Prologue: Munich, 1923

They did what they could before only one option was left to them: run. The riots were getting worse and one sticky August afternoon, they saw an old woman lying dead in the street on market day. The other people milled on top of her corpse, jostling for position at a bread stall. The money that was waved greedily in the air came in fat stacks, absolutely worthless.

They stayed as long as they could, but Germany was becoming unstable, and they felt the same itch that was the prelude to the last war they were involved in. They had to leave, before that wasn't an option anymore.

Luckily, they had contacts. They had all the necessary papers drawn up and notarized, and they were able to flee. The long train ride to France was reminiscent of so many other trips and they spent it in an anxious, contemplative silence. It was strange not to be stared at as they sat in their booth, something that was more unnerving than relieving.

The boat trip from France to England was cramped and left no opportunity for conversation. When they finally landed, it was another train ride, this time in a private compartment, before finally making it into London.

Thankfully, many of the other engineers they worked for had been semi-fluent in English, and they picked up the language quickly, but they would never shake the accent that was pronounced German but hinted at something else.

And for a few months, they just tried to catch their breath.

But it all changed in the fall.

Out on their separate wanderings through the city, they both happened on their futures at the same time. For one, he spotted her leaning far over the railing overlooking the Thames, shouting questions to a hapless ferryman below. The other found his tucked in a quiet corner of a bookstore her father owned, reading about far-off lands. It was the first time since reuniting that they first thought of separation, no matter how temporary.

And the meetings definitely changed the rest of their lives.