Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The world shakes around Werner, but he stays focused on the radio in front of him. He holds the headphones tighter to his ears, not wanting to miss a single word from the girl broadcasting amidst a war. 

She is reading “Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea” by Jules Verne, her voice calm and steady amongst the chaos around him. He clings to it, for she is the only thing keeping him sane.

He, along with his friend Frederick, are the last of the Wehrmacht Radio Surveillance Unit. They are stationed at the Hotel of Bees and call it the German Radio Surveillance Headquarters. Half the building is in shambles from previous bombings; their comrades lay dead and stuck beneath the rubble, but they are not allowed to leave. If they do, they are to be shot dead as deserters. 

And if they tried to leave, where would they even go? Werner thinks this is a good place to die, listening to this girl’s voice, whom he has heard broadcasting since they arrived in Saint-Malo. 

Since he is one of the two men left in his unit, he can listen to her without worries of having to report her. 

Frederick comes forward and hands him a drink. 

Werner takes off his headphones to give his friend his attention.

They are simply waiting for their deaths and he wishes he had a microphone for the radio, so that they could try and reach out to the girl. But, what would he say to her? That she is one thing that has gotten him through this dark time? It almost makes him laugh in anger. She would surely hate him. It’s because of him and his fellow men that the darkness has come for her and everyone else. 

But, there is a part of him that believes her to be kind. Maybe she would be happy to know that she gave a young soldier some peace in his final moments, no matter where he is from or how he has gotten here. 

“Neither of us will see Germany again,” Frederick says as he downs his Brandy. 

Werner doesn’t care to see Germany again. 

He cares for his sister, Jutta, who currently resides there at the orphanage they grew up in, but they could go anywhere together and call it home. 

Right now? He simply wants this all to come to an end. He is grateful the American’s have come to take him out of his misery. If he dies, there is no chance the Reich will find the girl on the radio. He knows her broadcasts aren’t meaningless. She is sending messages to what are supposed to be his enemies, who will bring an end to Nazi Germany. 

But he doesn’t care. 

He deserves for her to bring death to him. 

“We are about to die, Werner. And, you’re listening to the fucking radio!” Frederick says, exasperated. “What have you been listening to so religiously, anyway?”

Werner swallows, realizing how thirsty he is and takes a swig of the Brandy Frederick gave him and then speaks. 

“I’m listening to a girl reading a book… and when a bomb falls outside, I hear it on the radio. Which means, the girl I am listening to is here. She is here in Saint Malo.” 

He is honest with his one and only true friend he has made in his time at the Hitler Youth Academy. He will always remember how Frederick had warned him to run when the officers told the boys to hunt him. He is compelled to keep talking, to share something special about himself to Frederick which he had a hard time doing before with the constant abuse they were both experiencing. 

“Before they put me in this uniform—” and oh, they definitely forced him into it, Werner clenches his eyes at the horrid memories of his days at the academy and thinks instead of happier times, “—I used to listen to a French radio station.

“You did what?” Frederick asks in disbelief as he walks to the other end of the room (well, what was left of the room) to grab another bottle. 

Frederick is a good man, better than most, especially when he was forced into this all just like Werner. But, Frederick’s father is a high ranking officer, so he would have never been able to get away with what Werner did at the orphanage. 

“I broke the Fuhrer’s rules. There was this voice I listened to since I was a boy. He was a professor. I learned French. And, I learned a lot of true things about the world.”

“Listening to those broadcasts… that is punishable by death!” Frederick barks. 

“Yeah, so what?” Werner responds with a hollow laugh. “Ten seconds, a hundred, we are both dead anyway.” 

A tear slips out as he verbalizes how close to death they are.

Sometimes, he wishes they had just killed him instead, when the Nazi officers found out what he had done and took him away from the only home he ever knew. But, it doesn’t make him feel any better that the raids on the people who were found listening to outside broadcasts wouldn’t have been saved by him being dead. All this horrible shit would have happened anyway, whether he were here or not. 

It’s almost funny how many times he has been close to death. First, he had been starving as an orphan before he and Jutta were taken in by Frau Elena. Then, he spent days in the nurses station after his fellow classmates at the academy had beaten him within an inch of his life. And once he was sent into the front lines, he had been waiting for someone to have the gall to take out a gun and shoot him in the head.

Now, they were going to be blown up.

“The radio station that taught me French was on shortwave frequency 13.10,” Werner continues, tapping the radio where it signifies the frequency even though Frederick can’t see because he is standing behind him. “I’ve been tuning in whenever I can—” an explosion goes off near them, shaking the building they are holed up in, “—and now, when it’s too late, the frequency has come alive and I hear a girl reading a book.” He turns to look at his friend over his shoulder. “And I will never know who she is.”

And God, how he wants to know who she is. This girl, who is in a warzone but stays strong and sits down every night without fail to broadcast on her radio. Defying the Reich and standing for something that makes Werner’s heart ache in his chest. 

Frederick gives him a small smile as tears flood down his face. Werner can only hope his words gave his friend a distraction for a moment. 

“Goodbye, my friend,” Frederick whispers. 

Werner tries to smile and turns back to the radio. The broadcast had turned off. 

“Goodbye,” he whispers. He means it for Federick, for his sister, and for the girl on the radio. 

Their headquarters are hit directly. 

Werner has no time to think or act before everything goes black. 

☀️☀️☀️

“That’s the end of tonight’s broadcast,” Marie says, making sure her voice doesn’t waver after experiencing her home shake from a nearby bomb. The windows had shattered and rained broken glass upon her, but still, she doesn’t give up on announcing for those listening. “I know that broadcasting could get me killed, but I will not be silenced,” she says with conviction, knowing that what she is doing may help end the war. She is a part of the resistance and will fight until her last breath for the freedom of everyone. 

She pauses and grips the microphone in front of her tightly. She hopes her voice is reaching her loved ones as she speaks next. The only ones she has left.

“Papa, Uncle Etienne… I pray that you are safe and that tomorrow morning, we can break bread together as we once did.” She takes a deep breath, trying not to think of the hunger gnawing at her stomach. She will have to leave the house in search of sustenance soon. 

Marie thinks of every meal she had with her papa, uncle Etienne, and Madame Manec before the war had made its way to Saint-Malo, a town on the outskirts of France that is surrounded by the ocean. The place she now calls home. There was a time that she thought they could wait out the war and be a happy family, but it came for them after all. 

She joined her papa and uncle in the resistance. Etienne always complimented how she is meant for this, and she will not let him down; she won't let the people of France and the whole world down. 

“And to everyone else, I hope you will tune in tomorrow,” she finishes her broadcast, closing the book she had been reading which sends important messages for the Americans to know. “If there is a tomorrow,” she finds herself whispering out into the silence. Whether she means it will be because of her death or the war coming to an end, she doesn't know. 

After powering off the radio, she sits still and listens. It seems the last of the bombs have been released and her mind drifts to the German soldiers who have taken over the town. How many of them had died tonight? She hates the Nazi’s for making them stay here until the last of them are dead. Do they want to leave? Have some escaped? She hopes they take the chance to fight back, to stand against the Reich. 

And then, she thinks of her own mortality. How there are probably Nazi soldiers in search of her right now, hoping to put an end to her broadcast. They must know that the book reading isn’t as innocent as she pretends it to be. 

She likes to think that the soldiers listen to her words and get a moment of peace. It’s a part of her to try to understand everyone, even if it doesn’t excuse their actions. The German’s are people, too; some horrible and some not, just like everywhere else. 

The sound of rustling paper outside the windows catches her attention. 

Curious as to what it could be, she navigates through her uncle’s study, mindful of the new debris that may be laying around due to the bomb. Her feet carefully reach forward, but the only thing in her path is the broken glass upon the rug. Once she is at the window, she hears the paper hitting the wooden floor of the small terrace that looks out over the street two stories below and toward the ocean.

While her uncle would work at his desk, she would stand out here, basking in the feel of the sun on her face and sounds of the water nearby. 

Now, it’s night and she can't hear the ocean over the destruction of the town where the Nazi soldiers reside. 

The wind blows her hair across her face, tickling her nose as she reaches out and feels paper brushing across her hand and arm. She snatches one, clenching it tightly before drawing it right to her face. She sniffs it, and the smell of smoke wafts over her. These came from the American’s planes. 

The paper is small, and with the tip of her pointer finger, she glides over the indenting ink that signifies printed letters. To her surprise the notice is in French. 

It takes her a while and a lot of concentration, but she eventually figures out that it warns of more bombing tomorrow. 

It’s a message to the Nazi’s to surrender and leave. 

Marie can only hope the German’s do as the American’s say and so she releases the piece of paper back into the night, knowing it is not meant for her.

Chapter Text

Werner finds himself in bed beside his sister. She had settled down next to him after she found him listening to the radio again late at night. Early that day, he had been taken by the Nazi officer and was forced to fix his radio or else he would die.

Luckily, he had fixed it, with some old gum he had in his pocket. 

Jutta worried he would never come back and he doesn’t have the heart to tell her that he feared they would still kill him even if he fixed the radio. He guesses he was lucky that they brought him back to the orphanage.

Today hasn’t felt real. 

Jutta scolds him for listening to foreign broadcasts again when he almost died for it, but he knows her heart isn’t in it because she is smiling. She is happy to have him back. Despite being beside each other, he misses her, and it’s the strangest feeling. 

Since it’s late and the rest of the kids are sleeping, they speak in hushed whispers to each other. 

Jutta pulls out some chocolate and they both laugh together, happily eating up the rich treat. 

He hasn’t had chocolate in a long time, so he tries to savor it. 

Their moment of peace together is interrupted by Frau Elena hastily coming into the room and announcing that the Nazi officials are back. 

Werner’s heart begins to rapidly beat in his chest as anxiety flows through him. They surely have come back to kill him. He stands on shaky legs as he follows Frau Elena out of the room. He can only pray that they have the decency to shoot him where his sister can’t see, but it seems that might be impossible because Jutta is clutching his arm so tightly as she comes along with him that he fears she may rip it off. 

Where he expects the same Nazi official that made him fix his radio to be standing is instead a girl. He stops in his tracks, surprised to see her. She stands pin straight with her hands tucked leisurely behind her back. 

He looks to Frau Elena for an explanation but he finds she is no longer there, and when he looks to his other side, Jutta is no longer beside him. 

The world around him warps until he is standing in the sand. He is at one of the beaches in Saint-Malo. 

Now, it’s only him and the girl. 

She stands, facing the sea with her feet in the water. He watches as the foaming waves rush around her ankles. Her expression is peaceful as a light breeze rustles her hair. 

He doesn’t recognize her, but he feels like he knows her, and that knowledge draws him closer. 

“Hello?” He greets her in French, hoping to catch her attention, and it works. 

She turns to look at him and it feels as though she is staring into his soul. She smiles and it takes his breath away for a moment. She then begins to speak. Her mouth is moving but he can’t hear a thing, only the crashing of the waves along the shore. 

He steps closer, but it makes no difference. 

She seems desperate now, almost shouting at him. 

“What are you saying?” He yells back as the roaring sound of wind whips around them. He hopes to understand, but then she is no longer in front of him and he doesn’t know where he is. 

Wake up, are the words banging around in Werner’s skull as he shoots up, now awake. For a fleeting moment, it’s the radio girl's voice speaking to him, but then it’s gone and forgotten. He coughs, trying to clear his throat from the grime that seems to coat it. 

As he blinks his eyes open, everything comes flooding back to him. The Hotel of Bees where he was stationed has been bombed and he was knocked out beside his radio, which sits on the ground beside him covered in dust. It’s a miracle he even survived. He does a quick check over of himself and finds no imminent injuries. Nothing had fallen and crushed him, and no shrapnel pierced his skin. He is fine, other than the need for water and a slight headache. 

“Frederick?” Werner calls out as he spins around, looking for any sign of life. 

His heart squeezes in his chest. His friend is dead, crushed under the rubble of the building. Frederick’s eyes are open, but see nothing. Werner grits his teeth and crawls over to his friend. Like the others, he will not be able to bury him, but he can give a quick prayer and gently shut his eyes. 

There, Werner thinks, now he is only sleeping. 

He sighs, exhausted. There is nothing else he can do.

Now, he is the last of his unit. All alone. And all he wants to do is listen to the angelic voice of the girl broadcasting on the radio. 

With her, he isn’t alone.

He scrambles back to the radio and falls to his knees beside it. Are his hands shaking? The hit to his head may have taken away his reasoning, but he brushes it aside.

The radio won’t turn on. 

Panic threatens to rise and Werner realizes he may begin to sob over a radio. He takes a deep breath and settles himself down. He reminds himself that he is here in the first place because he was referred to as a great inventor; just what Nazi Germany needed on their side.

Above all else, he can, and will, fix this radio.

He is reminded of saying goodbye to Jutta before they stole him away; how she clutched to him so tightly. He promised he would get back to her. He needs to keep moving, to fight, just a little bit longer. 

And the girl on the radio gives him that fight… he needs her if he wants any chance at keeping any semblance of himself. 

With a new fervor. He gets up, hellbent on fixing the radio. He crawls out of the crumbled hotel and begins to walk the vacant streets. The sun is up, which means he was out for hours. Thankfully, no one had thought to come in and finish the job. 

It feels strange, walking around by himself. He hasn’t been alone like this since he was ripped away from his home and forced into this mess. He never wanted to be a soldier. They lied to get him into battle, saying he was eighteen instead of sixteen… and that barely scrapes the surface of the bad things the leaders of his home country have done. 

As he searches through the rubble of homes, he pretends it is not people’s belongings that lay before him, but something else. These items have been placed here as a task for him to complete, a challenge for himself. If he thinks about what it really is, he may break and never be able to put himself back together again. 

There are clusters of people now cleaning out the roads and repairing their things. They all ignore him or sneer at him. Werner cannot blame them, and he doesn’t stop to try and convince them to not hate them. 

What matters is fixing the radio. Until the end of his days, he wants to hear the girl's voice, to confirm that she is alive. He fears how he will react if she doesn’t broadcast tonight. As he walks, he looks up at the windows of the many houses and wonders if she is simply sitting in one of them right now. He would like to find her, and he often smiles to himself at the thought of meeting his mystery girl, but she would probably not be happy to see him. 

Searching for her will have to wait until after he fixes the radio, anyway. 

Werner tries to grab some wire, but it was too stuck under some cement blocks to pull it out, so he moves on. 

He is now in the parts of the town he hasn’t been able to explore freely and the silence of it puts him on edge. There is no one yelling at him about what he needs to do. No sound of gunfire as entire families die. 

The screams of people begin to make his ears pound and he almost trips. How the past creeps up on him is disorienting, but he comes back to his senses when the smell of bread overcomes him. His mouth waters as he looks up and locates the bakery, which is a corner building. Against his will, he draws nearer to it.

It doesn’t smell fresh. They probably have nothing left. And as if the owner would dare to give him a scrap of their baking.

Right as Werner is about to turn away and continue on his mission for more wire, a girl around his age comes around the corner, headed straight for the bakery and he stops in awe at her. She glides across the ground with a skip in her step that makes her shine brightly against the backdrop of where they are.

He wouldn’t be able to look away from her even if he wanted to.

War time tries to leech the beauty from the world, and it’s why when seeing her he feels his eyes tear up. 

She is so beautiful.  

Long black hair falls in waves over her shoulders and her rich even skin stands out against the dust covered streets. Her deep brown eyes shine with something Werner can’t quite decipher. A simple blue dress hugs her figure, and he wonders if she gets enough to eat during this time. 

And then finally, he realizes she uses a walking stick in front of her. 

She is blind. 

The girl is everything that Nazi Germany dislikes with her color pallet and apparent disability, but she moves like none of that matters. 

Her head is held high. She walks right up the bakery, not missing a step or the door. Clearly, she has lived here for a while. Once the door closes behind her, Werner feels odd. She has become cut off from him and his legs move before he has decided what to do. 

He is struck with the feeling that he knows her, but he can’t remember where from. 

Curious, he follows her inside the bakery. 

☀️☀️☀️

After a night of fitful sleep, Marie jolts awake. 

Immediately, she listens for anything out of the ordinary. She reaches over and gently touches her clock to feel where the hands are, which tells her it is early in the morning. She grabs the small knife on her bedside table and holds it at the ready as she tiptoes out of her room. 

She goes around the entire house like that, to make sure there are no intruders or anything out of the ordinary. 

Once she is satisfied that she is as safe as safe can be in a literal war zone, she goes about her normal morning routine. 

She does a quick washing of her face. Last night, she had taken a bath to remove the dust from her skin and hair. After putting on a cotton dress and clipping a leather belt around her waist, she takes her hair out the braids she had slept in and lets her hair cascade across her back and over her shoulders. 

She gives it a quick brush, and marvels at how long it has gotten since she and papa had moved here. It tickles her upper arm when it used to end above her shoulders. 

As she makes her way down the winding staircase that sits at the center of the house, she stops on the floor that holds her papa’s creation for her: his replica of the city so that she may learn to get around on her own. She winds her fingers through streets and along the houses, thinking of the one he made for her when they lived in Paris. It was a happier time and papa never considered her loss of eyesight a hindrance, only that it is a blessing. 

He would say that she could see what others could not. Many failed to look deeper into the meaning of life and understanding the world around them. He treated her blindness as a gateway that allowed her to tap into things others never would. While most had two eyes, she had ten fingers, ten toes, two ears and a nose, allowing her to see the world vastly different and elevated. 

Papa did not let her wallow when she lost her eyesight. He believed in her and made her respect herself. She is just like everyone else and should be treated as such. This only made the exciting journey of life a little different, not putting a stop to it. Because of how positive he was about it, it never bothered her that she couldn’t see. Even in these times of war, despite how unreliable the world around her has become, she wouldn’t change a thing about herself. 

She misses him and wishes he would come back to her already.

Marie continues on and grabs her walking stick before heading out the door. She is famished and her rumbling stomach makes her walk swiftly through the streets. She grimaces as feeling the new amount of broken materials beneath her feet. Last night, she couldn’t get a can of peaches open and could only have a few licks of syrup she could get from a crack she made in the can by beating it against a table. 

It was much to her dismay, because she loves peaches. 

She clutches the small collection of coins she has left to her stomach, thinking of the warm bread she may soon hold.

She keeps her walking stick close to herself as she listens for the steel toed boots of the Nazi soldiers. If they are near her, she will tuck it away best she can. She has been harassed by them before and would like to avoid it today. 

After a couple short minutes, she is opening the door to the bakery and stepping inside. 

“Hello?” Marie asks, not hearing anyone. 

“No bread here today. No bread anywhere today.” A voice answers from what sounds like a backroom. “Marie!” They say in surprise as she hears them come into the room. 

“Monsieur Caron,” Marie greets and holds out the coins in her hands. “I’m so hungry. Do you have any bread left?”

“Keep your money,” he states gently. “I only have a stale scrap, but take it.”

Marie gasps at feeling him press more than just a scrap of bread  into her hand. “Thank you,” she replies genuinely. Her stomach is in knots of excitement as she tucks her money away in a pocket of her dress to be able to handle the bread easier. As she is about to take a bite, the doorbell rings, signifying a new customer has entered behind her. 

“What are you doing here?” Monsieur Caron says with scorn, making Marie raise her eyebrows. The new person doesn’t respond, but because of Monsieur Caron’s tone, she thinks it may be a German soldier. She was too captivated with the bread to listen to their footsteps. They don’t make any move to leave or come further into the bakery. 

“I’m sorry,” the person stutters out, sounding confused. “I don’t mean to intrude.”

Her suspicions are confirmed. He speaks French well, but there is no missing his German accent. And, Marie's mouth opens slightly in surprise because she knows his voice. She has heard it before. 

He steps closer, the click of his boots filling the silence, bringing her back to the day she remembers hearing him for the first time.

She had been wandering home after going to get food for herself because her uncle Etienne was out on one of his longer missions for the resistance. She was sticking close to the walls to find her way home because she could hear the German soldiers patrolling through the town. It was nighttime, so she was glad to have the coverage of darkness. She lived the same whether it was night or day, but sighted people didn’t. 

As she was about to turn a corner that would have her home soon, she paused at hearing German soldiers laughing and jeering at someone. The victim spoke and her heart ached at hearing it was the old man, Henri, who ran the most popular flower shop in Saint-Malo. Her papa had brought her there before he left and Henri had let her explore the shop, discovering her favorite flower through the scent and texture of petals. Before she had lost her sight, she adored roses, which still smelled wonderful, but sunflowers had become a favorite because of how different they felt from others with their large centers full of seeds and thin silky petals. 

Henri had let her bring a sunflower home that day for free, telling her about how they move to always find the sun; the light. She still remembers how elated she was at checking the sunflower throughout the day and how it would follow the path of the sun from in front of her window. It was then that she became interested in the biology of plant life, and she hopes to study it one day when the war is over.

She had been heartbroken when her sunflower eventually wilted due to being stuck in a vase. But, her papa promised that one day, he would give her a garden full of them and they could go back to the flower shop for more within the week.

They never went together again. 

Her papa left and disappeared a few days later. It had been awhile, but she would still try to visit Henri. She told him of her aspirations to study and he made it a game to hand her flowers and quiz her on what it was. She had enjoyed his company with the absence of her papa still being a fresh wound on her heart.  

Anger flowed through Marie at these soldiers' actions. How could these men be harassing such a sweet person for fun? They were asking Henri for money when he didn’t have any. The men grew only more frustrated when he tried to move away. 

Do they have nothing better to do with their time? She had thought as she pressed herself up against the wall, trying to figure out a plan of action to take. If she were to present herself, she would become their toy to play with, and she shouldn’t bring attention to herself. But, she couldn’t leave Henri with them.  

When she had decided to round the corner and tell the soldiers to stop and leave Henri alone, she heard another soldier fast approaching and his voice broke through the pestering of the others, loud and clear. 

“Cut it out!” The new soldier yelled harshly, and she was surprised with how much younger he sounded. Closer to her age, who should not have been allowed to be sent out into the war. “Leave the man be,” he orders in such a way that she wonders if he has ranking power over the other men.

The group had gone quiet, and she heard Henri shuffle away. She breathed a sigh of relief at his escape. This was her chance to leave. She could find a longer route home, but for some reason, she stayed. 

Marie was, simply put, curious. She was witnessing a German soldier stand up to his peers. How would it end? She couldn’t help but wonder. 

“You may be a corporal,” one of the soldiers said, “but this is no man’s land right now. Don’t you have a radio to listen to or something?”

Ah, so he is higher ranked than them, Marie thinks to herself and leans closer to the edge of the wall to hear better. 

“Actually, I do,” the young soldier said snarkily. “And you are wasting my time being out here. You are all supposed to be on the other side of town by now. You wouldn’t want me to tell the captain that I found you slacking, do you?”

Marie almost laughed in surprise. She liked the attitude of the soldier. Him standing up against his fellow officers gave her a glimmer of hope for the future of this war. It’ll be people like him that could help make change and put an end to all of the absurdities that are happening. You just have to start somewhere.

The group of soldiers begin to move away but she hears them shove someone to the ground and spit on them before laughing. It had to be the soldier that stood up for Henri. He got up quickly, but didn’t say anything or move. She feared an all out brawl may happen, but the sounds of the antagonizing group quieted as they got further away. 

It was a while before the other soldier chose to move and follow in the same direction. 

Bringing herself back to the present day, Marie turns to face this soldier who she heard defend an innocent man when it would have been better for him not to. What is he doing here, now? She knows the soldiers are hungry, too. They are essentially prisoners of this war just like the citizens of Saint-Malo. They have been left here to die. 

And, why does he always seem to be alone? What did the other soldiers mean by teasing him about listening to the radio?

“I said, get out!” Monsieur Caron bellows so abruptly that Marie drops her bread in surprise. 

It hits the floor at her feet.

There is complete and utter silence until she begins to bend down to grab the piece of bread. 

“No, let me, Mademoiselle,” the solder says quickly and she hears the fabric of his clothes scratch against each other as he bends down in front of her and then the bread is being pressed into her empty hand as she rights herself. As she wraps her fingers around it, she feels that he is trembling slightly. 

Is it from how hungry he is? He could have grabbed the bread and ran, but she wouldn’t have expected that of him. Any other German soldier? Yes, they would have come in and put a gun to her head for it, but not him. 

“Thank you,” she says. He is showing him an act of kindness, so she will do the same. “Here,” she speaks again as she rips the loaf in half and holds one end out to him. Her knuckles brush against his coat, which feels to be wool. 

She simultaneously hears him take a deep breath and feels it as his sternum expands, pushing her fingers further into his coat and she feels the coolness of a metal button.

“No, Mademoiselle,” he says softly as he engulfs her hand with his and slowly pushes the bread back toward her. “It is all for you.”

Marie turns her head up toward him. He doesn’t seem overly tall from where his voice had come from, but definitely taller than her.

“I am sorry for disrupting,” he projects behind her toward Monsieur Caron, but when he speaks next, it’s with an extra warmth aimed at her. “Have a good day.”

She expects him to leave immediately, but he doesn’t move. His hand is calloused, yet warm, and seems much larger than her own as he continues to hold her.

He swallows and clears his throat, before letting go of her abruptly and swiftly leaving. 

The bell rings as the door to the bakery slams shut and Marie wonders what in the world just happened. 

Against her will, her cheeks heat. This soldier has made her feel warm like the sun caressing her skin after a long while at the beach. That thought only makes things worse and she begins eating the bread to distract herself. 

“I’m sorry you had to deal with that, Marie,” Monsieur Caron says with a sigh. 

“No matter,” Marie responds. After taking a deep breath, she turns toward the baker, hoping he can’t see on her face what she was thinking. “He was kind.”

Monsieur Caron scoffs. “German’s cannot be kind.”

Many of them aren’t, she thinks to herself, but he was.

Instead of arguing, she simply continues eating her bread until it’s gone and she’s licking at her fingers for any crumbs. She hopes the soldier can find something for himself. It makes her wonder why he came into the bakery if not for bread?

“Marie, there is someone here to see you,” Monsieur Caron interrupts her thoughts and she follows his footsteps as he crosses the room and knocks at a door with a rhythmic movement. 

Someone new enters the room. 

“Marie.”

She’d recognize that voice anywhere. 

“Uncle Etienne!” She says with joy. “You came.”

He crosses the room in a few strides and they embrace. 

“I heard you pray we would break bread together,” Etienne says as he holds her tighter. “There’s little bread, but I’m here. Very clever, telling me where to meet you.”

“Where have you been?” Marie asks, but smiles at his compliment as they pull away from each other. “I didn’t expect you to be gone for so long.”

“The Americans and British are coming to free us,” Etienne says with excitement as he keeps a hold on her shoulders, emphasizing the importance of his words. “So, I have work to complete which will end this war as fast as possible, but I'm afraid I have caught the attention of the Germans. If I come home, it would put you in grave danger. And, you are important to the resistance. The messages in code you are sending are vital to winning the war. Now, I want you to broadcast again tonight. Skip ahead to chapter twenty and read only page one, then read chapter twenty-one and only page two.”

“Twenty then twenty-one, first and second,” Marie confirms. 

She thinks back on the day her uncle ventured out of the house for the first time, to join in this fight for freedom with her. She had been filling in for her sweet aunt Madame Manec, planning to go alone, but then Etenne had been standing before her. 

Ask me again, if I’d like to come, he had said and so their adventures began. 

They took over the fight after Madame Manec passed away. Oh, how Marie misses her dearly. But, she is proud of her uncle and all that he has accomplished. 

Etienne gives a chuckle of approval. “You better get home, quickly.” 

“He’s right,” Monsieur Caron interjects as Etienne begins to lead her toward the door of the bakery. They both pause and look back at him. “It’s not safe out here. There’s a German officer in town offering food and money in return for information… about you, Marie.” 

“Me?” Marie asks in confusion at the same moment Etienne asks what a soldier would want to do with her. 

“I don’t know. No one does. He won’t give any extra information, just that he wants you. So far, no one has spoken, but he is a violent man.”

“I’m grateful to you all,” Marie says in thanks. 

It couldn’t be because of her broadcasting, that would be a team of soldiers coming for her. She has heard the horror stories out east how they will kill everyone in a house for someone using the radio. And then it makes her wonder how they haven’t come for her yet, surely she has been broadcasting long enough for them to locate her? It must be the frequency she uses, 13.10 that keeps her hidden away.

But still, something is strange about all of this.

Her uncle draws her attention again as he guides her away from Monsieur Caron, now in a more rushed manner. “When you get home, lock all the doors, all right?

“I will,” Marie says with a nod.

“There will be more bombing raids tonight,” Etienne warns and as she hears him open the door, she turns back to Monsieur Coran for a moment.

“The soldier that came in earlier, he isn’t the one searching for me, right?” She suspects that Monsieur Caron would have told her if that were the case, but she has to make sure. She is desperate to know.

“No, that was not him. You’re still safe, Marie.”

Maybe then, her connection with this German soldier is genuine. It brings her comfort that he isn’t the one looking for her. Instead, he helped her.

As she begins her journey home, she thinks about her two mystery soldiers: one who is most likely planning to cause her harm as he hunts for her, and the other, who is kind during a war that has taught him not to be. 

The kind soldier, Marie hopes to meet again. Her kind soldier. 

Marie wishes she had learned his name. 

Before she begins to wallow about never learning anything more about the German boy, she remembers how he was associated with listening to the radio by his fellow soldiers. She smiles as she begins walking faster, realizing that she may reach him with her broadcasts. She is already planning what to say next in case he is listening.

Chapter Text

Werner stumbles out of the bakery and tries not to look back or break into an outright run as he is overcome with energy. He swiftly walks down the street and smiles as he flexes his hand in front of himself, remembering how it felt to hold the beautiful girl. She had offered him her bread, the truth of her actions spins around in his head, making him feel light against the heaviness of the world around him. 

Is this what people have described as feeling ‘giddy’?

Once he stepped inside the bakery, he had forgotten why it was a bad idea and simply stared at her. It was worth it being yelled at to speak to her. He had hated how she jumped from the man’s abrupt voice and felt the need to instantly fix it. She can’t see him, but as he stared down at her, he knew she didn’t need her eyesight to know him. 

He felt like an open book on display for her and he would gladly let her flip through his pages to discover more about him. 

And with her, everything went silent. All his horrid memories and guilt dissipated. It was as if they were the last two people in the world. 

There is a fluttering in his chest that only his girl on the radio has made him feel. Werner completely stops in his tracks, right in the middle of the street. He only heard the girl speak a few words, so he couldn’t be sure, but what if she was the girl broadcasting?

Did he just meet the one person, who he has not let himself believe in as anything but a dream? 

Werner turns around and rushes back toward the bakery, but when he gets there, she isn’t there. No one is. He looks up and down the streets, but she has disappeared. A fear so unsettling that he feels it rattle his bones overtakes him: had he imagined her? 

The honey sweet scent that wafted off of her seems to surround him, soothing him. He focuses on how soft her skin was and the way her eyebrows furrowed slightly in concern as he denied the bread.

No, she is real. 

Now, his only chance at finding her is with the radio, which isn’t working. His search for more wire becomes frantic. After a while of looking, he has found a pile of concrete rubble with just what he needs, but he can’t get the bit of wire to budge. 

There are footsteps coming toward him, a group of people. 

“What are you doing, soldier?” someone asks with a firm voice. 

He turns to see it’s a German Captain stopping before him. 

“Looters will be shot,” the Captain emphasizes, giving a pointed look to the piece of wire he was attempting to free. 

Werner immediately rights himself and gets into the proper stance with his hands pressed flat against his side, internally cursing himself for not having better awareness of his surroundings. He doesn’t want to draw attention to himself, and now he has someone looking right at him who has all the say over his life. 

“Corporal Werner Pfennig, sir,” he states, putting on his act as an obedient soldier. “I’m with the Wehrmacht radio surveillance unit. My unit was deployed to Saint-Malo to locate the illegal radio broadcasts. Last night, my transceiver was damaged. I need wire to continue my work, sir.”

The Captain says nothing, and instead, climbs the pile of concrete to stand before him. He leans down and rips out the wire Werner had been struggling with.

“You are very weak,” the Captain says, unimpressed. 

He doesn’t hand over the wire and Werner tries not to eye it like a dog before a fresh slice of meat. It’s the only good one he has seen so far. He fears what the Captain may do with it. 

The Captain leans down and grabs one of the pieces of paper that were dropped all over the city the night before. “Have you seen this?”

Werner nods. “A message from the Americans to leave.” 

“Tell your unit that no one is leaving or will be allowed to leave,” the Captain orders, “we stay in Saint-Malo until the last man.”

“My unit is all dead, sir,” Werner says matter-of-factly. “I am the last man.”

The Captain doesn’t respond for a moment. Is he mourning the dead, or angry over the fact that it’s someone the likes of him left? Werner knows he isn’t impressive physically, but he makes up for it with his mind. It’s the one thing that has allowed him to make it this far, despite all the abuse he has experienced at the hands of the Reich. 

“Where are you billeted?” The Captain finally asks. 

“The Hotel of Bees,” Werner replies. But for a moment, he wants to lie… to see if they’d ever find him before the Americans come and end this godforsaken war. 

“Your work is important,” the Captain says, holding out the wire for him to grab. “I will do what I can to help.”

What?  

Werner schools his features so that no surprise at the man’s words slips out as he quickly grabs the wire and shoves it into the pocket of his jacket. 

The Captain turns and leaves without a second glance back. 

Werner cannot get out of there fast enough and as soon as he gets back to the Hotel of Bees, he grabs the radio and brings it into the basement. As he begins to expertly wind the wire throughout it to fix it, he is brought back to the first time Frau Elena had him show everyone at the orphanage how he had created something new from items others threw away.

Remembering how the voices of different people all over the world crackled to life with his first makeshift radio makes Werner smile softly. Music had begun to play, making the other children around him gasp in delight. The song had been Clare De Lune, which is what the Professor always played before he began his segments, the one he had told Frederick about. 

Six-year-old Werner had stayed up very late that night listening to the Professor along with Jutta, who was four-years-old, hiding under the covers. He still remembers everything the Professor said about light.

And that’s why he is fixing this radio, so he can have a glimpse of light through the girl's voice and words. 

When the radio roars to life, Werner practically collapses with relief. He finds a chair that hasn’t been destroyed and pulls it up next to it and sits. His shoulders sag as the heaviness of sleep creeps up on him. He puts on the headphones, clutching them over his ears like a child would hold onto a teddy bear during the night as he drifts off, waiting for the girl’s next broadcast. 

It isn’t long… or is it? Before Werner jolts at hearing someone speaking. It’s the girl! He sits up and readjusts the headphones, which had slipped a bit during his sleep. 

“Ladies and gentleman,” she says. “Before I give my broadcast today, I have something to say. Something from my own heart.”

He was right. It is the girl from the bakery! The realization that he crossed paths with her feels Earth shattering as the biggest smile spreads across his face. His eyes instantly tear up and he lets out a watery laugh in delight as he continues to listen to her.

“Many years ago, a great Professor used to offer words of wisdom to children on this very frequency. He spoke to children all across Europe, and when he spoke, he always played a particular piece of music. It was this.”

There is some shuffling and then Clare De Lune begins to play.

It brings him right back to his happiest memories—to his childhood before it was ripped away from him. He can’t remember the last time he smiled this much. She knew the Professor! Had she also listened to him growing up like he did, or did she know him personally? 

“In this time of stupid darkness, in this time of ridiculous old men invading cities, stealing whole towns like bullying children stealing toys. I thought I would try to remember some of the things the Professor said, and share them. Because he always spoke about light.” She laughs softly. “I don’t speak as well as the Professor once did, but I will try.”

Werner feels his chest squeeze with the ache of needing to speak to her again, to truly know her. 

“He said the light that comes when you burn coal, or charcoal, or peat… is actually sunlight.” Werner can hear the smile in her voice. “The point is, light lasts forever. For a billion years inside a piece of coal. But darkness, the Professor said…”

“Darkness lasts not even for one second, when you turn on the light,” Werner says along with her, remembering one of the Professor's favorite phrases that resonates with him more than ever now that he was caught up in this war.  

She continues to speak and he soaks up every word.

“I was on the receiving end of an act of kindness today from a complete stranger. I want this person to know that those who are kind, and do acts of kindness at the expense of themselves, shine the brightest in this world. To whoever you are, you are not alone in this dark time, and if you cannot turn on the light, there will be someone who will for you. We can overcome this darkness together. I have hope for us all.”

This is the most she has ever said that wasn’t reading Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea, and… is it foolish to think she is speaking to him? 

“Apologies, that was a lot,” she laughs, sounding slightly bashful and Werner laughs along, too, feeling like a new person because of her. “Let’s get into it shall we?”

As she begins to read from a new page in Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea, it hits Werner like a train that he has to stay alive. He has to stay alive to make sure this girl lives. He will find her and go to her, to protect her against all odds. She is who can end this war, turning on the light for everyone in the world. And he will make sure that happens.

Werner’s blissful happiness and determination is interrupted by a dreaded voice.

“Corporal Pfennig!” 

He looks to see the Captain waiting for him on the broken stairs, cutting his plans of escape short.

☀️☀️☀️

Marie smiles to herself as she finishes her personal segment. She can only hope that the soldier was listening and understood that he is not the organization that has indoctrinated him. She wants her words to make him realize the difference he can make in the world, and that even if they never find each other again, she will be at his side. 

She had reminisced on when her papa would let her listen to the Professor past her bedtime as she thought of something of his to say. The memory had brought tears to her eyes, but she blinked them away. She takes a moment to pretend she is still that young girl, curled up in bed, with no war going on around her and her father simply worked at the museum. 

But, it’s imminent that she reads the pages her uncle wanted her to, so she begins reciting them swiftly, knowing the bombers will be coming soon and they need the coordinates. 

Once she finishes reading the chapters, Marie shuts off the radio and checks the time to see that she should probably try to get some sleep. But, it would be useless. Knowing there is a soldier hunting for her for a mystery reason, makes her more uneasy than bombs landing around her. 

Instead, she heads down the stairs until she makes her way into the foyer where her papa’s replica of Saint-Malo sits. It brings her comfort to run her fingers through the streets and her thoughts switch from the violent soldier to the one she met today at the bakery. She wonders where he is right now, is he safe? She can only hope he will be protected so they may meet again. 

Thinking back on it, it was strange that he was alone when before he seemed to have a whole team of men. Have they all gone away, leaving him as the only one left among the rubble?

What would papa think of this ‘connection’ she had with this German soldier?

Marie realizes that not much happened beyond him grabbing her bread and denying it when she offered him some because he wanted her to have something to eat, but deep down she knows there is more to this. Her papa would laugh good-naturally, tucking loose hair behind her ear, and tell her that she is most likely starving for human contact, but she would outright deny it. She does miss school and having a family around her, but there is something special about this soldier—even if they never see each other again, she thinks that he may play a pivotal part in the ending of this war. Those who fight back against the Nazi’s do more than they ever may know and she thinks he will if he hasn’t already. 

Crushing sadness hits her suddenly because she doesn’t know if she will see her papa or her kind soldier ever again. 

Imagining them in places with only her voice for comfort and hope, she makes her way back up to the radio. She talks for only a short period as her loneliness is overtaken by hunger. The piece of bread today was not enough to sustain her and there is no more food in the house except cans she cannot open. She needs to do something, or she may starve to death. 

When she tries to get up from her chair after ending her broadcast, her legs give out. She lands on the ground while clutching the edge of the table for support. Shakily, she hoists herself up, taking a moment to catch her breath. 

Move, Marie thinks to herself. If she gives up now, she fears the worst. 

There is a place her father taught her to get food along the ocean. She gets on her coat, grabs her walking stick, and heads out the door into the night, not caring who she may encounter.  

It’s not too long of a walk to reach where she and her papa would harvest oysters together. As she walks down the old stone steps and into the water, she intakes a sharp breath at the chill, but hunger pushes her forward. She runs her hands along the stone beams the oysters have attached too and finds there is an abundance of them. She pulls her papa’s knife from the place he had last stashed it and begins cracking open the oysters, gulping down the salty goodness. After only a few, she is already feeling refreshed. 

As Marie hastily grabs for her fifth oyster, the sound of a German soldier’s boots hitting the stairs makes her whirl to face whoever is coming toward her. 

They step into the water as she clutches the wall for support. 

For a moment, she is positive: Could it be? Have the stars answered her prayers?

“Hello, Marie,” an unrecognizable voice says with a cruel laugh. 

No, this is not her kind soldier.

Chapter Text

“Get up here!” The Captain yells as Werner fails to stand upon spotting him. 

He forces his frozen limbs to move. Why has the Captain come? A million reasons fly through Werner’s mind, but the worst of them is that somehow, they have found Marie and he may be executed for allowing her to live.

He can only pray that she is still alive.

To stop his hands from shaking as adrenaline flows through him, he fixes his jacket as he climbs out of the basement. Preparing for the worst, he makes slow and calculated steps as he maneuvers through the main floor of the half broken hotel. 

His hand itches to grab his gun at his side, but he can’t look too suspicious. So, he squeezes his hands into fists at his side. He steps into the middle of the open floor that stayed structurally sound during the bombs, leaving it mostly clear of debris. His eyes scan his surroundings, and there is no sight of Marie. 

He still holds his breath in anticipation. 

The Captain has stopped moving and turns to face him. Werner gets into the proper stance in front of the bar, making his eyes look straight ahead without straying. What he has noticed is that there was someone standing slightly behind the Captain that weren’t the usual foot soldiers. It’s a younger looking man, and he is a Sergeant. 

Werner has never seen him before. 

“Why were you hiding down there?” The Captain asks, tilting his head to the side. 

The Captain’s choice of words makes Werner nervous. He says what he hopes will no longer make him look suspicious. “It is as good a bomb shelter as any, sir.”

“From now on, you will work up here. In the light. Where we can see you.”

This is not an option. Werner agrees quickly, worried about where this is going. 

The Captain strolls across the room, seeming to inspect it. But for what? Werner doesn’t know.

“It is now confirmed that last night's bombing of Saint-Malo was not random, it was targeted,” the Captain's words are clipped, showing his frustration. 

Ah, so that’s what this is about. He will have to tread carefully. 

The Captain walks back up to Werner, holding a sharp piece of glass. As he speaks his next words, he points it at Werner’s chest. Do not react, is all he can think. 

“They are hitting our positions with great accuracy. Someone is giving them information. Have you detected any radio transmissions from inside the city wall?”

“No, sir.”

A lie. He will tell as many as he can to make sure the Nazis lose this war and he keeps the girl on the radio safe. 

“Even seemingly harmless messages can contain coded information.” The Captain looks back at the Sergeant, and Werner realizes where this is going—he is about to have someone else stationed with him. The Captain doesn’t trust him. 

“Yes sir, I was also trained in code breaking.” He wants the Captain to know that he is fit for this job, that he doesn’t need someone else here. The girl's life is at stake. The last chance is to brag. “I was top of my class at the National Political Institute of Education in Berlin. And the institute in Berlin is the best in Germany.”

The Captain had begun laughing before he could finish his sentence. Werner tries not to deflate. Educational prowess will not get him anything with this man before him. 

“Yes, Sergeant Schmidt was also at the Institute in Berlin. Top of his class,” the Captain mocks Werner before turning to Schmidt to confirm. “In 1942, right?” 

Schmidt nods quickly at the question, and Werner knows it’s a lie.  

Look at them, both lying to their superior for their own gain. Although Werner is lying for the girl and the whole world at this point. What could Schmidt be thinking of beyond himself?

“Schmidt has just arrived from Paris,” the Captain says as he walks over to the boy and grabs his shoulders, staring Werner down. “You said your unit is gone. Schmidt will now accompany you and help you in your work.”

Werner doesn’t take his eyes off of Schmidt. Only one thing runs through his mind: how am I going to get rid of him?

The Captain comes back over and whispers in his ear. “Possession of any radio broadcast equipment inside the city walls of Saint-Malo is punishable by death.”

He is talking about the citizens of Saint-Malo, but Werner can’t help but feel like it’s a warning for him. 

“Yes, sir.”

“And from now, you won’t be reliant on stray pieces of wire,” the Captain says as he drops boxes of supplies onto nearby chairs.  

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir,” Werner says, trying to be appealing. He needs the Captain to leave so he can figure Schmidt out. 

“Heil Hitler,” the Captain says in dismissal and they all repeat it. 

Everyone leaves and then he and Schmidt are alone. The Sergeant immediately grabs the boxes the Captain put on the chairs and begins taking out the supplies. Werner stares at his back.

“Go grab the radio,” Schmidt says, turning to look at him. 

Werner doesn’t say anything and heads back downstairs. As he comes upon the radio, he can’t help thinking he should destroy it. But, Schmidt would know that he did it on purpose since right before, the Captain saw him listening to it just fine. 

And he doesn’t want to ruin his only chance of finding the girl, it’s better to make a plan to escape with the radio. 

Once he is back upstairs, Schmidt roughly grabs the radio from him and places it at a table in the center of the room. 

“I’ll take the first shift,” Werner says, quickly pulling up a chair and sitting in front of the radio.  

Surprisingly, Schmidt concedes. “I am tired, but when I wake, it’s my turn.”

Werner nods, hoping Schmidt is a deep sleeper. But still, would he be able to carry this entire radio without being caught? And when Schmidt wakes up, would he have gotten away in time?

Behind him, he hears Schmidt lay out on one of the booths, but after a while, there is no sign of whether he fell asleep or not.  

As he is thinking about how to get himself out of this mess of a situation, the radio lights up, notifying that someone is broadcasting. Simultaneously, Werner feels delight and fear because he is on shortwave 13.10 and it’s the beautiful girl speaking. He is instantly drawn in by the sound of her voice.

He is surprised that she is broadcasting again. It is late, and she has already read the excerpt of Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea needed for the American planes. As she begins to speak, he notices that she doesn’t have her usual energy behind her voice. It’s a bit shaky and quieter. 

It makes him want to teleport to where she is and wrap her up in his arms.

“I have something more to say, mostly to my father, but also to the kind stranger from earlier. I imagine there are people out there, like my papa, with only my voice for comfort. And I can’t leave you all alone. I will promise to speak to you always, to give you a reason to hope.”

He hears Schmidt move behind him and he is internally screaming at her to shut off the radio—to go to bed and make sure she wakes up tomorrow for a new day. She takes a deep breath, about to say more, but Schmidt sits up. As much as Werner wants to know what she is going to say next, he pulls the plug on the radio; just in time. 

“Anything?” Schmidt asks.

“No,” Werner lies. 

“My turn.” The floor creaks as Schmidt stands behind him. “You get some sleep,” he commands.

“I don’t sleep much,” Werner says in hopes of placating Schmidt. “I never have. I can take your shift if you want.”

He turns to face Schmidt, who scowls at him. 

“I said it’s my turn. I don’t give a fuck if you sleep or not.”

Werner stands and slowly takes off the headphones. Schmidt rips them out of his hand and takes the seat before the radio. Werner stays close and waits. 

“Shit!” Schmidt says. “No wonder you didn’t hear anything. The power wire went loose!”

Just as he plugs it back in and the radio comes to life, showing that someone is broadcasting. Werner grabs Schmidt by the shoulder and whips him around in the chair. 

“I did that to check you out,” Werner says right in Schmidt’s face, making it so he looks like the suspicious one. “To see if you knew anything at all about radio transceivers!” 

Schmidt stands, getting right into Werner’s face. “What are you talking about?”

Werner looks quickly over the Sergeant’s shoulder. The girl is still broadcasting. He needs to distract him longer. 

“I’m talking about how I don’t remember you at the National Institute. You told the Captain you were class of ‘42, but I remember who came top of the class in ‘42 and it wasn’t fucking you.”

“So I didn’t come top of my class,’ Schmidt responds, trying to be nonchalant. 

Werner holds back a smile of satisfaction. He’s got him. He’s a fake. 

“I don’t remember you at all. How long did you last?”

Schmidt doesn’t say a thing, so Werner keeps going. “The National Institute is an elite school. Sixty-three percent of the intake don’t make it. I’ve got an idea about you Schmidt, you were one of the sixty-three.” Schmidt is breaking, he is swallowing too much and his blinking has increased. He can’t look Werner in the eye. Werner keeps going, to see what would happen. As long as Schmidt is facing him, he isn’t looking at the radio. “I mean, all this chaos, paperwork burned… a lot of rejects saying all kinds of things officers want to hear.”

Schmidt works his jaw, visibly angry and he goes to turn away but Werner won’t let him, he grabs the front of his jacket, pulling him in close. 

“Look at me, Mr. Sixty Three,” he demands. 

“It was a lie or get sent east,” Schmidt finally breaks. 

Lie or go East. Werner was kidnapped from his fucking home and forced to go East! There was nothing that could have gotten him out of it except killing himself, but he couldn’t do that to Jutta. He had hoped the war would come to an end before it ever got this far. 

“I was frozen, beaten and run half to death in that fucking school!” Werner grows angrier now, remembering it all. “And I earned my commendation. I still correspond with the commandant. So, one word from him… and to the East you will go.”

The radio is still going. He needs another way. If he gets Schmidt drunk, he may fall into a deep enough sleep that he can sneak away and take the radio with him. At least then, he won’t have to kill him. 

Werner wraps his arm around Schmidt in a show of comradery and brings him over to another empty table, away from the radio and makes him sit in the chair. “You and I are going to have a glass of Schnapps to toast to the Fuhrer as equals.”

“I don’t drink,” Schmidt says, still clearly shaken by Werner’s power of being able to send him away to the East. 

Werner brings over the glasses and bottle of alcohol. “Yes, yes you do.” 

Werner pours into both of their glasses and sets the bottle away before sitting across from Schmidt. “To the Fuhrer, and the truth,” he toasts and they clink their glasses together before downing their drinks.

After getting Schmidt to drink a few more glasses, Werner begins his questions of distraction. “So, how long did you really last at the institute?”

“Two weeks. Two wild pig hunts. I was the wild pig both times.” Schmidt pulls out a cigarette and lights it, clearly anxious. “You know commandant Bastian?”

“I remember his rules,” Werner says, “whoever finishes the assault course last gets a ten second head start.” 

“Ten seconds wasn’t enough for me,” Schmidt says with disdain. “I got caught both times.”

“You either die like a lion or you go over like a glass of spilt milk. Isn't that what they taught us at the institute?”

Werner felt that in this war, fighting with the Nazis? You could only fall over like a glass of spilt milk. 

Schmidt sits back and gives a humorless laugh. “My father hasn’t spoken to me since I was dismissed. I’m a glass of spilt milk.”

Werner doesn’t know what to say to that, so he looks over at the radio and lets out a sigh of relief at seeing it shut off. The girl has stopped broadcasting. Now, he just needs Schmidt to get too drunk and fall asleep so he can sneak away. 

“But, I’m not an idiot,” Schmidt says with new confidence in his voice. 

Confused, Werner turns back to face him and finds that Schmidt is pointing a gun right at him. 

He won’t be able to disarm him before he shoots. This wasn’t in his plans. He should have known that someone like Schmidt would be willing to pull a gun to get what they want, especially after being insulted and reprimanded. 

“I have a secret, you have a secret,” Schmidt drawls, clearly satisfied with the change in the power dynamic. “Someone has been broadcasting on shortwave 13.10 and you are protecting them, why?”

“It’s a frequency I have listened to since I was a child,” Werner says right away, choosing to go the story route. If he’s talking, Schmidt is less likely to shoot. “There was a Professor and he told us facts, when everyone else was giving opinions. He used to say ‘open your eyes and see what you can with them before they close forever ’, and I have tried to do that, but most of what I have seen, I would sooner forget.” He will have to live with the deaths he has caused for the rest of his life. “Since I became a radio operator, I’ve found hundreds of frequencies and located the transceivers. I’ve seen the SS shoot…”

Werner trails off, overcome with the horrors he experienced out East. He had been death, bringing it upon innocent people who deserved better.

“Shoot the enemies of the Reich who were operating them,” Schmidt finishes for him.

Do the people that fight so hard for the Reich choose to believe in its values, or were they brainwashed into it? Do they go along with it to simply not feel uncomfortable like Werner has for most of his life? Schmidt chooses to be bad. 

“Yes,” Werner says with disdain. He was hoping to open Schmidt’s eyes to the wrong Nazi Germany had done. “As I was trained to do. But, when I’m alone, wherever I’ve been, I listen to shortwave 13.10. There was always silence until I reached Saint-Malo and I heard a girl reading a book.”

“What girl?”

“I don't know,” Werner says even as the image of her looking up at him with the bread in her hands stays imprinted in his mind. “Maybe the Professor's daughter, maybe someone else who used to listen to him just like me… someone from our generation who thought that if you open up the frequency and talk reason, sense, and literature to people the way the Professor did, then maybe the insanity of this old man’s war could come to an end.” Werner looks over at the radio, when back to Schmidt. “Wherever she is, she’s okay. 13.10 is in good hands.”

Werner says the last part, because he has to believe she is okay, and as long as he is alive, he will make sure it stays that way. 

“So, I have your secret, but I can’t trust you with mine,” Schmidt says. “I can’t go East.” He must see the hatred on Werner’s face. “This is war, Pfennig. One more body added to 50 million.”

“Will you track down the girl?” Werner asks in a rush. Although the answer doesn’t matter, he will still have to end the soldier before him. He wants to know what Schmidt will say, whether after what he has learned from Werner will sway his mind about fighting for Germany.

“I will do my duty,” Schmidt says with a shrug, not giving a care in the world about the life of an innocent girl. 

You will stay the same, Werner Pfennig, Jutta’s voice overcomes him. It is what she said to him as they were saying goodbye. When he was being taken to the Institute. You must not change. Do not let them impress you. Do not let them convince you. Keep the inside of your soul the same, okay? She had tapped his temple. Keep the frequency the same.  

I promise, he had said and he meant it. 

Werner has had enough with killing innocents.

With all his might, Werner throws the thick wooden table into Schmidt. He shoots, but because of the force of being thrown backward, the gun is aimed at the ceiling as it fires. It misses Werner only by a little bit before he falls on top of Schmidt. The gun flies from his hand as they hit the ground.

Schmidt fights, but Werner gets a couple of punches in, making him dazed. He takes the opportunity to roll off of Schmidt and grab the gun laying on the floor beside them. As Werner stands a couple feet away, he aims the gun right at Schmidt’s head. 

Schmidt stays laying on the ground, mouth open in shock and eyes wide with fear at the turn of events. He should have known it would come to this once he figured out what Werner had been doing, and why the Captain was suspicious of him. 

Fighting for someone you love is a much bigger motivator than selfishness. 

“Like they said,” Werner spits out in anger at the poor excuse of a man before him, who didn’t experience even half of the abuse and horrors he has and thinks he could win this. “You either die like a lion, or you fall over like a glass of spilt milk.”

“Please,” Schmidt begs, “spare me.”

Werner grows calm and speaks next with conviction: “I will spare shortwave 13.10.”

He doesn’t hesitate to pull the trigger. 

As he watches Schmidt’s blood pool onto the wooden floor, he drops the gun.

Another body added to 50 million, he repeats Schmidt’s words in his head, and he’d add even more if it means saving her; his beautiful girl on the radio. 

☀️☀️☀️

“I couldn’t get your address,” the German soldier continues after greeting her. 

Marie has never heard him before. 

He sets something down that is metal. She assumes it is a lantern. She forgets that people need light to see at night when it’s all the same to her. 

“Somebody told me that you and your papa used to come here.” He wades through the water to get closer to her. “You look hungry.”

She gasps as he smacks the water and makes it splash all across her. 

“But then again, I suppose everyone is hungry in Saint-Malo right now.”

First plan of escape: try and leave as if this is a normal night around the town. 

“I’m very sorry,” Marie says, trying to sound sincere as she begins to head back toward the stairs. “I need to go, my uncle is waiting.”

As she moves forward, he snatches her arm and pulls her toward him. Instinctively, she raises the small knife she has in her hands, but before she can make contact, he grabs her wrist with an unbeatable force. He rips it from her grip and she flies backward. She hits the stone wall that is home to the oysters. 

“Who are you?” She chokes out.

“Someone who means you no harm,” he says through gritted teeth. “If you give me what I want.”

“What do you want?” Marie asks, and that’s when the first of the American bombs fall. Shaking the world around them. 

“This war, this madness, all these lives… they mean nothing to me. I just want to live,” the soldier says, “and I believe you can help me.”

This is the soldier that Monsieur Caron warned her and Etienne about. Marie fears the worst. She has heard the horror stories of what the soldiers do. She has even witnessed some of it with Henri. “How am I supposed to help you?”

It’s time to learn what this soldier, who has been hunting her down, really wants. 

“Your father once worked in the museum in Paris, yes?” Marie feels her throat constrict at realizing this soldier knows of her father. “He had in his care many precious stones. There was one stone in particular.”

Marie’s blood runs cold at the soldier’s words. More bombs go off, causing her to lose her grip on the stone wall. One thing that she doesn’t consider a blessing with the loss of her sight is her lack of balance. She has practiced for years now, but being in danger like this makes her lose her concentration on her surroundings. 

The man laughs. “Vision is a wonderful thing. I see you know the particular stone I’m talking about. It’s called the Sea of Flames. The legend says it can cure any illness. And whoever possesses it will live forever.”

Marie had heard all about the precious stone from her father. “It’s a fable, believed only by fools!” 

“Well, this fool is taking a military issue Walther PPK from its holster. I am now pointing the gun at your head.” He could be fibbing her, but Marie doesn’t doubt it. This is a desperate man, who will go to desperate measures to get what he wants if he believes a fake tale. “You and your father fled Paris when the war broke out. He took with him many jewels to keep them from the Nazis. I am not interested in diamonds and sapphires.”

Marie hears him cock the gun and she wonders if this is where she will die. 

“I am only interested in the Sea of Flames. Which I believe he left in your possession.”

All she can do is shake her head no.

“Marie-Laure,” he calls her by her full name, “I want you to tell me where it is. You have ten seconds.”

“I don’t—” she tries to say but he cuts her off by beginning to count down from ten. 

Flashes of memories with her father come to her, all that he did for her and the stones. His precious items he wanted to keep from the Nazis. 

“Speak Marie!” 

“Did you think it was going to be here?” She is yelling now, bracing herself against the wall. “I don’t know where it is!”

When he gets to the count of one, she hears the metal lantern he placed on the stone crash and fall into the water, and then she jumps at the sound of the gun going off. 

There is no pain. She runs her hands all over her body, and finds she hasn’t been shot. 

“Fortunately for you, I cannot shoot you,” the soldier says with a bit of humor in his voice. “I need you. But, Marie, there is no escape from me. The tide is rising. Only I can get you to safety, because only I have the light.”

Does he not understand that she can maneuver through this space whether there is light or not? She hears the click of a flashlight coming on and the utter silence of his surprise at not seeing her pressed up against the wall in front of him. After what she assumed was a lantern falling away into the water, she took her chance and moved. The bombs were a great cover along with the darkness, covering up any noise she made. 

She had moved behind the stone pillar and carefully made her way a few pillars down, on the opposite side of where she was before. She is further from the entrance, but she couldn’t have gone toward that without being noticed. She clutches to the stone wall as the open ocean dares to pull her away. 

Marie hears him coming for her, so she tries to run, but it’s futile. She screams as he yanks her from outbehind the pillar. Now is the time to fight. They tussle and he lets out a yell of pain as she bites into his forearm. 

As he lets go of her, she falls into the water. She doesn’t get far before he grabs her by her hair and pulls her back toward him, making her face him. She can feel the heat of his breath as he grabs her face roughly with a gloved hand. She reaches out to grab onto his wrist to support herself. 

“I have tried tenderness, so now let me try reason,” he seethes. “Your life is in my hands, just as mine is in yours. I’m looking for the Sea of Flames!”

“How do you know about the Sea of Flames?” Marie can’t help but ask. 

“Your father told me.”

“You’ve spoken to my father?”

“Just tell me where it is!”

“Tell me he’s alive,” Marie begs, “I know he’s alive. I hear his voice.”

She never let herself believe that he may be dead. No. He is alive. 

“Tell me where it is!” The soldier yells in her face. 

“There was a truck, waiting for the jewels.” Marie quickly gives him the last information she knows of all the precious stones. “I don’t know if the one you were looking for was in there.”

“I do.”

And then she is being thrown head first into the water. She is already soaked from head to toe, but feeling the cold water rush around her and take her breath away strikes new fear inside of her. An instinctive need to survive overwhelms her. She will not let this soldier best her.

“I don’t know where it is!” Marie yells as she is pulled back out of the water. 

“Stop lying to me!” The soldier screams, shaking her. “I know it was not with the others. Your father kept it for himself. He gave it to you! Where is it?”

“Where is my father?” Marie asks desperately. 

The soldier chuckles, ignoring her question. “Marie, there is something you should know. It is your father’s fault you went blind. The Sea of Flames is blessed, but it is also cursed. The loved ones of its owners are struck by terrible afflictions. Your darkness was a precious gift from your papa!”

He dunks her into the water, and holds her there. To trick him, Marie goes still. Her hands skim the floor and she finds a large loose stone. When the soldier pulls her back out of the water, she strikes.

The rock collides with his head and he practically throws her away as he falls backward into the water. Marie doesn’t wait to see if he is alive or not. Her only chance of escape now is to run away and hide. She swims frantically in the direction of the stairs and runs up them as fast as she can. She didn’t have time to grab her cane, so she relies on navigating the streets with one hand pressed against the buildings that line the road. 

She tries to go quickly while also being careful. The rubble along the roads are hurting her feet. The last thing she needs to do is run into something and injure herself so she can’t make it back home.

The night is very still, but she can hear fires burning around her from the bombings. 

As she comes into a larger clearing where a carnival had been set up, she hears the music of the carousel, but it’s distorted and heat rams into her face. She can hear the roaring flames before her. Then, there are the sounds of German soldiers' boots. They are shuffling with a slow gate, as though they are carrying something heavy. She hears the slam of what very well could be a human body onto the carousel and she doesn’t want to risk it. So, she quickly makes the right turn to head back to the house.

Once she is back inside her home, she slams the door shut and locks it behind her.

For a long time, she doesn’t move, choosing to sit and listen. There is no sign of anyone in the house, but to be sure, she cautiously makes her way throughout each and every room. 

There is no one here but her mind won’t relax. 

Eventually, she makes her way inside of the bathroom and falls into a heap on the floor. Her adrenaline is fading and she feels sluggish. Despite the longer journey home, she is still soaked to the bone. With shaking hands, she begins to run warm water into the tub. She sits along the edge with her feet in the water and winces at feeling the water touch the raw skin at the bottom of her feet. She has built calluses over the course of her life, but running so haphazardly over a destroyed town bested them. 

Marie gently begins to clean her feet, looking for any cuts that may be bleeding. Thankfully, there is no need to bandage them, she should just stay off of them for a while.

The fastest that she ever has, she gets her clothes off, hangs them to dry, and takes a full body bath to wash away the sea water and the grime.

Not wanting to be prepared for an attack at all times, she quickly makes her way to her room and finds another blue dress to wear to bed. There is no more time for nightclothes. She braids her hair to let it dry overnight as she makes her way to the radio in the attic. 

She turns it on and hopes her uncle is listening. She says what he always told her to do if she were in danger.

“To my uncle, I hate to inform you that we had a visitor today and now we are out of bread. They are no longer here and I am satiated, but we are in desperate need of more.”

They had come up with the phrase about bread so that if heard by anyone else, wouldn’t know what had happened. But to Etienne, he would know she was in danger and that the soldier that they had warned about had come for her. 

It would be time to turn the radio off because she got her message out, but after almost possibly dying today, she feels the need to say more.

She thinks of her father, and how the soldier refused to tell her where he was or how he knew him. 

“Papa… I miss you. I have been remembering our times in Paris and how you showed me the most marvelous things at the museum. I hope that wherever you are, you are alright and will be making your way back to me soon.” Marie’s thoughts go to how she had hoped it was a different soldier making his way to her as she was collecting the oysters and feels compelled to speak to him, too. “And to my kind soldier, who made sure I ate even as he was surely hungry, I hope you are safe. When you realize life is short, you will do anything to make sure those you care for know how you feel. I hope that one day, we will meet again. Maybe when this war is over and we are both freed from the confines of where we are forced to be.”

She speaks of him being a soldier for the Reich and how this home has become a prison with enemies closing in. 

Abruptly, she shuts off the radio. She fears she will say too much if she lets herself keep going. Instead, she makes her way to her room and sits on her bed. 

It’s late, but sleep seems to haunt her. It’s all she wants, but her body won’t give it to her. Any noise makes her jump. She imagines the evil soldier standing silently in the dark, watching her and waiting to attack.

To stop herself from hyperventilating, Marie throws the comforter over her head and lays sideways in her bed. She digs her shoulder into the mattress and presses the side of her face into the pillow, clenching her eyes shut, forcing herself to breath. 

She imagines her father, Etienne, and Madame Manec all peacefully sleeping in their beds. Alive and nearby. In this world, there is no war and tomorrow she will wake up to the town without its ruins and German occupants. 

As her hands rest out in front of her, she clasps them together, imagining that her kind soldier is beside her under the blanket and that they are holding hands. He would keep her safe and not let anyone hurt her. He would speak words of reassurance, and she would admire his accent as she pulled him closer, feeling his warmth.

She grips to the dream (to him) like a lifeline, for it seems to be the only thing keeping her sane. 

It brings her comfort, but she still hardly sleeps as she waits for Etienne or the cruel soldier to come and find her.

Chapter Text

When Werner gets back to the Hotel of Bees after disposing of Schmidt’s body he knows it’s time to leave in search of the girl on the radio. He will struggle to haul the radio, but it’s the only way. Quickly, he finds a dusty pail with some leftover cleaning supplies in it and begins to scrub Schmidt’s blood away. He doesn’t want the Captain coming back and seeing any signs of foul play.

Let them believe he died in the bombs that are dropping all around them. 

As he almost finishes clearing away the blood, the radio roars to life. The girl is broadcasting again —it makes him smile. Before he can put the headphones on to hear her speaking, another voice booms behind him. 

“Corporal, Pfennig!”

He had been too distracted to notice the Captain had made his way into the fallen building. 

He unplugs the radio like he did with Schmidt earlier and turns quickly on his heel to get into a saluting position. 

“Once again, the bombing is being carefully directed and targeted. I came here to see if you intercepted any transmission that might be guiding the bombs.” The Captain looks around and clenches his jaw. “Where is Schmidt?”

Werner doesn’t miss how the Captain’s eyes glance to the pool of blood he had only half cleaned up.

“We blew a fuse so he went looking for a spare one. I’m worried he might have been caught in an explosion.”

“Why is there blood on the floor?”

“I had some on my boots, so I thought I’d clean it up.”

The Captain ignores him and moves toward the radio. He sits down in front of it. To Werner’s horror, the captain grabs the unplugged wire and fixes it. The radio roars to life.

“Why is the radio working?”

He doesn’t say anything. He has been caught red handed and fears what will happen next

“Oh, look, someone is broadcasting.” The Captain chuckles as he eyes Werner down. “Let’s see what they are saying.”

He should have changed the radio channel. The Captain puts the headphones on. 

“It’s a girl,” he says with a cruel smile. “And she is speaking of a kind soldier. Do you know whom that may be?”

A kind soldier? Werner hardly gets to think about what he means before the Captain pulls his gun from the holster and points it right at him while still casually sitting in the chair. 

“She is speaking in code and it’s directing the bombs,” the Captain states flatly. “But, you already knew that, didn’t you, Pfennig?” Werner doesn’t so much as twitch in response. “And when Schmidt found out, you killed him… why?”

This is not what Werner expected of the Captain, for him to ask questions. The Captain stands and commands he gives over his gun. As Werner is trying to get it from its holster, the Captain rips it from his hands. 

As if he would have the opportunity to kill him before the other men near the door gunned him down. 

“You’re a spy,” the Captain accuses. 

“No.”

“Then, explain!” The Captain shouts as he presses the barrel of the gun right to Werner’s chest. It’s enough force to make him step back, but the pressure of the gun never leaves his jacket. 

“I did it to protect a memory.” Werner says honestly. “A place of hope.” He can’t help his voice from cracking at the pain that floods through him.

Hope that this war will end. That he could make it out alive to see the world become a better place. Hope that he will meet the girl on the radio, even just for a moment. Hope that he will make it home to Jutta like he promised her.  

The Captain scoffs and the pain turns to anger as Werner juts his chin out. 

“The only one the Reich could not destroy.”

They can beat him, starve him, kill him… but they can never take away his memories. They can’t take away his fight for choosing what’s right.

“I could execute you here and now, Pfennig.” The Captain surprisingly lowers his gun. “But, you are the only radio operator left in Saint-Malo. So, you and I are going to find the location of who is broadcasting and then I will put a gun in your hand and you will kill this girl yourself. Do you understand?”

Nausea overcomes him at the Captain’s words and he has to swallow it back a couple of times before he can respond in a way that would appease the man before him. 

“Yes, sir. I understand.”

The Captain grabs him and throws him into the chair in front of the radio. He barely stops it from toppling over. He won’t even look at the radio, instead watching as the Captain holds a gun in each hand and moves to stand behind him—to be intimidating. 

The familiar hum of the radio falls away and Werner turns to see the light has gone out. 

“The broadcast stopped,” he states and tries not to let the relief he feels bleed into his words. 

“Then, we will load up the car and wait for her to broadcast again,” the Captain says, not missing a beat, but then he grows weary. “I put Schmidt with you because I was suspicious of you from the beginning. Last night, I called the commander of the institute where you were trained. He said you were chosen for this work because you were a genius. One of the best boys in Germany, he said.” 

They only saw him for what he could do, not what he wants to do. 

The Captain sighs. “Gather your equipment.” And when Werner stays still in rebellion, the Captain snaps at him to move and points the gun at him. “So how did it come to this? You choose some girl over your country?”

Werner doesn’t answer as he begins packing up the radio like he had hoped to do without the Captain breathing down his neck. 

He chose her because she is the guiding light in the darkness. When he had lost all hope, she was there to remind him that it wasn’t over. He is still alive, and as long as he is breathing, change can be made. 

He chose her because she is good and he aches to be that way again. 

They move out of the Hotel of Bees to sit in a military car despite it still being night. They wait and wait and Werner’ thoughts progress to thinking of all the ways he could try and kill himself to stop them from finding the girl. Just as the sun begins to shine on them, making it so the clear day is mocking him, she  begins to broadcast—tears prick at his eyes, wishing he could warn her of the danger she is in. The Captain seems to notice his frantic thoughts and laughs so abruptly it startles him.

“You’d risk your life for her I see…” the Captain drawls, “Well, Werner, you’ll never get the chance, because if you think of failing on purpose… I understand you have a sister; Jutta.”

Werner’s back goes taut in alarm. He hates this man for speaking her name.

“If you fail to find the location of the girl broadcasting on shortwave 13.10, your sister will die, too.” 

Not knowing what to do, Werner puts the headphones on—he has to do as he says, he can’t risk Jutta’s life. As the girl's voice washes over him, the Captain pulls back one side of the headphones and leans in close. “ And she will die very badly.”

Werner tries to keep his face neutral as the Captain lets go of the headphones, letting them smack him in the side of the head. 

After a beat of silence, the Captain speaks again. “So now, tell me Werner, which girl will you choose?” He begins laughing maniacally as Werner feels his own face twist in horror at the man’s words. 

I will kill him, Werner swears to himself, I will kill them all.  

“Papa, today I have been remembering our journey to Saint-Malo, in the stolen car,” the girl says as the Captain motions for him to begin tracking her. As he tells them where to go, the single driver makes astute turns around the broken city like a robot. His senses don’t feel real. Everything around him is warped.

The only thing he can cling to is the girl’s voice as he acts as death coming for her. 

He wishes he weren’t real and none of this was happening. He wishes he had powers, to turn invisible and fly away—to find the girl himself and protect her. To go to Jutta and make sure harm never comes her way. 

“How we slept in barns and hedges and stole eggs along the way…” 

Werner continues to direct them to a part of the town he has never been to. 

“I remember how we arrived in town just as the gasoline ran out…”

Every second he keeps hoping she will turn the radio off so that he can stop this search for her. Instead, he speaks as she continues to do so. “She’s broadcasting half a kilometer to the west. Turn here.” The words hardly make it past his lips—his mouth is completely dry. But, the Captain nods with approval. 

“And I remember I was so nervous when we first arrived here. Now knowing what our fate would be or who we would meet. But we were met with only love and joy...”

With his free hand, Werner clutches one side of the headphones tightly over his ear. Her voice grounds him. He pretends she is speaking to him, recalling a moment they experienced together.

Despite his best efforts, the tears break away and fall down his face.  

“All of that seems so far away now… Papa, I pray that the signal from this radio is reaching you wherever you are because I will never, never give up hope. Not ever. All my love.”

As the broadcast ends, they pull up in front of the house she is supposedly in. It’s a large home that is close to the ocean’s shore. The entrance is a beautiful and bright blue door. This part of the town is desolate. Werner doesn’t see or hear anyone. 

The Captain keeps his gun aimed at Werner’s chest as he motions for him to get out of the car. 

Shakily, Werner takes off the headphones and does as the Captain wants. He takes slow and meticulous steps toward the house, hoping someone just shoots all three of them down from a high up window. He cranes his neck to look up as the Captain heads straight to the door. There is an open window on the third floor. White curtains blow in the breeze.

Is she up there? Can she hear them coming for her?

“My beautiful girl on the radio,” he whispers aloud, “please forgive me.”

Forgiveness for letting things come to this point. Forgiveness for possibly dying before they could meet again. Forgiveness for all the horrible things he has done… but they will come to an end, right now.  

The Captain knocks harshly at the door. No one responds. He turns to face Werner. “It’s time to meet your friend.” He aims his gun at the handle and shoots a bullet through the lock before pushing the door open. “Pfennig.” The Captain motions him forward. “Come on.”

Werner moves until he is next to the Captain, staring into the entry of the home. 

Taking the gun that was originally Werner’s, the Captain shoves it into his chest. “You will lead the way so if she has accomplices, you will die first.” A slow smile spreads across his face. “If she is alone, it will be you who has the pleasure of killing her.”

Could the girl have escaped by now if she had heard them? He doesn’t hear any movement within the house, but it is large. He needs to kill the Captain and driver no matter what. How long could he last with being fatally shot himself? The adrenaline flowing through his system might provide some assistance. 

The Captain presses the barrel of his gun into Werner’s throat—making sure he doesn’t try anything now that he also has a weapon in his hands. The Captain leans over him. “With one communication, I can order your sister to be given to the dogs of the SS. Once the dog handlers have finished with her.”

The Captain’s laugh sounds like alarm bells, jarring Werner.

Evil… all of them! 

As if in a trance, he grabs the gun that is being held out to him but finds enough energy to be deliberately slow about it. 

“Move!” The Captain shouts. “Move!”

He steps forward into the house and the Captain falls in line behind him. Could he spin around fast enough to take a lethal shot? If he hits his mark without being fatally shot, then he could kill the driver so the message about Jutta will never be passed on. 

The sound of a motorcycle racing down the road outside makes him falter. He slowly turns to see that the Captain isn’t looking at him anymore, but instead, the doorway. Clearly agitated they have been interrupted, the Captain goes outside to see who is approaching and raises his gun. 

“Halt!” The Captain yells and Werner knows this is his opportunity.

He takes a couple steps forward, aims, and fires. Blowing out the Captain’s brains. As the body falls, he steps out of the house to shoot the driver, but the person on the motorcycle guns them down first. 

Werner turns to face the motorcyclist and immediately drops his gun to throw his hands up in surrender.

It’s an older man with a graying beard and long hair. His icy blue eyes stare at Werner wide with surprise. He slowly gets off his motorcycle and while still keeping his gun trained on Werner, he looks up to the third floor with the open window and yells out.

“Marie!”

So she is alone. 

“She is safe.” Werner speaks quickly. “I promise.”

The man finally lowers his gun and stops a couple of feet before him. “You just shot your commanding officer.”

It’s not a question. Werner glances at the body lying on the street before looking back at the man. “It’s a long story.”

“Marie!” The man yells again. “Everything is fine. I will be in shortly.” He looks back to Werner before motioning to the bodies of the men they killed. “Help me.”

Werner quickly steps forward to help carry them to the side of the building. They tuck them both under a large blanket which seems to hide many other items.

“Are you going to leave the bodies here?” Werner asks as he scans the area, it’s pretty wide open.

“I have friends who will come and collect the trash,” the man confirms.  “They'll pick up the vehicle and feed the bodies to the seagulls.”

“Good.” Werner says automatically, and this makes the man tilt his head at him. He is clearly puzzled how a German soldier like himself could turn on his own. But, he doesn't care about that right now. He cares about the beautiful girl on the radio still being alive.  

“So her name is Marie,” Werner says wistfully as he looks up to the window where she may be sitting and waiting.

His beautiful girl on the radio. 

He doesn't have time to react before the man slams him up against the building and points a gun to his throat. 

☀️☀️☀️

Marie wakes up from a fretful sleep to dead-silence.

The world is holding its breath, waiting.

Still anxious from the night before, she listens in for anything out of the ordinary. If Etienne had returned, he would have woken her up. There doesn’t seem to be anyone around for miles. 

She tosses her comforter to the side and sits up in bed before stretching. She checks the time and it’s hardly dawn. What if Etienne didn’t get her message?

She can only hope he will come before the cruel soldier finds her. 

To pass some time, she straightens out her dress and puts shoes on, which she left right to the side of her bed in case she needed to quickly make a run for it. Methodically, she undoes her braids and runs her fingers through the wavy strands. Unable to sit still any longer, she makes her way to the attic.

After opening the large window that leads to the terrace that looks out over the front of the house, a warm breeze makes its way inside and wraps around her, as if embracing her. 

Being in this room makes her feel at peace.

Marie sits before the radio, anxiously waiting for someone to find her. She feels compelled to speak to her father. She turns on the radio and begins retelling the story of how she and her father made their way to Saint-Malo. As she finishes her broadcast, she hears the sound of a car pulling up outside of her house. The first sign of human life in hours. 

It’s German soldiers —no one in Saint-Malo really drives anymore, especially since it’s a ghost town. 

Quietly, Marie stands from her spot at the desk in the middle of the room and begins slowly making her way toward the sound to hear better. There are men’s voices so she quickens her steps to reach the window. She grips the wooden border and leans forward, listening in. 

A gunshot rings out, making Marie duck down in fear. As her heart races, she hears someone push open the front door. They shot through the lock! They are intending to come for her.  

Maybe broadcasting on the radio has finally brought the German’s to her. Or has this been organized by the man looking for the Sea of Flames? Either way, shooting in the door isn’t a friendly approach, so they intend to capture or kill her. Or both. 

“Move!” A German man shouts, twice. It’s the only words she could clearly understand. She doesn’t recognize the voice. Why does he have to tell someone to move? It’s a strange command. 

But, they are coming inside—she can hear their boots taking tentative steps as they make their way into the house, so she treats it like the German man is speaking to her and she straightens herself up on shaky legs. She needs to escape. She whirls around to head toward the drawer in the desk where she keeps her last resort: a gun. There is more yelling. Now the German man is yelling at someone to halt? She recognizes the sound of a motorcycle coming toward the house. Before she can take another step forward, there is a gunshot. She immediately squats down, covering her head. 

After a pause, another shot rings out. She stays put, getting closer to the floor in hopes she isn’t hit. 

“Marie!” A voice calls out. It’s Etienne! Someone else speaks, but she can’t quite understand them. “Marie, everything is fine!” Etienne yells again. “I’ll be up shortly.”

She assumes he arrived at the perfect time to take out the German soldiers who were coming for her. 

But then, who else spoke?

Curious, Marie gets herself to stand and she begins making her way down the stairs to find her uncle. Just as she shoves through the broken front door, she hears a scuffle to her left. She turns toward the sound. 

“I don’t want to hear her name in a German mouth,” her uncle spits out. 

“Uncle Etienne?” Marie asks in surprise as she comes toward where she heard his voice. It seems she has someone pinned against the house. “What is happening?”

Who is this German he speaks of? Why would he let one live? 

“Marie, stay back!” Etienne orders. “I have a soldier here that could mean you harm.”

She is now within feet of him based on the sound of his voice. Ignoring his words, she reaches out. Her hand meets what could only be her uncle’s upper arm. She follows the path of where his arm is reaching and finds he is holding the soldier by the collar. They must sit still and watch her as her fingers brush to the soldier’s shoulder and recognize the feel of the wool jacket. 

Is it? Could it be?

She grasps the soldier tightly. 

“Speak, soldier,” she commands 

At first, he says nothing. It’s the longest moment for her, as she waits. And then:

“Hello, Marie.”

Her knees go weak as tears immediately spring to her eyes. That voice… it sounds as sweet as honey tastes. 

“My kind soldier,” she whispers in awe. Shakily, her hand travels upward until she finds the line of his sharp jaw and cups his face. He lets out a small laugh that fills her with joy and she can feel the smile on his face.

“What is the meaning of this!?” Etienne barks out as he releases her soldier and steps back—making her hand slip, so she lets it fall to her side, not wanting to make the soldier too uncomfortable even though all she wants to do is wrap her arms around him. 

Marie ignores her uncle. “What is your name?” She desperately asks the soldier. 

“Werner Pfennig.”

“Hi, Werner.” A huge smile breaks across her face at finally knowing her kind soldier. “I’m Marie.”

“Marie…” he says slowly, as if tasting the sound on his tongue. Her heart flutters at hearing her name in his accent again. “A good name.”

“Enough with the introductions,” Etienne interjects. “You—” Marie can only assume he is pointing at Werner “—take off your jacket and come inside. We have a bit of time before the American’s will come with their bombs, and I would like to hear your long story. And, I need to know how you two know each other.”

She doesn’t know what Etienne is speaking of in regards to Werner’s long story, but she guesses it has to do with whatever he did that made it so her uncle didn’t shoot him on sight. It’ll be explained once they’re inside. 

“Yes,” she agrees eagerly, “come inside… even I have many questions to ask.” Marie leads the way inside the house, still smiling at hearing Werner fall in behind her. The first place she heads it to the kitchen. “I figured we could sit at the table to speak of everything that has happened.”

Etienne gives a grunt of approval as she takes her seat on the side she usually does. Her uncle sits at the head of the table and Werner cautiously takes the seat across from her. 

“I brought food,” Etienne says, “but it isn’t much.”

“I am grateful for anything,” Marie reassures her uncle. 

There is the familiar sound of a baguette being ripped apart and then a piece of it being placed in front of her. 

“Uncle, how did you get this?” Marie asks in shock.

He only waves her off with a grunt. “Just eat it.” 

Another piece is ripped off and Etienne places it in front of Werner. Her kind soldier doesn’t move to take the bread and he must be hungry. Etienne is already eating his section. 

“Werner,” Marie says, “please, eat.”

That seems to be the permission he needed. He grabs the bread off of the table, and tears it apart so quickly that Marie can’t believe he tasted it, but that’s what hunger does to someone. She follows along, almost moaning in satisfaction as the bread hits her tongue. She chews thoroughly and once she has eaten her part, her uncle speaks. 

“Why were you interested in Marie, soldier?” Etienne asks Werner. “How do you two know each other? Because Marie informed me she had been attacked by a German soldier, and I need to make sure you’re not related to the incident.”

Her uncle takes out a cigarette for him and Werner. She hears him light both and she waves the smoke away from her face. She decides to answer first, to make Werner feel more welcome. 

“The day I went to the bakery to meet with you, uncle, is the first time we met. Werner had come in. He had every chance to be cruel and steal my bread, but when I dropped it, he gave it back to me.” She turns to face him. “Why did you enter the bakery?”

“You,” he answers simply. “I had seen you walking down the street and I-I don’t know, I guess a part of me knew that you were the girl on the radio.” 

“You listened to me on the radio?” Marie asks with elation. 

“Yes, ever since I arrived in Saint-Malo,” Werner answers. “I was in charge of tracking down suspicious radio broadcasts. I discovered you because as a child, shortwave 13.10 was my only hope… it was my escape. My refuge. I would tune into it whenever I could, but you were the first I heard broadcasting on it since someone who went by the professor.” 

Marie can’t believe what she is hearing. Werner even listened to Etienne like she had! Does he realize that the professor is sitting right next to him? If so, he doesn’t say anything. She waits to see if Etienne will announce himself, but he doesn't. 

“It was the same for me as a child; an escape,” Marie says. “Listening to the radio and hearing the professor’s words taught me a whole new world of thoughts and ideas.”

“I’ve always been interested in radios.” Werner continues, filling the silence with his voice and the anxious tapping of his fingers against the kitchen table. “When I was younger, that interest got me into a lot of trouble.”

“What trouble?” Etienne asks. 

“It’s the long story you’ve been waiting for,” Werner says solemnly as he shifts in his seat. “I grew up in an orphanage and I was caught listening to foreign broadcasts on the radios I built to keep myself entertained. I was forced from the only home I knew to join the Reich. After they confirmed I was of the Aryan Race —” Marie notes how the Nazi word for their made-up supposed ideal race is said with scorn, further confirmation he does not believe in their ideals, “—I was brought to the National Political Institute of Education in Berlin where I was abused, forced to do things I didn’t want to do. Because of my skills, I was fast-tracked. I was sent to the Eastern Front at only sixteen-years-old. They had said age was just a number and genius was a gift. But, it’s not much of a gift if it leads to people's suffering. What happened after I reached the Eastern Front is also a long story. The things I’ve seen… they haunt me.” 

No wonder he has been so kind and gone out of his way for her, he never wanted to be here in the first place.

Marie is disgusted by what Nazi Germany has put Werner through and she is reminded of Etienne and how the great war affected him. There is a pang in her heart at knowing that Werner might experience the same fate as her uncle. The need to comfort him overwhelms her. 

She reaches forward in search of Werner’s hand. The tapping of his fingers stops right before she makes contact with him. Gently, she takes his hand in hers and squeezes, hoping the pressure grounds him—she could hear the far awayness in his voice as he told his story. She wants him to come back to her, and she smiles softly at feeling him squeeze her hand back. 

“I’ll never regret the things I’ve done to protect you, Marie,” Werner says so softly she almost misses it. Her mouth opens in surprise at his words. “I swore to myself I wouldn’t let any harm come to you and I will stand by that for as long as I possibly can.” 

Multiple emotions course through Marie so sharply that she can’t make her thoughts into words. She keeps a tight hold on his hand. 

“Your chivalry was a close call,” Etienne says with a bit of bite, but then his voice softens into understanding. “But, that’s why you killed your commanding officer—he figured out you were protecting Marie and was punishing you for it too.”

“Yes,” Werner states. “He was going to make me kill Marie myself or else he’d kill my sister. Killing him was very satisfying. You made the perfect distraction.”

Etienne chuckles. “I’m glad I showed up when I did. Marie, is there anything you can give us about the soldier that targeted you last night? Where did he find you?”

Marie swallows, trying to get a hold of herself, still stuck on Werner’s dedication to her. “I had gone to pick oysters like Papa and I used to. It’s there that he found me. He wants the Sea of Flames, the most precious diamond my father protected. He thinks I have it. He is a desperate man and I know he will stop at nothing to get what he wants.”

“How did you escape?” Etienne asks. 

“I hit him over the head with a rock and ran all the way home. I never hear him pursuing me. I bet he would have a sizable and visible injury from how hard I bashed the rock into him.”

“I’m proud of you,” Etienne says, “but from now on, you shall stay inside behind locked doors until this war is over. It is only a matter of days now and I should be back later tonight. Keep the revolver on you in case he comes for you again. But, I am hoping his body has been washed out into the ocean at this point.”

“Me too,” Marie agrees, “especially since he hasn’t come by at this point.”

“The Americans will be here soon,” Etienne says. “Marie, the reading I require of you tonight is chapter twenty-two, part two.” There is a pause. “Werner, I don’t trust you completely yet, but I do want to say thank you for doing what you could in your position to protect my niece—you know how important her broadcasts are, and by doing so, you have made yourself an important person in this war. You’re a defector now, and I could use your help. You will come with me and keep up your efforts to bring down the Reich. What do you think of that?” 

“Gladly,” Werner says and she hears a new confidence in his voice. “Anything to end this war as soon as possible.” 

“Well, I have stuff to prepare before we leave.” The scrape of a chair rings out as Etienne stands. She hears him put out his cigarette, and Werner follows suit. “You two stay here and I will be right back.” 

Once Etienne leaves the kitchen to presumably pack new supplies for his mission tonight, Marie goes to his chair and pulls up in front of Werner so their knees brush together. She already misses the contact of holding his hand, but she is glad for the privacy. 

“Thank you,” Marie says earnestly, “for everything you’ve done to help me.”

“It’s me who should be thanking you.” 

“Nonsense,” Marie says with a wave of her hand. “How come you didn’t track me down? Why risk your life to save mine?”

She knows it’s a big question to ask, but she has to know.

“I couldn’t let the Reich destroy anything else, anyone else,” Werner says. “Because it was you who kept me going. It was your voice that pulled me through my darkest moments. I-I always thought of you as my light, guiding me. I wanted to make change, and I knew I had to start with you.” 

“I always knew you were good,” Marie blurts out. “From the moment we met, I knew it. I had hoped you were listening to my broadcasts, that you could hear my belief in you. I have always been speaking to you, Werner. And, I actually knew you before the bakery. When I heard your voice, I was transported to when I had come upon a bunch of German soldiers harassing our local florist and you had put a stop to them. You stood up against them and I could never forget you—I knew you were different from the start, that your heart was different.”

Werner clears his throat. “I was going to come for you, before I got caught. I was the last of my unit and when you broadcasted again, I was going to set out on my own to find you and do what I could to protect you. I didn’t introduce myself like I had wanted, but I am glad to be here now.”

“I’m glad you made it,” Marie says, and then after a moment, “what do you look like?” 

She likes to have the world around her to be explained in detail, it’s interesting to hear how people describe their surroundings and themselves.

“Probably not my best right now,” Werner jokes with a small chuckle and Marie joins in. 

“Would you like to wash up?” She asks.

“Tonight I will, once the war is won.”

“I like your thought process,” she says, but then waits for him to go on and describe himself. 

“I’m… I’m blond and have blue eyes?” Werner says and she tries not to giggle at how out of his element he sounds. 

“The blond, is white like snow or yellow like the rays of the sun?“

“Yellow… yellow like the sun.” 

“And the blue of your eyes?” Marie allows herself to smirk. 

Werner laughs. He is catching on to what he wants, and seems to gladly take part. “My sister, Jutta, she has described my eyes as like the ocean on a clear day. I think they’re plainly blue.”

“Nothing about you is plain,” Marie says as she imagines him, but there is still more missing. “Is your hair cropped short?”

“No, it has gotten long since I have been deployed, it falls over my forehead.”

Marie leans forward. “Can I touch you?”

“Yes,” Werner whispers breathlessly.

Marie reaches out with both hands and smiles when her fingers brush along his chin, which she feels dimples in slightly. Once again, she traces his defined jaw line and upwards, she feels his higher cheekbones. His nose has a subtle curve to it from his profile, but is otherwise straight from the front. As her fingers brush over his lips, they part and she feels her heart rate speed up at feeling his warm breath against her skin. Flustered, she moves her hands to his hair, which is soft to the touch. It does fall over his forehead and the sides are shorter. 

She doesn't need eyes to know he is handsome. 

“Your sister, where is she?” Marie asks, wanting to know more about him. 

“She is still at the orphanage. It is my goal to make it back to her. She is the only family I have left.”

“Soon, you will see her again,” Marie says with confidence as her hands move to his shoulders. Now, without his jacket, she can tell he is wearing a cotton long-sleeve with suspenders. She starts running her hands down her arms that she hears him shift and swallow, sounding nervous. “I’m sorry,” she apologizes quickly and stops her movement. “Would you like me to stop?” 

“No,” Werner replies immediately, and then sheepishly adds, “this is probably just the most intimate thing I have ever done.”

Marie smiles. “Same here.” She continues on until she reaches his hands in his lap and winds their fingers together. “I’m glad we have found each other… to think that we had both been listening to the same radio station since we were children, it amazes me.”

“It was as if the professor was my father,” Werner says. “His words guided me in a world that wanted to make me someone I am not. When I closed my eyes, I could imagine that I was elsewhere.”

“I didn’t have to close my eyes,” Marie says with a smile. 

“The most important light…” Werner begins to speak one of Etienne’s favorite phrases. 

“...is the light we cannot see.” Marie joins in and they finish the saying together. 

Before Marie can speak further, Etienne makes his way back into the kitchen. They let go of each other’s hands and stand. But, she likes how her shoulder brushes along Werner’s arm as they stay close together. 

“We have to get prepared for the air raids, but shouldn’t be gone for more than an hour.” Etienne says as he stands before her and gently holds her shoulder. “We will be back within an hour. Stay safe and make sure to broadcast.”

“Of course,” Marie says with a smile. 

Etienne pats her shoulder in a sense of finality before stepping away. “Let’s head down to my motorcycle.”

Marie follows Werner and Etienne as they make their way outside. On instinct, she reaches out and grabs both of them by the arm before they can get on the motorcycle. “Promise me that you both will come back to me.”

She has always prided herself on being calm and collected, but the unsurety of their situation slips through in her voice. Their work is important, but she can’t bear the thought of either of them not coming home. 

“We will come back.” It’s Werner who speaks first and he sets his hand over hers, engulfing it. “I promise.”

"Expect us in an hour,” Etienne reassures her.

That was all she needed. Marie nods in understanding and listens as they step away and the engine of the motorcycle roars to life. She waves as they pull away, listening to the sound of the motorcycle until it disappears into the night, taking with it the last two most important people in the world to her.

Chapter Text

Sitting across from the beautiful girl on the radio, Marie, almost makes Werner feel immobilized and it’s only with her command that he can eat the bread placed in front of him.  

She welcomed him with open arms. She remembered him. She had been speaking about him on the radio!

‘My kind soldier,’ she had called him—it was enough to make him outright blush and he didn’t miss the glare her uncle, Etienne, gave him as they headed inside. 

Honestly, it was entertaining to see how baffled Marie’s uncle had been during their entire interaction and she was oblivious to it. He thought Etienne might tackle him when she grabbed his hand with how wide his eyes got. Thankfully, he chose to stay in his seat.

Now, Etienne has left them alone after Werner told them his story. It was nice to tell someone what had happened to him. To come clean about his life. And now he sits alone with the girl he has been dreaming about forever. 

She pulls up her chair so she sits directly in front of him and he can’t stop drinking in the sight of her. She asks him questions about himself and begins to touch him with gentle fingers to ‘see’ him, and it makes Werner feel like his heart is going to thud out of his chest. He would do anything, to be able to do this for the rest of his life: sit before Marie as she explored him. 

And it’s nice to connect with someone over Shortwave 13.10. To think she has also been listening to the Professor's words together, only hundreds of miles apart. And it strikes him that he has heard the Professor recently. 

It all makes sense. 

Etienne is the Professor. 

He chooses not to say anything, but if he makes it out alive, he would like to talk about it. He is savoring it, as if this want of speaking to his childhood hero and acknowledging who he is, could save them all. 

Right now, he sticks to admiring Marie. She has thick black hair that looks soft to the touch. Even tan skin and biggest brown eyes that are so dark they are essentially black. And when she smiles? She is the prettiest girl he has ever seen. 

Etienne comes back and asks Werner to join in on the fight to free everyone from the German control and he hates to leave, but he knows Etienne doesn’t fully trust him yet. Marie’s uncle would never forgive himself if he put his trust in one German soldier and things ended badly. Of course, that would never happen but he understands Etienne’s thought process. And? He likes being a help in the war effort—fighting for what’s right. 

What the Professor asks of him, he does. It’s like a weight has been lifted off of his chest.

Hopefully within a few days the war will be over and he is free to choose his own life. 

They don’t ride on the motorcycle for too long before they pull up in front of what looks like an abandoned building that’s in a desolate part of the town. A perfect place to hide out.

Etienne knocks at the door and a burly looking man answers it. He quickly opens the doors which allows them to roll the motorcycle into the room. It appears to be an old bakery. 

At the sight of Werner the man instantly raises his gun. “Who is this?” 

“A German deserter,” Etiene quickly confirms. “The one I told you about on the radio before coming here.”

“Stay away from the ovens, German.” The man sneers. “You like ovens in your country, don't you?” 

“There will be more air raids soon, we have much work to do,” Etienne says, changing the subject. 

A few more people make their way into the building, all strapped with guns and a woman is at the head of them all.

Etienne motions for him to sit at the table in the center of the room and Werner obliges. The woman takes a seat across from him. 

“This is the deserter that is joining us?” She asks, giving Werner a deadly stare. 

“He’s young. He’s a radio operator,” Etienne says as he comes to stand beside him. “His name is Werner.”

“We don’t care about names,” the man spits out. 

“He was taken from an orphanage against his will and made to join a signals regiment,” Etienne says, clearly sensing the hatred that Werner has and he doesn’t blame them. 

“How many men, women, and children have you killed?” The woman asks. 

Directly or indirectly? Werner thinks. Either way, too many to count. 

“My job was to locate radios that were transmitting messages,” he replies back. 

“And when were the radios located? Give us a rough estimate. How many men, women, and children have you killed?”

He turns to Etienne. “I can finish my story. Please, I want to explain what happened at the Eastern Front.”

“We know what happened!” The man, who answered the door, yells. 

“Our comrades in Normandy and Belgium told us what happened,” the woman says. “Anyone found with a radio was executed by members of your regiment. Their families executed with them. Their neighbors executed. Men, women, children, executed.”

“He was just engaged in finding frequencies,” Etienne butts in. 

“Please,” Werner turns to him again, now begging. 

“We’re not interested in what you have to say, German,” the man says. “And we don’t have the capacity to keep prisoners, either!” 

The man aims his gun right at Werner’s face. 

“I would take care of him!” Etienne yells. 

“He’s not your child!” The woman yells right back. 

“Take care?!” The man asks, clearly appalled. 

“Take responsibility.” 

“Why would you do that?” The girl cries out. 

“The verdict is simple,” the man says. “The sentence is death!”

“I will shoot him with my own hand!” The woman says as she stands and aims her revolver at Werner. 

Before he can react, Etienne yanks him out of his chair and puts his entire body in front of him—blocking the entire view of the woman and the man. They would have to go through Etienne to get to him. 

“No!” Etienne yells desperately as he raises his hands. “We won’t do this!”

Before anyone else can make a comment. An explosion goes off shaking the building.

“That was not a bomb from a plane,” Etienne says as he looks toward the windows. 

“No,” Werner confirms. “That was artillery. American artillery.”

They’re really here. Finally, this war will come to an end. But, he might not live to see the other side of it. 

His mind goes to Jutta. She might never know how close he got to making it back to her. He only hopes she will be compensated for his death, a final thank you for all she has done for him when he can’t be there for her. 

“Etienne, step aside!” The woman commands, ignoring that the dynamics of the war have changed greatly. 

“No, he is good!”

Etienne’s words startle him. He doesn’t want to die. He feels like he has so much to live for now. Can’t these people see that? What would Marie think of his execution?

“He is the enemy,” the woman yells. “Now, stand aside!”

“No, I have wasted half of my life hiding from my fears.” Etienne turns to grab Werner roughly by the shoulders. “Now, you must be fearless. Run. Run back to Marie!”

Before Werner, or anyone else, can act on Etienne’s words, the building explodes, sending them all flying into the air.

Werner didn’t even know he had been knocked out, until he was being shaken awake by Etienne himself. The older man’s lips are moving, but Werner can’t hear anything. It’s disorienting, and he wonders if he is dreaming. But it’s once his hearing clears out that he knows he is not. 

“Werner!” Etienne is yelling. “Wake up, son!” 

Etienne is bleeding from a wound in his head, but otherwise looks alright. It’s when Werner sits up that he sees that Etienne’s lower leg is bent at an odd angle that he knows his previous conclusion is very wrong. 

“Werner,” Etienne says with relief. “Are you alright?”

Werner winces and massages his forehead as pain pierces through it, but he otherwise nods yes. He looks around the destroyed room and notices that everyone else is either dead or still knocked out. 

“I cannot move very well with this injury.” Etienne groans in pain as he sits more upright. “The Germans are getting desperate. Marie won’t be safe. I need you to protect her until the American’s can defeat them.”

“I will.”

“And if I don’t make it, if I don’t see you or Marie again, tell her a tiger is happier dead than in a cage. She set me free. Tell her I said thank you. You will protect her.”

“I promise,” Werner swears and he means it with every fiber in his being. “You’re the professor,” he states. “I thought I had recognized your voice. Why didn’t you say anything earlier?”

“We are nothing but two soldiers with the need of protecting something precious to them,” Etienne says with a small smile. “Now, go!” He yells, pushing Werner to his feet and shoving him toward the door. 

He can’t deny him as he takes sure steps toward the door. He takes one glance over his shoulder to see Etienne, the Professor, crawl toward his fellow soldiers to assist them before he is out into the night filled with the stench of war. Only one thought crosses his mind: Marie.

☀️☀️☀️

Marie sits near the door, waiting for Werner and Etienne to come back. 

They do not come to the door within the hour that was promised.

She ignores the spike of fear that rushes through her and instead heads upstairs to broadcast on the radio for the American troops. She had only hoped she wouldn’t be alone for it. As she turns to begin heading to the attic an explosion nearby causes her to lose her balance but she stays upright. That wasn’t a usual bomb from an American plane. Then she hears the sound of automatic gunfire. 

The Americans! They have arrived—coming to end this war! 

Marie’s joy about freedom finally coming is short-lived. As she makes her way up the first set of the staircase, the front door gets busted in. 

“Marie!” A German voice calls out shrilly. It’s him, the soldier that was coming for her and the Sea of Flames. 

She begins running up the steps, getting to the attic is her only chance.

The soldier begins to laugh as the sounds of her feet smacking against the wooden steps fills the air. “I have finally found you, Marie! There is nowhere left to run.”

The head start she has allows her to close the attic door behind her and lock it. 

She can hear him ascending, but he is taking slow and measured steps. He knows she is cornered. To put distance between them. She makes her way into the middle of the attic and stands at the ready. She doesn’t know if he will give up or not. 

“I'm coming for you, Marie!” He snarls. 

No, he is definitely not giving up. 

She reaches out and places her hand on the floor. She can feel each step on the stairwell as he nears. Quickly, before he reaches the door, she pushes a large wardrobe so it blocks his path.

“I assume you have barricaded yourself up there. Smart girl. But now it must end,” the soldier says, now at the door. “I have a gun, Marie, and I also have a hand grenade. There will be more need for any more expense of strength or the use of explosives if you were to answer my simple question. The Americans are at the city walls, there is no time for games. All you have to tell me is where I will find the Sea of Flames!”

She ignores his words and finds the radio. She sits in the chair and turns it on to broadcast on Shortwave 13.10. “Etienne, Werner… I need you to come home. I am in danger!” As she hears the man shuffling around more, she speaks again. “Papa, if you are listening, I need your strength.”

“Why are you talking to your father?” The man yells as another explosion goes off near them. “You want to know what happened to him? After he left you here, he went to Paris to throw the Gestapo off his trail. Unfortunately for your father, the Gestapo had other plans.”

No… no, no, no!

“I took him to a cell and interrogated him. I knew he would have left the diamond with you. In response, he told me that death would come for me, but if I love someone, love outlasts all. So, I drew my tools I used to examine precious stones and began to torture him. I told him that pain is stronger than loyalty or patriotism. So the question then was, is pain stronger than love? Do you want to know the answer to that question Marie? The answer is NO! He did not tell me anything.”

A nightmare come to life. A sob escapes her as she presses her hands over her face, trying not to completely fall apart. 

“I tortured him for three hours and still nothing,” the soldier continues. “He wouldn’t give me an address. He wouldn’t give you up, Marie. So, I shot him in the head.”

More sobs escape Marie at learning about what happened to her father. The soldier could be lying, but a part of herself always knew this to be the truth. Her father would have not let her go this long without sending her a message. 

“Your father is dead by my hand.”

He is not dead, not really. He said love outlasts all, and that is true! She grips the corner of the desk to give herself strength as she regains her composure. “Papa you are not gone until I am gone.” And she will fight until her last breath to make sure his memory lives on. 

“Marie, do you understand your situation?”

“I am not alone,” she whispers out loud to herself, ignoring the man. This is not the end. Etienne is still out there. Werner is still out there. 

“Tell me where your father hid the diamond and I will leave you alone!”

“I am not alone!” Marie shouts as she stands abruptly. “You may have a hand grenade but I have a gun.” She pulls the gun from its spot in the drawer of the desk that the radio sits on. Taking a couple steps closer to the door where she knows the man is resting outside and raises the gun. 

“The fact that you have a revolver may complicate things…”

“What did you say?” Marie asks with a tilt of her head, listening in. 

“I said—”

Before he can continue speaking, she shoots. 

Glass shatters and then there is a thud and a guttural groan. Has she gotten him? Yes, but it’s not a fatal shot because she hears him stand and he begins speaking again. 

“You may have a gun, Marie, but what you don't have is eyes, and soon you won't have ears either. I will count down from ten and then I will pull the wire that holds the pin of the grenade. The explosive will be filled with shrapnel. I suggest you step away. I want to make sure you are alive after I blow up the door.” She can hear him heeding his own words as the sound of his footfalls and voice recedes. “The explosion will deafen you, for thirty seconds you will hear nothing and that is when I will enter the room and take my chances with a half-conscious little girl with nothing but a sense of smell. This is your very last chance. Talk to me!”

Even if she knew where the Sea of Flames was, she would never tell him. 

Marie scrambles away from the door as he begins counting down from ten. She grabs the headphones that are meant for the radio and finds a place to tuck behind on the opposite end of the room. 

“We are not going to die today,” Marie whispers out loud. “Even if I am deafened I will still hear your voice.”

The most important light is the light we cannot see, and it’s Werner who is speaking to her 

She becomes overcome with the memories of everyone she has loved and cared for—all supporting her. 

As the soldier finishes up his count, she places the gun on the ground next to her and grips the  headphones tightly over her ears. An explosion goes off with such a force that she falls forward and she winces as her body hits the ground covered in broken glass.

Marie rips off the headphones and there is only a ringing in her ears.

The gun. She reaches out for it but she can’t find it. Where is it?

It’s her only chance to defeat this man. Is he in the room already, just staring at her as she helplessly crawls around on the ground? 

The room is hotter. There must be fires scattered about that started because of the explosion. The smoke isn’t too bad, so she doesn’t fear that the entire house will go up in flames. 

She can feel the heavy steps of the soldier. Her fingers finally find the cold metal of the gun and she pulls herself to her feet, facing it in the direction of the door. 

There is faint yelling that her ears pick up on, slowly regaining her hearing. 

She takes tentative steps toward the door and shoots a couple of times but has no way of knowing if she has hit her target.

Everything is muffled around her but one thing rings true: “Marie!” A voice cries out, crystal clear and desperate. 

It’s Werner!

☀️☀️☀️

Werner runs faster than he ever has in his entire life—even the threat of being beaten to death at the Institute did not motivate him as much as the need to get to Marie and make sure she is safe. 

It is now dark, making the city look otherworldly as the fighting goes on all around him. He can’t remember the exact way he and Etienne came on the motorcycle. The streets have been destroyed beyond recognition. But, he knows the house with the blue door is near the ocean so he heads in that direction without a second thought. 

As he sprints around a corner onto a desolate road with fires scattered about, an explosion goes off near him, sending him flying back into a brick wall.

He is laying in bed, listening to the radio. Clare De Lune is playing as he gladly begins to succumb to the sleep that seems to be dragging him down. Before everything slips away, someone grabs his hand. His eyes shoot open to see Marie leaning over him with a soft smile on her face. 

“Werner,” she says, her eyes fluttering shut, as she bends down to kiss him. 

Within seconds he is shooting up into reality as he gulps in the smoke filled air. The sound of gunfire is constant as he shakily gets to his feet. He needs to keep moving. He begins to run again, weaving his way through the city, ignoring all who may cross his path. 

Eventually, he reaches the cobble walkway built along the shoreline that will take him right to where Marie is. There are tons of German soldiers lined up fighting against the American’s coming in by boat and plane. Werner ignores it all, keeping his eyes on the house at the end of the path. 

“I’m coming for you, Marie,” he whispers out loud before he begins to whip through the soldiers fighting against whom they think is the enemy—he pays no mind to this. The world seems to be falling apart as he runs in the opposite way of most men and all that matters to him is a French girl who changed his life. 

As he is about halfway to the house is when he comes to a halt in horror at the sight before him: the windows in the attic of Marie’s house blow out as if a grenade was released inside. 

Werner has accepted death many times. He would be fine with dying today, but please, God, let him save this one girl. Let him save Marie before he goes. 

He is now running so desperately. Running toward something; not away, like he has felt he has been doing his entire life. He is running to her. 

A plane falls into the ocean along the shoreline as he sprints up to the doors and bursts inside. 

“Marie!” He shouts, automatically bounding up the steps. “Are you alright?” No answer as he looks up the spiral staircase. “Marie, where are you?”

The sound of gunshots comes from upstairs making his heart freeze in his chest as he plasters himself against the wall. 

“MARIE!” He cries out so frantically, needing her to answer him; to know that she is alive.  

Don’t leave me, his whimpers in his mind as he imagines all the times he got to experience her light—he will not let it go out. Not now, not ever. 

“I'm here!” Marie’s voice carries to him like the music that comforted him each night before bed on the radio. “The German soldier has come for me. He is outside the attic door which he has destroyed to get to me.”

And that's when he is looking up and sees a man he does not recognize peer down at him from the landing in front of what he can assume is the door to the attic. It has been blown completely apart. A cold fear seeps into Werner at seeing the lengths this soldier has gone to get to Marie. What if he had been even thirty seconds later? What if he had died in the rebel shelter with Etienne?

But he hadn’t, and a white-hot anger rips through him—his satisfaction of killing to protect those he loves has not come to an end. 

As he steps forward to make his way up the stairs, the soldier whips out a gun and shoots down at Werner. He jumps back in time for the bullets to miss and hit the wooden bannister that he had been holding onto.

“Don’t hurt him!” Marie yells. 

“Ah, has a lover come for you, Marie?” The soldier quips in French. “He sounded desperate to get to you. Your gun holds six bullets and I have counted five. One bullet left. So, I will deal with this lover of yours and then I will come for you.”

Werner is happy to hear the soldier will come for him, anything to get him away from Marie. 

He takes his chance to run into a parlor with a table that seems to have an entire replica of the town made from wood. A couple bullets miss him as he sprints through the entryway. He plasters himself against the wall next to the double doors, listening and waiting. 

The soldier is taking slow and heavy steps down the stairs. Is he injured? He must be. But despite the advantage, Werner needs a weapon. There isn’t much in the room he could use to his advantage against a gun, but he spots a radio across the room on a side table. He could bash it over the man’s head, but there are spools of wire within it. Wire could do the trick of choking. It would allow for a surprise attack from behind where the man can’t get the opportunity to shoot him. 

“Werner!” Marie calls out. “He is halfway down the stairs. I know the sound of each step.”

With Marie’s guidance, he runs forward and snatches up the radio before going back to his hiding spot. 

“He has almost reached the parlor floor.”

He cracks open the radio with nimble fingers. 

“Five more steps to go!”

He grabs the wire and lets the rest of the radio fall away. He grabs the spool ends with each hand and pulls the wire taut in almost a foot of distance. He watches the door, waiting for the soldier to make his appearance. 

“He is on the landing outside the door!”

It’s pure luck that when the soldier enters the parlor he chooses to check the opposite side of the room than Werner is on. It gives him the perfect opportunity to lurch forward and wrap the wire around the soldier’s neck before he can even turn to face him. The soldier begins choking, gargling on his spit as he gasps for air. The air that Werner is gladly taking away. 

They begin to tussle. The soldier tries pulling the wire off of him, but he is too weak against Werner’s fight. The soldier begins shooting his gun over his shoulder, but Werner can just duck out of the way. The soldier would have to shoot himself to get to Werner. 

There is blood spilling onto his hands from the wire slicing the soldier’s throat, but he still fights. The soldier gives up on fighting with his gun and begins bucking. He chooses to throw them both into the table with the wooden replica of the town placed atop it. 

Werner gets the wind knocked out of him as they break the table in half and slam into the ground, but he still holds on tight. It’s when the soldier stands and gets an elbow right to Werner’s face that things change. He has hit his head so many times in the past couple of days, and this one hurts just as much as the others. He goes limp and sees stars for a moment—even his ears are ringing. Through his blurred vision, he sees the soldier fully stand and walk over to where his gun lays on the ground. 

Werner clambers to his feet, using the wall to support himself as nausea overwhelms him. 

He doesn’t even get the chance to run as the soldier points his gun right at him with a smirk on his face. Werner flattens himself against the wall as he watches the blood pool out of the cuts in the man’s neck. 

“You are a traitor!” The man yells in German and the gun shakes in his hand now that he can see Werner was also a German soldier. 

“And what are you fighting for?” Werner spits out in German. “For a rock that you think has magical powers?” 

This only angers the soldier further. 

Marie, I am so sorry, Werner thinks, please forgive me. For he won’t be making it out this time. His luck has run out. It’s time to die for a cause he truly believes in, has always believed in: protecting the beautiful girl on the radio.

As he is about to run at the soldier and take him out with him, Marie appears in the doorway appearing like an angel as she points her gun right at the soldier from behind. The cocking of her gun fills the silence. 

The smile slowly fades from the man's face as he turns to face Marie.

Without hesitation, she shoots. 

“Everything has a voice,” she says, “you just have to listen.”

The soldier falls to the ground as he bleeds from a bullet hole at the top of his head. Right in front of him is what Werner assumes is the Sea of Flames that Marie spoke about. It must have been released from its hiding spot during their scuffle. A large light blue gem with a red center. 

It’s gorgeous, but doesn’t compare to the girl before him. 

“Werner?” Marie says in a small voice. “Are you there?”

Tears prick at his eyes at realizing she doesn’t know whether he is dead or alive—he could have been killed without the use of a gun and he has been holding his breath.

“Die frau meiner träume,” releases from his lips as he makes his way toward her. “I’m here, Marie.”

She lets out a choked sob as she sags forward, dropping the gun. Within seconds, they are in each other’s arms, engulfing themselves in the other—latching on so tightly that no one could force them away from each other ever again.

“Thank you for saving me,” he whispers into her ear, “my beautiful girl on the radio.”

Marie is pressing her face into his chest so hard that he wonders if she can even breathe. Werner’s eyes wander to the man that had almost taken her from him and spots the Sea of Flames again. He knows this is the precious jewel her father risked everything for. 

“Marie, the Sea of Flames was in the replica of the town your father built. It is now laying on the floor.” She stays silently pressed into him. “Would you like me to move it somewhere?” He asks, maybe she would like it, in remembrance of her father or to get it back to him.

“Just leave it. We can worry about it later,” Marie says as she tilts her head upward to face him. “Where is my uncle?” 

“Where we were was blown up and I was knocked out. I don’t know how much time had passed before he was shaking me awake. He had a broken leg and told me to come to you as fast as I could, so I did.”

“Do you think he is still alive?” 

“I do not know,” Werner answers honestly, no one is ever safe during a war. 

“We must find him!” 

“We will go together,” Werner says as he takes hold of her hands. “I cannot bear being apart from you.”

Marie nods in agreement but he hates to see the tears fill her eyes. And what if Etienne is dead? He knows he has done what the man wished. That’s how he knew he had gained his trust, because he had sent him to protect Marie without a moment's notice. Werner doesn’t plan on letting go of that promise anything soon, even if that means stopping her from stepping out alone into the worn torn streets in search of her Uncle. 

“It will be dangerous out there, so I need you to stay right by my side the entire time, alright?”

Before he gets a reply from Marie, there is the sound of the front door being slammed open. It makes them both jump. Automatically, Werner whips Marie behind protectively and she clings to the back of his shirt. 

“Is someone here?” She whispers. 

Werner walks slowly toward the railing of the stairs to peek down onto the first floor and Marie follows closely behind. He doesn’t see anyone and there is no sound of anyone entering the building. 

“Marie,” someone gasps. It’s faint but he knows who it is: Etienne. 

“Uncle Etienne!” Marie cries as she releases Werner and begins to run down the steps. He lets out a sigh of relief at knowing the man is alive and found his way to them. He follows closely behind Marie and when they make it to the foyer, Etienne is limping along the wall to get inside. He is pale and clammy but stays upright.

Marie runs toward him with her arms outstretched and Etienne grabs onto her forearm as she is close to him. The man’s shoulders sag in relief at seeing his niece alive, it’s palpable on his face. He looks to Werner who comes forward to wrap the older man’s arm over his shoulder and gives him a nod in thanks. 

“Be careful, Marie,” Etienne scolds, but it’s out of love. “The ground is littered with things that can hurt you.”

“Oh, shush, Uncle!” Marie fires right as she and Werner begin helping him toward the stairs. “How did you get here? We were just going to come looking for you!”

“I took my motorcycle as far as I could and then hobbled the rest of the way.”

“I’m glad you’re back safe,” Marie says as they slowly make their way up each step. “Let’s get you to bed so we can have a look at you.”

They get Etienne into bed and prop him up against the headboards with extra pillows behind his head and back. Marie rushes out of the room and comes back with a pail of water, a washcloth, and a bag of medical supplies. She begins wiping down her uncle's face to take care of the cut on his forehead. Werner checks the rest of his body but sees no immediate injuries other than the broken shin bone. 

“This will need to be reset,” he states, “by an actual doctor.”

“The Germans are losing,” Etienne says, “the war will be over soon. I will find a doctor tomorrow, for now, I would like to rest.”

“Thank you,” Werner blurts out as he moves to stand as close to Etienne as possible. “For what you did for me.” Before Etienne can respond, he speaks again. “You’re exactly as I always imagined the Professor to be.”

He doesn’t miss how Marie’s face snaps to face him and there is a ghost of a smile on her face as she finishes placing the bandage on Etienne’s head and sits on the bed next to him. 

“Up in that attic there is where I broadcasted every night. I hoped to give people something to believe in, so that they wouldn’t fall into the indoctrination the current world is trying to make them be a part of. I wanted to give people hope.” 

“It worked.” Werner smiles. “I’m the proof.” and Etienne smiles right back. He reaches out with one hand and holds Werner’s face, tapping it softly. “You’re a good boy, Werner Pfennig.”

He then turns to Marie, and grabs her shoulder. “And you, I want you to know that you set me free and I am forever thankful for it. I told Werner to tell you these words if I didn’t make it, but I am glad I can tell you in person.”

Marie begins quietly crying as she leans forward to hug her Uncle. “The soldier that had come for me earlier, he was the one who killed my father.”

Werner feels faint at Marie’s words. A part of him had still hoped he would turn up at some point. 

Etienne wraps his arm around her as a few tears slid down his cheeks. “You won’t let this war break you. We don’t let it break us.”

Werner nods and Marie pulls back from her uncle. 

“Alright you two, I would now like to rest. Please stay close by. We will hunker down until I can get an update on this war.”

“Yes, Uncle,” Marie says with a kiss to his forehead, being careful to not hit the injured part. 

She walks around the bed and grabs Werner’s hand. “Let’s get cleaned up and I can show you where the Professor spoke to us both all those years ago.” She leads him to the bathroom where she begins to run the water. “Take as long as you need.”

“I will just be cleaning my face and hands and torso.” Werner states. “You don’t have to leave.” Even the thought of her leaving the room and closing the door behind her makes him feel restless. “I will make it quick.”

Marie nods. “I will join you. I will just clean my face.”

It’s not until he has to move his suspenders off his shoulder and begin unbuttoning his shirt when he realizes how inappropriate this is, but Marie doesn't seem to mind as she grabs a washcloth and gets it soapy for him. 

“Thank you,” he says softly as he grabs it, but instead of wiping himself down he steps closer to her. “May I wash your face for you?” He asks.

Marie nods and closes her eyes. She startles slightly as the washcloth meets her forehead but then leans into his touch. She actually sighs as it wipes down her cheek and over her rosy lips. Lips he wants to kiss. But, he won’t initiate anything, not until she does.

Ignoring the way his own thoughts are making him flustered, he makes sure to get every speck across her face and neck before lowering the washcloth to his side. 

“All done,” he whispers and when she blinks up at him, he wants to melt into the floor. 

She is breathtaking, whether covered in dirt and dust or not. 

He quickly wipes his own face and hands down and quickly gets his torso and underarms without taking off his undershirt. 

“Ready?” She smiles at him as she presumably hears him lay out the washcloth to dry and the resituating of his button up and suspenders. 

“Ready,” he confirms. 

☀️☀️☀️

Despite everything that had transpired in the last day, Marie feels giddy with excitement as she brings Werner up to the attic so he can see where her uncle, the Professor, worked his magic. 

She swears she can still feel the press of the washcloth against her skin as he follows closely behind her. They walk right up to the table where the radio sits. 

“This is where he sat,” Werner says in awe and she hears the creak of the chair being pulled out and him lowering himself into the plush leather. She rests her hand on the arm of the chair and stays standing beside it. “I wonder if he will ever teach over the radio again.”

“Once he is better, he will be happy to answer any questions you have,” Marie says with a smile. “He has already warmed up to you. He likes you.”

“He stood up for me,” Werner says with a shaky voice. “When we got to the rebel shelter, they wanted to kill me. He stood between me and their guns. He said he would take care of me.”

This admission makes Marie choke up as well. “Like me, he could see the truth in you. The good in you.” She finds his upper arm and gives it a squeeze in reassurance. She hears movement and his hand covers hers. “I am glad you have entered our life, Werner Pfennig.”

She would surely be dead without him. 

The radio makes a distorted humming sound.

Werner releases her hand and leans forward, so she lets her hand fall to her side. There is the sound of him tinkering with the radio. She steps closer. “What are you doing?”

“The radio is broken. Probably because of the soldier blowing open the door. One moment and I will have it mended.” 

She hears the click of something and the radio whirs to life. Werner makes a satisfied noise—he really is a whizz with radios.

“Do you have the music that your uncle would play?” Werner asks her, making Marie smile as she spins away to find the record player, which seemed to have survived all of the chaos. The active vinyl is Clare De Lune, and she begins to play it. 

“My dear sister, Jutta,” Werner speaks in French as he broadcasts over the radio. “I don’t know if you are listening, but if you are, then know that I am alive and that I’m still on the same frequency in my head. I’m in France. I will try to come home. And when I get back, I will tell you everything. There are so many things. But the most important thing is that I met the professor.” Marie can hear the smile in his voice. “I really did and I can’t wait for you to meet him, too. He saved my life and I am sitting in his chair.” There is a pause before he speaks again. “And next to me is a girl with the most beautiful eyes.” His words take her breath away, and she has to blink back happy tears. “I have to go. All my love. Werner.”

There is the sound of the radio turning off and the only thing is the music playing around them.

Marie lays out her hand and after a moment, Werner takes it. She holds tight to him, and slowly, she guides him to the middle of the room. She moves one of his hands to her waist and holds it there as his other moves freely to encircle her back. They begin to sway to the music and she places her arms over his shoulders and winds them around the back of his neck. Softly, she begins to play with the ends of his hair. One hand sneaks away to touch his face and she finds that he is smiling. 

They pull each other in for a gentle hug—the opposite of their first downstairs, but just as meaningful. His cheek is pressed into the side of her head as she tucks her face into the crook of his neck. She takes him in and the peace of the moment. 

After a minute or so of basking in each other’s presence, Marie asks a burning question. “The German you spoke earlier, what did you say?”

“Die frau meiner träume,” he repeats and she loves the rumble of his voice as he speaks his native language. “The woman of my dreams.”

She is overwhelmed with so many emotions all at once, but passion seems to overtake them all, which gives her the confidence to do something she never has before. 

“Close your eyes,” she whispers before pulling back so she can cradling Werner’s face and moving her thumbs to rest over his eyes to find he has done as she commanded. 

With a deep breath, she leans into him and tries not to giggle as she has to stand on her tiptoes to reach her goal: his lips. The first kiss is tentative, as she hopes to not miss and as it seems to kick Werner into gear as he realizes what she wants. He bends down to meet her, guiding her and it’s glorious, to be so connected to someone she has felt drawn to since the moment she first met him. 

To show him her love in every way that she can. 

They both begin to smile, breaking their kiss. They rest their foreheads together as they still begin to spin leisurely to the music before it’s the last couple of notes and it comes to an end. 

“Are you hungry?” Werner asks, softly.

“Do you like peaches?”

“Yes, I like peaches,” Werner confirms with a laugh.

Werner laughs as Marie hurriedly grabs his hand and begins pulling him along, back toward the destroyed door. Quietly, they make their way to the kitchen and when she presents Werner with the can of peaches she could never open, he cracks it and they share each slice until there are only juices left and Werner hands it over to her to drink it. She laps up every last drop of the sweet taste. 

Once done, she sets aside the can and places her hand on Werner’s chest. She can feel the steady beat of his heart before leaning forward and capturing his lips with hers again. 

She doesn’t know what has overcome her, but she can’t get enough of him. 

“You taste sweet,” Werner says and they both end up giggling. 

It’s a bizarre sound to Marie’s ears, to be so carefree and happy after so many struggles. 

This is what Madame Manec would have wanted to be happening in her kitchen—pure connection; love. And, although her father would love that she found someone like Werner, she knows he would pull the stereotypical protectiveness, and just thinking about it warms her heart. 

“Would you like to go to bed and wake up to a new world?” She asks Werner. 

“Absolutely.”

Marie leads him to her room and she fluffs up her blankets as Werner walks around, most likely taking the time to look at everything. She has a shelf of books in braille her father got for her—many pages are filled with dried flowers she has kept. Various trinkets she has collected over the last year. Paintings are placed in various spots on the walls. Anything with distinct textures interests her so even slabs of fabric had made their way into her room. She seems to have inherited the fascination with collecting and cherishing items just like her father. 

“I usually sleep in my dress so that I am ready for anything,” Marie says with her hands behind her back, wondering what Werner thinks of everything. “But you can do whatever you are most comfortable with.” 

“I will take the floor.”

This makes Marie’s eyebrows shoot to her forehead. “No way. My bed is big enough for the both of us.” She steps toward where she heard him speak, reaching out to pull him toward her bed. “Let’s get some sleep,” she whispers as she pulls him down beside her on the bed. “I will feel safer if you are right next to me.”

They both lay on their sides, facing each other. Marie bends her legs so that her knees tap against Werner’s thighs and she scoots in close enough that she can feel his breath exhale, tickling her face and making her flutter her eyelashes. 

“Tomorrow, we will wake up to a new world,” Werner says. 

“No better way to do so than with you.”

And this time, Werner kisses her first. It’s a deeper kiss than their previous two and makes Marie clutch at his bicep as he reaches forward and grabs her by the waist, pulling her flush against him. They continue to explore each other a bit longer, testing the waters with a swipe of a tongue here and there. Marie has never kissed anyone before but she knows there is no better way to celebrate the end of a war than being in the arms of her kind soldier.

Many bad things have happened in her life—she has lost people she didn’t think she would have to live without until she was old and gray, but she is beyond thankful that the world gave her Werner. 

Eventually they pull apart, but only slightly, and Marie grips his hands tightly in hers as she holds them between their chests. 

“Goodnight, Werner,” she whispers. 

“Goodnight, Marie.”

She thinks it takes awhile for both of them to shut down because of the adrenaline fueling day they had, but once she hears the slow rhythmic breathing of Werner being asleep, is when she can finally slip away—he is her anchor and keeps her tethered to reality as nightmares threaten, but it’s only peace. 

Her dream of Werner has finally come true.

Chapter Text

Werner slowly wakes, feeling the most comfortable he has in a long time. And, why does it smell like fresh soap that is scented like flowers? His face is warm, the sun must be streaming through a window. 

He cracks open his eyes to a blinding golden light and the night before comes rushing back to him as he realizes he isn’t with his fellow soldiers in some hideaway, they are all dead.

But draped across his chest, there is a girl; Marie, and she is very much alive. He can feel the movement of her body pressing against him as she breathes. She glows in the light as she peacefully slumbers. Her hair is slipping over her face, so as softly as he can, he brushes it back. The black strands are silky against his fingers as he continues to admire her. 

It’s strange to think about what has happened the last couple of days. His life is so different than he thought it would be. And the girl laying on his chest is the reason for everything changing for the better. 

As he sits still and continues playing with her hair (the rhythmic motion soothing any anxiety he had left over from restless dreams he can’t remember) there is noise outside that is progressively getting louder. Fear spikes through him and he is about to shake Marie awake, but then he realizes it sounds like cheering. It’s the good type of shouting. 

Despite not alerting her, Marie must hear it, too, because she slowly wakes; her eyes fluttering open.

“Good morning, Marie,” he whispers with a smile.

“Werner,” she breathes out in relief and snuggles into him further, moving her arms so she holds him tight.

He automatically reciprocates, fully wrapping her up in his arms. Now that she is awake, he squeezes her into him, not worried about disturbing her peace. Holding her… he never wants to do anything else. Holding each other desperately like this, it’s as if they are in their own little world and he never wants to leave. 

She eventually turns her head up toward him and gives a small smile. “How did you sleep?”

“I slept well… because of you.”

Marie’s smile grows larger, encompassing her whole face. He always wants to see her like this; with a twinkle in her deep brown eyes and her hair slightly mussed because of his touch. She reaches out a hand until she finds his face. Cupping his cheek, she brushes a thumb over the tip of his nose and then his lips. The contact makes his breath hitch and she leans in to kiss him. It’s simple and sweet, making him ache with a happiness that he thought he may never experience again. 

Marie breaks away with a small giggle before sitting up and stretching. It’s cute, the little yawn she makes before speaking. “We should probably check on my uncle and find out what’s happening.”

Hand in hand, they leave her room and head to where they last left Etienne in his bed. He is not there, but there is no sign of a struggle. They know he is around here somewhere, even with an injured leg. 

They travel down the stairs and Werner quickly checks each room but they can’t find him. Finally, they hit the foyer and Etienne is standing at the front door. If he is in pain from standing with a broken leg, he isn’t showing it. The door is wide open and Werner can see the American soldiers marching through the streets as the people of Saint-Malo cheer and wave the French flag. 

“Uncle Etienne?” Marie asks as Werner guides her forward. 

“The war is over,” he says before turning to face them and smiles— it transforms his face, making him look much younger. “We have won.”

Werner grips Marie’s hand tightly to ground himself. It’s over. He no longer has to survive. He looks at Marie who is laughing in delight. No, now he can live. 

Marie pulls him forward and then he is hugging both her and Etienne. It’s surreal, to be in the arms of the Professor and the beautiful girl on the radio. 

They eventually pull apart, but now he is feeling choked up.

“Werner,” Etienne addresses him as he claps a hand onto his shoulder. “I have already put in a good word for you, but you will have to surrender to the American troops. They will clothe and feed you, and let you go home to Jutta.”

Werner is beyond grateful. “Thank you, for believing in me.”

“And then you’ll come back,” Marie says as she takes both of his hands in hers and stands right in front of him. It’s more a statement than a question. 

“And then I’ll come back,” he swears.

“I’ll see you soon,” Etienne says with a wink and then there is a doctor at the door. He begins helping guide Etienne to a nearby first aid tent. Leaving him and Marie alone in the entryway. 

Werner remembers another time, standing at a door knowing his life was about to become drastically different, but that had been the Nazi’s came to his home to take him away. When his sister had held him and made him swear he wouldn’t let them change him. Now, he is leaving to go back to that home. This is not a goodbye filled with terror, but one of hope. 

It still isn’t any easier. 

“How will we stay in touch?” Marie asks, stepping even closer to him so they are chest to chest.

“Shortwave 13.10,” Werner replies with a smile. “If you broadcast, I will be listening.”

She pauses for a moment, and she looks stricken with fear. “What if you change your mind?”

“I won’t,” he responds immediately, and then with more muster because he never wants her to have doubt: “I won’t.”

The panic in her features dissipates and Marie lets out a joyous laugh as she leans in. “Then be sure to listen.”

“I will. I will as I always have.” Werner lets go of her hands to cradle her face and her hands come to grip his sides. “You are my light,” he whispers, “the light of my life.”

“And you are my shining sun.” Marie smiles up at him. 

Werner kisses her. 

He kisses her like she is the air he needs to breathe. His arms are winding around her back, molding her body into him as her hands make their way into his hair, gripping and pulling. It’s urgent and desperate. He feels like he is spinning, overcome with the dizzying ecstasy of falling. Falling into the ground after not being able to keep yourself upright because of the world moving around you. Marie is his world. She is everything good in the world. Together, they pour their love into each other. He consumes what she gives him like a man starving—and he knows what it means to go hungry, but never something as powerful as this. 

He makes a promise to himself and Marie, that when they meet again, they will never have to know the world without the other. They will never forget the taste of the other; the sounds of each other, the touch. He will memorize every part of her, the woman of his dreams. He has destroyed life, killed, for her. And he would do it again in a heartbeat, but now he wants to create life with her. 

He wants them to have a future together. Something they can nurture and build: a home, a garden, meals in the kitchen, photographs on the wall, children with her intelligence and bright eyes. Things that prove their love—their mark on the world for all to see. It’s their defiance, to be something when many times, the world told them they wouldn’t be.

He may be young and foolish, but after almost losing his life multiple times, to make something permanent with Marie is his greatest wish. 

Eventually, the kiss slows and they simply embrace each other.

“Here,” Marie says after a bit, still seeming to be in a daze from their kiss as she steps to the side. She doesn’t let go of him but reaches toward a buffet against the wall next to them. It’s dusty and broken now. She grabs at the white cloth atop it and rips a corner from the worn fabric and hands it to him. “Wave this around as you go outside.”

“Thank you,” he says as he grabs the white cloth. “Thank you for everything.”

“Don’t thank me,” Marie says genuinely, “just come back to me.”

“I promise,” he whispers, giving her a kiss on the forehead before letting go. 

He hates it, the separation, but he knows it needs to be done if they want any chance at a life together.

He never takes his eyes off of her as he steps out into the street, holding up the white cloth as he surrenders. American soldiers surge forward to grab him and lead him away from the house with the blue door. He never takes his eyes off of Marie. Even when he is pulled far enough away to lose her in the crowd and behind buildings, he still stares at where she last stood in his line of vision. Eventually, he cooperates with the soldiers and they lead him to a set of tents that seem to be holding other German soldiers that have surrendered. 

They stop to drill him for his story, and Werner gives them the shortened version—making sure to mention Etienne since he had possibly been in contact with these men. He explains joining the resistance. Not making a bragging point, but wanting them to see him for the path he chose, not what he was forced into doing.

They seem to understand, and it’s only days later when he is making his way back home. All he has are the clothes on his back as he begins the journey—it takes some time to travel to the orphanage where Jutta and Faru Elena are. By the time he has reached the street leading up to the building, he is dead on his feet. 

But, he doesn’t stop moving.

He hasn’t even reached the steps that lead to the front door before there is a flash of blonde hair and billowing skirts as Jutta launches herself into his arms. She lets out a sob as she practically is choking him to death with how tight she holds him. Tears prick in his eyes at knowing his sister is well and safe. 

Frau Elena soon joins them and he is getting many hugs by the fellow children, all happy to see him. Jutta is practically plastered to his side, not budging a bit, and he is completely fine with it. Frau Elena eventually sends the other children off so that Werner can get some rest. 

He will tell Jutta everything, but right now, he simply wants to be. 

Arm in arm, they walk into the orphanage that was his home for most of his life. In the main room sits the large radio that he has fixed up many times. It’s whirring with life, sounding like it has seen some overuse. It’s tuned into Shortwave 13.10. Has Jutta been playing it day and night just in case she could hear him? 

“I heard her, you know,” Jutta says with a smile. “Your girl with the most beautiful eyes—on the radio. She was the one reading the book every night. I knew you were alive because of her. She spoke of a kind soldier and I just knew it was you.” His sister pats his hand gently and looks around the empty room. “I’ll have to thank her, when I see her, for what she has done.”

Before he can decide on what to say or ask—many things are running through his mind, there is a crackle over the radio. He steps closer. It’s silent for a moment, as if holding its breath, before a broadcast starts: it’s Marie.

“To my kind soldier, my shining sun…”

30 Years Later

Marie sits in her favorite chair close to the fireplace as she reads “Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea” by Jules Verne in braille. It’s the same one her father got her. It survived all the destruction of Saint-Malo and now after many years of re-reads it’s worn with use, practically falling apart. Still, she reads it every year in August—it’s her way of paying remembrance to all she went through during the war. It’s a reminder of the sacrifices that were made in the name of freedom. 

The home she sits in is hers and Werner’s. They live in the United States, moving there shortly after the war because Etienne was offered a job as a professor at a University in honor of his efforts with the resistance. Jutta came with them, too, and they lived as a happy family; finally building the lives they wanted for themselves and each other. 

She and Werner were married within their first year of college, because why wait? It was exactly what they wanted and everything was perfect. 

Marie thinks back on the day Werner had left, surrendering to the American’s, and how that was the day she tossed the Sea of Flames into the ocean shores of Saint-Malo. She stood still, letting the waves lap at her ankles and the sun warm her skin—she was thinking about her father. In a way, it was her own celebration of life for him. In the end, no one got the Sea of Flames and she likes to think that’s how her father would have wanted things to be. 

She finishes the book and closes it gently to set it on the side table near her. Werner is tinkering with a radio in the kitchen not too far from her. They are empty nesters now. Four children were raised in this home, but they have all moved out, living their own great lives—Marie could not be more proud of them and all they have accomplished. 

“My love,” she calls out as she stands and begins playing a record. 

It is later in the evening, so the warm August air has cooled. When Werner comes up to her, she feels the softness of a sweater as she reaches out for him. He pulls her into him and she rests her head against his chest, wrapping her arms around his torso. 

Clare De Lune begins to play and they sway to the sound. 

They do this often, just basking in each other’s presence, but it holds extra meaning because of their memories from this day thirty years before. They won against all odds, and there is no place she would rather be than in Werner’s arms. Time has gone by in a blink (and it has been the most wonderful life) but pressed against him as his heart beat mixes with the music in the air around them, it all feels timeless. Like this, she can just be. No past, not future, just Werner.  

“You are my light,” Werner whispers into her hair, “the light of my life.”

“And you are my shining sun,” Marie replies with a satisfactory hum as they spin in a slow circle.

The same words they whispered all those years ago after waking up and seeing the new world together. They have become a reminder to each other throughout their life: to fight for what you love, to be happiest with the simplest of things. Marie knows that all will be well as long as they can repeat those words. And it’s after they speak those words that they stay cradling each other into the night, even long after the music has stopped playing.  

They know that morning will come, and with it, the light.