Der Engel von Berlin

And it's that time again! As part of the Heroism - the Oggbashan Memorial Event 2025, I, supported by others, have put together a story which I hope lives up to the expectations as part of the memorial event. Like last years entry, one entry is in English, the other with a part German dialogue. This story has been supported by my friends Tim & Frank for the US based segment, and 29wordsforsnow for their wealth of knowledge in where to go looking for, or providing the background material for this story. They also proved the alternative German dialogue along with some major editing. There are heroes in my story, but these 3, are real heroes, particularly 29wordsforsnow who has really got behind this in the last 24 hours prior to the deadline. I cannot express enough thanks.

Der Engel von Berlin

The Sewers under East Berlin, 1976

The smell was worse than up at street level, Jutta was just ahead of Hans, retching as quietly as she could as they waded waist deep through the shit and filth that flowed through the sewers of Berlin. As the leader of this little group, Manfred knew that there could be no mistakes, they had to move along with minimal noise and fuss, and he let his two travelling companions know it, as he whispered to them urgently.

"Sssh! Seid leise, weiter voraus, in den Kanälen gibt es Mikrofone!"

Five minutes later, Manfred slowed, then stopped before turning around and spoke to the pair in a hushed voice.

"Auf den nächsten einhundert Metern müssen wir die Taschenlampen ausschalten. In der Nähe gibt es eine Verzweigung, die sie patrouillieren. Sie hat eine Kamera. Direkt über uns ist ein Wachturm. Lasst die Hand auf der Schulter eures Vordermannes, sprecht nicht, haltet den Kopf unten und bewegt euch langsam. Wir sind fast da."

Jutta spoke quickly under her breath, the fear evident.

"Was, wenn du den falschen Abzweig nimmst, mein Gott, wir könnten uns verirren und hier unten sterben."

Manfred laughed quietly, hoping the humour would diffuse her fear. They were so near but this could go so wrong, just one word said too loudly could bring a patrol crashing down on them.

"Beruhig dich! Ich habe hier unten für zehn Jahre gearbeitet. Ich kenne die Kanalisation wahrscheinlich besser als das Tageslicht. Vertraut mir, nicht mehr weit. Wir müssen nur noch hier vorbei und wir sind trockenen Fußes zu Hause. Und dann seid ihr frei."

He let out an almost silent chuckle, with a final few words before they started moving.

"Naja, vergesst das über das trocken sein. Wenn ihr auf der anderen Seite seid, könnt ihr euch auf eine schöne heiße Dusche freuen, danach aufs Abtrocknen!"

With their hearts thumping in their chest and adrenaline flowing through their veins, they put their faith in Manfred. What other choice did they have? Moving slowly to keep all noise to a minimum they finally relaxed a little, as Manfred let out a breath. It felt as if he had been holding it for an impossibly long time.

"Ich werde jetzt als einziger meine Taschenlampe benutzen. Es ist nicht mehr weit zu laufen. Schaut dort!"

With the low light shimmering on the fetid water, they saw it. Somehow the metal grill inside the tunnel seemed to move and come away to create a passageway between East and West. They then noticed the dim light, the shadowy movement of bodies. Manfred answered the question before they chose to ask it.

"Das Gitter wurde sorgfältig durchtrennt, es dauerte mehrere Monate, um nicht bemerkt zu werden. Auf der anderen Seite befinden sich Halterungen, die entfernt werden können, um es zu öffnen, ohne von den Grenzern entdeckt zu werden, die hier ihre Runden drehen. Wir konnten so schon viele unserer Landsleute sicher ausschleusen."

Suddenly, light shone from behind them, in fact, it shone from Hans who had opened his duffle bag to retrieve a high-powered torch from it. Like cockroaches, he watched as those shadows on the other side of the gated tunnel slunk back into the darkness. Unable to see him, the two people standing a couple of metres away shielded their eyes from the bright light, but they still caught the unmistakable glint of the barrel of the pistol that was pointing their way. They instantly knew what he was, the surprise was the deadpan offer he made.

"Ich bin ein Mann, der gerne spielt, und ich mag faire Chancen, wir sind doch schon so weit gekommen. Ich lasse euch die Wahl. Dreht um und kommt mit mir zurück und stellt euch den Konsequenzen eures Handelns oder.."

He stood, letting them mull over the only other option he could give them.

"... ich gebe euch eine Minute, um es auf die andere Seite und dann weit genug außer Reichweite meiner Pistole zu schaffen. Eure Entscheidung."

Jutta never hesitated, she was too close to obtaining her freedom. Immediately, she made for the other side. With no time to reason, Manfred quickly followed her, wading noisily side-by-side through the water.

"Eins, zwei, drei, vier, fünf..."

Hans spoke slowly, aware they could hear him speak with the numbers spread apart like the tick of a metronome. Calmly, he raised the pistol, levelling it, ensuring his hand was steady, his aim true.

"... fünfundzwanzig, sechsundzwanzig, siebenundzw..."

The sound rolled through the narrow tunnel like thunderclaps, the two quick bangs reverberated off the brickwork as the explosive sounds made their way both east and west. The first figure dropped like a stone, the second figure didn't. About to fire a third shot, he watched as she slowed, maybe she was willing her body to make those all important final steps that would give her the freedom she felt she deserved. Finally, she stopped on unsteady feet, then dropped into the shit-filled water where he felt she now belonged. He let off another shot; movement to the other side of the ironwork made a tempting target. He cursed himself as the bullet ricocheted off the ironwork, the zing of metal on metal followed behind the thunderclap of the exploding gunpowder.

He had one more quick shot to take. Raising the gun and holding it as far away as he possibly could, he pulled the trigger again, the bang following the others through the tunnels as the smell of cordite thickened in the air. Looking at his arm, he had done enough to cover for his actions by nicking the flesh on his upper arm, although it still hurt like hell. He could hear the sound of boots running now, putting a fresh bullet into the magazine to replace the last one he fired, he held his hands up as the torches picked him out.

"Ich bin Leutnant Klaus Schneider, Zentrale Koordinierungsgruppe des MfS, beauftragt, die Nester dieses Ungeziefers zu infiltrieren, die unsere sozialistische Gesellschaft zersetzen wollen. Seien Sie auf der Hut, auf der anderen Seite sind sie bewaffnet und schießen aufs Geratewohl. Sie haben meinen Arm gestreift. Zeigen Sie ihnen, dass dies unser Land ist und dass mit dem Volk der Deutschen Demokratischen Republik nicht zu spaßen ist."

The four guards levelled their rifles, firing off a volley of shots towards the hole the two souls that had perished had planned to slip through. The smoke from these final rifle shots acted like a final curtain, closing out the painful real-life opera that had just been played out. Klaus barked an order.

"Sie zwei! Suchen Sie nach allen Dokumenten, die sie dabei haben und bringen Sie sie zu mir nach draußen."

The order was concise and clear cut.

"Was ist mit den Leichen, Leutnant?"

He looked at the young soldier who had asked the question, a cruel smile spread across the lieutenant's face, clearly visible in the artificial light of the torches.

"Da Sie diesen sehr wichtigen Punkt angesprochen haben, haben sie sich freiwillig gemeldet, um sich um sie zu kümmern. Binden Sie sie an ein Seil und ziehen Sie sie den ganzen Weg zurück, damit sie rausgeschafft werden können."

The young soldier cursed himself for speaking up. It would be a steep learning curve. He had yet to learn, you did not ask questions of men like the lieutenant - they had no compassion, no morals about dispatching a life to whatever the after world held. He had been warned by some of the older guards to try and avoid those like Lieutenant Klaus Schneider. They tended to be warped individuals, feeding off the fear and suffering they inflict, and it wasn't always those who fell foul of the Stasi that suffered. People like him, that bordered on the cusp of being a psychopath, were those that swiftly rose up through the ranks as men to be fearful of.

۞۞۞۞

In the official report, the man known as Hans had supposedly died that night along with Jutta and Manfred, but dead men can only die once. Hans had died two years ago, trying to escape via the Baltic sea, his body recovered and his identity recycled to provide a credible background so he could rise again. Only this time, as an undercover special operations officer of the Stasi in Berlin.

The two bodies being dragged through the sewers were the head of a boil on the face of the German Democratic Republic. There were others that made up the body of the boil, and by the morning, twelve dissidents were already several hours into their interrogation. Klaus was looking forward to taking part in those over the coming days, to see the hopelessness on their faces when they realised he had spent several months gaining their trust, exploiting them as he gathered information to seal their fate.

His report was a formality; they died refusing to stop when he told them to do so, the agents of the West fired on him. Now, he was looking forward to shaving off the unruly mop on his head, he preferred a neat cut of a couple of millimetres all over. Removing the hair was akin to shedding yet another temporary skin, which left him looking forward to starting the cycle all over again. Somehow, he had a knack of pinpointing the people and groups that lurked amongst the plethora of intelligence data that his division collected.

In the meantime, his superiors offered yet more accolades, commending him for his personal sacrifices made on behalf of his country. His standing in the Stasi had earned him an apartment in the Berlin Lichtenberg housing development which had started in earnest a few years before. There was a subsection within the development for those within the Stasi that were considered the real movers and shakers. Somehow, despite the prestige, it didn't feel like home to Klaus, he came from a world so far removed from the modern concrete wonder that he saw as a pen.

His life had been filled with violence, even the very moment the single sperm breached the shell of his mother's egg at his conception, had been born from a shameful act carried out by one human being against another. When Berlin fell to the Soviets in May 1945, his mother paid a price that many other women of Germany were unwillingly forced to pay. During his formative years as a child, his grandmother repeatedly reminded him that the country's women were forced to reap what it had sowed in the years before. It would be a short time before his young mind fully understood the meaning of the often repeated statement, and started to awaken the darkness that had lurked in him the second he had been spawned.

His mum's memories danced around in her mind as disturbing shadows. His father, unknown, and now her son's facial features and eyes reminded her of the drunken bully that had impregnated her. She never saw a son, only a recurring nightmare of something she so desperately wanted to forget. Everytime his innocent young eyes looked at her, all she could see was the dead-hearted eyes of the monster that had brought about his being. She could not shake the shame from when he lay atop her, the stench of dirt, tobacco and alcohol creating dark and menacing visions that would never leave her tortured mind.

In the end, she just disappeared from his life when he was a three year old. Brought up by his grandmother until she died when he was eight years old, he vanished into an overflowing orphanage filled with other soulless children just like him. And it was harsh, enough to twist his mind further until it was full of hatred for the Western world. If they would have gotten there first, it could have stopped the humiliation of the capital occurring, he could have had a mother that loved, and not hated him. With the bullying and poverty through his formative years, a sociopath was born, ready to make the world pay to balance the scales of his very own personal injustice.

۞۞۞۞

With the last operation now behind him, he spent time doing what he always did, and did it so very well. Silently working in the background, Klaus was a shadow that would roam through the findings of the secret army of informants, sniffing out the dissenters and those that felt they should desert their country.

Somewhere hidden in the reams of paper, he would sense them, match a ghost from their secret files of his choosing to the next mission before slithering quietly towards the enemy's bosom. Playing the part of yet somebody else again, he excelled at gaining the trust of others in a world where trust was almost non-existent. He was ready to protect his home from the evil that sat on the other side of the wall and with the changes currently flowing through Western pop culture, it was a new social disease that didn't belong in East Germany.

۞۞۞۞

Burt Lohmiller struggled with seeing the wall, in the flesh so to speak. It wasn't like he'd never encountered one before, heck the local sheriff's office compound back in the depths of South Dakota had a wall that was significantly taller. But this one, why? A prison kept the bad people in allowing the remainder to roam free, safe in the knowledge that the bad people were penned in. But this wall? It was there to split a whole city of people, and it was preferable to be on this side, the side of good, the side that didn't build the wall.

Hailing from Conde, South Dakota, like many of his friends and family, travelling out of state or to the big cities was all out unheard of, and yet here, he stood in a city that only one other kinsfolk had visited, his father, Edward. Only he saw it from thirty thousand feet looking out from a B17G Flying Fortress, praying to god that the madness of war would stop soon, that the needless and tragic loss of humanity would come to an end. Unlike many of the young men, his luck held out and he returned home to the farmlands of South Dakota.

His father suffered from a common effect of war. Home was slow. Instead of waking up in the morning wondering if you were going to come home later today, which made those affected by the war cherish everyday like it was their last, it created an inner turmoil he struggled to shake off. As much as he was relieved the carnage of war had stopped, it left a void inside him, like an alcoholic needing his next drink, it was something that he craved.

In the end, he was saved by Sue-Anne, a shy virgin unsullied both physically and mentally, having been brought up and remaining immersed in the simple farm life of South Dakota. Over a few weeks there was a shift, a need to be around her, and the longer he spent in her company, it diminished the craving of missed excitement. After a short courtship, they were married, then, a while later, Burt made a family of three.

When the Korean war came along, his father was contacted by the Air Force. With the solid reputation that had been earned in the skies over Germany, he was deemed a suitable candidate to adapt and return to this new theatre of war. The temptation of filling that hole in his soul for the rush that came from flying combat missions stole back enough of his heart to tear him from his wife and young child.

The thrills of war can come at a terrible price. His payment was his life when the time came, his B26-Invader shot down by a MIG fighter on his first combat mission.

۞۞۞۞

Burt Lohmiller struggled with seeing the wall, in the flesh so to speak. It wasn't like he'd never encountered one before, heck the local sheriff's office compound back in the depths of South Dakota had a wall that was significantly taller. But this one, why? A prison kept the bad people in allowing the remainder to roam free, safe in the knowledge that the bad people were penned in. But this wall? It was there to split a whole city of people, and it was preferable to be on this side, the side of good, the side that didn't build the wall.

Hailing from Conde, South Dakota, like many of his friends and family, travelling out of state or to the big cities was all out unheard of, and yet here, he stood in a city that only one other kinsfolk had visited, his father, Edward. Only he saw it from thirty thousand feet looking out from a B17G Flying Fortress, praying to god that the madness of war would stop soon, that the needless and tragic loss of humanity would come to an end. Unlike many of the young men, his luck held out and he returned home to the farmlands of South Dakota.

His father suffered from a common effect of war. Home was slow. Instead of waking up in the morning wondering if you were going to come home later today, which made those affected by the war cherish everyday like it was their last, it created an inner turmoil he struggled to shake off. As much as he was relieved the carnage of war had stopped, it left a void inside him, like an alcoholic needing his next drink, it was something that he craved.

In the end, he was saved by Sue-Anne, a shy virgin unsullied both physically and mentally, having been brought up and remaining immersed in the simple farm life of South Dakota. Over a few weeks there was a shift, a need to be around her, and the longer he spent in her company, it diminished the craving of missed excitement. After a short courtship, they were married, then, a while later, Burt made a family of three.

When the Korean war came along, his father was contacted by the Air Force. With the solid reputation that had been earned in the skies over Germany, he was deemed a suitable candidate to adapt and return to this new theatre of war. The temptation of filling that hole in his soul for the rush that came from flying combat missions stole back enough of his heart to tear him from his wife and young child.

The thrills of war can come at a terrible price. His payment was his life when the time came, his B26-Invader shot down by a MIG fighter on his first combat mission.

۞۞۞۞

Burt had gone through much of his later school life expecting to be drafted to go and fight in Vietnam. When drafting stopped and the Vietnam war came to an end, something burned inside him to serve his country, just as his dad had done. Because his father died when he was young, the memories of his father were just shadows; flickers of fun and love. It didn't stop the tales though, his uncles regaled the stories his dad had brought back from those trips over Germany, all coated in an extra layer of excitement that they used to embellish his tales with. So he followed in his footsteps, although he opted to join the army, and not take to the skies as his dad had done.

After training, he ended up being garrisoned in Berlin as part of the Berlin Brigade, 6th Infantry Regiment. It was a massive cultural shock; after the reassuringly dull life back home, Berlin was a city of vibrancy, life and color like nothing he had ever experienced. Or at least in West Berlin. There was still evidence, scars not yet healed on the cityscape, that this was a city that had been brought to its knees, then laid out flat on its face to bleed out as a desolate wasteland before being dissected like a corpse on a morgue table, neatly partitioned up and the final insult of being divided by the wall. The wall was a stark reminder that two cultures rose from the ashes of the war with deeply opposing ideologies on how society should work with no sign the once proud city would ever be whole again.

His initial view of the other side of the wall, out to the East, was via a viewing platform that provided a surreal snapshot. You did not need a platform to view the Berlin TV tower; it stood tall and proud like a space age tower from the future, dominating the cityscape. It screamed look, see communism trumps capitalism! But let your eyes drop down from the lofty heights, to look at the land amongst the mere mortals... it spoke of something else. Likened to a race to recover, the West was a hare compared to the East's tortoise. But it held a fascination, with his eyes opened to foreign culture, he wanted to soak up every atom of it, irrespective of which side of the wall he could find it.

His first trip to the other side of the wall was a shock, but not for the reasons he suspected. The army had drilled into him to be on his guard, communism was the mortal enemy of the capitalistic West. That was not how he felt when he sat at the table in the small pub with his friend, Scott. As they had entered East Berlin, it felt as if layers of time had begun to peel back. Firstly, the noisy and smokey two-stroke Trabant cars. Compared to cars back home, they looked more like something a clown would drive into a circus ring. But there was more.

Everywhere you looked, the scabs of the war were more prevalent here - there was a greater number of buildings that were still shells, and those that weren't, lacked the most basic care. Paint peeled and flaked from sad looking doors and windows, as if they still shed tears for the horrors that had befallen the city. But then there was the new - instead of darkness there were varying degrees of nondescript greyness from the functional prefabricated concrete structures that helped to replace the dead and decaying Berlin of old. But it wasn't just a sea of grey, patches of green budded in the cityscape, amongst all of the concrete. It felt as if the builders and planners of the East knew that the people had to have something to bring color and life back to the city.

Then there were the people, there were glimmers of vibrancy here, especially amongst the younger generation. It wasn't quite what Burt had expected to see. Scott had been here before, he didn't give Burt a chance to take in his surroundings, he was on a mission and he'd learnt where the hidden gems were, and that was why they found themselves in this particular pub.

It came to dawn on Burt why they were here. It was not for the clean but worn interior of the pub, actually one of the few old buildings that had been reclaimed for use in the area, nor was it the mix of old, deep dark solid wood mixed in with the cheap and tacky plastic chairs. It wasn't because of the beer, it was the same as could be found anywhere else on this side of the wall as he would find on subsequent trips. It was because of her - he could have sworn blind she floated, not walked, to their table. This smiling angel did so on wings invisible to the eye before speaking in English.

"What can I get you to drink?"

"Zwei deutsche Helle, meine Schöne. Also, I have some gifts for you."

He opened the bag he was carrying and handed her a box of chocolates and a couple pairs of stockings.

Nodding, she smiled, acknowledging Scott's gifts, although her face spoke of embarrassment due to the gift of lingerie. As she walked away, both men stared in awe of the astounding beauty that had just graced their presence. Burt passed a comment, to help justify the rush to get there.

"I see why we skipped a score of pubs and your pace quickened the nearer we got!"

Both young men laughed, before Scott spoke quietly but in a tone filled with excitement.

"Ain't she a pure doll? I've been in every bar back home in Brooklyn and honest to God, as I sit here with you, nobody, not one woman can hold a candle to Angelika here. I hope she thinks of me when she wears those stockings, I'd love to see her in them."

Both men watched her flit between the tables, likely wearing a smile that went hand-in-hand with her job, and yet gave the impression it was expressly for the clientele she served at that moment in time. Despite wearing a simple white blouse, a black skirt and blue apron her natural beauty shone through. The long blond hair, shimmered and shifted as she walked, her face perfectly proportioned, with thin lips highlighted by a red lipstick that offset her pale almost translucent skin, the merest hint of rouge to her cheeks adding to the look of an angel. The blouse bulged ever-so-slightly to conceal a piece of her womanhood, except she offered a tantalising view of what lay beneath when she turned to the side as a window of opportunity was created between the strained buttons.

"How far have you got with her?"

Burt broke the spell, curious as to Scott's success at wooing her. Scott sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly.

"No further than you've seen. Rumours are she knows how hot she is, and is waiting for Mr. Right to sweep her off her feet. Trouble is, someone like her doesn't belong over on this side of the wall, so it's a catch twenty-two situation for her. Look around you... nobody really flourishes on this side... and the Stasi have ears everywhere. By all accounts, others have offered to help her get away, but she would never leave her mom and pop behind. But she ain't stupid, you know. What would be the price of breaking free? Something I don't think she wants to trade."

She walked back over, asking if they would like to order some food. Without his eyes leaving her face, Scott ordered two lots of sausage and potato as Burt took his time to soak up her beauty before she moved nimbly between the other customers. He realised that she wasn't aware of the way she captivated them. It made him think of the life back home; no pretenses, nothing hidden, only the signs of an innocence and pureness that felt magnetic to him. He was a man of integrity, and Scott was truly smitten. He would not look to spoil Scott's chances, despite feeling they were pretty slim.

Every opportunity they had, they were back in Friedrichshain with a beer or two as Scott tried, with good grace, to woo Angelika. Finally, after a couple of months, he sat with sweat on his brow, a heart full of courage and asked her outright for a date.

"Angelika, an deine freie Tag ich will dich einladen... wo immer du auch willst. Zu Dinner oder Museum..."

Before he finished the sentence, she lightly pressed a finger to his lips, bent down and kissed him on the cheek.

"I am flattered and honoured, Scott. But I have little time to date, and we come from different worlds, and yours... I cannot pass easily between the two, and my home is here. You are an honest man, and I am sure there are plenty of women in the West that would appreciate the attention of a man like you."

Scott smiled, trying to mask the hurt of being shot down, even though it had been done diplomatically. When they left, he would never set foot back in 'Die Eckkneipe' or, the Corner Pub in Friedrichshain again.

۞۞۞۞

A couple of weeks later, Scott went to one of many 'in' discos, in the West side called the Eden Playboy Club, and walked out in the early hours of the morning with a girlfriend, a sexy looking blonde, but without the pureness that radiated from Angelika, called Sabine, or Sabby as she liked to be called. Burt joined Scott and Sabby on nights out too, the offers to hook up with some of her friends were somewhat flattering, and he eventually succumbed, finally going all the way with one of her friends. But even in that moment, his thoughts were elsewhere. Like a moth to a flame, he felt drawn back to East Berlin, back to Friedrichshain, back to Die Eckkneipe, back to see her.

He managed to weedle from Scott what he had done over the months to try and bring his presence front and center of Angelika. Scott shook his head when he realised what Burt had on his mind.

"Burt, as your friend, I'm saying don't do it, don't waste your time and money. I said the woman's an angel, and I mean just that. She floats so high above us, she's unattainable. Heck, I doubt we could catch her if we strung a net across the World Trade Center! Anyway, according to Sabby, Karin is waiting for the second date. Boy! Apparently you've done good there, buddy!"

Burt smiled, and blushed at the praise. He had never admitted it was the first time he'd gone all the way so this was a little proof he'd done something right in the mysterious art of pleasing a woman. The topic of conversation moved on, as the thoughts working behind the words and sentences that passed between them, did not. He formed a plan.

Placing four magazines inside a pillowcase, he used white ribbon to tie it against his body, under his shirt. He walked around, looking to see if anything gave him away, and with no visible change or rustling, he felt confident this could work. After a successful crossing, he made his way to the pub.

The moment he walked in, their eyes caught each other at exactly the same time. Burt felt his chest tighten, he took a deep breath and exhaled. Instead of taking a seat at a table, he sat on a stool at the bar. Otto, Angelika's dad served him before walking down to the opposite end of the bar to talk to one of his regular customers. Burt ordered a few more beers as the pub started to fill up some more. He looked around to determine what kind of people were here. Would he recognize a Stasi agent if they were here right now?

There appeared to be two distinct groups; older patrons, like Otto himself that had lived through the period that saw the death of the old Berlin. There was something about that generation, he imagined they were haunted by memories of the horrors that were both delivered by the hands of the people, and then the recrimination against the people, irrespective of who they were.

The newer generation, those of his age seemed to be trapped. Jobs were plentiful, cheap housing, when available, provided a stable nucleus. And there was a strong ethic to belong. Your work colleagues were your friends, social events were organised around that culture. But they were stifled, free-will was a façade that was clearly available to those on the other side of the wall. Here, it was play the game, be prepared to snitch on your friends or neighbor, if they aren't getting ready to snitch on you. But there were shoots of rebellion still, bubbling quietly in pubs just like this, evident by two men with haircuts that mirrored the new wave of punk rock taking hold in the West. It had simmered in the West until the British band the Sex Pistols took it to an all new notorious level, lighting the fire of youth rebellion not seen since the 1960's. Burt smiled to himself. It wasn't for him, this almost comical style, but he had to admire their wish to not bow down to the communist oppression. After carefully retrieving the magazines, he sat casually thumbing through them, taking the occasional sip from his beer.

"Huh! Where did you get those? You are not supposed to bring things like that here!"

He looked at her face. She had not chastised him, merely been shocked that he had a pile of magazines he was leafing through that were contraband in this part of the city. He smiled, she wasn't looking at him, but the advertisement on the page for a West Berlin department store women's clothes section. Casually, he turned the magazine around so it was facing her.

"Could I order some of your wonderful sausage and potato for my lunch, please?"

She looked up at him and smiled.

"Oh yes, of course!"

When she returned, her smile dropped as the magazines had now vanished.

"Is there anything else you'd like?"

"Yes, some pepper please. By the way, I think a potato may have rolled off my plate on your side of the bar?"

She looked confused, as his eyes looked down towards her side of the bar top. Following his eyes, she smiled, a delicious warm smile that you'd expect from a child finding that last hidden Christmas present that had somehow been missed under the tree. There, sitting on top of the glasses below the bar, were the four magazines. When she looked back at him, he felt he was truly in love and... just maybe... there was a glimmer of something similar taking hold in her heart.

۞۞۞۞

Every opportunity he could, he was back there, entering the pub as early as he could in the day, so being quiet gave him the opportunity to get to know Angelika, building up a steady and consistent picture of her life. The pub had been her grandfather's who had died with his wife in unknown circumstances in the dying days of the war. It made Burt curious.

"Did your family not want to know what befell them?"

She replied in hushed and sad tones.

"When I was younger, I asked my mother what had happened to our family in the war. She just said - let the ghost of yesterday rest in peace. For the souls that still roam the earth, leave them to their own memories of which many have tried to bury so far below their own exterior that they are now hazy pigments of the past. I didn't really understand at the time, I saw tears in her eyes that told me I was delving into places where I did not want to go, and should never look to go."

They were in their own silent bubble for several seconds, broken by a loud voice at the other end of the bar.

"Komm schon, Angelika, lass mal für fünf Minuten die Finger von deinem Freund und komm, servier uns ein Bier!"

She looked at Burt, eyes wide, her discreet makeup blush now redundant due to the natural crimson color that filled her cheeks from the burning blushing. Burt had picked up a little German, but whatever they had said, he had only understood a few words. At the other end of the bar he listened as she visibly scolded the two old men. He'd seen them here before and assumed they were friends of her dad. They only laughed more, making further comments to her as they looked his way. In the end, she abandoned pouring their drinks, and ran out the back. Otto, her dad, returned from the cellar, and then got into a heavy conversation with the two men, which now led to the three of them continuing to glance Burt's way. Otto walked down, looking less than happy before continuing in that vein as he spoke to Burt.

"Du scheinst meine Tochter irgendwie im Griff zu haben! Sie wurde schon oft damit aufgezogen, ob sie einen Freund hat, aber es perlte nur an ihr ab. Aber heute! Sie hat ihnen gesagt, sie würde ihnen nur Wasser aus den Pissbecken servieren! Das wird dich teuer zu stehen kommen, Bengel. Weißt du, wie gern ich mal wieder eine Gitanes rauchen würde. Wenn du das nächste Mal hier bist, erwarte ich eine Entschädigung für den Ärger, den du verursacht hast!"

Now Burt was lost as he stammered.

"Es... es tut mir leid, mein Verständnis ist nicht gut genug!"

"Well, old man, he isn't happy that his daughter appears to somehow, have been taken in by you. Apparently, she will only serve me and Heinrich piss water from the urinals, but let's face it, Otto's beer tastes like piss anyway! To make amends for upsetting his harmonious life, he expects to see several packs of those dreadful Gitane cigarettes he got hooked on from the French whenever you return here. Now seeing how lovestruck you are, I think it's going to cost you dearly!"

Burt stood dumbstruck. One of the two old men had strolled down, sounding like some English toff, and offered some sort of translation, although he very much doubted the comment regarding the taste of the beer.

The old guy nodded at Otto as he said "Ja, Ja." which elicited "Ach nee, sag bloß!" as Otto walked away.

His new translator continued.

"There you go, he said six packs per visit should pave the way for starters, oh, and a couple of packs of Embassy Number Six for me too! I do miss them from my days in England."

To Burt, the day was getting stranger and stranger.

"Your English, it's..."

"My name is Wilhelm, I flew in what they called the Battle of Britain, and was one of the lucky ones to find my part in the war come to a quick and early end in a place called Staplehurst late in 1940. I had to crashland after my ME109 was caught in a ferocious dogfight that led to a peppered fuel tank and a loss of fuel that meant there was no escape. As a POW, I ended up as a gardener for a wealthy family in Wiltshire, and by the end of the war they were as sad to see me leave as I was to go. Apparently, Lady Suchmore was far more put out than the Lord himself."

As he walked away, he was laughing, with a final throwaway comment.

"As for her ladyship, yes, Lady Suck More did live up to her name too!"

And just like that, Burt had achieved what many young men, irrespective of who or where they were from, had failed to do. Find a pathway into the heart of Angelika Mueller.

۞۞۞۞

As often as he was able, Burt became a regular, at least for a temporary West Berliner, in Die Eckkneipe. During those visits, he had caught her during some quieter spells discreetly thumbing through the magazines which he continued to bring, noting some pages were well thumbed. He began to take note of some of the articles. She frequently read those articles about travel and holiday destinations envious of those that could freely afford and travelled to the beautiful and sunny locations. He could not do much about those articles, but he could do something about the fashion items she adored. He frequently picked up some of the smaller fashionable items as gifts. Unlike Scott's failed attempts to garner her attention, he avoided what he considered were tacky gifts such as underwear. When he picked up a dress he had seen her looking at on more than one occasion, she squealed when he gave it to her. Expertly gift-wrapped in the store to perfection added to the excitement as she opened it.

From there, their relationship blossomed. Occasionally they would have the opportunity to go out, sometimes just sightseeing, other times partaking in some fine dining or shopping. Where the costs were considered as modest to Burt, Angelika felt like a fairytale princess, especially when engaged in some fine dining wearing the latest fashionable clothing he brought in from the West side stores.

On one occasion, as they sat looking at the World Time Clock in Alexanderplatz, with the Berlin TV Tower above them, Angelika asked him a question that had spun through his head countless times, and each time, he could find no clear and easy answer.

"Burt, we are sitting here, surrounded by stunning things that point towards the future, and places so far away. But they are... they offer a false hope. This side of the city is lagging behind the other side, we have job security, and more and more homes are being built. But we are penned in, controlled in a fashion, and knowing it, but able to ignore it. You, on the other hand, are free. I have applied to visit some distant relatives in Zehlendorf, at my parents' insistence, on the pretense one of them is dying. Once there, they do not expect me to return, and they want you to take steps to bring about my freedom, a chance to be with, and grow old, with you."

They hugged and kissed, as tears streamed down their faces as Burt spoke.

"How long, my Angel? My posting is for another six months, please let it happen by then!"

She pulled back, and looked into his eyes with a steely and worried gaze.

"There is no rhyme or reason as to how long this will take, no pre-warning it will happen, or be rejected. I have been warned they will come looking, they will need to be sure my intentions are true, that I will return home. We must be careful from now on, and try to keep our relationship low key, as much as it pains me. I need to be with you my love, a few months is worth a lifetime together."

And so they waited.

Over the next couple of months, something shifted in their sphere of life. There were a few days where Otto was late coming down from their apartment above the pub. Angelika noticed a change in his demeanor, although he tried to hide it as much as possible. Then there was his weight, he would describe himself as robust, his wife Frieda would describe him as her own cuddly bear, but his weight was plummeting, and fast. The final alarm bell was the cough, it had started several weeks back as the odd little one, and had grown to become something more regular, and with it came a dark shadow. Things began to drop into place when Angelika was putting out some trash to notice discarded soggy paper towels full of bloody phlegm which had been unsuccessfully hidden amongst the other refuse. This was the reason they wanted her gone, they did not want her to watch as his own life would trickle and drain slowly away. It left her feeling torn, her parents, and then her mom, would surely need her more than ever. She would wait, maybe they had a plan, something to allow them all the chance to be together, free.

Another change was a shift in the clientele. For some unfathomable reason, it had drawn some resonance with some of the younger set as a larger group became part of the regular patrons. But there was something different about them, something that hinted at a wind of change, which would set the men in power on edge. They pushed the boundaries of acceptability with their outwardly visible attire and attitude to become non-conformists, at least as far as they could stretch it. And, for some, they expanded it to the point where it broke, and then paid the consequence of doing so.

Rolf Wagner had appeared a month ago. His story was that a few years back, after his conscription into the army, he attended the Technische Universität in Dresden studying chemistry. His parents were college lecturers who found themselves under the spotlight of the government, before they vanished supposedly due to being classed as Western spies. It was unclear if they simply escaped, or were sent to a version of hell under the greater German Democratic Republic in some God forsaken place.

Rolf had been watched and scrutinised by the Stasi, until they felt there was enough to pull him from the university and a spell of hard labor to make him realise the errors of his way. The university said he was a gifted student, one that the country could ultimately benefit from once he was made to understand where his allegiance should lie. He was sentenced to three years.

Now back in Berlin, he was living in a squat, his hair styled in a way to mimic those that antagonised the rulers of the East, which made it even more noticeable in the small corner of East Berlin where Die Eckkniepe was situated. He fitted in well with the small core of those that were anti-establishment, there was a couple with older siblings that remembered him being in the university with his progressive ideals, before he vanished. Now, he had tales of life in the notorious Bautzen II, directly controlled by the Stasi. Having survived the regime, gave him kudos amongst those wishing for change.

"Who's that, Angel? The one with the shaved sides but long on top? He keeps staring at you, in a way that's not right."

Angelika knew exactly who Burt meant. Rolf had started to come in, sitting quietly at first with some of the others. But then it started, whispering to those around him of a better way, by creating change at grassroots level through things like music, and doing all they could to express themselves freely.

"Apparently he had been a political prisoner for some years. Was a gifted student up in Dresden. They say he paid a price because his parents supposedly defected. Others say the Stasi made them disappear. All I know, he has no relatives, he is sleeping in a squat somewhere. He has been helping dad, as he is struggling with his health, and I know he gives him money and free food."

Rolf caught Burt looking at him intently on more than one occasion. The look spoke of a deep-rooted suspicion, one that Rolf knew oh so well. Looking directly into the American man's eyes was someone he saw as an opponent in a game for keeps that he was determined to win. In another light, he could see him as the enemy, someone to despise and look to bring about his downfall, in one way or another. The true icing on the cake would be to make the beauty that many told him was the American's girlfriend into his, and find a way to rub that in his face that he had taken her from him. In the meantime, he smiled back at him, but he was aware that Burt could read him so well, or at least, have an inkling as to the sort of person he truly was.

He didn't care which way the dice rolled, he planned to make sure that he had all the sixes once it was all over.

Burt spoke discreetly to Wilhelm, he hoped the old man could offer sage advice.

"Wilhelm, that Rolf character. There is something about him that..."

Wilhelm found the words that Burt had been delicately seeking out.

"Points to a black hearted monster, Burt? As in somebody you should always make sure is in your field of vision, feel tempted to carry at least a knife with you and your mouth stays sealed around him?"

Burt let out a long dejected breath.

"It's not just me then. In training, there was someone from the deep South, Carter Cash. He had a hatred of anyone that wasn't lily white like him, and took offense from anyone north of Gettysburg. There was something in his eyes, something that said the devil had laid a seed of evil deep inside his mind. On a night time exercise, we were made to pair off and work together, dig a shared foxhole ready for an assault that we were led to believe would come at some point in the night. It was all a load of bullshit, designed to make sure we kept our wits about us.

"In the morning, they found Carter sitting on a small mound of earth he'd dug to make a seat for himself. On the ground lay a dead black man, his throat slit where Carter had surprised him from behind. He was adamant he'd done no wrong. He said he'd not been brought up to do niggers work, when a nigger could do it himself.

"He never rescinded his statement, never budged. I remember his exact words. He said he was looking forward to killing every nigger, gook, spick or beaner he came across. He was declared insane, and carted off for a life behind bars. But I knew, heck, we all knew. His eyes gave him away, sure as eggs are eggs, he'd given himself to the devil for his work long ago. And that's what I can see in this Rolf's eyes."

They stood in silence for several seconds. Wilhelm spoke with a calm urgency.

"You have a bigger problem to overcome. He is here, and wheedling his way in by helping Otto, who is under the weather at the moment. And like most other males that frequent this place, he has designs on Angelika, and like you, I've been close enough to those whose eyes betray them. I will do all I can to watch, and try and nudge Otto to see what he is, and try to persuade Angelika that he should be kept at arm's length."

It prompted a question from Burt.

"What exactly is wrong with Otto? I have asked him, and he grunts at me, and Angelika is deeply worried as she feels her parents have locked her out of whatever is going on."

The old German shook his head slowly.

"He will tell you, when he feels the time is right."

A few weeks later, Burt returned to find two cars and a black van parked outside. He pondered going in, but considered himself untouchable by the police. Inside he saw Angelika and her parents at the bar, with various papers being shuffled through by men who were clearly East German officials of some sort. The usual younger group sat around several tables, their manner baiting the small troop of officials. Without any warning, one suddenly pulled a baton from within his coat, smashing it down on the plastic table sending glass and cutlery everywhere. Using the baton, he pointed at Rolf, and then turned to Burt, who were both taken outside.

"Ausweispapiere!"

The request was curt, it was extremely likely that they knew who, or what Burt was. He began to open his satchel, and the man raised his baton, causing Burt to stop. He was slightly nervous, but had spent time practicing for this very scenario.

"I am a US serviceman enjoying my own free time in Berlin. Constitute with the the Four Power Agreement, I am not required to show you any form of identity papers, unless you can prove to me that you are a legitimate Soviet officer requiring me to do so."

The man walked away and spoke hurriedly to the man talking to Rolf. He then walked over to Burt. The man spoke in fluent English.

"It seems the lure of the scum like him that have started to frequent this sad place has drawn out the rats from the other side too. It's OK, Private Burt Lohmiller, I know who you are. You do not need to show me your green book full of translations about your so-called rights. Now, since you are here, you can watch a demonstration on instilling manners into the good citizens of our society. Maybe you can learn something."

He turned and nodded to the two men that stood over Rolf. Immediately, they began to kick at him, smacking him across the back with the baton. Rolf rolled into a ball to protect himself, as Burt instinctively tried to move to help him. The unknown official clutched his arm, solemnly shaking his head as he spoke to Burt.

"I'm going to let go, if you move, then it will not end well for you today."

As wrong as it felt, he understood the calm yet menacing words, and stood tense when released. With a few more kicks, it was over and with no further words, they returned to their vehicles and left.

Burt reached down to help Rolf stand. On realising who he was, Rolf twisted free of him, before running the back of his hand across his bloody nose and split lip. By then, others had come outside to help, including Angelika, who helped Rolf stand. For the first time since he'd known her, she looked at Burt with disdain and verbally laid into him.

"Wie konntest du einfach nur dastehen... Ho... how could you just stand there while they did this! What kind of man are you!"

By the fact her outburst started in German, made it abundantly clear she was angry at him, because of his inaction. Assisted by his friends, she helped Rolf back inside, where he rejoined the remaining small troop of unmerry cohorts.

Inside, Angelika ignored him as she tended to Rolf's injuries. Feeling dejected he joined Wilhelm at the bar, who looked at him, raising his eyebrows with a subtle shake of his head. When she returned with a bowl of water and flannel to clean his wounds, Rolf looked directly into Burt's eyes with a burning intensity that made clear the hatred that gripped his soul towards him. Slowly, his head turned to look directly into Angelika's face, a few unheard words passed between them before he nodded. His gaze returned to look at Burt. His focus narrowed as his eyes shifted for a few seconds between the two supposed lovers. He smiled at Burt who clearly understood his intent. He was planning to take Angelika from him, by any means possible.

He stayed for a while, then, realising she was blanking him, he decided to leave earlier than normal. As he did, Wilhelm pulled on his arm, stopping him in his tracks.

"The English would say she is barking up the wrong tree, Burt. Don't give up, there is more in play than you realise. It will all come out in the wash."

He skipped going across for almost three weeks and as each day passed, the temptation to write off the slowly building relationship grew. The problem was that as his thoughts shifted in that direction, images and thoughts of her were like a wrecking ball smashing through the negative thoughts. He was in love with her, there was no way he could deny it, and they would find a way to be together.

۞۞۞۞

He left early to pass through the checkpoint into East Berlin, early enough for the pub to have not opened. This suited him down to the ground. Knocking on the door to the apartment, he waited, then heard the click of the lock as Frieda opened the door, surprised to see Burt here so early. First, she kissed him on the cheek before ushering him to follow her upstairs into the small kitchen of the apartment, indicating for him to take a seat as she poured him a drink. Something had changed, and not for the good, judging by her visibly depressed state. With her husband missing, he made an assumption.

"Otto?"

Before she answered him, the hallway door flew open and Angelika crashed into his body, arms wrapped tightly around him as she immediately started to sob uncontrollably.

"Ich dachte, du wärst gegangen... I'm so sorry, I thought you'd gone forever and it was all my fault, my parents and Wilhelm chastised me for being so cruel to you! I could not see why you stood and failed to help Rolf, I was angry and stupid... I..."

Suddenly she felt his hands on each side of her head, tilting it back, his lips crashed against hers, washing away the growing seeds of doubt and perceived loss that had been slowly chewing away at their souls. It was a defining moment. Their hearts belonged to each other. As they broke apart, Frieda spoke softly.

"Ich muss den Bus zum Krankenhaus bekommen, um Otto zu besuchen. Burt kannst du helfen, das Lokal zu öffnen. Burt, geh sicher, dass du es bist, der die Türen aufsperrt. Ihr habt neunzig Minuten für euch, nutzt sie gut."

Frieda walked over to Burt and hugged him momentarily.

"Ich glaube, dass du meiner Tochter den Respekt entgegenbringen wirst, den sie verdient. Bitte werde dem Podest gerecht, auf das sie dich erhoben hat."

She kissed him lightly on the cheek then moved to embrace her daughter, whispering in her ear which caused Angelika to flush crimson. Throughout the one-way conversation, Angelika would lift her eyes to gaze at him, then swiftly look away. Burt couldn't quite fathom out what was happening, or had happened, in his absence. After a few minutes, she kissed her daughter on the cheek, stepped back and took her daughter's hand with both her own for several seconds before walking away.

"Vergesst nicht, pünktlich zu öffnen. Wilhelm wird uns bald Bescheid geben. Nicht nur die Stasi hat Spitzel!"

She left, leaving the two of them alone.

The slight smile on Angelika's face didn't quite mask... fear? Hesitancy? Taking his hand, they walked along the passageway and entered her bedroom. It was a small room, sparsely decorated with a single bed. He took stock of where they were, in both the physical and spiritual sense, but he felt conflicted.

"What happened, the last time I was here? You abandoned me, in fact you made me feel like shit, if I'm being truthful. I felt that Rolf may have worked his way into your heart... And you were well on the way to pushing me out."

Clasping her hands together in front of her, her head dropped to avoid his gaze.

"I'm so ashamed of myself, he arrived here, bringing a breath of fresh air, hinting at what could be if people, if ordinary people would rise up. When you stood and failed to help him, I was beyond angry at your cowardice. In my eyes, he rose above you, staying true to his beliefs. Wilhelm and my father were very upset after you left, they explained you were powerless, had you acted, I'd probably never see you again as you would have been in very big trouble. As it was, I thought that was the case when you didn't return, and it's been tearing my heart apart everyday.

"Rolf made his move, calling you a sycophant, coming over here making us feel small for your own petty self-worth. He said that is why you stood by and watched them beat him, you are as cruel as them hiding behind your fake veneer of kindness. My parents spoke to me, made me see things for what they are, he is a damaged man and not my future. But you, they believe we should be together and once I go through the checkpoint to the West I will not return, but stay with you."

As she finished speaking, her trembling hands undid the bow holding the towelling robe closed, opened it then moved to free herself from it as it pooled around her feet. Burt looked in awe at the vision of feminine perfection that stood before him. Her hands clasped together covering the tuft of fine hair at the juncture between her legs, the blood rushing to the surface of her skin below her neck.

"You are my first, you know that, ja?"

Her voice was timid, almost afraid. She chewed her upper lip, a bashful look on her face.

"My God Angel, you are the most beautiful woman on earth! I... I... are you sure?"

Her face changed slightly, her expression, questioning his remark.

"D... don't you want me, Burt?"

He stepped forward, his hands sliding around her waist, drawing her in so he looked into her eyes, as her mouth opened in anticipation.

"Yes! Yes, I want you more than anything else in the world, but I want all of you. Don't feel you need to do this now, don't feel pressured into doing this, don't feel you need to offer yourself to m..."

She couldn't wait any longer, trembling with a mix of trepidation and excitement, her lips closed in on his until they pressed together, tongues nervously sliding tentatively against each other. Her hands stopped covering her sex, squeezing into the space between them, hurriedly trying to undo his shirt buttons. To help, his hands moved from her sides, gliding up her body until his fingers weaved in minute motion through her hair as he placed them either side of her head. With the shirt undone, her hands fumbled with the belt of his pants, as everything became more urgent, their lips pressed together with more force, both so badly wanting to share this experience together. Burt pulled back, leaving her panting with a surprised look on her face. His eyes never left hers, as he shimmied his pants down his legs swiftly followed by his underwear. He reached down to each leg as he cocked them, and removed his socks. Now, they were both as naked as the day they were born.

The only sound was that of their breathing, the panting of two people filled with a lust for each other. They said nothing, unsure of what words should be spoken. Instead, they let mother nature take over, let the natural feeling of wanting to explore each other's bodies take center stage.

Wide eyed, they could not lower their gaze from each other. He reached out with his hand as it brushed the side of a pillowy mound, now with a bearing as to exactly where his hand was, he let his palm spread and followed the contour of her body. As soon as he touched her, she took in a sharp intake of breath, and held it in as her body went tense, an incredible sensation flowed through her, one she had never felt before.

As the palm of his hand followed up over the contour, his other hand joined in, following an identical path over the other fleshy mound. Her skin was supple, soft skin but with a firmness that created incredible peaks of flesh. As his palms skimmed over the hardened nubs that were her nipples, she practically stood on her toes, taking in short sharp breaths, with her eyes now closed. which he marvelled at. After several seconds, he was drawn to her nipples, taking each one between his thumb and finger, amazed by the rubbery feel of the flesh when compared to the softness of her breast. As he played with them, her head rolled back, her mouth open in a perfect O as she tried to regulate her breaths. Suddenly, she pushed him away.

"Too much, too much. My brain feels like it is being overloaded with sensations. Anyway, what about me, I want to explore you too."

She stepped back towards him, kissing him gently as a hand went to the centre of his chest just below his neck. Slowly, it drifted down, her fingers sliding through the hairs on his chest as her hand started to rotate the lower it travelled. Her little finger brushed hair that felt different; longer and coarser, she stopped allowing her fingers to gently knead the flesh of his lower stomach. Now it was his turn, she could feel him, breathing harshly as they kissed, fidgeting on his feet. Letting her hand drift lower, her fingers brushed the fleshy rod that bobbed as soon as she made contact. Running the palm of her hand over it, she had a measure of what lay below, then wrapped her hand around it, letting it slowly slide up and down the hard, hot surface. She smiled to herself and broke the kiss.

"How does it feel to be on the receiving end, too much yet?"

His eyes were scrunched up shut tightly, his brain frantically processing all of these amazing sensations being triggered across his body. He didn't answer her, just pulled her in tighter to his own body, feeling the warmth and love that radiated between them before resuming the passionate kiss.

She could feel him, something rising inside him like a champagne bottle ready to pop the cork free. She wanted it now, to cross that final threshold with him. They broke apart, she took his hand and moved a few steps to the bed. She lay down on her back and looked up at him. He could only stand and stare at this woman, this angel, who could only have descended from heaven. He felt he could stand here all day and worship her.

"Burt, don't stand there staring at me. Please, make me yours, today, tomorrow and forever."

He crawled up the bed, holding himself up on his arms above her. He dipped his arms and kissed her, a soft gentle kiss between their labored breathing.

"Are you sure Angel? Once we do this, you can't undo what's done..."

She replied quickly.

"Yes, at this moment nothing else feels so right to me. I promise you, after today, I'll be yours forever."

She looked up at him eyes wide, mouth open as she panted heavily, spreading her legs further apart. Using one hand, he reached down, grabbed the piece of flesh that ached and throbbed. He shifted forward, searching for the place that was special, a place where he would be the only one to ever enter from now on. As he penetrated her, she went rigid, arching her back momentarily, as a small yelp left her mouth as he breached the thin defense just inside her body. He stopped, giving her a few moments to adjust, then she uttered the words that he would never forget.

"Make love to me, and we will finally be one."

۞۞۞۞

They dressed in silence, pondering how this intimate act would change their lives. Her mind accepted she was now wholly a woman, having given Burt her ultimate gift. Fuelled by her interactions with Rolf, pinpricks of doubt teased her, having now claimed the prize, would he now slip back behind the physical boundary where he would move onto another conquest, leaving her a sullied woman?

As these thoughts rippled back and forth, Burt's mind was in a similar space. This, to him, was his first time. What had happened before with Karin was a trial run fuelled in part by alcohol. All those dreams and thoughts that revolved around Angelika now solidified into thoughts of being together forever. The physical separation would be a massive test of their commitment to each other. There was now the fact she was an unbridled woman, would she feel a need to fulfill that hunger, when he could not be there for her? They both snapped out of the whirlpool of thoughts with the sound of banging on the doors below.

"It's probably Wilhelm, probably wants to know how things are with dad. If you let him in, I'll just finish getting ready then be down."

Burt nodded before going to open the door. The man standing there was Rolf, holding a small bunch of flowers. The disarming smile on his face turned to a nasty scowl.

"Was machst du hier, du Ami-Schwein?"

Burt shrugged his shoulders, lips curling into a smile that would make it crystal-clear to his nemesis how the table had tipped heavily in his favor. Their eyes remained locked on each other as he responded.

"Sorry, you'll need to repeat that in English, cunt."

He understood enough by picking out pertinent words in Rolf's statement and thus began a barbed exchange of words between them. Rolf fired the next salvo.

"I'm here to help whilst Otto is in hospital. You do know he's dying?... there again, as a minor part-time player in the affairs of the family, probably not. He hasn't got long, you know, cancer. Of course, I'll make sure to be here to offer the women a shoulder to cry on, and I'll make sure Angelika's cries will soon turn to those of pleasure."

Burt's mouth creased into a slight smile as he slowly shook his head.

"There's a problem with that Rolf - after the heights she reached with me this morning, I think she's climbed too far out of reach for someone like you."

They had both moved to be stood almost nose-to-nose, the hatred for each other clearly evident.

The standoff was shattered by a feminine voice.

"Burt, Rolf... what's going on here?"

Without breaking eye contact with the other man, Burt replied.

"Nothing, my love, I've just let Rolf know I'm here today to support the family, after all, it's undeniable where our relationship is going."

Rolf stepped back, and held out his hand. For the sake of Angelika, Burt took it. As he did, Rolf pulled him up close, his other arms slung over his shoulder in this pseudo embrace. He whispered in Burt's ear.

"I should thank you, at least I haven't got to bore myself with breaking her in. Your American pencil dick has at least cracked open the door. As soon as the very first opportunity arises, I'll stretch her out properly so she knows what a real dick feels like inside that tight cunt of hers. Then there'll be no turning back, you'll be discarded and forgotten like the trash you are."

Rolf stepped back, looked at her and smiled.

"It seems you have some very temporary help here today. I'll run along, but I'll be back later tonight, help you lock up and make sure you're safe, sound and tucked up in bed."

He nodded, turned and left.

"I'm sorry Burt, we are stuck. He has been helping, my dad is ill and not getting better, there are things that me and mom just physically cannot do. As a family it is difficult and we must compromise. Slowly, my parents realised he had other motives to be here and have told him to stay away from me when they are not around, but he isn't listening. They said they have a plan, but I don't know what it is, they will tell me when the time's right. I'm worried. I'm not stupid. With my dad's health declining quickly, I do not think he will be getting better, only worse. I won't ask them, they are my parents. It will be their decision as to when this becomes a life-changing family discussion."

Burt stayed for the day, helping to keep the pub running. Wilhelm came in, but discreetly wagged his finger to stop Burt coming over for a conversation. There were clearly wheels in motion that hinted that something dark and dangerous was afoot.

As the time ran down towards Burt leaving, Frieda beckoned Burt to follow her upstairs to the living quarters. Sitting in the kitchen together she smiled weakly as her hand reached across the table top to clasp his hands. A few moments later Wilhelm joined her to act as an interpreter.

"Frieda extends her heartfelt thanks, her heart told her you would approach this morning as a true gentleman. Apparently, the women of her family have a sixth sense. That is why Angelika is attracted to you, just as dear Frieda told her it was up to Angelika if she wanted to offer you her virtue. By the look on a certain couple's faces it appears she did. But there is a reason why things are shifting and changing.

"The first issue is that they have been informed this block will be demolished for redevelopment. The pub will go, and be closed in three months."

Burt blew a long breath out before speaking.

"Can't the family fight it, surely they'll relocate the... "

Wilhelm cut across him.

"It doesn't matter, Otto has lung cancer, two to three months if he's lucky."

Burt shook his head in disbelief, Rolf hadn't lied this morning, which brought a lump to his throat. How much of what he'd whispered to him earlier would slowly become reality?

"So what's going to happen to Frieda and Angelika?"

Wilhelm looked at Frieda, speaking in German he asked if it was OK to talk openly of the plan. She nodded.

"Do not worry about Frieda, their concern is for Angelika's future. They are not blind to Rolf's desires, but are nervous of the circles he moves in as an activist. According to him, his parents were working for the West and managed to disappear. They have new names, and are on the other side of the wall helping where they can.

"Rolf has introduced them to a group planning an escape, and Angelika will be part of that group. Some construction work is planned at an access point into no-man's land which they will exploit for the escape."

Frieda slid a piece of paper to Burt. It had three dates, times and an address of a bar. Wilhelm continued.

"Buy and wear to the bar a BFC Germania 1888 football cap. A man will ask you if you can spare him a cigarette. You tell him that you can spare him a whole pack. He will give you the details, but he will only speak to you once, ideally leave it as late as you can before doing so. "

Burt immediately voiced his opinion.

"It sounds too risky, especially if Rolf is involved, I don't trust him at all. Can't we just wait until her permit to travel to her relatives comes through?"

Wilhelm shook his head.

"A letter came. It has been rejected. She isn't aware, and in having this conversation now, Otto and Frieda expect you will keep this secret. The only option is to escape, even if it means some faith may need to be placed in the devil."

Angelika suddenly appeared.

"Why have you all abandoned me? Burt needs to leave soon, and I would like an opportunity to say goodbye in private."

After a few minutes alone where they pledged their love for each other, before sadly parting, Burt passed back through the checkpoint, a small piece of paper folded and held tightly in the palm of his hand with a myriad of thoughts running through his mind.

Two days before the planned escape date he went to the bar, praying that his contact would be there. An hour later, he left with another small scrap of paper. It had a date, time, address and apartment number where he should go ready to meet Angelika when the escape took place. He was to remain in the apartment, lights on, curtains and window open and be clearly visible. He would be the key reference point for the point of entry and the family had apparently asked it be entrusted to him. The next evening, he went to scope out the area. Waiting for someone to leave the building, he slipped inside and made his way up to the roof. There, he could see construction work that had started to take place at the access point to no man's land, but it was only a couple of hundred yards from the nearest watchtower. He didn't like it one bit, he knew the Mueller's were desperate but felt sure that they weren't suicidal. Trust, everything hinged on trust and with Rolf in that mix, he had some grave doubts.

On the planned night, at nine o'clock he rang the bell to the apartment on the third floor. A woman in her forties opened the door, ushering him in and walked past into the hallway telling him she was going out and he could let himself out later when he was finished with whatever his business was.

Going to the window, he fully opened the curtains and window, but with the room light turned off. The window was tall, offering a good field of view. Stepping back to not be clearly seen, he pulled the binoculars from his bag to view the landscape on the other side of the wall. Two hundred yards to the left stood a watchtower, the guards clearly visible back-lit by the dim light of the unit. On the far side directly opposite him stood the entranceway to the piece of no-man's land, with building materials, and a temporary barbed wire barrier strung across the entrance. He considered that would be the least of their worries - the armed guard positioned there was far more of an issue.

He waited for thirty minutes, a calmness filled the strip of land being guarded, save two additional guards who walked from the tower, stopped and shared a cigarette with the other lone guard before continuing onwards away from the tower. At this point he turned on the light in the room, and lit a cigarette to hopefully give the appearance of him being no more than a man enjoying the simple pleasure of the cigarette.

He looked at his watch to help gauge how much time would pass once they returned. In the end, it didn't really matter, scanning back to the entrance, the lone guard was no longer visible, replaced by an individual clad head-to-toe in black carrying a rifle who moved to take a crouching position where they would be hard to spot from the tower. He tried to focus on the individual, it was too dark and they were dressed to make it impossible to identify them.

Suddenly another figure appeared from the darkness holding a pistol, also dressed in black. Unlike the first individual who moved with a professional stealth, this person was clearly less agile but had managed to approach from the blind side catching the other man unawares. Obviously, this person was not on the same side as the other unknown figure. Focusing hard on the two figures with binoculars, he recognised the second person. Wilhelm.

"Leg das Gewehr hin, schön vorsichtig. I weiß nicht wer du bist, aber ganz sicher nicht Rolf Wagner. Es hat etwas gedauert, mehrere Fahrten meinerseits. Interessanterweise habe ich ein Bild aus seinen Studententagen gesehen, er ist deutlich größer als du und eindeutig deutscher Herkunft. Aber du, ich glaube bei dir fließt böses Blut in den Adern. Und jetzt, runter mit der Waffe, langsam. So gerne wie ich dich auch abknallen würde, ich bin kein kaltblütiger Mörder. Aber sei dir sicher, wenn ich muss, werde ich es tun."

The man in black chuckled quietly before replying.

"Du bist ein Schwachkopf, alter Mann. Wie lange, meinst du, wirst du wohl Schwerstarbeit aushalten können? Nimm das Magazin aus meinem Gewehr und wirf es weit außerhalb meiner Reichweite, dann lauf. Wenn ich es erst habe, gebe ich dir eine Minute, dann werde ich zielen und schießen. Du hast echt Mumm, das respektiere ich, deshalb gebe ich dir eine faire Chance."

Wilhelm kept the pistol trained on Rolf, not flinching as he slowly shook his head.

"Ich habe mein Leben gelebt, wenn es heute Nacht endet, sei's drum. Ich fühle mich einer lebenslangen Freundschaft verpflichtet und werde einem Kind ein besseres Leben, als es ihm jetzt bevorsteht, ermöglichen. Jetzt leg dich mit dem Gesicht nach unten auf den Boden, die Arme über den Kopf ausgestreckt."

A minute later, the near silence was broken by the sound of a large motor engine being revved without any form of mechanical sympathy. A fire engine appeared further up in the street, headlamps off with the ladder extended over the cab. Wilhelm dropped down, straddling the prone man and snatched up the rifle. Looking up at the tower, bodies had been stirred into action, swinging the searchlight around before illuminating the truck as if it was a ballerina performing an all important solo piece. Unlike a ballerina, there would be no graceful moves, this act was based on brute strength and speed.

The first shot rang out, and missed. As the light began to move through an arc to illuminate the attacker, Wilhelm's second shot hit home, causing the floodlight to extinguish. Just seconds later, the fire engine smashed through the barbed wire defence before ricocheting off some building materials, then crashing through some of the fixed lines of defence designed to stop this means of breaching the wall. However, they were not designed to stop a fire truck driven at full speed with a full bowser of water to provide it with an exceptional level of kinetic energy. The next few seconds would determine if it was enough.

Burt had stopped looking through the binoculars as soon as he heard the truck approaching. In his limited field of view he saw Wilhelm drop onto the man, before picking up the discarded rifle and started shooting at the searchlight which was illuminating the entranceway. He remembered a conversation where Wilhelm had told him he had represented Germany in the 1936 Olympics for shooting. He always thought he was joking, when the light went out, he realised that Wilhelm was a capable shot, mentally thanked his friend for the sacrifice he was clearly making.

Within seconds, the sound of the tortured engine was joined by the sound of grating metal and destruction as the truck smashed through the defenses, each one absorbing energy, until the truck slammed into the final row, having been set in the ground that day, the concrete had not fully set, the ailing truck buckling as it pushed the steel defenses towards the wall, in a cacophony of sound that could wake the dead. The last obstacle lay ahead, the angled trench and it would take all the dying momentum from the truck. Seconds later, a final explosive sound heralded the death of the truck, it visibly shook as it came to a sudden halt, sitting with the front burrowed out of sight in the ditch. Burt then realised there was no way the driver could have survived, and then he saw him, a fleeting memory from seconds before of Otto's determined face, driving the truck. That brief vision left him stunned.

For a few seconds, there was silence, before the hiss of steam filled the air where the radiator had ruptured, followed by the sound of shots from the tower and the guards that had passed by earlier who had now started shooting towards the fire engine. Looking down, he now understood why the truck had the ladder partially extended over the cab roof. It sat less than a few tantalising feet from the top of the wall, at an angle that would allow someone to cross over the wall.

After being winded by Wilhelm's unexpected move, Rolf seized the initiative as the truck missed them, by mere inches as it roared past kicking up dust and debris as it ploughed through the barbed wire defence. Exerting all the force his body could muster, the big man toppled from him, dropping the rifle as he fell. Before Rolf had the opportunity to seize the rifle, Wilhelm had managed to pull the pistol from his belt, pushing the barrel into Rolf's neck as they lay tangled on the floor. Immediately, Rolf froze, his arm stretched out, but not touching the rifle. Both men lay breathing, considering their next move, before a bullet pinged off the concrete block near them sending splinters their way.

The younger man used his guile and speed to push Wilhelm's arm holding the pistol, the pistol discharging close to Rolf's ear. He was too focused to care, already moving, his training keeping him a step ahead of his older opponent. Seconds later, he plunged his concealed knife into Wilhelm's chest, rolling to straddle his body as he used all of his weight to drive the knife down to the hilt as it pierced his heart.

As he was dying, he spoke to Rolf, at best, it was a whisper. Rolf lent in, putting his mouth close to Wilhelm's ear, he wanted to tell the old man he had thrown his life away for nothing. The dying man reached up with the last piece of human energy his body possessed, and held Rolf's head, then bit Rolf's ear, tearing a piece away. His last vision of life was watching the man scream, clutching his own ear as he swallowed the small piece of detached flesh.

The escaping steam made it difficult to see clearly. The front of the truck was hidden by the wall, but he could just see the rear part of the cab where the fire engine was tipped at an angle. Staring in disbelief, a door of the crew cab opened and crumpled cardboard boxes were thrown to the ground. That was followed by a woman dressed in black, jumping from the cab. Initially he couldn't see her until she moved, staggering to her feet groggily. Then someone threw her a cloth bundle, the sound of a distressed baby now adding to the multitude of sounds. Almost immediately, another person dropped from the cab, this time a man clad in black with a balaclava. He unclipped a short ladder from the side of the fire truck, then disappeared, running toward the wall. It didn't make sense to Burt, the ladder was way too short to climb over the wall with. The man reappeared, taking the baby from the woman who climbed up onto the back of the truck and started to make her way along the extended ladder. Aided by the billowing steam and smoke, it was difficult to get a clear shot, those being fired smashed into the fire truck, the sound of breaking glass as it tore through a side window. As the woman reached the end of the ladder, she lent down, then scooped the baby up. That was the purpose of the small ladder, to pass the baby up at the last minute. Already, shouts could be heard on the other side of the wall.

"Spring! Spring! Wir fangen dich auf!"

Standing at the window, Burt watched as people came out of their apartments. On seeing a woman suddenly appear atop the wall, they all began shouting for her to jump. As she did, he just caught sight of a third person jump from the truck's crew cab. Dressed like the previous two adults there was one marked difference, one he recognized. Angelika's blonde tresses. As she stood, there was a limp as she hesitated as to which way to go. She turned and began to make her way towards the front of the truck, he could see what she was doing, and he knew how devastating the view would be.

"Angelika, don't do it! The soldiers are getting nearer, they have released dogs... run! Climb over as quickly as you can!"

As she went to look up at him, she crashed to the floor, spun where a bullet hit her shoulder. Getting up, she made her way to the back and slowly started the journey that would grant her the freedom that her father had just sacrificed his life for.

Rolf staggered, looking at his blood-drenched hands unsure if it was his or his foe's. The steam was billowing his way, and he could see the figure trying to climb and make their way over the ladder. Like Burt, the blonde hair gave her away. This could not, it would not happen. Raising the rifle, he took aim although he was still somewhat shaky from the altercation that had just occurred.

Shouting from the street below the wall was now loud enough to dim the sounds from the other side, except for the sudden sound of a bullet skimming off the curved top of the wall before shattering an apartment window. Momentarily, the people in the street below ducked, before the chorus to hurry amplified, everyone aware that time was now running out. Moving slowly, Angelika reached a point above the front of the crew cab. She stopped, looked down and froze at the scene that was laid out below her.

"PLEASE, I BEG YOU ANGEL, DON'T STOP, DON..."

Maybe the devil played his part, Burt heard the shot, somehow his ears were attuned to this particular one. Less than a foot from the end of the ladder, she slumped onto it, arms prone, unmoving. In his mind, the turmoil began; this couldn't be happening, it couldn't be real.

Stunned he stood there, staring at her back, and the blonde hair that poked out from the clothing. Even here, the red could be seen staining it. In shock, he was no longer listening, everything was muffled as the dogs and armed guards reached the other side. He flinched, some brickwork shards sprayed across his face. Lifting the binoculars to his eyes, he focused on the source of his pain. They stood facing each other, the clarity due to the lens of the rifle's scope and the binoculars. Rolf, the devil's spawn himself was responsible. Burt seethed with rage, he had visions of raining hell down on the man, in whatever way he could.

There was noise and dust, as brickwork and timber splintered around him, the voices were muffled, not for real, just inside his head. He didn't hear what they were saying until every sound and sensation blended into one salient point. Through the glass lens of the binoculars he witnessed the moment that would change the course of his life as Rolf's mouth curled in satisfaction. As the jumble of voices registered, telling him to get down, the bullet was already covering the short space between them. He moved too late, the bullet hit hard as it glanced off his skull knocking him unconscious. People screamed as he landed on the roof of the car outside the apartment.

۞۞۞۞

Burt tried to open his eyes and found his world shrouded in darkness. His throat felt dry and rough like he'd swallowed sandpaper.

"waer... I nee waer pese."

"Hi Burt, I'll fetch you some. You are in a hospital, I'm a nurse and my name's Susan, but Sue will do. Please stay where you are, and we'll do just fine. Your face is partially bandaged at the moment, which is why you can't see. More importantly, let's sort this water first, and then we can go from there."

Feeling groggy, his senses were slowly coming awake, the exception was his hearing. He heard the woman called Sue walk away and call out, telling them to call the doctor as he was awake. With the lingering smell of antiseptic, his mind functioned enough to realise yes, he was in a hospital, but why, what had happened?

"Here you go, Burt, just little sips for the moment."

He felt the cup touch his lips, feeling the immediate relief as the liquid soothed the dryness in his mouth and on his lips. Trying to move his arm, to take the cup, he found it immobile, causing immediate panic.

Suddenly another voice spoke, a man, clearly someone of authority.

"Burt, this is Doctor Williams speaking, it's really important you remain calm. You've probably already figured you're in a hospital, let's fill in the blanks for you, and hopefully put you at ease."

Burt heard the scraping of a chair, a hushed brief exchange between the doctor and the woman who he assumed was the nurse called Susan. The doctor then started the conversation.

"You are in the US Army Hospital Berlin, where you are being treated. You had a fall, a significant one, and were taken to a state hospital, then transferred here since you are a member of the US military personnel stationed here.

"As well as the fall, you were shot at, there'll be some people along later to talk about that, but my concern is only for your physical and mental wellbeing. So let's start with what we do know.

"You were shot in the head, luckily for you it struck your skull at an angle that didn't penetrate it. If it had, we wouldn't be having this conversation right now. What the bullet did do, was to shatter your right eye socket, which is why your eyes are bandaged. Regrettably, that eye was damaged beyond repair.

"Unfortunately, you fell from a building, which caused multiple injuries, the most notable being a fractured skull and multiple breaks to your arm. The first thing we need to do is establish if you have any injuries that aren't visible. What is going to be important is that you remain calm. Trust me, it will help you immensely. Just because something seems wrong at this moment in time, it doesn't mean it's permanent. It just means your body and mind need longer to repair themselves or adapt to the changes. So let's get the ball rolling, what's your name and where are you from."

An hour later, the picture was clearer. Not only had he lost an eye, he had damaged his skull which had required a plate to be fitted keeping it together. At the moment, his speech was seriously impaired, due to the head trauma, the doctor was hopeful that it would improve with therapy. There were other internal injuries including a ruptured spleen which had been removed. One thing that was a certainty, was a significant loss of movement in his arm due to the damage sustained in the fall. One questionable element was the level of nerve damage in his arm, it would be a few weeks, if not longer, before it could be properly accessed. At that moment in time, his fingers were racked with an extreme case of pins and needles, something he hoped was temporary.

They left him to sleep, his head had started to throb. After the doctor left, Sue asked him if he would like some painkillers, which he gratefully accepted. As she was walking back to his bed, Burt had raised his good hand and was about to feel his head and face. Her hand reached out, gently holding his, and stopped him.

"Honey, just wait, a few more days and we'll have those bandages off and you'll be able to see for yourself. You had a nasty fall and there's plenty of unpleasant lumps and bumps to go down yet, just give them time to heal for a lil' longer."

He dropped his hand before she passed him the pain meds which he swallowed before helping him swallow some more water. Whilst the doctor had been talking, he had started to think... Why was he in here? Nothing was clear, just a jumble of hazy intermittent images. Had he been on duty when there was some sort of skirmish?

"Wa ha... hapd t' meee. Howe i ge ere."

"Sssh, rest, you need to rest. Somebody will come and speak to you, I'm sure they will have the answers you're looking for."

Leaving him with a buzzer in his hand, she left him, and in the silence, he fell into a sleep filled with images that made no sense. A beautiful angel hovered in the sky, her white dress torn and tattered, as blood-red tears dripped from her eyes. He wanted to say her name, but couldn't quite find it in his mind. She was just Angel.

۞۞۞۞

He felt slightly better the next day, especially with the dryness and discomfort in this throat subsiding. He found out it was from the tubes that had been there, where he had been in a bad way. With no concept of time, he was shocked to find out he had been there for eight days.

On the ninth day, his bandages were removed from his head. The doctor sat with him as the nurse hovered nervously close by, with a hypodermic syringe at the ready.

"OK, Burt, we've dimmed the lights in the room for you, slowly open your eye."

Feeling fearful, he slowly opened his eye, or at least tried to. The vision was blurred and instantly wrong to him. As before, he raised his hand to feel himself, this time, the doctor stopped him. They sat for several minutes until his vision stabilized.

"Have a look first, Burt, it's easier first to see what's changed. Let things heal a little longer before touching."

The doctor held up a mirror which Burt looked into. He felt it must be a trick, a Halloween monster looking back at him. One eye was covered with a dressing, if you called it an eye. That side of the face was disfigured, half of his hair had been shaved away from his head, dark angry hues making it look like a misshapen globe. A tear slid from his eye... Why, what had happened to him? Despite his calmness, he was administered with the sedative to find his mind lost in the kaleidoscope of images that had yet to make sense. But his mind worked hard, pieces that flitted randomly joined together. Faceless beings started to turn into people, and the Berlin Wall became a prominent feature in those visions.

"An-licka!"

He woke with a start, his body tense as he shook his head from side to side. It wasn't real, couldn't be real.

"Take slow deep breaths, Burt, I've given you something to help bring you around... deep breaths... that's it, that's it... keep going."

He recognised the voice of Sue, and followed her instructions as best as he could. It took a while for him to regain control of himself, but he was sure he now knew the truth. Before he spoke, somebody new spoke to him. Turning his head, he saw two men, both clearly military.

"Hello Private Lohmiller, welcome back. I am Captain Clark and this is Sergeant O'Toole. We're here to help find out what happened to you and why. What can you remember?"

It took a while, and more than one visit to piece together what had happened. They helped him, their own sources had determined he was in a relationship with Angelika, and despite the facts Burt's recollection missed a few points, there was enough to determine that he wasn't an active participant in the escape plan.

"The man that shot you, we believe his name is Klaus Schneider, Stasi special undercover operative. He has cropped up before with different identities. The chances are, it was not supposed to play out as it did. The three people that made it over the wall, disappeared into the night, and we are keeping an ear out to see if they surface. But when it comes down to it, that's not our concern, they are German citizens in their own city. What is a concern is that a Stasi officer deliberately fired on a US serviceman, who was known to him. You were unarmed, in civilian clothes and of no threat in West Berlin. The US government doesn't take kindly to that, even if it isn't black and white as to what was happening. We have asked to interview him, although I doubt it'll go anywhere."

And it didn't, not as far as Burt ever knew. A few days later he was on a plane bound for the States heading to Ohio and the Chillicothe VA hospital to help him rehabilitate and look to move his life forward, as best as he possibly could.

۞۞۞۞

For the time being he was still wheelchair bound, the headaches and dizziness came and went at will, rendering any thought impossible. When they were bad, he begged for the strongest painkillers to let him sleep through the pain. As he drifted off, he dreaded what awaited him, each time the images less grainy, sharper and more lifelike. Despite not being there, he even found himself in Wilhelm's position, imagining the words that had passed his lips on that fateful night. With the aid of the medication, he drifted to a place he now wanted release from.

Stirring from his slumber a few hours later, soft fingers caressed his hand, the heavenly sensation soothing him as he drifted from the virtual world in his mind back into reality.

"Ang-lika."

"Sshh, I think you were having a nightmare. You've been muttering and been very agitated, that's why I held your hand. I've had a chance to look at your chart, so I know your name is Burt, which seems a little one-sided in this conversation. I'm Patrica, gosh, only my mom calls me that. Everyone else calls me Patty, Patty Nelson. It's a pleasure to meet you Burt Lohmiller."

Over several days, Patty spent time talking to Burt, stretching the time as far as she could whilst attending to his needs. She sat beside him, well aware that his speech would take time to come right, if it ever fully would. She never interrupted him, never finished his sentences, because he did not need to be knocked down.

"Don-t yo ne... ned to se da oter... pat-ents"

He noticed she was smiling, something was different but he couldn't quite put a finger on it. He then picked up on the small changes. A little more make-up, hair styled and not tied in a ponytail. She smiled, not just a smile to be polite, there was something more hidden in her expression. He nodded as he smiled back. She felt a thrill that he noticed.

"Funny thing is, I have no patients scheduled for my rounds today, I mean, who would do that on a day off. I'm here to see a friend who I'm sure would appreciate some company."

He looked at her, he guessed she was five or six years older than him, very slim, some would say too slim. Her black hair framed her oval face, and almond eyes. Her smile was infectious, she was no outstanding beauty but certainly wasn't someone he would be ashamed to be seen with, like now. Despite her smile, something else was there, hiding in the few lines and creases around her eyes and that smile. He felt those lines spoke of some loss, or catastrophic pain. Being a pleasant day, she helped him into a wheelchair and went into the gardens, where they sat and talked. They spoke of their upbringings as children, both were only children although Patty's parents had her late in life.

During their conversation he noticed she wore two rings on her left hand, and frequently rolled them, he felt subconsciously, with the fingers of her right hand. When nothing was said of her husband, he felt the need to ask. When he did, she turned away and after a few moments, raising her hand to clearly wipe away a tear or two. Moments later, taking a deep breath, she turned to face him and held his hand in hers.

"Forgive me, it still hurts, you know. I know a little about what happened to you, there was some chatter when you arrived, and I know you will understand why it still pains me. I married at nineteen, my husband, Alan, was twenty-six and a pilot in the air force. He flew missions in Vietnam and was coming to the end of his tour. His buddy told me he was hit by a SAM but said he watched him eject. I'm sure he's alive out there, they have kept some prisoners after it finished. I don't know why, but they did, you know, and I can feel it in my bones that he's one of them."

And so their relationship grew, both grieving lost love and they were honest enough with each other to feel no shame as to how they felt. But love isn't something that, once it takes root in a heart, is immovable. With Patty's help Burt came on in leaps and bounds. After a year, his conformer was replaced with an artificial eye. His hair grew back, which helped to hide some of the deformity to his head, although the scarring to the side of his face. Patty told him it made him look dashing, and eventually she wore him down enough to accept himself as himself, and with it his confidence grew. Where his arm had shattered, bone fragments had damaged many of the nerves leaving him with almost continuous pins and needles, despite several operations to try and improve things.

He coped with his arm, adapted and could do most things required in daily life. With the hospital's help they found him a job in a factory that he could do, and that brought a sense of self-worth. Before that happened, some of his family made a trip to Chillicothe, he suspected that they were there to try and persuade him to return back to South Dakota, but seeing that he was settled in his life with Patty, they never pursued it.

They both shared their memories of loved ones, crying and holding each other as the grief was slowly let free. Patty owned the house they lived in, previously her parents', sleeping in the bedroom she had shared with her husband, while he slept in what was once a spare room.

Several months in, there was a terrible thunderstorm, and in the darkness, she slipped into his bed, looking for a protector. When the storm abated, she remained there, despite the conflicting emotions - one part was she was dishonoring her wedding vows, the other, bathing in the intimacy of being close to a man, one that came a close second to her husband.

They didn't have sex. There was no stripping each other's clothes, lustful embraces against walls, or being thrown onto beds. They made love together, tenderly and with a strong emotional connection, forged from their past. The first time, when it was over, they held each other and cried a lake of tears, not sure if it was shame, or just another form of release from their coupling. As the years went by, it lessened. Like snowflakes falling in a garden, those thoughts and memories of the past faded, at least in respect of a strong emotional connection. Irrespective of how their life together developed, they never married, never spoke of it for fear of unsettling the balance they had both found with each other.

۞۞۞۞

"Honey, have you seen this? It's unbelievable."

Burt sat down next to Patty, it was the most extraordinary thing. After weeks of unrest, people were suddenly streaming unhindered between East and West Germany. The news program said that November the ninth 1989 would go down in history as one of the most important days in European and world history. Having been there, Burt placed a tape in the VCR and started to record the event. Because of his own past, it touched him deeply as they cuddled up together to watch it on the TV. It turned into a huge party, as it evolved live on TV, people climbed to sit on top of the wall, came with sledgehammers and chisels to start to dismantle the concrete line that had divided a city. Suddenly Burt lent forwards, staring intently at the TV screen.

"Are you OK, honey?"

She looked at him, his eyes were wide, staring in disbelief, as he started to breath in ragged breaths.

"She... she looked like her, just like her! If I didn't know any better, I would say it was her, Angelika!"

Patty never dismissed him, she harbored similar hopes for her husband, and it would be wrong to dismiss his thoughts outright.

"OK, let's think about this. Did she look like you still remember her, it was over ten years ago, or did she look older?"

He was clearly excited as he responded.

"No, no. I mean... ah, damn it. She looked older, even her hair was shorter. But her face and eyes! The camera stayed on her face for a few seconds. I'll never forget it, it was her! When the tape stops recording, I'll play it back and show you!"

When the tape reached its end, they rewound it, then again, and again, and again. Each time, he pointed out a feature that made him feel sure it was her. Did it mean she didn't die from the gunshot wound? He had made that assumption as she never moved lying prone on that ladder, and he could see that the blood loss was catastrophic. But somehow, by some miracle handed down by God, she must have survived. Then the terrible thought sank in. He had abandoned her, at the point in time where she would have needed him the most, he wasn't there. With that, a wave of guilt and gloom swept over him.

۞۞۞۞

It was a gentle knock, she half expected it, although it had never happened before.

"Come in, Burt."

"I'm sorry, I don't want to embarrass you, if me being here is a problem just tell me so, Patty. It's OK, I'll leave you to your own thoughts."

"Do you remember that big storm, your trauma still fresh and vivid? You never turned me away, and I won't turn you away. But I cannot defile my marital bed... you do understand that?"

As she pulled the cover back, allowing him to slide in, he chuckled in the near darkness. "We know each other too well, I was nervous to actually knock, but this feeling of guilt is so overwhelming. I just need you to hold me tight. What kind of man am I if I did abandon her?"

As he lay next to her, rolling into her body, her fingers brushed his cheek.

"You're an honest man filled with integrity and love. You thought she was dead, heck, you were nearly dead, and it wasn't as if you could go strolling in the next day, or the day after, or any time soon after what happened. And had you gone back. What about the psychopath that tried to kill you? Do you not think he would relish the chance to finish the job? What happened, happened. This is a piece of history that you would not be able to rewrite had you been there."

Laying in each other's arms they drifted off to sleep, Burt's mind tumbling through various scenarios to see if it could have played out any other way. He knew it probably couldn't, but it never assuaged the deep feeling of guilt.

Over the next eighteen months, on more than one occasion, he would replay the scene on the VCR tape, still trying to determine if he felt any difference as to the likelihood that this was Angelika. A couple of times, Patty walked in, and rubbed his shoulders, but said nothing. She knew exactly how he felt as she had suffered in the same vein. To cheer him up, they went shopping and purchased a personal computer. There was talk amongst the doctors in the hospital that this was the next big change in the civilised world that was coming. After a bit of a shaky start, they both got to grips with their computer and its Windows 3.1 operating system. The biggest revelation was AOL. It was their piece of software that used modems and the phone lines to communicate with other computers around the world, using a www address. It also opened chat groups and messenger forums, and it was here that Patty found what she felt was the path to her own personal Holy Grail.

In a chat group for Vietnam veterans that were kept as POWs, someone said they remembered her husband being in one of the camps they were detained in. Patty went to Texas to see the individual in person, taking as much personal information as she could. John Wright was adamant he had spent time with her husband, he remembered him praying that his wife would stay true and wait for him. On hearing that, it left her filled with a sense of grief, thinking of the times she had shared a bed with Burt.

On the flight home, she formed a plan. Simple, and easy to administer. A big plus was, it had every chance to kill two birds with one stone.

Arriving back home, Burt was still at work. She purchased a couple of nice beef steaks and his favourite vegetables. When he walked in from work that evening, he was met by the delightful smell of his favourite foods cooking, and a beer. The small droplets on the bottle told him it had not long come from the cooler. She kissed him on the cheek, welcoming him home, and Burt immediately picked up on the fact her attire was one of the outfits he often passed comment as to how attractive it made her look. He sat as she dished up the food, joining him at the table.

He looked at the situation, mentally ticking a series of boxes before he spoke.

"Why does this feel like one of those moments where, at some point, I'm expecting you to utter the words, We need to talk."

With a smile, not really a happy one, more one of hope, her hands reached out towards his across the table.

"I wasn't going to use those words, I was going to say, I want to give us both an opportunity to close a chapter in our own book of life, but I guess that would be more direct. I told you I was going to see a friend in Texas, it was a half-truth. I came across someone in an AOL chat group who said he was a POW in the same camp as Alan. He suggested I come out to see him, I was wary but don't worry, I met him in my hotel restaurant, and there was nothing funny about our business. He said things he would only know if Alan had told him, and he was adamant it was my husband he was interned with. The story only goes so far, after a while Alan was taken to another camp, and he never saw him again."

Burt never said anything, Patty had been his savior, but he always felt that Alan was one of the many whose bodies had simply never been recovered and were KIA, not MIA. But now... he really hoped that the individual that she had seen was not some sicko peddling false hope, possibly for their own personal gain.

"Burt?"

"Sorry, my mind was trying to process it all. So what does this mean... you want me to move out?"

"Oh God, you beautiful man! No... I mean yes... but I have an idea, you may think it's crazy, but I think we deserve this one last chance. I have never told you, not only did my parents leave me this house, they also left me with sufficient funds to keep me going, not like a millionaire or something, but as long as I worked, I wouldn't feel like I was living to keep the wolves from the door. This is what I want to propose.

"Our belongings go into storage, and this house becomes a rental for a year. We both have savings, and I'll give you another fifty thousand dollars to help keep you going. I plan to go out to look for Alan. There are groups that are out there working, looking for ghosts like Alan, and I plan to join them. I'm going to give myself a year, that should be enough time. If it's a pipe dream, I will come back home, and fully commit to a relationship with you, if you'll have me of course."

Burt squeezed her hands and smiled as he replied.

"Of course I'll want you, I fully understand you need to do the right thing for you."

They sat for a moment, gazing at each other.

"The thing is Burt, this isn't all about me, I want you to find closure too. Since the day the Wall fell, I can see it in your eyes. Every time you watch that poor VCR tape, it's like another brick in the foundations being laid in your mind that it's really her. Go out to Berlin, try and find her, or at the very least, find the answers as to what happened that night, what did become of her.

"In a year's time, if you cannot find the answer you so want, come home, and if I'm here too, then I pray you'll be prepared to let your own ghost go too and we can forge ahead with a life together."

For the remainder of the evening, they build on the conversation, adding depth, discussing their fears. Where Patty had a head start in developing the idea, she had encompassed every scenario. To whatever combination Burt raised, she had an answer, she was not selfish in any shape or form, irrespective of what each of them would find. If they both found what they were looking for, she would sell her house and split the proceeds, if only one had a fairy tale find, she promised that the house they had made their own, would be exactly that, albeit with another person being present, and their own relationship letting go of the intimate side that sometimes played out in their life. Leaving it for a few days for them both to think about it, two seeds were planted that were now starting to grow. They set about boxing their belongings for storage, and began to make plans to travel to different parts of the globe. They maintained their AOL account, it might be sporadic, but they would find a way to stay in touch, and failing that, they set up a PO box, where they could write to, so the other could retrieve any messages on returning back home.

۞۞۞۞

It felt a little strange arriving as a private citizen rather than as a member of the US army. It had been over ten years since he had set foot in the city, and was curious how much had changed since the unification. He decided to stay in what was once the West side, it still lingered in the back of his mind that there was a difference. He found a cheap bed and breakfast hotel in Charlottenburg, with an air of familiarity, he soon dropped back into life as a pseudo-Berliner.

On the first full day of being there, he had to see it for himself, to see it was real. Stepping into the street from the U-Bahn stop at Kochstraße, the memories stored in his mind of those eager trips to reach Angelika became fresh again, now bittersweet echoes of his past. He walked back and forth several times to the East side, chuckling to himself that it was now no different than walking around any other street in the city. He spent the day looking around areas he had been familiar with, marvelling at the lack of the wall in many places.

Lying in bed on the third night since he arrived, he was plucking up the courage to return to the site of Die Eckkneipe. He wondered what he would do if it was still standing, and Angelika and Frieda were still running it alone? He actually felt relieved when he arrived there, or more specifically, stood staring at the housing blocks that rose where it once had sat. It was so different, he couldn't be sure exactly where it once stood. That was, at least, one ghost put to bed.

He tried various avenues to discover what happened on the night he was shot. With the little German he could speak, he frustratingly felt like he was shuffling from pillar to post. Directed to the police in the East side, the person he talked to spoke very little English. He had to find another way. But next, he had another ghost to tackle, the one spectre that still haunted him now.

The wall was gone, although the watchtower stood empty, now a giant upright canvas. The strip of land was still intact, although it was now cleared of obstacles. He looked up at the window, the one he stood at supposedly offering a beacon of hope, but he now felt he was being lined up as a personal sacrifice by the person he considered the spawn of the devil. That was the last thing on his list of things to attend to. He stood for a long time, eyes closed replaying that fateful night over and over.

"Entschuldigen Sie bitte."

He opened his eyes, and turned to look at the person who had spoken to him, while gently tapping his arm.

"I'm sorry, I was in a world of my own there".

"Ah, an American, I'm sorry, I did not realise. I am not trying to intrude into your business, you have been standing on the same spot for over an hour looking out eastwards. I have lived in the apartments behind us for many years, is there something you would like to know."

Burt turned to face the elderly man and, almost immediately, he felt that the man may have recognised him, his facial expression was now one of surprise.

"My name is Frank Fischer, why don't you come and join me for some refreshment? If you have questions, please ask me, if I can answer them, I will willingly do so. Plus, it will be nice to have a visitor, and the bonus of a conversation in English, it's not so commonplace for me to do so now."

"Thank you, my name is Burt Lohmiller, I was once stationed here."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Burt Lohmiller, but I think we may have already met in some very different circumstances! Come, I have a feeling we have much to discuss!"

Sure enough, Frank lived there back when the escape took place. He explained how he was at home that night, and actually caught the baby that was dropped down over the wall. Burt found out that the man that came over the wall that night was a fireman. His wife had family in West Berlin, her parents had died in the East, and she was desperate to have her own kin around her with a newborn. He drank in Die Eckkneipe, and asked Otto if he knew somebody that could help. He had an idea to use a fire truck, but it needed someone to drive it. They had packed it out with empty cardboard, it was to cushion the jars and jolts as they crashed through the defenses, which, by all accounts, it did exceedingly well. Burt realized that Otto must have known it would be a suicide mission to drive that truck, and must have made a deal.

"I was here, Frank. I was upstairs in the apartment. I had been told to go there, and be the guiding light so to speak, but I think it was a setup."

He then explained what he'd seen, how a man that was a Stasi officer was waiting, and whatever the plan was, the appearance of dear old Wilhelm sent it spinning like a top. Frank was oblivious as to what had happened, as he was in the street outside as the escape unfolded.

"Your friend, Wilhelm. He must have known he trod a path with no way of getting out. At best, he would be captured, likely spending his last years incarcerated, as it turned out, the worse option befell him. May God look down on his soul with good grace."

They sat for a few moments, both thinking of the honourable man from that night.

"You were here for a reason, Burt. I get the impression you did not know the fireman and his family. I know that somebody else tried to come over and they were, unfortunately, shot."

Because of where they were, so close, just in a different time, tears fell from Burt's eye, and he sobbed at his loss. All of them, all of them that perished that night. Frank let him for a few moments, returning with fresh drinks and some cookies.

"I'm sorry, Burt, if I knew you were coming, I would have got something more appetizing than cookies!"

Both men laughed, the light humour helping to shift the mood. As they sat for a few moments longer, eating the cookies and sipping the drinks before Frank spoke again.

"I know there was a woman that never made it, others saw from their apartment that night. That is why you were here, ja?"

Burt nodded.

"I understand that the driver of the fire engine, he died, and he must have known it was going to happen. But why sacrifice himself?"

The tears fell from Burt's eyes, slower and he retained his composure.

"He was dying, lung cancer. His wife and daughter were going to lose their home. I was in love with her, Angelika, so in love that we felt destined to be together. I was not involved in the plans, but when I saw her drop from the cab of the truck, it became clear why her father and his friend were prepared to make the sacrifices that they did that night.

"I'm sure it went wrong that night. The Stasi officer, he had worked his way into the pub, and the lives of Otto and his family. They saw his motives as wanting their daughter Angelika, and I'm not sure if they realized who he actually was. I think he was hiding behind his job, he set me up to be upstairs, and the rifle was to take me out of the equation, and grab Angelika right from under my nose."

Frank shook his head, shocked by the gears of life that had turned that night. He then smiled, he sniggered, which threw Burt.

"I am so sorry, my friend. I was not being disrespectful, it's just... it was my car roof that you fell on. I was thinking if the government will compensate me now as it was an East German official that shot you causing you to fall that night!"

They both laughed, even more so when Burt offered to pay for the damages which Frank graciously declined. Frank went to talk about how the people in the street were shouting up at Burt to move away from the window, it was obvious that someone was shooting that way. He talked Burt through the fall, the sickening crunch as he fell onto the car, and how they thought he was dead. Luckily, a nurse that used to live in the block was there, and she did enough to keep him alive until an ambulance arrived. For Burt this was new, and sombre information. They sat in silence, while finishing their drinks. Frank could see there was more that needed to be said.

"Are you here for closure, Burt? To put his all behind you?"

Burt hesitated for a moment.

"Yes... and no. When the wall fell, I watched it on TV at home and there, streaming across the border was Angelika. The more I watched the recording I made, the more convinced I became it was her. But it doesn't add up, does it? I saw her, she was lifeless, strewn across that ladder, there was simply too much blood for someone to have reached her in time..."

Frank got up and walked over to a bureau. He returned with a piece of paper, Frank preempted his questions.

"She came here over a year ago. I would say a similar age to yourself. Short blonde hair, with a haunted look. She stood like you looking across the road, unlike you, she rang the bell to some apartments, and luckily, I was here.

"She asked about that night, what I knew, what had happened. She asked if I had seen you die, and was shocked to find out that I did not know for sure, as you were still alive when the ambulance left. That upset her, and she cried, as the conversation continued she cried even harder, and I mean really cried, when she found out that the second woman who was trying to escape was shot in the back, by the same person who'd shot you. She was so distressed, I begged her to stay a while, as I was concerned for her welfare. If I had to sum her up in a few words, I think tortured soul would best describe her. She asked if anyone had ever come asking questions like her, of course, up until then, the answer had been no. She left this with me, and said if anyone ever does come asking about that night, to give them this."

Frank handed the piece of paper to Burt. Handwritten on the paper was the name Ursula, a phone number and an address in the borough of Lichtenberg. He looked at Frank.

"You've come a long way, and it sounds like the story is not over yet. My phone is in the hallway, try it, try the number."

In a fog, Burt walked into the hallway and stared at the phone as if it was glowing red hot. Eventually he dialled the number. Seconds later, somebody answered the call.

"Hallo, Ursula am Apparat... Hallo? Ist da jemand?"

Using his fingers, he disconnected the call, but the handset remained pressed against his ear. He stood there, not sure if he should really believe who he thought had just answered the call. Frank was standing in the doorway to the hall.

"Your ghostly white complexion tells me that was the first step in confirming that things may not be quite what they seem. The next step is to go and find out in person."

They sat and chatted a little longer, Frank insisted he returned at a later date to let him know what happened, and anytime he needed some moral support to seek him out. Burt left, coveting a small piece of paper that he would guard with his life.

The following day, he left early in the morning, found the address to a modern set of apartments. He walked past the address to be sure he had the right one, before retreating across where he could watch from afar, without drawing unwanted attention to himself. At half past eight, a woman left the apartment, he watched then followed her from a distance as she walked to a supermarket. He had caught a brief glimpse of her attire below her coat, and once near the supermarket, he noted there were other women wearing similar outfits. It meant she was going to work.

After an hour, he walked inside, but did not see her. Not wishing to miss her, he went back outside, a cafe was near enough to watch the entrance, so he set base there, ordering both a late breakfast, lunch and numerous beverages to keep his table. At two thirty in the afternoon, he watched her leave, with a small bag of shopping. She crossed the road near enough to see her. She had changed dramatically, instead of a young woman full of a zest to lead her life, she shuffled along as if the weight of the whole world sat on her shoulders. Was it because of him? His heart broke seeing her like this. He was tempted to run outside and grab her in his arms, but decided that he shouldn't do that in a busy street. He decided that the best course of action was to follow her back home, then knock on her apartment door.

As she walked back, she saw a reflection in a shop window. She was sure she'd seen the man following her this morning but could not get a good enough look at him without risking giving herself away. After yesterday she was already creeped out from the phone call, she could hear them breathing before they disconnected without speaking. Her hope was that if she walked slightly faster, she could put some distance between them before she got close to the apartment. If push came to shove by then, she could abandon the meagre amount of shopping and probably make it back if she ran.

Burt picked up on her change of pace, and cursed himself for being too obvious. He let her put some additional distance between them, thinking it may calm her down. In the end, she broke into a jog, and instinct made him do the same. Her apartment block came into view, and he was now twenty yards behind her.

"Angelika, stop, please stop running!"

She slowed, coming to a stop. He could see her shoulders rise and fall as she drew in breath, being less fit than her, his were even deeper. She didn't turn, but she didn't run either. He spoke again.

"Angel, it's me, Burt."

The silence was broken by the sound of a glass bottle breaking when she dropped her shopping, just moments before she hit the floor as she fainted. Burt rushed over, she had not fallen on the bag, where milk now spilled from. Taking off his jacket he rolled it up, placing it under her head, she had a small cut above her eye where she had landed. Suddenly there were two women around them, one of them was jabbing a finger at him, they spoke too quickly for him to understand, but he could see they were pissed at him. He put his hands up, offering no resistance in the hope it would placate them, but it failed. A soft voice made them stop.

"Halt! Halt! Er hat mich nicht angegriffen. Er ist ein Freund, ein sehr lieber Freund. Es gab nur etwas Verwirrung, das ist alles."

The two women quickly backed down. All three of them helped her to her feet, but not for one second, did her eyes stop gazing at him. Satisfied she was OK, the two women went about their business.

She was panting, long steady breaths trying to remain calm.

"Is it really you?"

He couldn't speak as the tears streamed from his eye, shaking with disbelief that it really was her. They fell into each other's arms, she almost crushed him, and he would have done the same had he been able to fully encompass her with both arms. They stood, both openly sobbing, uncontrolled. She felt their tears could wash the whole street away as they shed over ten years of grief between them.

As they parted, she looked around, Burt felt she was afraid. Picking up the bag, they walked towards the apartments, but she surprised him by knocking on the door of another, and not her own apartment. A young woman answered, and Angelika stepped inside, the woman partially closing the door whilst they spoke in hushed voices together. A couple of minutes later, the woman opened the door, a look of shock on her face accompanied by the flow of tears.

"Willkommen, Burt Lohmiller!"

Once inside, she ushered him through into the living room, where a little boy sat playing with some toys. The woman quickly scooped him up, then unfolded a stroller in the hallway, before leaving them alone. Angelika quickly started the conversation.

"That is my friend, Astrid. I have few people I can depend on, and she is one of them."

Burt nodded.

"Let's go through the kitchen, I could certainly do with a drink, and I can wash the cut I have above my eye, and I think my knee too."

She poured a couple of glasses of water, Burt helped her clean the minor abrasions to her skin. With the skirt of her uniform pulled up slightly, he remembered when her legs were beautifully sculptured, he always thought of them as feminine perfection. He was shocked, due to the scarring running over several inches down her knee. He actually stopped moving when he saw it, her hand gently reached out to hold his momentarily.

"All in good time, we have lots to talk about, and I think it would be best if we keep it in a chronological order."

They sat at the kitchen table, he could see her studying his face, appraising his general physical condition. As she did so, her hands moved across the table towards him, he pushed his good arm towards her, allowing her to take, and squeeze his hand. Immediately, he noticed she had lost her ring finger, all that was there was a short stump.

"You go first Burt, what happened, I mean, what really happened."

He looked at her puzzled, as if there were more than one truth out there.

He began with the conversation that evening, the one after they had made love, where her mum, aided by Wilhelm laid bare the dire circumstances they faced, and the tantalizing offer of her set free to join him. He ran through the events right up to, and the intervention of Wilhelm that night, and the price he paid. She sobbed uncontrollably. Next, without the finer detail, how her dad had sacrificed those last few months of his life to try and secure her future. Despite being history, this piece of news was fresh and very raw to her. She made a coffee for them each, before continuing. He described how the family made it over, but she knew that, didn't she?

She sniffed, biting her lower lip.

"I was never there."

Like a ton of bricks, it all came crashing down on him. It was so obvious now.

"They told me we would split up, go two separate ways. I knew my dad was probably dying, they thought I didn't know what was going on but my ears were sharp. I knew, I knew about it all, well most of it. Before it was due to happen, Wilhelm came back from a trip he made. He had a photograph of someone, someone that wasn't who he claimed to be. It was too late, he had worked his way into the fabric of the local people, those that wanted a change. Not knowing how much he knew, my parents offered him the chance to escape with us. Of course he agreed, in fact he offered to bring a rifle so he could shoot out the searchlight to give us a greater chance of success. Of course it was all a lie. All he wanted was to kill you... and take me, right from under your nose.

"I'm sorry you did not know, you've lived believing you watched me... die, it was... it was..."

Burt stood, stepped behind her and hugged her as best he could as the sobbing yet again racked her body. He hoped, as hard as it was, it could bring it all to a close.

"Ssshh, don't say it, I very much doubt there are that many parents, parents that would make such a sacrifice for their own child. You should be proud of their sacrifice."

Once she calmed, she spoke again.

"I suspect they thought there may have been a chance, a slim chance, she would make it over the wall. I suspect that is why they let the family go first, they would have had that greater chance of making it."

Burt continued with the tale, how he was shocked, how the man he knew as Rolf at that time was firing at him, but he was lost in shock at what had unfolded right before his eyes. Angelika chipped in. She had been told Burt had died, caught in a crossfire. It was only recently, when she visited the area and met Frank, did the truth come to light.

They sat for a few moments, drinking their coffee. Burt needed to hear her story, what happened, he knew nothing. She told it, and it was rather short.

"At the last moment, things changed. I swap places with my mom which meant I was going to go through the sewers, and meet them on the other side. There were five of us in total, we only made it as far as the house we were to meet in. As soon as we were inside, the Stasi crashed through the door, we were caught red-handed with a map of our route through the sewers and torches. I was arrested, and questioned for several weeks, then handed a life sentence."

"Shit! A life sentence? What happened, did they commute it, set you free or did you have to wait for the reunification?"

She looked at the table, when she spoke it was barely a whisper.

"No, I'm still serving it now."

Burt looked at her, totally bewildered.

"That doesn't make sense, you are here with me right now, that makes you free in my eyes."

Slowly, she shook her head.

"Some sentences aren't physical, like being imprisoned behind a wall. Sometimes, they are less tangible. I do not want to talk about it, at least now. I am sorry I must be going, I'm already late."

Burt cursed himself. Of course! She hadn't sat around waiting for a man to return that she was told was dead. She had moved on in life, exactly as he had done. They stood, getting ready to leave.

"Angel, we are both adults, adults that faced a reality where we were led to believe dreadful life-changing events had occurred. When we have time I will tell you about the rest of my life to date, it certainly isn't a typical one you'd expect to hear about. I know this isn't your apartment, I'm no threat to your relationship with your partner, but you don't have to hi... "

Her hands gripped his head as she kissed him. Somewhere, long buried in an almost forgotten memory, it came to the surface like the Titanic raised from the depths. They felt the love that was still there, the deep passion that they had somehow refused to let go slip to depths where it would be unrecoverable. She broke apart, and walked briskly to the door.

"Meet me tomorrow at the Zoologischer Garten train station. There is a small cafe outside the main entrance, I'll be there at one in the afternoon. Be ready for a stroll!"

Then she was gone.

Back in his room, Burt wrote an airmail letter, then sent it to the PO box he and Patty had set up. He explained that he had found Angelika, and it seemed she was in a relationship, which was yet to be discussed. He had also not discussed with Angelika the unique and special relationship he shared with Patty. This was all to come, with whatever consequences it brought about.

He lay in bed that night trying to unpick the cryptic part of the conversation with Angelika. Why was she dancing around certain things, rather than talking directly about them? Maybe she was embarrassed that she had abandoned thoughts of him, but her actions clearly made it felt that wasn't the case. He let out a slight chuckle, they had spent less than an hour together, he had plenty of time to talk and listen. Making a promise to himself, when they met next, he would make it clear he had no intention of interfering with whatever life she had carved out for herself. But even that felt off, something nagged away at him that, whatever life she had, wasn't the one she had chosen or wanted.

He took flowers, waiting inside the cafe he actually saw the stupidity of it. They were going to spend the afternoon looking at hundreds of plants and flora. Sitting at a table was an old lady, clearly alone. He decided to hand them to her, who looked surprised, then beamed as if she had been handed the universe. Unfortunately for Burt, he couldn't have mistimed it if he'd tried as Angelika walked in. When he explained how he thought it was a silly gift, she pulled him in, and kissed him.

"You are still the man I fell in love with. A deeply caring man, one I should have spent those lost years with."

As her statement tailed off, he saw the look on her face start to change. It was going to be an interesting day. After a drink, they entered the Zoological Gardens, which would give them plenty of opportunity to impart their life stories to one another.

Burt went first, he explained how he was a physical, and mental mess on his return to the US. He was hospitalized for a fair while while his discharge papers were put together. Patty was a nurse, they found some chemistry, with time to reflect, he felt it was born out of their similarities of losing someone very close, but without some sort of proper closure.

"Did you fall in love with her, share her bed?"

The question didn't surprise Burt, he had just outlined a life that sounded like marital bliss. Now was not the time to lie, or sugarcoat the facts.

"It's going to be hard to explain. We did fall in love with each other, to a point, the problem was that you and Alan still took up most of the space in our hearts, neither of us could let go. As for sharing a bed, yes, occasionally she would join me in mine. On one single occasion, I slept with her in her bed, and I stress sleep. I needed some emotional attachment that night, in fact, that's what it was to both of us."

She stopped walking and they sat on a bench. She looked into his eyes.

"You said, was, not is. You are here in Berlin looking for me, have you split up?

Burt laughed, and shook his head.

"I know this is going to sound bat-shit crazy but this is the honest to God truth.

"She received some credible information that Alan was alive as a prisoner of war. In her heart and mind, he is still out there, despite both governments claiming that all prisoners have been repatriated. I saw you, on TV, coming across into West Berlin. I knew, I just knew it was you. So we made a pact; if it turns out the dreams we are chasing offer nothing but false hope, we will put those lives to rest. We have given ourselves a year, more or less. If we both return home single then we have enough love for each other to get married, stop yearning for people that may be ghosts."

She cocked her head slightly as she spoke to him.

"But I am not a ghost, am I?"

"No, Angel, you are not. I'm not stupid, you have a life here, one I will not try to trash for my own gain. I'll apologize in advance if you feel I'm speaking out of turn, but everything about you screams you are deeply unhappy with your lot in life."

She looked away from him, and sniffed a couple of times.

"I married, less than two months after you were shot."

Burt sat open-mouthed. How could she, how could she have done something so cruel?

"I told you yesterday I have a life sentence, I was given two choices. Go to a labor camp and potentially serve ten years of hard labor, or lie, telling the Stasi investigators I helped set up the sting operations, sold out my parents... and then married an officer of the Stasi as the final part of the trade to keep me from a labor camp."

Burt wanted to be sick, the pieces tumbled into place, the cryptic conversation yesterday about a life sentence. He lowered his head, cupping it in his hands as he shook it. Her hand gently rubbed his back.

He didn't look up, he spoke to her softly.

"Your knee, missing finger. He did that, didn't he?"

She sighed, then let out a subdued giggle.

"He smashed my kneecap with a baton, broke my arm, twice. Multiple black eyes, burns to my body, I could go on. But my finger? No, I took a carving knife to it, cut it off so he could not claim me with a wedding band that meant nothing other than ownership to him."

Burt took deep breaths, trying hard to rein in his emotions. His heart pounded fearlessly in his chest, this was another reason he was here, and good fortune had brought the devil's spawn into his lap.

"I'm going to kill him, Angel. He tried to take my life, left me as I am. But more importantly, somehow, he managed to take you, and keep you, from me."

With that, he jumped up, marching towards the exit. Shocked, Angelika ran after him, pulling on his arm trying to get him to stop, but to no avail. She spilled the piece of information she had withheld just before Burt reached the exit. She stood still, practically shouting.

"He's dying, Burt, he has AIDS. If you kill him now, he'll see you as his savior!"

Burt stopped dead in his tracks, processing her words. He turned and walked back to her.

"You kissed me! How do I know you haven..."

She pressed a finger to his lips to silence him.

"Because I have been tested, regularly. It is almost two years since we have had any physical contact. I will keep being tested, right until the end."

Burt looked at her, shaking his head in confusion.

"Why? Why in the name of God are you still with this monster? Leave him, even if not with me, leave him to die on his own."

She sniffed, as a couple of tears slid from her eyes.

"I can't do that, it's ingrained in me to remain loyal to my husband, even though he's a monster. What I can do now though is look into his sorry eyes, as he wastes away. He can see no sympathy there, no love, no empathy. He knows all that holds us together is my loyalty to our vows, and that is just to say, we are married."

Burt felt lost for a moment, he wanted to make him suffer, he wanted to look into his eyes before he died. Would she be prepared to heap this onto her husband?

Things cooled slightly between them. She had the phone number of where he was staying, and they met up a few times where they remained cordial towards each other. Inside Burt was breaking, when he found out she was alive, he knew in all probability, that she would be in some sort of relationship, he never expected it to be one that would twist a knife so deeply into his heart. Why couldn't she just walk away?

Angelika picked up on the shift in their relationship. She hated that she had, and was withholding things from him. When she was a free woman her plans had been to find out what had happened to Burt, the very best she had expected was to place some flowers at his grave. But this? He had come back to her, looking for her. Physically he might have changed, but he was still the man she fell in love with.

Their conversations were generally lighter, skirting around the thorny subjects. It did come to light that Klaus kept pushing for riskier and bigger assignments, he managed to break up several larger groups that were planning on escaping. He had the intel to believe there was going to be an attempt at a mass breakout, using an illegal music festival to act as a cover. He joined as a rabid extremist, and to fit in, partook in the use of drugs. One of the group was a dealer, and his source was an American soldier. What was not known, that the drugs were paid for with gay sex, and so AIDS had been introduced through shared needles to some of the group. One individual, was Klaus. For the first time in his life, his superiors felt he had gone too far, he had shifted too far from the party values. So he became a pariah, working on mediocre surveillance operations of low value.

After six weeks when Burt woke up one morning, he decided that day was the one where he would need answers as to where their, if it actually existed, relationship, was going. He remembered doing the same thing in the past, it was a case of déjà vu from all those years back. He rang the number of Angelika's apartment - the first time since he had made the one call from Frank's. He hoped it would make her realize that things were coming to a head.

"Hallo, Ursula am Apparat..."

"Hello Angelika, it's Burt. I think we need to talk, hopefully today."

"Oh, yes, I understand that. I was going to leave a message for you to see me tomorrow, but today will do. Can you meet me at Wittenbergplatz, one PM? There is a coffee place just outside by the waterfall. I want us to go shopping for clothes together, we have a special appointment for tomorrow afternoon."

He was waiting, part way through a beer for a change. She sat with him, he felt, she looked brighter.

"I thought it was old married couples that went shopping together, Angel."

She laughed at his comment.

"Maybe, in another universe we are. Let's face, we should have been that couple."

They both laughed, the atmosphere felt different, like whatever shroud had been in place over them, was being lifted away.

"Why do we need new clothes? What's so special?"

"Ahh now I don't want to spoil the surprise. I want you, my love, to look like a well dressed man about town. And me," she lowered her voice, her tone earthy, "I want you to make sure I dress like a woman that you really want to have, if you get my meaning."

She blushed, then looked away giggling. Burt felt surprised, unclear what had caused this massive shift. At least it was going in the right direction, so he went along with it.

She picked out his clothes, a nice shirt and sports jacket combination and some black pants. She let Burt pick her clothes. After selecting some very staid clothing for her, she went to some rails and picked some dresses, skirts and tops that were far from staid.

"Burt Lohmiller, you are worrying me. Are you saying that you think I look sexy in those outfits that are suitable for a matron to wear? Mmm, maybe you have a special kink, no?"

She walked away, picking up some of the clothes she had selected and walked to the changing room. Burt stood, lost for words with one, strange thought. Was he in an episode of the Twilight Zone? She modelled several of the outfits, each time she came out, she gave him a playful look. What it did show was she was a mere shadow of the physical woman she once was. Where she had had curves, dips and troughs in all the right places, most were gone. Not that it mattered, she was still beautiful as far as he was concerned, and the change in clothes helped to exemplify that.

He was further shocked when they went to look at the lingerie. Having settled on a classic tight black pencil skirt and cream silky semi- translucent blouse, she picked out a black Wonderbra, black briefs along with a garter belt and seamed stockings. She was going to pay for them, but Burt offered, and she looked relieved when he did so. She did, however, purchase the black patent four inch stiletto heeled shoes.

When Burt looked at her, she felt he was going to ask what was going on. Cutting him off at the pass, so to speak, she said it was all for a very important surprise the next day. When they were finished, she dashed off, she said she needed to be somewhere, he was to meet her on platform three at Berlin Hauptbahnhof station at two PM, dressed in his new clothes, and she suggested he cut his hair too.

The following day, she looked so different, he saw men glance her way. Her hair had been styled, and she wore make up, which looked sensational, which he assumed had been professional styled. With the clothes she wore, she met, and exceeded her wish from yesterday. She looked ready to be ravished by him!

They left the station, walking hand-in-hand and finally entered Charité, a Berlin hospital. Burt looked at her, and she put a finger to her nose implying it was still a secret. They were buzzed into a ward, and taken to stand outside a private room after she had spoken to the nurse on the main desk. Stepping close to Burt, her finger tilted his chin up, and she kissed him. The lush red lipstick now stained his lips. She then spoke to him, mere inches from his face, ensuring that nobody could overhear them.

"You wanted to kill him, trust me, this will be far worse for him, it will finally break him and he will take it to hell with him. He is close to the end, and we both need to make him suffer. Please feel free to ad-lib to add to his suffering."

With that, they stepped into the room of Klaus Schneider, previously of the Stasi, and a man to be feared back in the day to find a frail man, looking a lot older than his true age, with all the signs of death about to claim his amoral soul. She lent down close, letting the floral perfume invade his senses, which made his tired eyes open as he continued to wheeze.

It took him a few moments to register that his wife was standing there, and she looked... happy.

"Hello Klaus, I've come to say goodbye, you do not have long left, and I believe all three of us need closure, and that's why I am speaking to you in English. Turn your head, look, I have brought a very good friend of ours along too."

Feebly, Klaus turned his head, the monitor beeps increasing once he realized who was standing there.

"Nein, nein, das kann nicht sein. Ich habe dich erschossen, du bist tot."

"Klaus, Klaus, play nicely, just this once. Speak in English so our guest can understand you. Although I will admit, later today, I'll probably lose my senses and will crying out oh ja over and over while we both make up for lost time. Let's face it, you never made me cry out in pleasure once, but pain? Oh yes, you certainly made me cry out for that."

Burt stepped forward, and bent down by Klaus.

"I've dreamed for years of all the ways I could kill you, once I found you. You are the spawn of the devil, now you will reap what you've sown. I bought the clothes your beautiful wife is wearing, I picked them out for her. Angel, hitch your skirt a little."

t your spirit can see up close how much she loves me."

By now alarms were sounding, as Klaus rocked his head from side-to-side. A nurse came in, as the couple standing were deep in a passionate kiss at the end of the bed. Angrily, she ordered them to leave, and told them they were barred from the ward. That suited them fine, they had set out to hammer home the frailty of what little life was left in Klaus, and leave him with painful and unforgettable images that he could take to hell with him.

Outside, she hugged Burt, a few tears escaped her eyes.

"I'm not crying for him, I'm crying because I'm almost a free woman."

As they parted, Burt looked at her.

"Are we really going to go through with that despicable plan tonight in your apartment?"

She laughed.

"No, no and no. Anyway, I'm still a married woman, and I will not lie with another man, not until I have that death certificate in my hand. By the way, you are welcome to come and collect it with me when it's ready."

As she spoke she looked at him, with a saucy grin and wink to make it perfectly clear what was being implied.

He took to calling her first thing in the morning, and last thing at night. On the third day, he detected a sombreness in the voice when he made the morning call.

"The hospital called in the night, my husband has passed away. Whilst I have no feelings for him, I pity that his life played out as it did. What kind of man would have flourished with the right influences?"

Burt kept his thoughts to himself, he passed along his condolences. Later in the day, he went to her apartment, there was no point now hiding in the shadows. He was surprised to see men taking boxes of belongings away, the van was marked up for some charity. Moving past them to get inside, he was surprised to see that everything was boxed or being boxed. It didn't make sense, she had not spoken about leaving the apartment, and there appeared to be little of hers here anyway. One of the men spoke to him.

"Burt Lohmiller?"

Feeling confused, he could only nod. The man handed him an envelope with his name on. He took a deep breath while his heart hammered in his chest. Had he not missed something, something important. With shaky hands he opened the letter.

My dearest Burt

Not for one moment did I think I would be writing you a Dear John letter. I am ashamed that I have kept something important from you, I was not sure how you would react, and I did not want to lose you, just as I found you again.

I was planning to tell you but things took a surprising, and unpleasant turn with Klaus's death, one I was too blind to see it coming. To keep this short, there is another man in my life, and he has been there for a long while. His name is Robert.

I want you to meet him, as I want him to meet you. We have a lot to discuss together. I want you both in my life, I need you both in my life but, well there are complications and a serious one has raised its ugly head, your involvement now could undo everything that we both want. Please, and I'm begging you, don't come looking for me, I cannot explain in a letter, and it would be wrong for me to do so. Please, please, please meet me in the cafe by the Zoological Gardens, at twelve in exactly three weeks time. And this time, don't give my flowers to another woman, including old ladies!

I suspect you are angry with me right now, I understand. We have waited so long, just let this play out a little longer, and then you will come to know why we are dancing in the dark like this.

I love you

Angel x

Burt staggered back against the wall. Another man... she had had another man who she had let into her heart. What an idiot to let a fairy tale notion of her being ready to become one with him take a foothold in his brain.

For the next two weeks, Burt's mental state slid on a reckless downwards slope. Feeling the same sense of loss he felt all those years ago, he looked to alcohol to numb the pain, drinking more and more as the days went by. She offered him this meeting, it would give him closure, then he could go home.

۞۞۞۞

Angelika sat, the drink stone cold and untouched, dabbing away the tears she was fighting to hold back. Had she waited in vain? It had backfired, her wish for it to not to blow up in their faces by holding back had been too much for Burt. She thought he would understand, go this last piece of the distance. She looked across to another table, and Robert came to comfort her.

"I'm so sorry, Robert, I've got it all so badly wrong!"

She hoped that by bringing him along today, it would be so clear as to why she had to do things this way. She decided it was not the end, she would confront him at his accommodation.

۞۞۞۞

The color drained from her face. He had been paying on a weekly basis in advance, but had not paid and simply vanished. His belongings had been packed up and stored a few days ago. Going to the police station frantically trying to see if they could help, yielded no results. She was not related to him, and they could not provide any further information. The desk sergeant said perhaps he had just gone home. It was the straw that broke the camel's back, as she collapsed while Robert did his best to console her.

۞۞۞۞

Burt came too, had he been dreaming? The same smell of disinfectant filled his nose, his throat hurt and he desperately needed water.

"Please, bring me some water."

"Ahh so you've come back to the land of the living, Mr. Lohmiller. Hold up and I'll fetch you some water."

Looking around he was in a hospital ward. He felt incredibly weak and nauseous. The young nurse returned with some water, which he gratefully drank.

"Why am I here and where am I?"

"You had an infection, a bad one. The doctor suspects that your lack of a spleen played a big part in it, you are lucky to be alive. As for where, you are in Bundeswehr Hospital, Berlin, and you have been here for eight days, slipping in and out of consciousness. You have been quite vocal, talking and muttering to yourself. You seemed to have an angel looking over you, if the conversations you seemed to hold with her are anything to go by."

He had missed the meeting with Angelika. A final chance at trying to find a pathway, possibly together in their complex lives, had slipped through his fingers. Instead he had taken to finding solace at the bottom of several whiskey bottles.

Three days later, he was discharged from hospital, and returned to what had been his temporary accommodation. He took another room, but gave himself a week to find answers. He was disappointed that she hadn't left something for him, she knew where he was staying. What he didn't know was that she had left him a letter, and in the mixup, it had been given to the person who had taken his old room by mistake. They read the sad letter, then disposed of it.

As the week drew to an end, he organised a return ticket back home to the US. The few strands that held hope proved worthless. She had quit her old job suddenly, with no forwarding address. He went to see her friend that lived in the housing block he'd met. She said she had no idea, as Angelika had upped and left. He felt she knew more, and did try to press, she clammed up, told him she was busy, and closed the door. That door closing meant a lot more than the physical action. It finally closed the door on what Burt thought he had.

The day before he left, he had a few last things to do. He went to the church close to where Angelika and her family lived, and located the graves of her parents, where he stood and said a few words. He looked for a grave for Wilhelm, and could find none. Instead, he slipped into the chapel and offered some words for someone who he considered a dear friend.

He had one last visit to make. That evening, he went to see Frank, and thanked him one last time. As they sat with their refreshments he explained the whole story, at least the pieces that he'd been told. Frank was intrigued by this Robert that had appeared in conversation as if out of nowhere, and if she was in love with him, why did she want to bring them all together.

"I don't know, Burt, the world is turning stranger by the day. This isn't the first time I've heard of people wanting a relationship with three people involved. Sounds like a bundle of angst and worry to me!"

They both laughed, but he was right. Burt wasn't made for that sort of relationship, although he did wonder what would have happened if Angelika would have returned to Chillicothe with him, and Patty came home too? It would not be three people sharing, but he could not deny there was a bond with Patty that would not simply vanish overnight.

"Frank, can I ask one last favor? I have written a letter for Angelika, it includes a PO box where she can write to me, that's if she ever turns up here again. I came to Berlin with the thought I could find a way to close a major chapter in my life, and start a new one, if Angelika turned out to be alive. But yet again, I'm left with loose-ended business that is unfinished."

They spoke a little longer, before bidding farewell.

He stood at the gate and turned. A miracle had let them find each other, maybe the same could happen right now. Would she come running through the crowds into his arms professing her undying love for him in the dying embers of his last time in Berlin?

But this is not a fairytale, and it didn't happen.

۞۞۞۞

BBack in Chillicothe, he rented a room for a few days, and looked up acquaintances that had told him or Patty to look them up if they returned and needed somewhere to stay before the lease expired. His old work colleague Tommy and his wife Rea had a converted place above their garage that had been used by Tommy's dad until he passed. They came to an arrangement which saw him with a roof over his head up until the lease on his home expired.

Through AOL he contacted Patty, then they finally had a phone conversation. She had found several leads, which she was following one-by-one. A TV channel in Australia was funding a project to locate a missing Australian airman who was classed as MIA, but there were rumours he had survived. She had met Mick, the brother of the missing airmen, who was ex-army and there for support. The TV crew were happy for her to tag along, and were drawing her story into the documentary they were making. In the conversation they had, Burt picked up on the little tells in her voice that something was developing between them out in Vietnam.

A couple of months later, Burt received an odd phone call from the people that had rented his home. They had been at work when a woman was knocking on the door. The neighbors came out, but she bolted when they approached her, jumping into a cab she had arrived in. They were slightly concerned as they kept themselves to themselves having moved there to work at the hospital on a year's contract. When they described the woman to him, his heart rate climbed. Unless he was mistaken, it was Angelika, but how did she find him? The note he left didn't contain an address, it had the PO box number and his AOL mail address. Maybe it wasn't her, heck it may have been someone that just got the wrong address.

The following day, a friend called him at work with some news.

"Hey bud, there's a woman who checked into the motel. She's booked a room with two queen beds with another person, and she was asking if anyone knew you. She wasn't there for long, took a couple drinks and meals to her room. All I did get was her name, one Angelika Mueller. Pretty, blonde hair."

He asked his friend that, the next time he sees her, to pass on Burt's current address. As tempted as he was to quit work for the day, he hadn't been back that long, and he was grateful his precious employer found a slot for him to start work. Not that he did much that afternoon, trying to fathom out why she was here with another person, who he assumed was this Robert.

When he finished work, he went to the motel, most of the residents were settling down for their evening meals. At the bar, he saw her. She was talking to a tall blonde man, smiling at the words passing between them. This must be Robert. He walked over to her, and she was oblivious to his presence until he practically walked between the two of them. Shocked, she dropped her glass.

Immediately, she plopped down from the stool, flinging her arms around his neck, plastering his face and lips with a torrent of kisses in between babbling the words over and over "mein Gott, ich habe dich gefunden!"

Burt was aware that he had his back to the man, he gently shuffled to turn, he didn't know how he would react to the spectacle that was unfolding before his very eyes. To his surprise, the man had walked off, joining another three men who were seated at a table.

Her emotions shifted, overwhelmed by him suddenly appearing, the promise she had made to herself to remain calm, fell rapidly apart as she started to sob.

"I'm so sorry, Burt, I got everything wrong. I pushed you away when I meant to pull you in closer. I was afraid... afraid once you knew the truth you'd hate me. I hope you have it in your heart to forgive me, when you know the truth."

They found a booth and sat opposite each other, he could see she was terrified of the possible outcome once the last pieces of their puzzle were dropped into place. She put her hands out across the table, almost pleading for him to take them. He never hesitated, and held hers. With that, she took a deep breath, and rolled the dice that likely decided their futures.

"Do you remember I told you I am serving a life sentence? It's more than one, and they are running concurrently. You know I married Klaus, not long after it all went so horribly wrong. He told me that my parents died because you were a coward, just like the day he took a beating where you stood immobile. He said you were too afraid to help them cover the last few meters to safety, he couldn't stop the guards doing their jobs, and so I lost my parents. He also said he made you pay, as you stood quaking like a coward, he made you pay the price with your own life.

"At the time, I did not want to believe him, my parents had told me he was a manipulator, and made me understand he had designs to take me, and they were frightened he would use any means he could to do so."

Burt looked at her, hurt in the thought she had married him because she thought he was a coward. She could see the hurt in his eyes.

"Burt, please, I did not marry him for that reason. I would have done the hard labor save for a miracle, and he was the only way I could see to keep that miracle alive. I could feel it, inside. I was with child... your child. Robert."

Burt looked straight ahead, mentally detached from reality he said nothing, no reaction, emotional outburst, nothing. She squeezed his hand, and there was no reaction.

"Burt... Burt, please say something... are you OK?"

His mind tried to process what she'd just said. It didn't make sense, why hadn't he seen him, evidence he existed back in Berlin? More importantly, and the anger started to build, why did she not introduce him to his son the moment they made contact."

"Why? Why didn't you let me see my son? What did I do to deserve that?"

A few tears rolled down her cheeks. She looked down at the table, but never relinquished holding his hands, if anything she gripped them tighter.

"Let me continue, at the end, if you walk away, never want to see me again, I'll understand."

"OK, please continue, Angel, I'll do my hardest to keep things in check, but at the moment it feels like you are tearing my soul apart."

Without looking up, she nodded and then continued.

"Klaus used his status to make a deal to have me as his bride, he boasted how he would use my body to turn out mini-Klaus's by the boatload. I promise you now, I never gave myself to him, not once. I lay there, emotionless, let him throw his insults and wretched promises at me. Once I started showing, he was overjoyed, boasting the child would be one of many to his colleagues and superiors. He had no interest in the pregnancy but, when he eventually found out the due date, his world came crashing down around him, knowing that the child could not be his. His answer? Punch and kick me repeatedly hoping I'd lose the child.

"I had a cesarean, I know I was a mess, battered and bruised. I begged the surgeon to save my child... and tie my tubes as Klaus would never stop harming me or any offspring. Robert survived, and my body was left unable to have any further children. Klaus was beside himself for a while as he believed he had done all the damage.

"Nobody ever said anything, but they all knew. They must have been laughing behind his back, as there was no similarity to Klaus whatsoever. But you know Klaus, he was an evil man, and he turned his hatred towards you onto Robert. It didn't really start until Robert was a toddler, initially, he never did it in front of me, but there were marks, marks on his body that were not from playing or a tumble. One day, after he had been drinking, he found his baton, and said it was time for Robert to go and meet his father. I stood between them, refusing to move. That was how I ended up with a new kneecap, the records show I was prone to walking into things, or falling down stairs.

"It became more and more difficult to protect Robert, and I could see him retreating into his shell. I came up with a plan, it was crazy and dangerous, with a terrible risk."

Letting go of Burt's hands, she turned her right arm over to show him her wrist. The index finger of her other hand traced a scar, vertically placed across her wrist.

"I took a knife and stood in front of Robert when Klaus had a particularly black turn, and wanted to show Robert what real respect meant. To him, that was to use his belt on Robert. He laughed, not believing I'd do it, I closed my eyes, and took the biggest gamble of my life.

"It shocked Klaus, it did not help his standing at work that his wife had tried to commit suicide. I offered him what he thought was a solution. I had family in West Berlin, I had cousins. If he would help get Robert to the other side, then I would agree to be his life partner. So that's what happened, I had to hold it together as Robert crossed at a checkpoint. What I thought would be my last memory of my son I would have, was him being dragged away screaming and crying. It killed me inside, as much as I'd made a deal with the devil, it would be on my terms.

"The next morning, I cut my ring finger off, with the wedding ring attached, and placed it under the photograph of us on our wedding day. Because he knew I would take that final step, after all, with no Robert, I had nothing to live for and we found a way to exist. I was his wife, and never refused him his conjugal rights, but, I never, not once gave him the slightest notion I gained any pleasure from any physical acts he felt we were compelled to do. During one of his operations, he was obviously sleeping with somebody, I knew it. When I tested positive for a sexual infection, he tried to blame me. In what passed as his heart, he had to retract the allegation when he realized that I held my vows with the highest esteem. When I told him what was good for the goose, was good for the gander and I'd put it out there with abandon, and without any precaution, he just had that chink in his armor that said he wasn't sure. As he took to participating less and less in those conjugal rights, when he did, he used protection. Of course, in the end, he crossed a line when he went so deep undercover that he used hardcore drugs, as much as he denied it, he did become an addict, and ended up HIV positive. Once, and just once, in anger he forced himself on me. I lived in fear for many months but never showed the symptoms. After that, I did everything I could to avoid him, to make myself as unattractive to him as I could.

"Believing he was some sort of superman, he went into the sewers to thwart an escape. He ended up in a struggle where he swallowed sewage, which resulted in him becoming infected with Leptospira. With HIV he spiralled quickly downhill, six months, and mostly bedbound. I remained the dutiful wife, caring for him, enough to ease my conscience. I know that the final time that we saw him does not warrant being called a caring wife, but it was time for the balance sheet to be restored to be equal. And as far as I'm concerned, that's what happened and he went to hell with thoughts of our future together."

They sat for a few moments, looking at each other. Whatever happened next, would define their relationship. Burt had a burning question, one that he needed to understand fully the reasoning behind her choices.

"I have only one question. Why?... Why did you, once you knew I was alive, keep my son hidden from me? He's my son for god sake!"

His voice ended with an angry edge to it. This was exactly how she feared this could go. She felt his hands tense, it was now or never.

"I told you how Klaus hated him. He said he wanted him to grow up enough, be able to understand that he would pay the price for being the son of a coward abandoned. He never touched him as a baby, but once it started, it was difficult to watch my... our flesh and blood, suffer. When I made the deal with Klaus, unbeknown to me, he told my cousins that I whored myself out for the Americans, and that Robert was the outcome of one such tryst. He told them when you found out, you laughed, stating that you would never, ever lift a finger for your bastard child.

"That stayed with them, grew inside them and became their truth. When the wall fell, I immediately seeked them out, but their views were so entrenched in their minds, they barely accepted me as family. I told them over and over that Klaus had lied. But with nobody else to corroborate the story, they sat on the fence so to say.

"When you returned, from the dead they were aghast, asking why you never made any effort to seek me out. It only reinforced that you did not care. Fearing you were going to try and take Robert, they applied to the court to adopt him, claiming I was an unfit mother. If I would have tried to introduce you into Robert's life straight away, they would have taken out a court order. He was with me that day when I was supposed to meet you at the Zoological Gardens, I told him I wanted him to meet someone special, but it was a secret between the two of us. When you didn't show, I left a note at your hotel, but they said you had vanished. When you never responded to my note, I took it, whatever we were attempting to rebuild, had been washed away forever."

Burt shook his head.

"I never received it, nobody gave me anything. I was in hospital, I took things so hard, I started drinking heavily. The doctor said I was stupid, with no spleen I was opening myself up to an infection, and that's what happened. But how did you get my address? I left you a note with Frank. How did you go from that note with my email and PO box to finding my address?"

She laughed. "Initially I felt it was what you wanted, but felt that you had a right to know about your son. I drew blanks, until I had a tearful fit in at your hotel? They looked through their records and gave me your address. Afterwards, I wondered if you had gone to see Frank, I went there, and read your letter. I was unsure what to do, Frank gave me the solution. He paid for me and Robert to come here, he said it was a time for action, not words. So here I am."

Burt sat for a moment.

"So where is Robert?"

"In our room. He... he isn't like a normal boy of his age, he tends to be withdrawn, preferring his own company. He'll be watching TV or drawing, he loves to draw."

"Can I see him?"

A couple of tears trickled from her eyes. For the first time, in a very long time, they were proper tears of joy.

"Nothing would make me happier, come, let's go and see him."

When they got to the room, Burt stood outside. He wiped away the tear forming in his eye. That would not do for meeting his son for the first time. He stood adjusting his clothing, determined to make the right impression. Angelika kissed him on the lips.

"Burt, you're fine, honest. Go in and be yourself. He knows you are someone very special, but he doesn't know yet. Please let me break it to him."

With that she opened the door, and they walked in.

As soon as Burt looked at Robert, he could see he was his son, he felt like he was looking at a clone of himself when he was Robert's age. Robert stopped his drawing, staring at Burt. The room was silent. Angelika walked over to Robert, and held out her hand, motioning him to stand. Burt's hands were trembling, it felt surreal.

"Robert, this is a very special friend of mine. He is a special friend of yours too, very special."

Robert looked at Burt, his eyes methodically taking in all of the detail, drawing on the obvious similarities between the two of them.

"How special is he to me? To us?"

"He's special because he's your father, Robert. He didn't know you existed, and I thought he had died before you were born. The stories you have heard, been told since you were a small child, they are not true. Your dad saw me on TV when the border opened, and came to Berlin to find me, and he did."

"Then why didn't he come to see me?"

Burt spoke up.

"That's my fault, I did something very stupid. Your mom brought you to meet me one day, but I was in hospital. I still didn't know you existed, and in time, you'll understand why things happened that way."

Burt had stepped towards his son. His hand reached out but Robert stood prone.

"Ist er wirklich mein Vater?"

By now, Angelika was crying, which spread to father and son.

"Er war immer dein Vater und er und du habt beide so viel nachzuholen. Heute ist ein Neuanfang für uns alle."

Slowly, Robert moved toward Burt, he wrapped his arms around him as they hugged, crying unashamedly.

۞۞۞۞

Three months later, they were working through the painful process of working towards becoming US citizens. There were lots of hoops to jump through, but they paled into insignificance compared to all the pain and suffering they had gone through. They travelled out east to South Dakota, where Robbie, as he now preferred to be called, met the family he never knew existed.

Burt sent an AOL message to Patty. As soon as she received it, she called, not caring it was two in the morning back in the US. She cried when she spoke to Angelika, promising to catch up as soon as they could. Patty said she had a gift for both of them, and Burt and Angelika turned on the speakerphone.

"I'm not coming back to the States, at least not for a while. I found Alan, or at least his grave. Locals remembered him in a village we visited, he didn't survive a round of interrogation, we found a small cluster of graves, and he was one of them."

Burt spoke.

"I'm so sorry, Patty, it doesn't seem fair, I found Angel, and you..."

They heard laughing at the other end.

"Hey, I got closure, that was what this was supposed to be all about, remember? I'm glad I came out here, things have changed. I'm getting married, Mick proposed to me."

Burt and Angelika whooped at the news, congratulating her on finding love.

"Well that's not all. The Australian TV company, the producers said we have a chemistry that the audiences will love, a test screening from the series backed it up. They want us to do a documentary digging around into the disappearance of Azaria Chamberlain. Then there's talk of doing another, geared towards the American market into the disappearance of Amelia Earhart. Who would have guessed, huh?"

There was silence for a few seconds.

"Burt, you need to do the right thing. You need to bring up your son in a stable environment, with a proper father and mother who are married. And you need a home. I'm gifting you that house, I have seen pictures of Mick's place and it's beautiful. Do you understand me?"

Burt was choked up. He hugged Angelika with a tear in his eye, and a lump in his throat.

"I'll propose right this minute, if you and Mick promise to come to the wedding."

In the background, an Australian voice rang out.

"Too right, mate, we'll be there even if we've gotta swim."

Burt turned and looked at Angelika, holding back the tear.

"Angelika, will you accept my hand in marriage, make a home here with me for the three of us?"

There was silence for several seconds, Patty and Mick were holding their breath, waiting for an answer.

"Well?"

They said it in unison. Angelika broke the kiss she was giving Burt.

"Yes, yes and yes!"

Fin

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