West Berlin woke up screaming. Cold sweat dripped down his forehead. He felt wood all around; he was still in the Soviet Union's cell for him.

"Keep it down!" a gruff voice shouted, pounding on the door.

"Alaric?" a new voice whispered. West Berlin turned his head, and saw a small crack in the wall.

"Hallo?" he called into it. "Who's there?"

"Katerina," the voice came again. "What are you doing here? I thought Moscow only took Leona."

"Yes," Alaric admitted. "But the Allies wanted to unify West Germany, so Moscow took me here."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Prague sighed. "Is he at least feeding you?"

"No."

"No? And how long have you been here?"

"About a week or so. I lost track."

"You must be starving!"

"Not necessarily," West Berlin couldn't help smiling. "I've been getting a bit of help."

Prague was silent for a moment. "From who? Washington DC, right?"

"And London."

"Really?" She sounded surprised.

"Yeah, I know. Hard to believe, huh?"

"Well, after the way you treated him, I would be surprised." West thought he heard a note of hostility in Prague's voice.

"Katerina," Alaric whispered. "I am so sorry, for everything I've done to you."

"From what I heard, you were worse to Paris and Brussels."

"I-"

"Alaric, it's alright."

"But-"

"Let me finish, please. I do forgive you for invading Czechoslovakia, and my brother does too."

"Why-"

"Alaric! I do not, however, forgive you for coming in and slaughtering my people like cattle. Bombing my city was unacceptable too."

"I know."

"I- wait, you know?"

He nodded, then realized that Prague couldn't see him. "Yes. I was terrible to you, and I apologize."

"Oh." Prague paused before responding. "That was… easier than I thought."

"Katerina, do you know where my sister is?"

"I see her every so often, Alaric. At least, before Moscow threw me in here for a rebellion."

"How is she? Is she alright?"

"Who would have thought you'd care about someone else that much, eh?"

Alaric tightened his jaw. She was avoiding the answer. "Tell me, please."

Katerina sighed. "Do you want the truth?"

"Yes."

"She's not well."

"Sick?"

"More like mentally unstable."

West Berlin couldn't believe what he was hearing. Leona was always so strong, so sane. He would admit he had seen some signs after the German defeat, but he would never imagine that his sister…

"Alaric?"

"I'm here."

"Are you alright?"

"I don't know."

They stayed silent for a while.

"Katerina?"

"Yes?"

"Where is Moscow keeping her?"

Prauge thought a moment. "I don't know, Alaric," she sighed. "Why don't you just get some rest? You need your strength."

"You're right. I'm sorry for bothering you."

"Don't apologize."

Alaric felt himself slipping into sleep once more, and tried to fight it, but his eyes closed in surrender.

The chords of Brahms Lullaby floated in and out of Alaric's ears. It helped him keep his head. An unfamiliar bedroom, an unfamiliar nation… the German melody kept him going.

The tune faltered as West Berlin heard a loud thump from the room over. Silence rang out, uninterrupted, so Alaric began humming again.

Another thump.

Alaric swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up, trying to recall what was in the room next to his.

Not making a sound, he tiptoed over to the door, wincing when it made a low creak. Alaric rested his hand on the doorknob, drawing back when he heard another loud thump, followed by a muttered, "Shit!"

Alaric opened the door a crack and peeked inside.

Todd Kirkland was shuddering on his bedroom floor, arms shaking violently with the effort of holding up his torso. As West Berlin watched, the English city took a deep breath and reached up to grab onto the bedframe at the foot of his bed. He clenched his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut with the effort of pulling on the metal. His t-shirt rose a little over his stomach, revealing a sewn-up wound, inflicted by a shot from Alaric's sister's gun. All of a sudden, Todd gasped, and clutched his outstretched arm. He fell back to the floor with that same thump, twitching, and swearing under his breath.

Alaric took a breath, and opened the door wider. Light shone in, illuminating Todd's face, drenched in sweat or tears. The scars Alaric knew they'd given him were somewhat visible beneath his white t-shirt. Todd's mouth was contorted in pain, and his body twisted and curled.

A voice rang out in his head, a heavy German accent, though the man had come from Austria. 'What are you waiting for, fool?' it hissed. 'He is weak! This is the opportunity you need! Finish him, and bring glory to Germany!'

Alaric trembled in fear. How could he be talking to him? The Furher was dead, dead as a doornail. He'd committed suicide in a bunker back in Berlin. There was no way…

But as he watched the older boy writhe on the floor, frustrated, no doubt, that he knew he couldn't get up on his own, a sense of sick pride rose in Alaric's throat. No! he wailed internally. No! No more! I don't want any of this!

Hitler continued to whisper, and Alaric had to actually hit himself on the head to make the voice go away.

He was your role model, he reminded himself as he looked at Todd. He was the one you looked up to. He had the empire, the respect. Maybe he can help you get that respect back if you just give him a bit of aid.

He worked up the nerve to say, "Can I help you?"

Todd started, as though he hadn't known Alaric was there. His eyes narrowed to slits, and his face instantly relaxed, showing no sign of pain. "Haven't you helped enough?" he said slowly, but there was a coldness to his voice that frightened Alaric.

"I didn't help in the right way-"

"Got that right," Todd muttered.

"And I apologize sincerely." Alaric sighed. "Please, let me help you up."

Todd coughed. "I can manage on my own. I don't need your help."

"Todd, you're on the ground, fallen down at least three times. You need help. Please-"

"Just go away. I'll be fine." He winced, not backing up his argument well.

'Finish him!' Hitler cried again.

"Charlotte?" Alaric cried, backing out of the room and running down the hall. No doubt she'd be in Todd's kitchen. "Charlotte, you here?"

"Mon dieu," another bitter voice muttered. "I forgot you lived here. What do you want, âne?"

It didn't take an idiot to know that she had called him a jackass. "It's Todd. He needs your help. He wouldn't let me."

In an instant, she was up the stairs. "Move!" she snarled, pushing him aside and running to Todd's room.

"Todd?" she called gently. "You tried to get up again, didn't you?"

Alaric didn't hear an answer, so he sidled up to the door, making sure he couldn't be seen. He peeked in through the space between the door and the wall.

Charlotte was sitting on the floor, holding Todd's head in her lap. The back of her hand was on his forehead. "Todd, you've got a fever."

"No," he protested weakly. "I'm fine." He tried to sit up to prove it, but winced and fell back down again. "Okay, maybe not fine."

She stroked his forehead, and he closed his eyes.

"Todd, the Olympics are in two weeks. I don't think-"

"Forget it, Charlotte. I'm participating. I have to."

"You don't," she insisted. "Your city's in ruins, you can barely walk on your own. How do you expect to host the Summer Olympics, much less play in them?"

Todd's voice came in a whisper. "I'll get by. I piloted a plane, and fought in the rest of the war, remember?"

"You shouldn't have. Look at these scars!" Alaric saw her pull Todd's neckline down over his chest. A gash shone in the dim light, stretching across his torso. Burns, now that Alaric looked, snaked their way down his right arm and right side. His stomach turned over in horror.

He swatted her hand away. "I don't care. I… I need to show I'm still strong."

Charlotte sighed. "There's no talking you out of this, is there?" Tears shone in her eyes. "You're far too proud for your own good."

He chuckled. "Always have been. Help me up."

She nodded, and slipped an arm under his, helping him to his feet. She saw Alaric by the door, and narrowed her eyes. "You. What do you want?"

Todd turned glassy eyes to where she looked, meeting Alaric's red gaze.

"I…" Alaric swallowed, pulling on the bottom of his shirt. "I just want to say… I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. For everything."

"Alaric…" Todd sighed, looking apologetic.

"You should be," Charlotte growled.

Alaric took a breath, turned on his heels, and dashed back to the room he'd been staying in.