent further. He could be oddly oblivious sometimes.

The Cougar finally pulled around and the two muggers where all but lifted bodily and thrown into the depths of the armoured truck.

-0-

The day after, Eckhart checked himself over before the morning inspection. His uniform was crisp, his weapon was absolutely gleaming in a dull, polished-from-use kind of way. His coat had not a speck of dirt, his lenses where polished to a gleam and he had a new filter on. It smelt feintly of kiwi-fruit. Then the siren sounded and he made his way down to muster.

The kommandant was there, next to the captain, and she did not look pleased. The captain made his rounds easily enough, his rotary-carbine clacking faithfully against his lower back armour. Simon had a dirty MG42 again, making it the third time this week. The man couldn't for the life of him keep his gun clean. The captain audibly sighed then continued on his way.

"A'ight, Eckhart, what did you do?" Eckhart stepped forwards a neat step.

"The kommandant here wants to... speak to you. Follow her, don't do anything rash." The captain turned back to the absolutely silent lines.

"You fucks better stop smiling or I will feed you your balls." The line jerks just that much straighter.

-0-

"Tell me about yesterday." Eckhart was standing in the Kommandant's office at crisp attention.

"The mugging, sir?" His voice sounded decidedly hollow in the confines of the office.

"Yes, the mugging." Delivered in a tone that implied 'flaying alive'.

"Not much to tell, sir. Routine patrol, spotted a pair of men, the two in my report, about to mug a woman. I stayed out of sight until the mugging was in progress to detain the pair. Routine mop up, nothing messy, and the woman didn't seem traumatised."

Silence.

"Thats it?"

"Like I said. Routine, sir."

"No looking at photographs, no coordinated moves, checking of watches, nothing?" Eckhart had a smart moment.

"Nothing to imply they knew who their victim was, no." The woman frowns.

"I see. Did you know who she was, Eckhart?"

"Not until her ID, sir."

"Truly?"

"Yes, Kommandant Amielia."

"This is both a relief and a disappointment." Eckhart kept silent. It stretched out as the woman played with her light hair and tapped on her desk, clearly thinking of something. As Eckhart was about to snap and ask if he could leave to join his squad, her stomach rumbled. Eckhart's mouth was half open about joining his squad, his mind half full about her and food.

"Could I join you for burgers?"

The silence was truly immense. Eckhart was mentally turning into something resembling a puddle and sounding feintly of profuse apologies.

"What?"

"What?"

It was now a yawning abyss of silence. It ate at reality, sitting smugly at the edge of the conversation with the feint air of someone too pleased with itself. Amielia blinked slowly. Probably also trying to get the silence out of her sight.

"Unterfeldwebel. Did I hear you correctly?"

"Yes?" The tint made Eckhart's voice sound magnitudes more sure of itself. Her hand slid off the table slowly. Eckhart braced, preparing for her Luger to be pulled on him.

"That you wanted to join me for lunch? Like a date?"

"Yes. No. Shit. I mean, not that I wouldn't date you... I mean..." Eckhart trailed off into nothingness as the silence had gained sentience and was now propagating. Like rabbits. Little silence rabbits ran around the desk between the two figures.

"This is clearly not your day." Amielia finally said. It hit him that her Luger would do absolutely nothing to him. He overlooked the most obvious things sometimes.

"No sir. That was a mess, sir."

"You don't say. You look more intimidating strolling through a park than..." She trails off as well. The silence had now become a minor god and was amassing a following on the Kommandant's desk. They had little awkward flags and everything.

"I am unsure if I want to shoot you or not."

"It won't do much either way, sir." The kommandant laughed. An actual genuine laugh that ended with a small giggle at the end. Somewhere, out beyond the walls of the Kommandant's office, small children where suddenly struck with debilitating nightmares and coughing fits.

"This is now the most weirdest conversation I've ever had. Bar none."

-0-

"Eckhart! Gilford! You're accompanying the kommandant. This is a hotspot, expect anything!"

-0-

Molotovs shattered. The droning buzz of an MG42. In the distance, a Triple-two let loose with its cannon.

"So tell me, Mr. Bowden, where I can find the people that see firebombing a school to kill my superior as perfectly acceptable." Eckhart was monolithic just off her left shoulder. His Buzzsaw was still smoking slightly, the drum magazine half empty. He stared down the whimpering man, both knees a pulpy mess.

"Fuck you, ye kraut bitch." Eckhart saw the movement, a flickering in his peripheral. His hand moved, clawing the kommandant back and covering her surprised and somewhat outraged self just as a Thompson went off. Eckhart staggered under the blows, but stayed standing. As the sound stopped, he half turned and let loose with his own volley. If the Thompson was a pitter-patter chatter, the Buzzsaw was a high pitched, rapidly gibbering scream.

Demonic even.

The stocky lady holding the weapon gets torn in two, rounds turning her midriff to red mist and her spine into splinters. He steps forward and clips the man accompanying her as he readies his own weapon. The door off to the left shatters and more troops barge through.

"Hold your fire, I need prisoners!" Amielia's voice is krupp steel. Her eyes are stuck on Eckhart's back, ripped and dented.

-0-

"Amielia! You look like you've been in the wars!" Eckhart tilts his head ever so slightly to bring the speaker into his field of vision. Its the woman he saved from a mugging. She obviously doesn't recognise him, but sends him a shy acknowledgement in any case. Better than ninety nine percent of the population by far.

"I have been. It looks worse than it is thought, Mike here keeps the worst of it for himself." She motions to the tall soldier off her shoulder.

"It is good to see you again, Fraulein." Tabitha gasps.

"Its you!" She turns to Amielia. "I told you he was super polite!" Eckhart turns and catches the split second guilty look on the Kommandant's face.

"He can be... sometimes. Most of the time he's making a fool of himself." Tabitha gives Eckhart's intimidating visage a narrowed eye'd glare.

"Are you treating my sister properly?"

"Always, Fraulein. She is admittedly hard to keep out of trouble. It seems to run in the family." The mask makes the insinuation seem like a dire threat.

"She is, isn't she? How have you been, sis? I saw the fighting going on in the countryside..." Eckhart simply fell in lockstep behind the women, keeping an eye out for anyone snooping. There was a woman two buildings down that looked suspicious, throwing the trio looks every few minutes.

"Eckhart?"

"Yes, sir?"

"What do you see?" His helmet tilted ever so slightly.

"Trouble. I advise leaving the streets."

"Leave the... why?" Tabitha was innocently clueless. Eckhart couldn't see how the two women could possibly be related. At all.

"Snipers, car bombs, gas, firebombs, driveby... there is many ways to attack a patrolling Werhmacht soldier and a commanding officer." Eckhart supplied. His voice had gone hard and the safety on his MG42 clicked off ominously.

"Please, ladies, let us vacate this street, if not the area."

-0-

"I need a personal guard, captain. Having thwarted no less than four attempts on my life to date, I see the advantage of having one of your brave soldiers at my side..." The captain doesn't sigh, but its a near thing.

"Eckhart, I have no idea what you get up to on patrol, but I'm now convinced I don't want to know." He motions and the man in question steps forward, helmet sporting a silvery line tracing the tale of a sniper's attempt to kill the man.

"Nothing special, captain."

-0-

"How do you like my office?"

"Fear inducing, sir."

"A shame. You'll be seeing a lot more of it."

"A tragedy, sir."

-0-

"Eckhart?"

"Sir?"

"Why is my desk moved?"

"Snipers, sir." The woman turned to him as he sat cleaning his machine gun on a cloth laid out over his little desk. Her silver-blue eyes quirked.

"The windows are bullet proof." A firing pin hovers over the firing mechanism, loitering in a confused manner as Eckhart's visage turns to eye the window.

"I apologise, I will enquire for further details from now on." The kommandant sits at her desk, feeling out the new position.

"I like it. It feels defensible even." She eyes his own desk, the armoured back of his chair and how she knows it turns into a full on riot shield too heavy for her to lift at a moments notice.

"Strategically placed." The man looks up. At least, thats how she takes the tilting up of the helmet and glare of the eyepieces. It looks like a promise of broken bones.

"Your desk. A shame I don't wear skirts, isn't it?"

"Sir?" The confusion is clear even past the hiss of the filters. She unfolds her legs tantalisingly, then re-crosses them with the opposite leg on top. Eckhart is very, very still.

"I assure you, si-"

"Oh, shut up."

-0-

"Eckhart! When did you say support is incoming?" It is screamed into his ear. He can barely hear it anyway. The Buzzsaw barks, green tracer flying down the street to trail across the insurrectionists' hurried barricade. A man goes tumbling, clutching his midriff. He holds out a hand, all five fingers held out.

"Five minutes? I need them here now!" Eckhart sighs, overpressure making a jet of steam leak from his mask ominously.

"Kilo Echo lead to base, what is the status of those reinforcements?" He loads a belt of ammo into the feed this time round.

"Kilo Echo, we just got through to the Luftwaffe, expect them any moment." Eckhart nods, then catches himself.

"Confirmed, sitrep to follow soon." He tapped Amielia on the shoulder then held a finger up.

"One minute?" He motions it upwards. Her head follows to see a Heinkel bank around the hotel and open up with its cannon. Ropes tumble and quick response marines abseil out of the hovering chopper. The crack of MP44 joins his own buzzing cry. He gets out of cover and draws fire to himself to help the marines. The bark of the Luger is almost drowned out by the rolling explosion of gunfire as Eckhart and the marines advance.

-0-

Her death's head cap has a hole in it. This little fact enraptures him as they get flown out of the hot zone. The Werhmacht had rolled in, their panzers and armoured cars dealing with the fighting better than the marines had. There is a hole in her cap, offset slightly to the right. It looks as if the Eagle on her crest is shunning the fact that anything dared to come close to killing it's wearer. Her head rests on his shoulder and she is still holding the Luger.

"You where brave out there." The marines agreed. They had cheered as the armoured division member had supported and fronted their assaults and defenses. His armour was scattered with little galaxies of bullet marks. His coat was in ruins.

They had made him an honorary marine, grabbing him bodily and piling on top of him to the point where even his advanced strength couldn't cope. Amielia had simply stood to the side as they pressed fallschirmjaeger wings into his helmet and pushed him out of the helicopter.

-0-

Eckhart was watching Amielia carefully. His helmet was canted downwards to appear if he was inspecting a report on supposed patterns in the last few riots. His eyes where glued firmly to the kommandant as she worried over a report herself. She would eye the report, then shoot him a secretive glance. Read the report, eye him, repeat.

"What is the problem, kommandant?" Her eyes widened slightly at being caught.

"I am busy following a suspected member of these American freedom fighters. I need to go plainclothes but need a date... what normal clothes do you possess? Do you even wear such things?" Eckhart's mask turned to her fully to pin her with a wide-lensed stare.

"I do. Formal, semi-formal, white-collar or business-casual?" The kommandant blinks.

"There is a difference?"

"Yes sir. It is subtle."

"I see. It is 'formal', apparently. You have formal?" Eckhart gives a small nod.

"Yessir. Let me first not that the superior officer asked for the date first." She throws a fountain pen at him.

-0-

"Mein gott, you clean up well." Eckhart swivels in place and barely holds back a salute. His jaw nearly hits the floor. Amielia is dressed as advised, neatly and in a satin black sleeveless dress. Her hair is done up. She even has an earring in, glittering wondrously against her smooth skin. Her dress accentuates her figure. She even has cleavage. His superior officer, Kommandant Amielia Hichen has cleavage.

She is, in turn, eyeing her partner. Eckhart has a tailored outfit, cut well to suite his build and flaunt his expanse of shoulder. His dirty blond hair is gelled and his jaw is clean. Amielia eyes her... accompaniment. Date for the night. Guardian. Whatever. He has a feint scar at the edge of his top lip making it seem as if he was permanently smirking. His face looked hawkish and handsome.

"Are you the model all those advertising companies use to draw their Aryans from, Herr Eckhart?" She has to ask. He smirks for real, the scar making it outrageously exaggerated.

"And what if I was?"

"Don't lie, Eckhart. Never lie to your superior."

"Ah, but dates are another matter, Fraulein. We men must impress the pretty ladies with our heroics and fame."

"I think I prefer you in your armour, Michael."

"Ah, my poor heart. Cut to the bone." Amielia has a Benz, fancy, sleek and hiding bulletproof armour, and the ride is as per normal with Eckhart falling silent.

"I didn't take you for a man of such culture, to be honest." Eckhart turns and watches Amielia drive.

"Because I am a 'mere' feldwebel?" She nods.

"I mean, not to insult, but I expected someone a bit more... rough."

"Just because I know how to dress means I am not... rough, as you say?"

"I wouldn't know. The armour hides a lot."

"The armour becomes a lot." They drive further in silence, absorbing each others words.

-0-

"That was... unexpected." Eckhart frowns down at his shirt, his jacket buttons ripped long ago, and eyed the bloodstains with clear disgust.

"I am glad you played along."

"It was more shock than anything. Is the accent real?" Eckhart raises a brow and tilts his head upwards in a move very reminiscent of him in armour.

"Is it real? No. I am probably more German than you, dear Fraulein."

"I doubt that."

"My father met wiz ze Feuher in person. Shook 'iz hand. We even have a framed picture. Taken upon ze bradenburge tor during a particularly rousing speech." Her mouth opens. Closes. The accent was so thick she doubted it could even be faked. She turns away and inspects the bodies.

"This shirt is ruined." Her eyebrows shoot up.

"You are complaining about a shirt? I've seen you absolutely bathed in blood, what is the problem now?"

"This shirt won't wash out. At least it doesn't show on your dress." She looks down. Blood spatter runs up her right arm like tiger stripes and a few drops run down the valley on her chest. She flips the Luger and hands it back to Eckhart. It gets pocketed in his jacket smoothly.

"Kommandant! Are you hurt?" A field medic makes his way over the bodies to the pair.

"No, I am perfectly fine. A bit peeved at the way things turned out, but fine all the same." The man's features are skeptic below his helmet, nervously playing with his lapel.

"Yes ma'am. Captain Steldt was asking for you up front, Ma'am." She nods and shooting Eckhart a quick look, they get up and make their way to the door.

The street is in chaos. Two Pumas, a Triple-two, a Cougar and a Panther II fill the road. The 'whap whap whap' of a trio of Heinkel H-5 carries over the scene and spotlights stab down from the heavens.

"Kommandant!" They turn and Captain Steldt is waiting besides the Panther, almost as imposing as the tank.

"Captain. What is the meaning of this? Why did this raid take place?"

"Tips as well as our own observers pinned this gathering. Standard procedure." Amielia fumes.

"What was the Kommandant doing there?" Eckhart and Amielia explain how they had been undercover, his American accent and quick cover story, how they had been herded with the rest of the guests when the raid had started, how they had slipped away, killed a freedom fighter and had attacked the defense from the inside. Yes, almost everyone there was a sympathiser, no they where not off duty, yes the report had been filed before, yes they where sure...

-0-

Amielia wore a skirt with her usual uniform the next day and Eckhart had nearly put his gun back together the wrong way round.

She had smirked and crossed her legs while reading a report on the previous night's fiasco.

-0-

"Are we in a relationship?" Eckhart jerked and dropped his pen, spilling ink over the not-yet-signed paperwork. The night was crisp and silent. Calm even. Both where pulling extra hours, on the tail of a minor bootleg arms dealer. She'd undone her collar, tie and a button. He'd removed his mask and helmet, standing on his desk, ever patient. She was leaning on her fist, propped up on her desk. He ignored the spill. And the fact that he could technically see her bra.

"Why would you think that? Isn't it against regulations?"

"Well we take each other out on dates, go on walks... we basically live with each other. I mean if I know your couch sleeps better than mine, and my sister thinks we're all but engaged, surely its something?" He wants to deny it... just for propriety's sake, but can't.

"We know each other's favourite foods." She adds. He gives her a 'not helping' look.

"Do you... would you want to officially be in a relationship with me? We do not have the best line of work for that sort of thing." She smirks. Her work smirk. The one that makes everyone from a private to a major start to sweat and cracks some prisoners without even the mention of bodily harm...

"I wouldn't be... adverse to the idea."

-0-

Eckhart wondered what he had got himself into. Amielia didn't act any differently, per se. She didn't become mushy or feelsy. No 'my sweet's or 'darlings', except maybe to tease or gloat. She didn't start wearing lipstick or makeup, didn't do up her hair... she didn't kiss him or hold his hand. At least... not in public. She had now gained the habit of stripping to nothing but a shirt and her underwear when they where in each others apartments, working on cases or simply not having the energy to make it back home.

He had nearly had a heart attack when she did it the first time.

'It was comfortable.'

Her smile had confirmed his face had looked like he thought it did. Niether slept on the couches anymore. There had been a few cases before where they hadn't, but that was usually from pure exhaustion.

Now he woke to her alarm clock, incessant and loud, and her, snoozing peacefully besides him. Sometimes she'd be awake, staring at him with a calm expression. Other times he'd play with her hair in a small fit of insanity. Apparently she liked it. She'd asked him to do it the other day, working late again to set up a massive snatch operation.

Now she crossed and uncrossed her legs more often, giving his unreadable face small smirks. Once, an auxiliary Unterfeldwebel was delivering a report, skinny and lanky and standing right before her desk, she had simply spread her legs, skirt riding all the way up her thighs. Eckhart had choked, letting out a small spurt of steam. The auxiliary had faltered, scared out of his mind at the ominous noises and sight behind him, completely unawares. Then the moment was gone and her skirt was straightened and they where alone.

"You tease."

"You can't take a hint."

Eckhart was silent for the rest of the day.

-0-

She was soft.

In every sense of the term.

Eckhart thought it was a massive juxtaposition against her icy demeanour and brutal line of work. All finty words and barking orders during the day. Yet as she sat straddling his lap after a long day, after washing blood out of her hair and out from inder her fingernails, she was soft sighs and silky skin. her lips would whisper soft pleas directly into the shell of his ear and ignite so much fire with the embers that was his desire. Her fingers would dance up his chest, running along feint scars, dragging up the twisting heat that lay in wait in his veins. He would kiss her neck, making her hum and giggle softly in pleasure. He would scrap his teeth along her perfect, marble skin and she would gasp. Her lines where so soft. Feminine beyond any sort of doubt, yet as his hands ran along her arms, he could feel the sinuous muscle beneath. Running along the top of her breasts, tracing light kisses, he could hear her heart beat. Strong and wild and fast... like the chuckle of a Buzzsaw.

She was soft, legs shaped by some forgotten god of sensual plesure. Her voice would cast itself lower, huskier as the wetness seeping into his own crotch increased. Her hands where soft, featherlight as they traced the lines of his abdominals and lower...

So very, very soft even as she took him captive, sitting atop him and spiking the burning desire throughout his body.

Her eyes held him down.

Some say eyes go misty with lust... smoky with desire... hazy with passion, even... Amielia's eyes where sharp. Oh so very sharp. They pinned him down even as her hand ran up his length and his muscles failed in ecstatic jolts of plesure. They took in every twitch, every nuance of plesure from his face.

Her body was soft but her eyes? They where surgeon scalpels and mica shards.

Her hand palmed his tip, pulling a strangled groan from Eckhart before his hands returned to her body. They removed her shirt, her bra... she sat all but naked upon him and he couldn't help but wonder where his life started going right. He played her like an artist, painting in the new heights of her desire. She sat upon him, a queen on her throne as she simply enjoyed the hot, sensual feeling of him in her hands and she in his until she couldn't take it. She lifted her self off to slip her panties down and Eckhart rid himself of his pants in a fluid motion. Her heat pressed against his. Reality bent at the edges at her small keening gasp as she ran herself along his length instinctively. His fingers extrapolated upon what his length had first begun. Trawling up a whirlwind of sensation as they made their way over her chest. Playing with her peaked nipple brought a whining sigh to his ear. Her fingers dug into his shoulder and squeezed around him ever so slightly, sending his thoughts spiralling away in a haze of plesure.

She had whispered something into his ear. It was low and husky and spoke not to him, but to his desire... it answered for him, anyway. She lifted herself for a spit second and slid down cleanly, tipping both off the edge of sanity with naught but each other to cling to. Reality occurred later, when the delicious friction of her sliding back and forth testingly made his hands clench instinctively over her chest, digits digging into her supple flesh.

She had made a tortured gasp that shot straight through the haze of plesure like a Luger going off in a buzzing crowd. He had smirked at the dawning horror/glee in her eyes. He'd slid his hands off her chest and to her hips, pulling her up slowly, drawing out the white hot lances of plesure that made her close her eyes in bliss...

To slam her down with all his considerable strength. The look on her face burned itself into his retina. A face of pure rapture. Seeing stars lightmoments hence and as far away as the distance of his length inside her, igniting the fires that would burn supernova-like up her spine and force a beautiful, sharp and absolutely lascivious scream from her lips. He did it again. It was an addicting sound.

Her hands clenched hard along his back, red crescents arced perfectly to the tune of her want...

She begged.

He gave.

It was poetry in motion, spoke in the lines of their intertwined bodies, punctuated by her screams. They ended on the bed, there was no moment between. The wet, churning sounds of him inside her likened to angel trumpets as bliss, white and static and beautiful, found itself deep inside her, making her back arch. His breath was hot against her throat, hands clenching her hips, imprinting themselves deep onto her soul...

The flickering, sparkling magic within her abdomen tightened, running along her lungs and making her screams turn to gasps turn to hurried pants turn to locked legs around his back and 'pleaseohmygodplease'...

Again, she relied upon the steel clad riddle in her life and he delivered with a rough thrust that sent her mind into orbit, and her back burning along the bed in friction.

She came. A moment of silence as her body simply shut down, savoring the pure plesure that made her contort and shiver against his heat.

His eyes where bright, like the glare of the eyepieces of his mask, as she watched him finish. She smirked, a promise of pain and death and misery. Maybe there was softness to her, but it was to be found on the outside. He wouldn't have it any other way. Her eyes, silver in the aftermath of her orgasm, demanded more. He obliged, not one to disappoint.

-0-

"Eckhart." The glare slides from the subaltern before his desk to her as she walks into her office.

"I have the urge for a walk." The man before Eckhart is caught between a rock and a hard place.

"Walk with me." Eckhart looks down to the man... boy even. The helmet looks slightly too big for him.

"Leave it on my desk. I will look over it later." It sounds like a death threat. For later.

The walk is silent for a long while, merely strolling through the city, watching the people go about their day, watching people live their lives. Its quite peaceful.

They reach a door and she stops. She has that grin on her face. Eckhart un-shoulders the MG42 and cocks the weapon instinctively. He almost wants to radio in for backup.

"The door, Michael." His boot turns the area around the lock to matchwood and scrap metal. The door unhinges itself as it crashes against the wall at the end of its swing.

"Greetings, citizens! Your friendly neighbourhood Gestapo search! Identification documents please. The door comes out of our own paychecks." Her smile is offset by the utter imposing figure of Eckhart holding his machine gun at the ready. He huffs a laugh. Overpressure steams out with a dangerous, insidious hiss.

One of the two women openly staring at the pair feints outright.

"Clem!"

-0-

It was Saturday. The sun was high and the heat was unbearable. At least, to the common man. Amielia was basically dying, fitfully complaining at her desk. Her coat was decorating the back of her chair. Her uniform was unbuttoned and her sleeves rolled up with mathematical precision. She was still dying.

"How in gods name are you unaffected?" Eckhart was as dressed as normal. Trench coat, jacket, armour, mask, helmet, everything. He looked up from his report at her horror filled eyes. There was more horror in those eyes right now than when she had to look at the charred husks of what used to be a primary school.

He didn't have the heart to tell her the armour and reinforcement system had its own atmospheric system.

He hissed a bit of overpressure and looked up at her.

"This is nothing to the middle eastern campaigns." Understanding dawns.

"In... your armour?"

"Yes. And in tanks. Even hotter." She huffs.

"There's only so many layers I can remove..." Eckhart's senses, honed by the fiery hell of war and urban combat, scream and he stiffens.

"...without anyone noticing." Her eyes are ice blue as she looks him in the eye. Her hands slide down. He turns and looks at the door. Its closed. Back to her, magnetic. Her hands pull up her skirt. He gulps. She's wearing red. They make their way down her legs, over her boots and soon she's sitting back, legs spread leisurely baring her clean center to him.

"Catch." He does.

"What am I meant to do with it?"

"Keep it for me. You have pockets." Its slightly wet and he doesn't exactly need to think about this at the moment.

A knock at the door. Her skirt straightens, legs fold at the ankle and he pockets her panties.

"Yes." It has a certain peeved bite to it. It was probably the heat.

"Ma'am. The analysis you wanted on the Luftwaffe's participation in BlitzOp raids."

"Good, good. Leave it on Eckhart's desk, I have work to do." The man leaves and Amielia sighs, flipping through a report.

"What does the Luftwaffe analysis say?"

"I have your parties in my pocket." She looks up. He's looking directly at her. The eyepieces are wide in shock. Maybe it was simply her imagining it.

"Yes. Yes you do. Here's the proof." She opens her legs for him, long, sculpted legs leading up to a dripping-

Her legs fold gracefully.

"The report, Feldwebel."

"Sir." He stares at it. The words don't seem to make sense. Written in Russian, it must be. A long moment.

She sighs and gets up, stalking over to his desk. Even sitting he still takes her up to her collar bone.

"Here, shift up, let me sit... oh wow you're cold." Her hands fumbling with his armour to get at the flesh below is the most erotic thing he's ever felt.

-0-

"Contact! Second story, red brick and neon sign!"

"We need support! Mechanised Patrol seven has been ambushed on Fifth avenue!"

"There! Heavy weapon on the roof to our seven o' clock!"

"This is Kölberjack one five, air support inbound."

"Captain Steldt! Cover the convoy, I want this mess delt with!"

"Kommandant, we have the one oh fourth heavy mechanised en route!"

"Someone tell me how this entire town managed to simply up and revolt!"

"This is Kölberjack, advise pulling back to the main road or clean out of the town."

"You heard the man! Captain Steldt, cover the marines, all armour, pull back onto the main road."

"Holy shit!"

"Fucking wow! Look at that!"

"Fuck yeah, that's our Square force!"

"...Who said that?"

"Contact! Köning Actual under heavy fire."

-0-

"You look terrible." Eckhart looks up from his couch at his girlfriend. She hangs her coat and gives him a worried look.

"A heavy machinegun emplacement got the drop on me." His voice is terse.

"You look great then. No wonder you where so moody today." He'd been in pain all day, nursing massive swathes of angry, deep purple bruises all along his ribs and back. No broken bones, thankfully... but that just meant he was told to walk it off, he was a semi enhanced human for god sake, he could deal with a bruise. His commanding officer had told him to take his sour attitude home not halfway through the morning.

She caught sight of his back.

"Fuck, nevermind you look like you took on a Tiger." A worried silence. Breathing hurt like a bitch. "How can I help?" She sat next to the couch, hair falling curtain-like around her face.

"I dunno'... its too sore for anything." Her hand lands on the small of his back softly, hardly even there. It ghosts from side to side, sending rippling shivers up his back. Her nails dust past his spine, sending a tingling shock up past his ribs and gets caught up somewhere amidst his lungs. He breaths out slowly.

"For someone who likes it rough, you sure are gentle." She lays her lips on his back, just below the lowest bruise. He can feel her breath, her smile as her lips brush along his skin, he can feel her close and warm. Sinking feeling past his skin to the emotion below.

"This isn't me trying to get off, this is me trying to comfort you. I don't have to do this..."

"It's nice."

"You're welcome."

-0-

"Michael?"

"Amielia?"

"What was that?"

"An arrow, tried to go through our balcony window. It has a note."

"Oh. What does it say?"

"Usual death threats. Some extortion... there's even one here saying if you want to see your sister again, you'll meet at yadda yadda at yay time..." Amielia rolls over, eyeing Eckhart standing in the doorway, reading the note with the moonlight. His hair was a mess, his legs and core powerful but slack with sleep. Her insides churned.

"Come back to bed, we'll deal with it in the morning..." He passes the phone to her.

"Phone precinct and bait your sister."

"Its three in the morning, Eckhart."

"Its your sister."

"The sex better be absolutely mind blowing." She snarled as she snatched the phone and dialed the precinct. Eckhart wasted no time in paying attention to her chest the moment the sheet slid down her body.

"Yessir. Mind blowing, sir."

-0-

"Do you think we're happy people?" Eckhart stops slipping seven point nine millimetre rounds into a drum magazine to tilt his helmet in such a way as to appear threateningly curious. Some of the other soldiers stop what they're doing to listen.

"What makes you happy?" Eckhart replies, ignoring what he knows are strange looks.

"I'm not sure. Ice cream and Fanta and watching the parades. Sitting on the couch with my boytoy and watching old films... what makes you happy?" The mask looks off into the middle distance, feint echoing of eighty eight millimeters, zwillings, Buzzsaws, the screams of the dying...

"Going home at the end of the day and knowing I've protected my friends, my comrades. The man who stood next to me in the riot line and took the Molotov. The man who gave you their belts because you where going in and they where going out... what makes me happy is know I'll go home because what I love still stands." Amielia is silent.

"Does that make us happy people though? Many say we must be really unhappy people inside to fight for what we do." All the soldiers are now silent.

"I'm not unhappy. I may be taciturn and cold, thay doesn't necessarily mean I am not content with my life. We are the fatherland's boots, marching in time with its greatness. We are its soldiers, laying down life and death for its great cause..." Eckhart trails off.

"I'm not unhappy, kommandant, I have purpose." A soldier chips in.

"So do I. My squad is family, my barracks is home." And suddenly, as the soldiers chip in one by one, the coming storm doesn't seem as daunting. The waves aren't as rough as they seem.

"Alright, thats my monthly mushy quota filled up to bursting, get your miserable hides ready, we have a redeployment coming up!"

"Company! Zieg Heil!"

"Zieg! Heil!" Boots thump and steel rings as the 104th Armoured Infantry division line up for redeployment to another hotspot, American patriotism the ever present problem as before.

-0-

"How good are you at flying?" Eckhart thinks he really should get used to her asking these questions.

"I don't know, I've never tried. I'm armoured infantry, not Luftwaffe." She's wearing pants again. It's winter now and the snow is to fall soon.

"I want to get a helicopter for the precinct." He has only a small inkling of the actual logistics involved and he is still uneasy.

"I can not help you. I am an army man, I wear armour usually considered too heavy for any real helicopter deployment."

"You flew with me when you got your wings?"

"One man. To deliver say a squad of us would overload the helicopters weight limit." She frowns, hands tapping out the bars of her new favourite song.

"If you wish for a personal transport, you can requisition a Triple-two. I can drive that, it has sufficient armour and it has a twenty millimetre cannon." She gives him the oddest look.

"No I... I was actually going to buy a holiday house and wanted to fly up to it." Eckhart wasn't sure if she was serious or not. She probably was. She frowned a bit more at the paper in her hands. The actual morning paper. She was perusing the property section.

She was serious.

Eckhart's helmet hit the desk, gouging out a small chunk of wood and making Amielia jump.

"Michael, are you alright?"

"You want to buy a helicopter. Because you want to buy a house. Because you want somewhere else to live?"

"When you put it like that..."

"We can renovate my apartment if you insist on a new living space." She nods, slowly.

"I mean it, Amielia. Do not become pompous or bloated with wealth or you'll lose your edge."

"I'll lose my what!?"

-0-

They sat on her couch, her tucked up on top of him. Their breathing was hardh and her cheeks where flushed. Her fingers slid along his chest.

"You don't have any chest hair."

"Is it a problem?"

"No."

"You don't have any hair either." She smirks blindly into his neck. He can feel it.

"Is it a problem?"

"No. But it makes me feel like a pedophile sometimes."

"Its not my fault."

"No..." And they lay on the couch, basking in each other's glow, surrounded by the sounds of the broadcast of man landing on the moon. Words where said, speeches where made, history was written and Eckhart decided that this was probably the best his life was going to get.

Tomorrow was the parade, celebrating this massive accomplishment. Tomorrow the worries of the world could come calling.

-0-

Its Christmas and in the spirit of things, Eckhart spends a weekend taking apart his mask's ocular assembly. Amielia had watched as her boyfriend, with a single minded intensity, stripped his mask. She took the opportunity to watch gis face. His eyes where an off shade of gray, like fresh, genuine Krupp Steel. His smirk made him look confused as his mouth pulled in concentration. His hair was cropped short again, flecks of platinum amidst the light brown and hay colored locks. He took out a small, round case she'd never really seen before and replaced the lenses of his mask. They where shiny, rainbow coloured in the glow of the many Christmas lights strung out across the city. The mask was reassembled with calm, deft movements. Routine maintenance. Amielia stood in her own uniform, greatcoat buttoned snugly against the chill they where to expect outside.

His mask ges put on and Amielia laughs. And laughs and laughs until she collapses against him and cries out in pain while giggling some more.

"Oh gott mit ons, you didn't! You look terrifying!" She finally manages to gasp out as he stared down at her. He says nothing except for a small huff of condensation.

"No really, Eckhart. How is that... the spirit of things?" His eyepieces are blood red, baleful and angry.

"It is the closest uniform regulations get to holiday wear."

"It's genuinely scary, you know. Kids will start crying." Armoured shoulders shift carelessly.

"It is not my fault. They should be made of sterner stuff." She smiles and pats his armoured cheek, glove feeling the unflinching facadé.

"You'd make an absolutely terrible or an absolutely amazing dad. No inbetweens." He frowns down at her, as she gets to her feet.

She was right. He did look extra terrifying. He'd made a young girl, no more than nineteen, scream and collapse as he rounded a corner before her. Amielia had chuckled and soothed the hyperventilating Fraulein.

"Don't worry, little one, he only looks scary to frighten away all the ladies like you... he's petrified they'll give him any sort of attention."

He scowls and looks off at the crowd childishly. The girl gets over her fear moments later and giggles at his antics cast in a new light.

"See, they're nothing but unkissed boys underneath. Immensely shy." The girl is about to speak when Eckhart chimes in.

"All lies. I have a lady already, I get all the kisses I want." The two women blink and stare at him before sniggering. A few of the crowd also chuckle.

"Alright, Romeo, I believe you. Come along then, we have Christmas shopping to finish." And suddenly, the crowds don't seem to be that hostile anymore. Everything calms down. As they walk, the radio quietens and an astute observer mutters across all the local channels;

"Looks like we get our own Christmas present, boys. All quiet on the home front for the week." And along with that, the insinuation that the American's get a week off of the crackdowns and hostility.

-0-

Its eight days to February and Eckhart calmly walks behind the Kommandant in faithful lockstep. Hostilities had yet to kick off again, neither side overly excited in starting the furious firefights and guerilla warfare. She wonders along the path in the park, watching the frosty trees idly.

"They left a message, Sir."

"Ah, how thoughtful. Wonder why they would need to risk discovery to simply get a message across."

"Perhaps the ceasefire has made them lax."

"If anything it's made them more skittish, Eckhart." She delt with the big picture, surveillance, information, overall numbers and the like... He delt with the more immediate matters, like snipers and gunfights and keeping her and her massively offensive cap alive. She sits at the bench, Eckhart's white lenses tracking his surroundings.

Maybe she was correct. The ceasefire definitely made him more vigilant.

"Well well well, looks like the kid was right, they did indeed leave a message. Quite a long one actually."

"Anything important?"

"No, they merely risked being rooted out and captured and tortured simply to comment on how Christmas was a nice change..." Eckhart's hand clips the back of her head as he turns to survey a new vector.

"Yes, they want to talk. Urgently. Preferably today. Something about another group of out of town freedom fighters coming to stir up trouble."

Eckhart frowns. Deeply.

"It reeks of a trap. A poor one." Amielia smirks up at him, cap slightly skew.

"...Fine. But I reserve the right to say 'I rold you so', Kommandant."

-0-

It wasn't. It was a surprisingly cordial affair. They had met a nondescript man in his early thirties at a café, opposite the precinct's armoured vehicle depot and he'd laid his cards on the table. A roving band of patriots had come down from upstate, near the big city, and where appalled at the seeming lack of revolt. They planned trouble and the man wanted to clearly established that the attacks coming where not, he repeated for emphasis, not his own men. They where enjoying the ceasefire even more than the Werhmacht.

Amielia had simply told the man that that was a nifty excuse and needed something more substantial than that to simply forgo arresting him here and now.

It had been an interesting week.

-0-

"This is... wierd." Amielia commented, holstering and unholstering her Luger in practiced movements.

"This is localism at its best, Kommandant." She nodded slowly. It had become abundantly clear the 'new freedom fighters' where from the big city. They where loud and offensive and weren't scared to 'out the nazi invaders' and declare so publicly. Some spent a single night in down before being snatched up for roudy behaviour. Tentative communications had been established between the local Nazis and Freedom Fighters to clarify they both wanted these people gone. It was the second night and the newcomers where being what everyone fear to be their normal loud selves in a bar across the street.

"No wonder command up in New York is so heavy handed. These people are animals." Eckhart had to agree with the captain.

"Alright. Lets see how this pans out. Eckhart, with me. Captain, the moment things get messy you can drop the place." The Kommandant's voice rings out and the Triple-two's engine revs as it drives away, out of sight.

"After you, sir."

"How courteous of you, Michael."

"I aim to please."

The bar goes silent at Amielia's crooked smile, entirely too welcoming to be good, and Eckhart's foreboding, inhuman and monolithic presence.

"Evening citizens, we received complaints?"

"Holy shit you're a right stuck up Kraut whore." The voice is loud enough to carry. Her eye twitches. A group of four men are sitting in a rough group eyeing her with utter disgust. Two men situated too close to the group shift out of the way subtly.

"I take it you're the cause of the complaints?" Her face was turning brittle, the polite manner evaporating quickly. The group sniggered, one guffawing loudly.

"Nah, I'm sure the complaints where about you Nazi fucks stepping on good peoples business..." Reason was clearly beyond the situation.

"This is pathetic. Eckhart-" The spokesperson of the group, the one to draw all the aggro to himself, spits at her. Eckhart, already moving, simply lashes out and intercepts the globule of phlegm and beer and spit. The man tenses for a spilt second. Eckhart recedes like some sort of black tide. He walks over to the bar, puts down his gun, motions for the usual and receives his drink in silence.

The man opens his mouth-

Eckhart's glass crunches into his face with a massive swipe. Its followed by a brutal backhand. He hits the bar and bounces out of his chair to land limply on the floor. Eckhart's boot lands on his knee with a sickening crunch of splintering bone.

"Hey!"

"Fuckin' Nazi! Get off my friend!"

"Oppression gonna' get you nothing but a fight, kraut!" The group, however aren't in the city anymore.

"Thats bullshit." They pause at the young girls voice. The barmaid gives them a disgusted look.

"You just failed to show a woman any sort of basic decency while she's doung her job. That isn't oppression, thats you getting your ass handed to you by an angry soldier." She turns and goes back to her business. The rest of the bar is just as welcoming.

"The fuck? The entire town is kraut?"

"No. But we don't look for problems that aren't there." Amielia's face is now unreadable.

"You four are under arrested gor conspiracy to overthrow the government." Eckhart grabs two, cuffs them and then shoves them towards the door. He repeats with the other two and pushes all four out the door with a burst of steam. He turns to the bar. Amielia is sitting having a drink.

"We apologise for ze inconvenience, citizens." His voice is apologetic, it comes out semi-threatening. He drags all four men by their cuffs out the door and dumps them on the street in the waiting hands of the police.

-0-

Eckhart and Amielia visit the main city. Its purely for research purposes, she wanted insight on how the city dwellers did things. She wanted to know what made them act like they did.

It was not pretty. A combination of a populace that causes as much trouble for their occupying government as possible and an absolute diehard of a local governor led to an absolute mess of a city. There was a riot every off day, constant fighting, crime was stratospheric, the populace living in fear... it was Poland and Russia all over again. Amielia had not smiled as she walked from her car to the seat of the local government. There where guard dogs, watch towers, Tigers, even a few King Tigers and guards everywhere.

She had not smiled at all.

"Oberfeldwebel, ma'am, ID please." The guard had stopped them cold at the gate. She had nearly shot him.

"Is it the fallschirmjaeger wings, Unterfeldwebel?"

"Yes sir, ID please." Amielia had given him her Identification and after a moment of silence, the guard had hurried into the bunker next to the entrance to check its verifiability, returned quickly and finally spoken.

"My apologies, Kommandant, I was not aware we where expecting guests." They where ushered indoors.

"Where is the kommandant here?"

"He is in his office."

"Take me to him."

It had been a rather... intriguing experience. Eckhart had excused himsel to gather intelligence off of the local veterans. His wings, appearance and a quick quizz as to deployment and vernacular from places such as Russia, the Middle East and England quickly put him as the veterans vet. He'd been around the block. He had his stories.

They had theirs. It was pretty bad. Incitement led to crackdowns led to revolt led to escalation. Casualties on both sides where absurd. There wasn't any indication it would stop anytime soon.

Eckhart had shaken his head and told them how he had it.

They couldn't simply sit down and enjoy the peace in a café, they'd get coffee poured on them.

They couldn't drink at a bar after hours, they'd be found out and it would end as a barfight.

He suddenly felt extremely grateful he had a town that knew when trouble didn't need stirring.

-0-

"What did you find?"

"It's pretty grim, Kommandant. The vets say a bad day can be very similar to Moscow."

"Moscow, eh?"

"It was hell. Plain and simple. Hell on Earth." He said no more on the matter. The way he walked, the way he was suddenly on a constant swivel, the way he was now coiled steel and greased lightning spoke more than enough.

"Ah, citizen. How much for a hotdog?" Amielia found a genuine hotdog stand. She had them back home yes, but it was a pleasant surprise that something so normal was universal.

"Fuckin what, kraut?" The man looked aghast. Like he'd just been slapped. Then he looked horrified.

"How much for a hotdog? Also, do you have mustard?" There was a silence. Amielia leaned over to Eckhart.

"You want a hotdog?"

"Amusing, Kommandant." The man seemed genuinely thunderstruck.

"I'll take two please." They gained a few seemingly just as confused onlookers.

"That... that'll be, like, three dollars." The kommandant blinks and turns to Eckhart and motions her head, cap giving heavy emphasis.

"Don't be ridiculous, Kommandant. I am not your purse. Pay for your own meal."

"I will shoot you for insubordination."

"Fat lot of help zat will do." She glares then reaches in her coat and pulls out a crisp fiver.

"Here you go. Keep the change." She munches on one immediately, and pauses.

"Shees rarr shoo gooo!" Eckhart watches her demolish the first hotdog, not getting a single crumb or drop of mustard on her uniform.

"We have duties to fulfill, Kommandant." She pauses biting down on her second.

"True. Thanks again, citizen. I commend you on your excellent hotdogs!" She snaps a sharp turn and makes her way along the pavement. Eckhart watches the crowd for a moment. There's a mix of outright confusion, amusement and something else... something fundamental. He nods in farewell.

-0-

The riots continue. There's a report about a new, female Kommandant and Kommandant Driesler loses it.

-0-

They get back to their own town, Eckhart sporting a singed greatcoat. They drive to the middle of the town and simply sit there, watching the people. There was even a soldier patrolling idly down one of the pavements, gun pointing out like an aerial over his shoulder.

A Cougar rumbles past, silhouette almost menacing as it turns down another street.

"I need a shower, Amielia."

"Right, sorry. Lets go home shall we."

"And a hotdog."

-0-

"What makes us better than them?" She doesn't clarify, he doesn't need her to. He motions to the seat next to his and she sits.

"Nothing. At least, nothing that I can see. We merely have the conviction to stick to what we believe in."

"So they're in the right?"

"Oh no, dear kommandant, in war, no one is right. History is written by the victor..." she frowns against his arm. He is having breakfast.

"Stop spouting philosophy at me, Michael."

"We are not better than the American. The American is not better than a German. We won the war because when we put our mind to it, we Germans are a persistent and ingenious lot. Our way of life works, Europe, Great Germany is the most successful and well off country in the world. American life works, they come in as second, only because it has recently been ravaged by war and occupation. We are both proud people. Pride tends to clash." She plays with the hair at the nape of his neck, thoughtful.

"Where do you even get this shit?"

"It's plain to see."

"And yet you are absolutely hopeless at anything resembling tactical planning."

"I tend to think too big."

"Or small."

"Hush, let me enjoy my breakfast. Did we not say we would lend support to our dear neighbours?" She nods. The precinct officer the next town over had requested their urgent support late last night and today they would be mobilising.

"I do not care for their incompetence. They really should instate a more competent leader." She gives him a look.

"Your moods are fickle, Kommandant. Has anyone ever said that to you?"

"Not to my face and lived, no." She sits along side him, smiling impishly.

"I see." He continues to eat his breakfast. She laughs.

-0-

Some days, they just don't know each other. They wake up and go about their business, ride to work, patrol, guard, inspect, snoop... all in a sort of detached silence. Sometimes they would gather a few looks, as they simply didn't talk to each other during their walks. She would be deep in concentration, eyes darting about quickly. He would be unreadable as always, walking behind her.

These moments of silence, days where Eckhart just can't bring himself to speak, Amielia determined to not say a single until he does, these moments of silence usually herald a parade. A grand parade where men march in perfect sync to the haunting tunes of jackboots and belted out anthems.

Dedicated to the fine lives lost in this pointless fighting. On both sides.

There is usually a space reserved for an American company. It's always empty.

Its some of the only times one will ever see the Kommandant drink. A single glass of shnapps, Berlin, 1945, strong and fine amd sipped slowly to the sound of men cheering for their comrades that didn't make it to see the peace. Or what was left of it.

-0-

There is a tourist. It's quite literally the first to ever come through the town since the occupation. The woman is all wondrous smiles and amazed looks. A fancy car, a mustang, to drive her about the town amd draw attention.

"Say, darlin', you wouldn't know where the park is? Apparently there's like, a really nice park somewhere here." Eckhart stares.

"Certainly madame. ID please?" As she hands it over with a flourish, he sketches it out.

"... zen you just turn left and it should be right zere." Her ID puts her as a resifent from the big city. She's eyeing him strangely.

"You folk are real nice out." Her accent is ludicrously thick. He almost switched to American just via osmosis.

"Agt, ich mein liebnicht. Its nothing! Enjoy your stay." He'd eatched her leave and radioed in. She was, indeed a tourist. No, no connections to the local or even city freedom fighters that could be ascertained.

-0-

"Why do you always play up your German accent when speaking to the public?"

"Anonymity."

"Why?"

"It's a mask thing." She nods and sinks down on him, playing out the sensation.

"I think its funny."

-0-

"Oi, Eckhart! We've got shit to do!"

-0-

"Amielia, this is hardly accepted behaviour..."

"Fuck that, fuck me."

-0-

"How many people have you killed?"

"Too many."

"How do you know that?"

"Nightmares don't have any faces anymore."

-0-

"I like you in uniform."

"I've noticed."

"Not being able to kiss you is torture."

"You like it anyway."

"I do. You like me in uniform?"

"It is definitely an acquired taste, yes."

-0-

"Eckhart, you're fooling absolutely no one in this town."

"I know, sir. It's the principle of the matter."

"How you figure?"

"We'd get sloppy amd indulge more."

"God you're an animal."

"Thank you, captain."

-0-

Eckhart stands guard behind his girlfriend, tall and imposing. She is smiling broadly, staring down the pair caight in the proverbial headlights.

"I know how you feel, but thats disgusting." The woman's eyes are impossibly wide.

"Eckhart, I don't actually want to see this. Make it go away." He steps forward and blocks the sight from the kommandant.

"What made you do this?" He has to ask. The woman is impossibly guilty, but defiant in that reliable way.

"Love. Not that you'd understand." He feels he can at least placate the doomed pair.

"I do. I love and am loved. It makes you do such wonderful, crazy things." No accent, the truth. Oddly liberating.

"Wha... who could love something like you?" The man asks, genuinely curious. Eckhart still feels the bitter flicker of anger as he smiles.

"Someone even scarier than me." They simultaneously track their heads back to the enraged Kommandant.

"Oh."

"Anything you want to say to next of kin?" Their faces are horrified. Eckhart literally can't find it in himself to feel any sympathy whatsoever... even with the parallels.

"Tell... tell my cousin I'm sorry."

"Tell my ma she did good, that it wasn't her fault." It never was. He nods and out of courtesy, kills him first, quick burst to the chest, and then her, another burst to the chest. He watches the blood leak across his boots.

"What a perfect waste."

"I don't know about you, but I would kill for some ice cream right now." He gives her blank, vaguely innocent face a slight glare.

-0-