[Meravigliosa Creatura]

I've worn dresses all my life. So I guess it's natural.

"Signorina Felicia buon giorno."

Antonio waves, motions for me to come over. He picked up italiano well since he and Antonello moved here. I smile, approach and set my grocery basket down. Fratello insisted we have tomato in tonight's dinner. Antonello picks out tomatoes from their wares, looks close, puts them back. Antonio grins.

"How're ya today?"

I'd say 'me ne frego' like fratello, but it's improper for a lady. I curtsy, brush some of my bangs out of my eyes. "Well, thank you. How are you e tuo fratello, Antonio?"

"Me ne frego. That's how it goes today, right?" Antonello stares straight into my eyes. His green narrowed. He knows. No, he can't. He picks up another tomato, shines it on his black shirt. Gives it a good look over, hands it to me. "Buon compleanno."

I reach out, accept the fruit. My face burning up in a wave of heat. "G-Grazie, Antonello."

I hold it to my flat chest for now. It's bright ruby red, same as the rest in their stock. For fratello, no others will do. Antonio keeps grinning. "Don't mention it, just a treat from brother and me. And this, too." He picks up another, shines it up. Hands that to me as well. "For Lovino so he doesn't think we forgot him. Buon compleanno to ya both."

"Grazie."

His grin is infectious. They wave, I wave back. Pick up my basket and continue shopping. Place both tomatoes in the basket. Two aren't enough to make the sauce for ravioli. My cheeks will be stretched from how wide I'm grinning.

Fratello specified tomatoes and ravioli. There are many different kinds of pasta. The Fascisto perfetto want to draft for the army. Fratello's been selected. Why don't they draft me along with fratello?

A lot of other street vendors are closed. Those that are open are pricey. Inghilterra cheated Regno d'Italia in the Great war. Papà fought in it. Nonno's papà fought in il Risorgimento. Papà died at home the same day Mamma did in the hospital. Papà joked that he found Mamma by following a scarlet thread tied to his pinky finger. Fratello still asks me what he meant. I wish I knew.

"Signorina Felicia, good day." Francis waves to me. Comes over. "Have you thought any more about my proposal?"

I gulp back the impulse, smile at him. "Thank you, but I have to get home now."

"Of course. Tell me your decision soon."

I don't need a chaperone. We kiss each other on both cheeks, and he walks back into the crowd of other shoppers. A crowd of black shirts. It's afternoon already and I have a cake to finish, dinner to start, scarves to attend. The last dress I made for myself was white with pink ruffles and a light green wrap. To match with the blond of my hair. It sold for 15,115 Lira.

I haven't finished the coat for fratello yet. My voice can sustain the light notes only for so long. I open the door, let myself in. "Fratello, I'm home."

"What are you, a fucking tenor? Women aren't that deep-throated. Or are you a whore now?"

I bite my lip. "I-I'm sorry."

"Stop apologizing all the time, you sound so weak."

He twists the knob on a radio, adjusts the antennae. Not even looking. I put my basket down on the counter in the kitchen, remove the tomatoes not from Antonio and Antonello. Fratello has the radio fizzling and gargling white noise.

"What's for dinner?"

"Ravioli. I got fresh tomatoes, and Antonio-"

"You went to see that bastardo again?"

I flinch, drop one of the tomatoes. It rolls along the counter, bumps into my basket. "S-Sì. He gave me a tomato for you and said buon-"

"Me ne frego."

The radio talks. Propaganda about another Great War. Germania threatening Polonia. Inghilterra and Francia doing their best to stop it. Regno d'Italia will be against scary Germania. Won't we?

Fratello glances to me. Narrows his hard, brown eyes. "Why aren't you making dinner yet?"

"Mi dispiace."

I grab the tomato Antonello gave me, bite into it. Fratello messes with the radio. It crackles and whines as I get the other tomatoes ready to make the sauce. If I stuck my head in the oven, he wouldn't notice until the fire caught. There are frays in the thinning hem of my dress. I finish Antonello's gift, lick the juice off my fingers.

"Fratello, was there any mail today?"

I hold my breath. Chop up the tomatoes, chop to make the sauce. Fratello hits the radio as it gargles out. "Nothing came today. Shut up, I'm trying to tune this merda."

Nothing again. It's been almost a year. Maybe he's been drafted. He teaches me German, says not to come to Germania. If Germania invades Polonia, I hope he's in an auto shop out of the blast zone. Iddio, keep him safe.

Fratello smacks the radio. I jump. Nick my finger with the cutting knife. Fratello glances over again, keeps his attention on the radio. "Can you believe this crap? Germania should be Francia's weak bitch."

Fratello yells at me for nothing, for everything. I grab the dish cloth, hide the nick in there. "Do you think Italia will join against Germania?"

The crackling tops. Fratello leans against the frame of the archway. Eyes narrowed, harder. A darker brown than my golden brown. "Idiota. Of course we'll be against those bastardi. Polonia is our friend, what business do we have joining a losing side?"

I nod. Twist the dish cloth in my fingers. "Sì, fratello. You're right." But Italia is going to make dangerous demands again. We're the Regno. Proud and failing. I put the dish cloth down, so no blood shows, keep cutting the tomatoes. "You don't know that Germania will lose again."

"Read any history book. Germania. Always. Loses."

He turns around, goes back to that radio. The tomatoes are chopped, ready. The tomato Antonio gave to fratello still in my basket. I put the ingredients for the sauce in the pot, light the stove and stir. I pause. Take the tomato out. "Fratello, do you want-"

"That bastardo told you to give that to me, right?"

I nod. Fratello snorts.

"Do whatever. Tell him I'm not interested."

Fratello smacks the radio again, keeps fiddling. I look down at the tomato in my hand. Squeeze hard, squish it in my fist. The juices slip into my cut, sting. My eyes water, I hold it in.

Would Svizzera shoot me if I tried running through their backyard? How long can I smile before it cracks? I force the smile on anyway. "Buon compleanno, fratello."

"Buon compleanno, finocchio."

Still no letters from him. Fratello's last letter described some of the jobs he has to do, the general he was put under. Weilschmidt. I never learned his last name. Fratello isn't with Antonio, but Antonio and Antonello and Francis are out there, too.

Fratello said Germania invaded Polonia. That Regno d'Italia is going to join the war on Germania's side. Il Duce's decision, even if all of Regno d'Italia screams no.

I get up, get dressed, head out to do the shopping. So I don't have to make pizza for a third time this week. I go to Antonio and Antonello's stand, being run by Raivis now. Smile at him.

"Buon giorno, Raivis. How are you today?"

He jumps. "S-Signorina Felicia. Buon giorno. I am well, thank you very much. What w-would you like?"

His italiano is still a little over pronounced. I keep the smile on my face. "One dozen tomatoes, per favore."

"I'll get them."

Raivis inspects every tomato, like Antonello. Gathers a dozen, places them in my basket carefully. I pat through his hair, softly. "You didn't drop any this time. You are getting better, see?"

"Ah, sì." He nods. A very small smile on his lips. "Thank you, signorina Felicia. H-Have a good day."

The 'me ne frego' dies on the tip of my tongue. I nod. "And you too, Raivis."

I gather some more flour, some cabbage. Porridge would be nice for a change, if I knew how to make it with the right amount of spices. I head home, put all the groceries away in the right places. Get started on some puttanesca with provalone.

Fratello isn't here. I start a quiet melody, a hymn I remember from Nonno and Mamma's voices.

"Felicia, are you home?"

Three knocks on the door. I pause, make sure everything is all right, head to the door. Open and grin. "Feliks. I haven't seen you in a while. How have you been?"

"Totally well, thanks." Feliks grins back, kisses both my cheeks in greeting. She never once uses any of the harsher words fratello does. "I heard about Lovino being drafted. Are you all right?"

"I finished his coat and scarf, but his hat is giving me trouble."

"You're making Antonio and Antonello some things, too, aren't you?"

"A sun hat, sweater, and gardening gloves, sì."

Feliks whistles, puts both her hands on her hips. Skirt swishing with her movement. "Like, that's a lot."

"I can manage it, it is my job."

She laughs, and I laugh with her. She pats my shoulder. "You're, like, a really strong woman, Felicia. Toris got drafted too, and I'm finally able to get to work again."

"Toris was? I-I'm sorry to hear about that."

"He's totally gonna kick our enemies right out of the water." She laughs, winking. I laugh with her. Toris is her husband, fratello is just fratello. She perks up suddenly, pointing a finger up. "Hey, you should join the support group for the Fasciscto and Nazi party. L'Italia chiamò and all."

"I'll think about it, grazie."

"Yeah, you are pretty busy." She shrugs. "Keep me posted, and invite me to dinner sometime, I love your cooking. Ciao."

"Ciao."

She waves, turns around and walks down the street. I wave back. Slowly lower my hand and close the door. Go back to the kitchen. Nothing burnt, grazie Iddio. She'll rope me in at two hundred percent later. For fratello, Antonio, Antonello. For my pen pal who hasn't responded for a long time.

The world keeps revolving.

Light slips in through my curtains, tickles my stomach. It's improper for a lady to sleep naked. Fratello's not here to remind me to cover up. I roll onto my side, rub my cheek against the pillow. It's fratello's double bed. The last letter from fratello came a year ago, said they were in Egypt.

Two months ago, Antonello came back on a stretcher, leg in a brace, a jar of ash in his arms. Francis and Antonello's soldier friend, Ivan, came back with him.

Mail's supposed to come today. No news is good news. Me ne frego. For three years, me ne frego.

Three knocks on the door. I roll out of bed. Remember a bathrobe at least. Fratello would hire the evil muffins if I went naked. I tie it tight, gather my hair up in its ponytail with my favourite green ribbon. Three more knocks.

I open the door and smile. "Good morning, signore. May I ask why you're calling?"

Not the post man. His hair is black, but his eyes are the bluest I've ever seen. His uniform's dusty, worn. A swastika on his arm in black and red. German cross hanging from a chest pocket. Another soldier in this town. Seeking solace? They take it by force if we don't agree. Il Duce and Germania's boss aren't the best amici.

He bites his lip, chapped and flaky, hands me a letter. Blue eyes avoiding mine. Because they're brown? I take the letter and my stomach turns to rock. The paper's crinkly, smells of ash. I open it. He doesn't move. The handwriting on the envelope is a rushed scrawl, lettering careful and perfect.

I pull out the letter. Read the type written message. Look up at him, paper crumpling more in my clenched hands. "This is true?"

He nods. Not looking directly at me. My eyes close, I hold the papers to my flat chest. Fratello, Antonio. Is this why Antonello came back with the jar? His hand, covered by leather gloves, brushes my cheek, pulls away. "I'm sorry for your loss."

"Th-Thank you for bringing the news to me."

"I'm sorry."

"It's all right." I open my eyes, catch his blue ones finally. "He's been taken to a better place, with no war or suffering."

"Was he your husband?"

His italiano is clunky. Cute. A voice I recognise in a much deeper octave. I shake my head. "No, he was mio fratello." I wipe my eyes. Place a hand on his chest and lean up on tip toes to kiss both of his cheeks. "Again, thank you."

It's not perfect German. It rolls easily, isn't hard enough. Il Duce doesn't care about pronunciation. He blinks, cheeks flushed with colour. "You know Deutsch?"

"Sì, a little."

He looks away again, rubs a hand through his slicked back hair. I see it. Tied to his pinkie finger. Connecting to mine.

"Would you like to come inside?"

It's windy and fresh out. He digs his teeth into his bottom lip, nods. "Perhaps just for a little bit."

I smile, let him in. Blink back the water and salt. When it hurts more than anything, smile brighter than the rest. Nothing hurts. Germania's boss is mad with Regno d'Italia. Il Duce is mad at Germania. He comes in. I offer, he sits down and I get him a glass of water. Brunch is the appropriate meal for the time.

He takes the glass and drinks. I excuse myself to put on a dress, the frays mended. I gave Antonio's sun hat, sweater and gloves to Antonello. Ivan wears the scarf. Antonello calls Ivan not Ivan, but Vanya. Francis no longer offers to take my hand.

I come back into the sitting room. His glass is empty. He glances up at me, stares. The skirt bounces with my steps and the tresses and ruffles follow suit. I pick up his glass. "That was very fast."

"I had a long walk."

"Would you like some more?"

"If it's not too much trouble."

A polite German soldier. Feliks calls them all pigs. Fratello calls them Krauts. Called. This one is the first I've met and talked to. No, not met yet.

I fill the glass, take it back to him. He accepts it and sips. Not gulps. Doesn't pause until it's half-full. I don't sit down yet.

"Signore?"

"You look very nice in that, signorina."

"Ve, grazie." I twirl the frills with my hands, grinning. "May I have your name?"

"Ja." He puts the glass down. Hands in his lap, fiddling with his fingers. His uniform needs to be washed. "Ludwig. And yours?"

My breath catches. "Felicia Vargas. Molto piacere."

He blinks, looks up. Straight into my eyes. "Piacere mio, signo- Vargas."

I nod. Fratello's still fighting. The letter lied. He's still alive. Il Duce will smile and laugh, we're surviving. I'll take Feliks up on her offer. Join her support group. Fratello has to be alive. No news is good news. He'll yell so loud at me when he comes back.

Ludwig breaks away. Picks up his glass and downs the rest, pinkie out. Showing off that vibrant thread. "The front is planning to move in on Russia, I hear."

"What are you doing here?" I hold out my hand for his glass. He shakes his head. Puts it back down to the side. Not smiling, not scowling. I sit down across from him. "Would you like to have some lunch?"

"That would be nice, thank you. Ah, may I use your wash closet?"

I smile, his lips twitch. It's barely there. I stand up. "Sì, it's just down the hall."

No one's dead. I watch him head down the hall, go to the kitchen. Open the cupboards and take stock of everything that's left. There's enough for a meal for two today, dinner later, desert if it's a fruit salad or something light. My basket for groceries is sitting on the counter, a reminder.

I turn around to grab a pot for boiling water and he's there, in the archway. His face gets red, and he looks away. Rubs the back of his head.

"I-I'm sorry. I wanted to watch you cook. I've heard that Italian cuisine is fascinating. It's not too intrusive, is it?"

The blush goes down to his neck. His fair skin turns as red as fratello's would. Fratello and I have tanned skin. The Salò sun is nice in the morning, afternoon, beautiful in the evening. I know this German soldier. I know him and I don't. There's a scarlet thread tied to his pinkie.

Fratello never asked to watch me cook. Ludwig's different. Il Duce will cringe at me.

"Not at all. I'd love to have you watch me."

I giggle, he nods. Stays leaning against the archway, blue eyes focused somewhere on the floor. I go back to my business, hum a hymn lightly. Picking out which noodles to make is the hardest. So many choices and combinations. Today's mood is tortellini. There's enough dough leftover for pizza, not enough cheese. Good thing there's enough tomatoes for the sauce. I glance back at him. His arms are crossed over his chest. Smile on his face. I grin, too.

"What would you like for an antipasto?"

"Erm. Do you have any potatoes?"

Against fratello's wishes. There's enough cheese for that. Enough potatoes left over to make a treat for desert. I nod, check for the leafy greens. "A potato salad?"

"That would be lovely."

I shiver. His pronunciation is a little hard. Il Duce says not to care. The harder, the better. It will make us as strong as Germania, we fight to the last breath. Vaffanculo, il Duce. A lady shouldn't know such language. Ludwig's voice is deep, lovely is a good word for it.

The tomatoes are chopped and in the sauce pot with all the right spices. The water's boiling. Time to pour in the noodles. Every last one with plops and waves. His hands brush my hair to the side, over my left shoulder. Same side as my stubborn curl. "May I. Um. May I kiss you, Feli?"

I shiver again, drop the container that held the noodles. Turn everything off, and turn around. Face him and his endless blue eyes. "I thought you were lost in the war. You didn't write, Luddi."

"I missed you, too."

I reach up, tangle my fingers in his soft black hair. Take it out of the slicked back fuss. His arms wrap around my waist, pull me in close. His face still flushed. I press my hands to his cheeks and pull him into a kiss.

I know Ludwig, my pen pal since childhood. My first kiss. He kisses back, picks me up and carries me out of the kitchen. The burners are off, no more bubbling. Half done. We fall on fratello's bed. I lose my virginity to this man I've known since childhood. I give him all of me, and he takes it.

We pant hard, moving as one. His nose brushes along my cheek, lips moving down my jaw. I thread my fingers through his hair. "Luddi."

"Hn?"

"Lunch." I giggle, wipe my eyes. "The sauce must be ruined by now."

He pulls back, frowning. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"No, it's all right." Another giggle pops out. I slide my hand down the back of his neck, pull him back in. Our noses brushing together. "What would you like for dinner?"

"I'll like anything you make, Feli."

After he lets me get up, pull on a night gown, I head back into the kitchen. Clean up lunch, start on the spaghetti noodles. He comes out and watches me, wearing just a tank top and shorts. Smiling. I finish the spaghetti with italiano sausage and meat sauce, he helps me set the table no matter how much I protest. We sit down, say amen for amici, famiglia, the red string connecting our pinkies, the war not coming this far yet. He takes my hand, links our fingers together.

He insists on helping me with cleaning up as well. We wash the dishes together, bump into each other enough to drop a plate. It breaks in pieces. I laugh, he joins in while picking up the pieces. Something he refuses to let me help with. I finish washing the dishes, he throws away the broken pieces. Takes my hand again. We head to bed, lay out fresh sheets. Can't be fratello's anymore.

We lay down, side by side. He wraps me up in his arms, holds me against his chest. "Gute nacht, Feli. Ich liebe dich."

"Ti amo troppo, Luddi. Dormi bene."

He presses lips to mine, and we settle in. There are riddles to solve, questions left. The night settles in around us, with nothing in my head.

Feliks hasn't been around to ask me to join her support group in a long time. Houses and shops have nasty words written all over them, broken windows. We should move to Sicilia, Venezia, away. Ludwig says things will work out. He wears some of fratello's things, not the uniform. I'm making him clothes, appropriate for his new job. Ivan helped introduce him.

Antonello stands outside, hands on his hips. I can't see his face, but his shoulders are smiling. He wears shorts, allows the wraps around his leg to be seen. Ivan sits on the grass, facing Antonello. Also smiling. They point to the drying laundry on the line, laugh.

Antonello works the vendor with Raivis. Doesn't say anything about Antonio. Letters won't come from fratello, ever. Ludwig asked me to marry him. I said yes. We both want to ask Roderich to conduct the ceremony. It wouldn't be a sin that way.

Ludwig laughs with Antonello and Ivan, hanging up the sheets on the lines. I bring out the last of the clothes that need drying, hang them up with him. His arm rests around my shoulder. He blends in without the uniform. Antonello starts up, chases Ivan across the grass, both shouting in their play. Antonello still limps.

"Why are you here, Luddi?"

Ludwig glances down at me. Faces straight ahead. "They have a report that I'm dead. Along with your brother. This way, it's better."

Antonello trips, falls flat on his face. Ivan stops, goes over to help him up. Gets pulled down by Antonello. Both laugh, smile, and Ivan gets up again, lifts Antonello up. Antonello shoves at Ivan, face flushed. I slip my arm around Ludwig's waist. "You ran away?"

"Ja, I did."

The means and tenacity to play hide and seek. Antonello's up again, chasing Ivan around. He knows. He's a friend. Won't tell. I don't look at Ludwig, watch them stumble around on the grass. "Why did you?"

He turns me around to face him. Crouches just a little, meeting my eyes. "War is hell. The things that die Drittes Reich are doing. I can't explain."

His blue eyes are so clear. Serious. I nod. Lean in and rub my nose against his. "I won't ask you to. I'm sorry for prying."

"It's all right, you had every right to ask."

"I do trust you."

"Happy day, I trust the lug, too." Antonello claps Ludwig on the shoulder, panting. Leaning on his good leg. "What're ya two love birds doing, anyway?"

"Discussing matters between us and sharing speculations about the war."

Ludwig's hands clench my arms. I laugh, place a hand on his arm. His grip loosens immediately. Ivan pats Antonello on the shoulder, smiles. "Might I make an observation?"

Antonello grins. "What's stoppin' ya from speaking?"

"The Fascisti are no longer in style. I think it is time for us all to go under a cover of sorts."

"Well, yeah. You knew those Fascisti were going down when they paraded into Roma."

Antonio said that once. Ivan locks eyes with Ludwig. "It would be in our best interests."

Ludwig nods, takes my hand. Links our fingers together. "If it comes to that. Until then, we should enjoy what we have."

No matter how high prices get. To support the cause. Talk about it is limited to whispers in the streets. Ludwig and Antonello have the most to share, Ivan gets little sense from the soldiers in the hospital. Regno d'Italia and Germania won't give up. We won't either. Siamo pronti alla morte. L'Italia chiamò.

Once Roderich marries us, we can move away from the sharp air and disappearing. The harsh words on the store windows accusing Jewish peoples of all our problems.

A prickling on the back of my neck. I look around, nothing's there. Antonello shifts his weight from one leg to another, stays mostly on his good leg. "When we gotta, Vanya and I can come with ya to help with everything. Sound good?"

"Da, I like this idea."

"I was more askin' Ludwig and Felicia, Vanya."

"Were you?"

Ivan laughs lightly. Antonello makes a face, not smiling and smiling at the same time. I glance up at Ludwig, reach out with my free hand to rub the sheets. "The laundry's dry."

"Time to take it in." Ludwig smiles. Antonello and Ivan slap their hands together, get started on taking them down and folding them up to place in the laundry baskets. Ludwig keeps our hands linked. "We'll see what happens. All right?"

"Sì. I trust you, Luddi."

We can last the year like this. Then Roderich will marry us and it'll be forever. Mi dispiace, fratello, il Duce.

We take the baskets of laundry in, get everything put away. Antonello brushes off his hands, grinning widely. "You know what I haven't had in a long time?"

"What?"

"Felicia's cooking." He winks at me. Laughs as Ludwig gives him a look. "Is it all right if Vanya and I stay for dinner?"

"There's always room for you two, sì, Luddi?"

Ludwig closes his eyes. Rubs his forehead and heaves out a breath through his nose. "I suppose so."

"Score."

Antonello laughs, Ivan and I join him. Ludwig gives in, smiles along with us. We eat good farfacelli together. Ludwig asks about the tomatoes, Antonello praises my evening dress, Ivan makes jokes about il Duce and die Führer. After dessert, the prickling on my neck is back.

"Time for us to be headin' home." Antonello stretches, leans back in his seat. Tugs on Ivan's sleeve. "Want to help them clean up?"

Ivan yawns, covers his mouth with a hand. Violet eyes closed away. "Da, da."

"Woah, ya look like you're gonna pass out. I can't carry ya back."

"But your piggyback rides are the best."

Antonello's face colours again. Ludwig's lips quirk up on one side and I giggle behind my hand. Stand up and pick up the plates. "It's okay. Luddi and I will clean. Buona notte, Antonello e Ivan."

"Same to ya, Felicia. Later, Ludwig."

Antonello smiles. Also stands up. Places hands on Ivan's shoulders, leans down and murmurs in Ivan's ear. I take all the plates I can carry into the kitchen, start the water running, Ludwig brings in the rest, and we wash them together. Ivan gets up, leaves with Antonello supporting him. The dishes are finished. Ludwig pulls me to his chest. Presses his lips to my forehead.

"Bed time, liebe."

I nod, lower the hackles rising on the back of my neck. Someone's eyes on us. We turn out the lights, go to our bedroom. He lays down, under the covers. Watches me unbutton the back of my dress. I let it fall from my shoulders, bunch on the floor with my petticoat and pants. His face reddens. I step out of the bunch, climb in, lay down on his chest. His hands tangle in my hair and I close my eyes.

"Buona notte."

"Gute Nacht."

The prickling on the back of my neck is still there.

I put the ash letter crinkled up behind my evening gown in the closet.

Antonello grins while picking out a dozen ruby tomatoes for me. I raise my hand and smile at Raivis. He hesitates, mimics the gesture and smiles back. Ludwig works by the vendors at fixing automobiles and mechanical things. Ivan works nearby, too, at the hospital. The Church square is just around the corner.

"Raivis, have you found a good place to stay yet?"

"Vanya and I decided to let him room with us." Antonello places each tomato in my shopping basket. Winks to me. "On me today, signorina. For the fine dinner the other night."

"Grazie, Antonello. But I can't possibly-"

A hand squeezes my arm, hard. Yanks. "You're coming with me, minx."

"Francis, what the hell?"

My basket crashes, all the ruby tomatoes and cabbage and semolina flour roll in the dirt. Francis yanks again, I yelp. Antonello's expression is mouldy bread. He turns to Raivis, runs off. Leaves Raivis there, shaking. I glance up at Francis, my mouth open. Francis slaps me with his free hand. I wince, look away.

"Francis?"

"Don't you dare speak. Keep your head low. And for you sake, I hope they have you hung."

He drags me to the Church square, tosses me to centre stage. The thin crowd grows, fills with murmurs. Missing il Duce and fratello. Francis grabs my hair, pulls my head back.

"This minx has committed a great sin, pastor."

Roderich hurries down the steps, hands out and glasses perched on his nose. "Francis, what are you doing to Felicia?"

My eyes fill up with water. Francis won't let go of my hair. "Pastor Roderich, listen to me. She is living in sin with a man whom she isn't married to. And they have consummated."

I jerk my head away from his hand, grit my teeth together. Can't break free. I shut my eyes tight, open them again. Roderich taps his foot on the stone walkway. "Francis, please let go of Felicia's hair. We can settle this inside, privately. Not as a public spectacle."

My shoulders tremble. So many eyes on me. On us. Francis' fingers dig into my head. "That's not the worst of it."

His hand lets go of my hair. I wipe away the water spilling from my eyes. His hand returns, closes around the back of my neck and pulls me up straight. Then drops lower. Rips at the ties to my dress. My voice cries out and I yank away, cover my flat chest with my arms. Roderich steps in front of me, facing Francis. "That's enough, Francis. I will not allow you to shame this poor child here, even if what you have said-"

"She's not a woman."

Francis advances on me. Dodges past Roderich, grabs my hair again. I squeak, close my eyes, grab at Francis' hand. My favourite green ribbon lies on the ground, stomped on.

"If I have to prove it publicly, then that is what I'll do."

His hands tear at the ties. I shake my head. "N-No, only my husband shoud-"

"You can't have a husband, you're not a woman."

The ties rip. My dress slips a bit down my shoulders. I hold my arms to my chest tighter. He grabs my hair and slaps me across the face once more. Roderich steps in, presses Francis back. "Enough. Stop this foolishness, Francis. You have no right to decide such ludicrous notions."

Francis takes a step back. His soft blue eyes dull, narrowed. "Out yourself, Felicia. Don't make me show them myself."

My entire body trembles, I can't turn away from those eyes. Roderich puts a hand on my shoulder, turns me towards the church. "Come, child. Let's get you inside and into something more decent."

He faces Francis, lets me keep walking. I reach the steps. Roderich shouts out, Francis grabs the back of my dress and pulls hard enough to toss me to the ground. Ripping shouts against the silence. Francis removes my dress, petticoat and bloomers along with it while I'm down. The tears won't repair easy.

Roderich gasps, eyes wide. Steps back. The crowd gathered doesn't say a word. Francis lifts me up to my feet, looks me from head to foot. He steps back, too, leaves me standing there. Naked. Flat chest and the wrong parts. I bite my lip, cover my face with my hands. Unable to stop the water from flowing down my cheeks.

Ludwig should be the only one to know. Ludwig is my husband.

"This is the true Felicia."

My whole body shakes, I can't move. The water won't stop. Roderich's shoes crunch on the stone walkway. "Felicia? What's-"

"Feli."

A shout. My eyes snap open. Ludwig pushes through the crowd, steps out and stands in front of me. I wrap my arms around my naked, flat chest. Shaking. There's engine oil on his cheek, his work gloves scratch against my skin. He pulls off his tank top, places it on over my head. It passes my inner thighs, hides my shame.

Francis points at Ludwig. "This man is the one Felicia lives in sin with."

Roderich's face contorts. He hisses. "Heathens."

"Vermin."

Ludwig glares at them, meets my eyes and takes my cheeks in his hands. Rubs his thumb over them, wiping away the wet. I close my eyes, lean into his hands. "I want to go home, Luddi. I want to go home. Per favore."

"I'll take you there. Don't worry. We can go home."

He takes my hand, warm. I gulp, squeeze. Francis pulls me back by the hair again. I shriek, Ludwig shouts. Roderich holds him back. Francis taps cold metal against my cheek. Clips them together beside my face. "Everyone will know the truth about you, minx."

Ludwig keeps shouting, doesn't stop. Roderich keeps holding him back. Francis tugs my hair out and slices through it. My eyes widen. Snap. Blonde hair falls to the ground. Slice. More flutters down. I accepted the illusion, Antonello did too. I close my eyes, wrap my arms around myself tight. Another slice, more hair. Il Duce, fratello, Iddio, per favore, forgive me.

Slice. Francis steps back. Enough blonde hair on the ground. Nothing on the back of my neck anymore. I whimper, hold on to myself tighter. Francis' hand crunches my shoulder. "Il Duce hates homosexuals more than Jews."

"Don't touch her." Ludwig snarls. Francis lets go of my shoulder. I look up, see Ludwig manage to shake Roderich off. Roderich grabs him again. He keeps struggling. "If you want someone to ridicule, you'll have to include me. Leave her out of this."

"It takes two to sin. You'll share the same fate."

Roderich shoves him forward. I shake my head, shoulders trembling more. "N-No, no. Luddi, no, you can't. Luddi, no, per favore."

"Shut up."

Francis slaps me, Ludwig shouts. "I told you to keep your hands off Feli, you sick fuck."

"I suggest you stay silent as well, Ludwig."

My throat wells up with sticky globs, like honey. Why would they listen to a lady? A finocchio.

Francis glares at us both. "You're what they want, Felicia. Blonde. Perhaps not fair skinned or blue eyed, but your homosexual vermin friend is. They'll enjoy you both."

He grabs my hands, holds them tight behind my back. I can't wipe the water from my eyes. Roderich shoves Ludwig forward again. Ludwig struggles, can't get loose. Roderich leads, Francis pushes me to follow them. Leans in, breathes against my ear.

"If I can't have you, no one can."

My vision blurs out and my throat whimpers, closes.

The train rumbles to a stop. I cling to Ludwig's chest, he keeps his arms around me. The car doors slide open, a soldier grabs the first person closest to the opening. "Out, now. Single file, hurry."

They herd us out, shouting orders in German. Ludwig pulls me along, not holding my hand. He's without shirt, I have no pants. No shoes. White snow layers the ground, specks of grey ash sprinkling down from the chimneys above our heads. Outside is less crowded, cold instead of freezing.

The soldiers divide us into lines, one for able men and the other for women and children. Ludwig grabs my arm, keeps me with him on the men's side. Not where I belong.

"Don't go there. Nothing good comes from following that line."

They shave us of all our hair. Even our eyebrows, off the bottoms of our feet. Soak us in a tub full of I don't know what. They shove clothes in our arms, shout run, run, all in German. One of my boots is too big, the other a little too small. The pants and shirt fit all right. Ludwig catches up with me, both his boots are too small. They fit me, the big one I have fits him.

They herd us into a large empty space. Surrounded by high darker than grey walls, grey buildings, a grey sky filled with chimney ash. My nose twitches from the scent I can catch, can't identify. The snow below our feet is a grey lighter than the sky. They pack us in tight, like the train cars, only with more room to move. Ludwig takes my hand, holds on tight.

A German soldier steps up to the platform in front of us, bearing the insignia on his arm proud in black, white, red. He looks down over us all. Blond, piercing blue eyes. Barks. "Who here can speak or understand German?"

Ludwig doesn't raise his hand. Doesn't move. I raise my hand along with some others. He glances at me, jaw set. The soldier counts us, expression unchanged.

"Which of you speak English?"

A few different hands, some stay the same. Ludwig grabs my arm, pulls it down. The soldier counts again. Singles out two and draws them up to the stage with him. Not on the same level, they stand in front, remain below. The soldier growls out rules, guidelines. Pauses to allow the two men to translate for us.

Ludwig pulls me closer, hisses in my ear. "Why did you raise your hand?"

"I can't lie to a man."

A brown-eyed man smacks Ludwig's shoulder. "Shut up, you'll get us all in trouble for speaking." His voice is rough, face scratched. A fresh angry red mark across one of his brown eyes. "So quiet."

The soldier on the platform heils, and turns to get off the stage. Barks out things I don't listen to. We're divided again, Ludwig gets sorted into a different group than me. I turn around, can't move against the flow. I get shoved into a bunk space with the brown-eyed man and so many others. I run into another man, meet blue eyes. His blue eyes are familiar, light brown hair starting to sprout from his head. We stand and stare at each other. He points at me.

"Mio Dio, is that you, Felicia?"

"Feliks?"

Feliks grins and pulls me into a hug. Squeals, pats my back and rubs my empty head. "Felicia, oh mio Dio. I thought I'd never see you again. Like, all your gorgeous hair is gone, what a shame. Hey, do you know if Toris came home while I was gone? Did he ask about me?"

I gulp, my tongue sticking to the roof of my mouth. Feliks has a flat chest, too. He pulls away, looks into my eyes.

"What are you even doing here?"

I smile past the water building up behind my eyes. "I don't know anything about Toris, mi dispiace. Um. Francis and Roderich sent me."

"Those total bastardi. You were never a lady, were you?"

I shake my head, lying. Feliks pats my shoulder, smiling. Eyebrows tilted up.

"I'll help you out here, no worries. You can totally count on me."

Some of the other inmates stare at us. A small boy laughs, dry. Sitting on the lowest bunk behind me, stacked four levels high. "That's what they all say."

Feliks puffs out his cheeks, hands on his hips. "Mind your own business, shortie."

"Finocchio."

"So are you."

"And Jewish."

The boy points to the star on his chest. A full David's star and pink for homosexual. One of his brown eyes is freshly black, puffy. The blue striped pyjamas are too big on him, wouldn't fit me. Feliks shrugs, takes my shoulder. "That's your problem, Momo."

The door slams open, and the blonde German soldier stomps inside. "Attention."

The room scrambles. Skeletons standing up straight, lined up along the front of the bunks. Momo stays sitting on the bed behind me, rolls his eyes. The soldier walks up and down our ranks, glaring. Blue eyes sharp. A darker shade than Ludwig's.

"Lights out. You'll sleep when we say and get up when we say. There's work to be done for you disgusting vermin." He stares right at me. I shrink into the wooden frame behind me. He's going to spit. "You'll stand at attention when we come into the room."

He darts forward, I flinch and shut my eyes. Vanilla. Sharp and on his skin. He yanks back with Momo in his grip. Their faces barely not touching. He'll bite off Momo's nose.

"You will follow orders. We own each and every one of your asses."

"Viva la morte, Dani-boy."

Momo smiles, eyes narrowed. The soldier sets Momo down between Feliks and me. I can lean my elbow on the top of his head and need to lean down a bit. The soldier barks at us, driving some of the others into the wooden bed frames. Then leaves, and out go the lights.

The others scramble into their bunks. Any bunk, I think. A hand grabs me and pulls me down into one of the lowest bunks. Momo barely takes up any of the space. I've only ever shared a bed with Ludwig. His eyes are still narrowed, at me now. "Follow the rules and maybe you'll last for a week. Might even see your lover again."

"You know-"

He smacks my cheek, not loud enough to slap. His chocolate brown eyes reflect what moonlight that filters in. His voice deeper than his appearance. "Don't speak. Listen. It might do you some good."

He lays down, arms and legs curled inward, making him smaller. The sheets are freezing. Like the box car we were brought in. I rub the sheet in between my fingers. Lie down straight on my back. Beside me he's warm and cold at the same time.

He points to a crack in the wall, to the sky with black clouds surrounding the moon, camouflaging the chimneys reaching as high as they can to those blotted out stars. His voice almost a whisper. "The only way out is through the chimneys."

"Feli, danke schön Gott. Are you okay?"

I look over my shoulder. Momo grabs my arm, faces me back forward. At work. "Don't look. Just talk. They don't call you out for talking yet."

"O-Okay."

I keep my hands moving, working. Momo's movements are automatic, natural. "So that's Ludwig, right?"

"Sì."

My arms shake. He's right behind me and I can't look at him. He's finally there and Momo says not to look. Ludwig's voice is quiet, rough. "Are you okay, Feli? Can you stay warm enough at night? Are the rations enough for you? They haven't beaten you, have they?"

"Woah, prince charming. Try one thing at a time."

Momo rolls his eyes. My knees wobble, hands fumble with the broom numbly. Momo kicks my heel. I catch it before it falls, keep working. "I-I'm fine, Luddi. Grazie mille. How are you?"

"Well. Here."

He pulls one of my hands back, slips three bread crusts in my palm. I grip them tight, don't drop them. Momo snorts, kicks me again. I put them in my waistband, hidden. Ludwig and I and Momo keep working.

"Find me at dinner, I'll give you my soup."

"But. But it's your food."

"I'll be fine. You need to stay as strong as you can."

Yells disperse through the air. Shift's over. Momo grabs my arm and drags me away. I glance back. Ludwig's face is sullen, his blue eyes still bright. He's alive. All the pent up stress in my shoulders melts out, I allow myself a moment to breathe.

Momo tilts his head up at me. Still short enough for me to put my hand on top of without bending my elbow too much. I don't dare. His chocolate brown eyes aren't narrowed. "You have a loyal guy there. Risky, but loyal."

"We were going to get married."

"No wonder you got taken in."

He laughs, harsh. I bite my lip. "What do you mean risky?"

"Giving out bread crusts during work? For one, he's going to need to eat, too. Food is as precious around here as water in a wasteland. Food could save your life around here. For the other, he's lucky Dani-boy wasn't on watch duty today."

"Dani-boy? The soldier who gave us the protocol speech?"

Who smells of sweet vanilla. Momo grins, rubs his cheek with a hand. The same side as his black eye. "The very cock sucker. Dani-boy's the worst, has the sharpest eyes. He knows when you lie to him, where to put the pressure to get a confession from you. And he doesn't even need the confession."

He laughs again, keeps walking. I take out one of the bread crusts, put it in Momo's hand. They're not tasty. We shouldn't eat them. Jakob refused to eat for three days. Collapsed on the fourth and was dragged out by the soldiers. Momo takes it.

"I guess if your guy gets me food, it's okay."

"How did he get three?"

"Either he fasted or beat up some unlucky bastardi." Momo scowls with the same intensity as his soldier. Danny boy. Not fitting for a soldier. Momo chews on the piece of crust, bit by bit. "Feliks is lucky to be on sick bay duty. Way more perks than working the bellows or out here."

"The bellows?"

He points to the chimneys, licks his fingers. The only way out. They lead up to the sky, don't lean over any of the walls. My eyebrows, coming back in slow, tilt up.

"You used to work oven duty?"

"Yeah, before I got brought to this camp. That other one was fucked up."

"There are other camps?"

Momo stops, turns to eye me. "Were you living with your head in the ground or something? Haven't you ever heard of the Juden laws, Kristallnacht, Auschwitz?"

I shake my head. Shoulders shaking. "A-Auschwitz?"

He glances from side to side. Rolls up his right sleeve. On the inside of his arm is a sequence of letters and numbers. He shoves his sleeve back down before I can read it. "I was fucking lucky to get out of that one. There was a creep Doktor, and I was next on his list."

"Were you sick?"

He laughs, harsh. No humour. Shakes his head. "Not me. That Doktor, definitely."

"Is his name really Danny boy?"

"You ask too many questions." He whirls on me, glaring. I flinch back, hold up my hands. A sob choking in my throat. After a moment, he rolls his eyes, smacks my leg. Continues walking. "Don't cry, that only marks you out as a disgusting wimp. Plenty of pent up inmates and soldiers here who will force you into stuff you don't want to do. It's Daniel."

My hands even out, stop trembling. I nod, follow after him. Daniel.

Before dinner, they assemble us and roll call is taken. Counted in ranks, organised by some internal order I can't understand. Daniel announces that, if we behave like tamed and obedient vermin, a few of us will be picked to get worked somewhere outside the camp. Then we're lined up to receive our soup and bread crusts for the night. Daniel strides by, Momo catches eyes with him. The air is electric, then it passes. Daniel moves on.

They draw near, blow up in each other's faces. It lets us have a moment to breathe. At the same time, we hold our breath.

"We're going out again." Momo scuffs his boots on the floor. They're falling apart, but our clothes never fray. He glances back at me, faces forward again. "Maybe there'll be the orchestra again. The music's nice to listen to while we work."

"We won't be close enough to it after we leave."

He stares straight ahead, mouth shut. If Toris is still fighting, I hope he's sent home soon.

Ludwig finds us after we get our rations, and we find a spot to eat together. He gives me most of his soup, refuses to eat any of mine. Even the bread crusts. Feliks is nowhere in the crowd.

"Luddi, do you think they'd notice if I switched to your barracks?"

Momo snorts, tears at his crust. Ludwig shakes his head. "Feli, no. They'll notice. You need to stay there with Momo."

"I want to be with you."

"Where I am, the barracks are like stone. You're better staying with Momo."

The soldiers call out turn in time. Momo takes me back to our bunk. The lights go out, and he curls up beside me. As small as a child. In need of a Mamma. But he's not a child, he's a full grown adult.

My eyes close. Darkness and ash from the chimneys surround me. I can hear fratello, Antonio, Feliks, Antonello, Ivan, Francis screaming. Ludwig and Momo are beside me, silent. Also not beside me. They whisper in tongues I can't understand. In German, italiano, nonsense. Daniel stands behind me, back to back. Singing softly under his breath. The vanilla drowns the smell of burning flesh.

"Idiota, wake up. Selection time's coming."

Momo shakes my shoulder. My eyes open. He faces the door, closed and empty. I sit up, rub my eyes. The sleep's cracked in the corners of my eyes. He's fratello as a child and not. I keep rubbing. "Breakfast?"

"Ban-gohan wa." He shakes his head, starts again. "Limited supplies, so hurry it up."

He pulls me out with him, drags me to the door. I stumble, rub all the crust out of my eyes. The others get up, too. I didn't hear the wake up call. He has me by the hand as we exit out into the open.

Then the wakeup call tolls out. Shouting and growling sirens, I think. We get in line for breakfast. If I could get away with it, I'd sneak extra for Ludwig. But then I wouldn't be given the chance of getting out with Momo and him.

We're given our rations, take them to a spot and eat standing up. Momo's eyes wander, not stopping on any spot. I stare at the line. No Ludwig yet.

"Line up, we're leaving. Run, you filthy disgraces."

Momo's head snaps in that direction, squares in directly on Daniel. He gulps down the rest of his food, grabs my arm and pulls. I cough, choke down the rest of mine. He pulls me into the line in time to finish off a row. Daniel barks at the late comers, they retreat with sour faces. We stand at attention as he counts us. Ludwig stands two columns ahead. My shoulders release a lot of my stress and I can breathe.

Daniel stands point. Towers over many of us, taller than Ludwig. Growls and places the count under his arm. "Good. Right then, face forward, march. Move out."

The strains of an orchestra begin and we're marched out. Momo was right. We pass them at their loudest, march out the gates and on the road. In step, unison, never missing a beat. My feet twinge with every step.

A hand brushes mine on the side Momo's not on. I glance at Ludwig, then back forward. My feet are on feathers, throbbing. Daniel's known for a sharp tongue and harder fist.

Daniel calls a company halt. We made it to a small down, ramshackled and streets empty. He orders us into a storehouse, then to take seats at tables with mechanical things on them. Daniel moves to the side for a different man, disappears. The man gives out instructions in a half-German, half-Polish dialect. The man leaves, too, and we all sit for a moment.

Ludwig catches my attention. Sitting next to me at the same table. Smile lighting up his eyes. "Don't worry, it's simple. Here, I'll show you."

He clicks some of the parts together. Twists, clinks, adjusts the tightness. I watch him work, hands in my lap. Momo's gone. Some of the other tables start clicking, fiddling as well. A man with brown hair growing back in and lavender eyes hums softly. A hymn. His table joins in, and two other tables.

I close my eyes, lean against Ludwig's shoulder. Add my voice to the mix. Nothing to say when there's nothing to do.

Slowly, the others fade out. I'm the only one left singing. I stop, open my eyes. The other groups are staring at me. I bite my lip, latch on to Ludwig's arm. "I-I'm sorry. I just. I know this hymn."

"Please, keep singing."

The boy with lavender eyes' voice is soft. I almost missed it. "What?"

"Don't stop. Your voice is very beautiful."

Some of the others murmur in agreement. I gulp, nod. Close my eyes again and resume the hymn. It's one of God finding us when we're lost. Their voices find a way in on occasion, then peter out to allow mine room.

I sing the verses in repetition, folding them in without seams as Nonno and Roderich taught when without musical accompaniment.

The door bangs open and Daniel comes back in, shouting. I jump, shut my mouth. Ludwig pulls me up with him. Daniel inspects some of our work, stops at Ludwig and my table. Nods. "Time to move out. Form your ranks, run to it."

We scramble into place. Daniel marches us out, in tune. Ludwig stays beside me, tapping rhythm on his leg. Keeps me steady.

We march on. The orchestra strains grow stronger. Throb in my chest in time with my feet. Daniel settles us in file in the gate. They slam shut behind us. He counts us all. Places the count back under his arm. "Be here, same time tomorrow. Dismissed."

He leaves us. We stand in line for a minute, slowly disperse into groups. Ludwig leads me to a spot of unclaimed grey, and we sit down together.

"Vermin italiani to repair mechanics. Brilliant."

Momo plops down on my other side. Gritting his teeth. Ludwig leans over me to take a look. "Are you all right?"

"Stubbed my toe. I'll be fine."

No. No he didn't. He winces, wiggling. Ludwig raises an eyebrow. "Can you march with a stubbed toe?"

"I can do my damn well best."

"Who was it with?"

Ludwig and Momo stare at me. Momo locks gazes with me. Smiles. "A dumb rock in the road. These piece of shit boots didn't help at all, either."

I shiver, nod. Ludwig leans back against the wall, takes my hand. "Are you all right?"

I nod, squeeze his hand in return. Momo kicks his feet against the floor, stops gritting his teeth after a while. Ludwig mumbles in German, I listen and nod at times. The soldiers announce dinnertime. We get in line to gather our rations, go back to sitting in our claimed spot of grey. Ludwig insists on making me eat most of his again. Momo steals some of mine, I grab Ludwig's arm to stop him from hitting Momo. The black eyes is fading.

The sirens call for lights out. Ludwig heads to his barracks, I have to let go of his hand. Momo pats my arm as we walk to our bunk. "You'll see him in the morning. I promise you that."

"Thank you, Momo."

"Save your thanks for someone who gives a crap."

He eases into the bunk rather than flopping down. I climb in, stare at the bottom of the bunk on top of us.

The lights shut off, leaving the pale light to slip in through the cracks. The sky is clouded not just with ash. More ashen snow drifts to the grey-white ground. I close my eyes, breathe out one shaky exhale.

The chimneys in the dark scream louder. Everyone's voices included, even Ludwig and Momo. My eyes are wide, blank. Leaking a liquid I can't identify. Not warm like tears, blood. Ice cold. The snow crunches behind me, and vanilla covers up the rotten burning flesh once more. "Do it with me." Daniel places a hand on my shoulder. Voice softer than normal. Turns me around to face him. He's without his uniform, a swastika still engraved on his arm. A German cross stuck in his sternum, bleeding. He has no eyes. "Whether you want to or not. If you want anything, wake up."

He punches me across the cheek. My body spasms, my eyes snap open. Momo tugs on my shoulder. "Get up now if you want anything to eat for breakfast."

I sit up, shudder. Rub my eyes. "You're limping."

He smacks my shoulder with a fist. "Up. Now."

I get up, follow him out. The sleep won't come out of my eyes, my cheek stings. We get in line behind Ludwig, eat together standing up. Daniel walks out and I flinch when he barks.

"Line up, it's move it or lose it."

Ludwig takes my hand and pulls me over to line up. Momo gets a column ahead of us, we make quota again. Daniel faces us to the gates.

"Forward march. Run."

The strains of the orchestra back us up. Ludwig pats time against the side of his leg. I keep time with him. Momo grits his teeth, narrows his eyes the whole way. Daniel marches us into the same ghost town, into the same shop. Stands at the front and glares at us all.

"Your task is the same as before. I hope you haven't forgotten, or your punishment will be more severe than if you do not perform better than last time. Get to it."

Daniel takes a seat, keeps narrowed blue eyes on all of us. The tables shake as we work, hurried. The man who watched us yesterday is also there, walking up and down aisles. Ludwig sets to it with less strain, shows me how to do it right. I look away for a moment, and Daniel's gone. The man stops circling, takes his place. Momo slips through a crack in the wood walls, also disappears. I glance up at Ludwig.

"Momo just left."

"Ja, he did."

Ludwig doesn't stop working. No one does. I tug on his arm. "We should follow him."

"We'll only get in trouble."

"Daniel's gone, too."

"Who?"

"The soldier. Daniel and Momo are both gone."

He pauses. Stands up, crouched over, takes my hand. Voice quieter than before. "Don't make a sound."

I nod, squeeze his hand. Lead us both to the crack Momo slipped out. We both have to crawl to make it through without a sound. The streets are still empty, some buildings have broken windows and crooked doors. Writing faded and halted by shards missing. Ludwig keeps watch, we stay low and close to the walls of the buildings.

My step falters. Gasping, growling. Moaning in Momo's voice and a trail of vanilla in the air. Daniel's beating him. I pull Ludwig in the direction, leading to a small house with a wilted foundation and boarded windows. I peek in through a gap, Ludwig beside me and also looking.

Ludwig's face goes red, all the way to his neck. He turns away. Daniel's pants are down, jacket open and shirt beneath mussed up. Hips thrusting against Momo, a hand around Momo's penis, stroking and jerking. Momo's knees are up, spread, allowing Daniel to thrust inside him. On his back, not his stomach. My lips form a smile. "They're like us."

Certainly not abuse. Ludwig covers his eyes, face with both hands. Straightens up. "W-We should leave them some privacy."

"That didn't make any sense."

I push a loose board, leaning in too much. It falls in, clatters on the dust floor. Both Daniel and Momo jump, look over at me. Daniel's face burns, and he slides himself out of Momo. Pulls his pants up, facing away from us. Momo sits up, narrows his chocolate brown eyes. Panting, cheeks full of colour. "Go away."

The vanilla stings. My eyes water. Daniel straightens his jacket, hands Momo his clothes. "They s-saw, Momo."

"So? You weren't finished yet."

Ludwig grabs my arm, tugs. "S-Sorry for interrupting."

Momo's eyes bore into me. He doesn't accept his clothes from Daniel. "What do you want."

"I thought you found a chimney."

"It's not proper for a lady to be snooping."

I flinch. Bow my head. "Mi dispiace."

Daniel rolls his eyes, plops the clothes in Momo's lap. Rubs his forehead. Momo pulls on his pants, tugs at the front of the striped pyjama shirt. "What are you gonna do, Dani? They did see us."

Daniel keeps his face buried in his palm. Jaw clenched. "I don't. I thought we had it figured out. I didn't plan for anything like this."

"You could bribe them to stay silent. Or kill them."

I shiver. The vanilla reminds me of my sore cheek. Daniel bites his lip. "I could cite them as trying to run, ja. That would explain it. But."

"You're fucking awful as a German."

"Shut up." Daniel snaps. Snarling at Momo. Momo raises an eyebrow at him, shakes his head. My shoulders won't stop trembling. Feet frozen in place. Daniel exhales, heavy. "What's the point? We'll get caught again. I know because I'm not willing to. I won't stop."

"I'm just that addicting, huh?" Momo chuckles. His lips quirk up on one side. "I think Feli has a point. Wanna go up in smoke?"

Ludwig's grip on my arm tightens. Daniel stares back at Momo a moment, turns away, rubbing one of his arms. "You say it as if deserting is an easy way out."

"That's what I did." Ludwig shrugs. Eyes narrowed at Momo. "Don't call her Feli."

"I knew you spoke way too much German. Dani, c'mere."

Momo holds out his hands to Daniel. Flexes his fingers. Daniel furrows his eyebrows. Rolls his eyes and picks Momo up, holds Momo to his chest. Glances back to Ludwig and me. "If you're going to follow, we have to hurry."

"I always wanted to do this."

Daniel carries Momo out, through a back entrance. I take Ludwig's hand, hurry us both inside and after them. Walking, not marching. My feet still throb in time with each step. I close my eyes, focus on the rapid pulsing in Ludwig's hand. He takes the steps easy. "We'll be hunted. We're in their records."

"The front's waning, we're losing to Russia. I think Italien surrendered to the Allies."

Daniel doesn't slow down. Ludwig catches up to his pace. "They'll find us. They have ways."

"Who cares about three prisoners and a soldier? Dani'll be written off, we'll probably be erased from their records. Besides, we're all pretty good at playing hide and seek."

I smile, squeeze Ludwig's hand. Swing our arms in time with each step. Every scarlet thread crossed.

Regno d'Italia hung out il Duce. Germania's next. What comes will come, and me ne frego.

A/N: I need to print this out and edit it again. Everyone please welcome the OCs who are not at all consequential to the Hetalia universe, Daniel and Momo. And I apologise for historical inaccuracies, touchy subject matter, and whatnot.