Guilt

"So, did you find out what happened?" Werner asked. He didn't have high hopes even though he was well aquainted with Nikolai's charm. 

"I did." He answered. Nikolai could hear the strain in his friends voice. Whatever it was; Nikolai didn't want to tell him. "And I'm not going to tell you because it might be dangerous for you if I did." What Nikolai said was true: if Werner was a suspect his innocence had to be played well. If he knew about the murder they'd ask where from, if he didn't know about it they'd definitely believe him when he'd say he wasn't guilty. 

"Why?"

"Because it's something you shouldn't have known unless you were involved. And I'm not going to rat him out." He pointed at the guard. "If they find out you know about it, I'd have to, to save you." He swung the cap off his friends head, placed it on his own and ruffled Werner's hair. "But don't worry; it'll all be alright. It's not too bad."

"Does it have something to do with Wojciechowski?" Werner asked nervously. Nikolai shrugged. He hooked his arm into Werner's and marched his young friend away from the crime scene. 

He was pretty sure that they'd call the young lad in the next morning, maybe interogate him for hours or even days. Nikolai hoped that the murder was one carried out by a weapon and not poison. Werner would have an alibi; so many soldiers had seen him that morning; it couldn't have been him. If it was a slow working poison it would be a lot harder to explain, and Werner would definitly be high up on the list. The best thing of course, would be that it was determined as a suicide. 

Werner was a bit nervous about the whole affair, but he decided to lay himself to rest and deal with it in the morning. He was tired and cold and stiff from the long hours of being on guard, and his bed, however small, was a comforting thought. 

Across the polish-german border and all the way in Berlin, Marie sat at her window, staring at the full moon. It was beautiful and hung in the sky like a large plate, one that was old and the paint was chipping off. She was thinking about Killian. She missed him already, and she so hoped that he would be alright, that we would return after the war and not die in some horrid way. She was still a bit ruffled by the encounter with Kurt, but she'd tried to push it to the back of her mind where she stuffed it into a box she closed and refused to let open. But the fear and petrifications he'd felt looking into his snake-like face had also brought up different emotions in her. Her father's friend, the man she'd had a kind-of-relationship with, was out there somewhere. He was still alive, otherwise her father would have said something. But she wasn't sure what he was doing. Out of all the men she'd liked she'd loved him the most and a small part of her still loved him. She was holding a letter, one she'd written to him and never sent. Most of it was written terribly and very sappy, but there was one line she truely felt: who are smart and intellectual, who have dark humor but bright sugary eyes, who have silky smooth hair and lips that curl up like a cats mouth. She'd described him so and she'd always wanted to show him, but the day she'd gathered up the courage to hand him the letter was the day she found out he'd married. The girl was pretty and cute, but she didn't seem the right fit to him. She dropped the love letter, got off the windowsil and crossed the room to her bed where she lay down. She grabbed a pen and a piece of paper and started writing a letter to Killain.

Dear Killian, 

I can't wait to see you again...Christmas was fun, perhaps you can come over for easter (or earlier if possible). I was reminded of you today, I saw a young and handsome soldier strolling through the streets, hand in hand with a blonde puppet. I had to think of you and I. If possible, please visit! I can tell you when I'm at Opa Hans place. He liked you, by the way. I phoned him yesterday and he (once again) told me I should marry you. I'm assuming you have a lot of work to do, so I won't make the letter too long, I don't want to distract you, but at the same time I want to give you a quick moment of relief; a quick break from war. 

My kisses!

Your, Marie. 

Neither of the two young lovers suspected what would happen in the next week. Werner had no clue that he'd be interrogated by the Lagerführer and Rickenback and other high-ranking officials to the point where they almost tortured him. And Marie could never have geussed that she'd receive a love letter from an old friend...