Benjamin led me towards the British bomber planes sitting in the grass on the edge of the camp, keeping me steady as we walked.
"Where did you get these clothes?" he asked softly, gesturing to the remnants of the German flight uniform I was wearing.
I shook my head. "You don't want to know."
"I do."
"Well, I don't want to tell you."
He stopped walking, taking me by the shoulders and looking me in the eye. "Louisa, what's going on? How can I help you if you don't talk to me?"
"I don't need help."
"Well, somehow that's hard for me to believe, Lou! Look at you!"
"You don't understand," I snapped back, taking a step away from him.
"Help me understand! I want to understand!"
At this point, I was taking long steps back and he was pursuing me, trying in vain to take my gaunt hand in his.
"Just tell me what you're feeling," he said desperately.
"I just need to be alone."
"I can't just sit by and do nothing while you're suffering so much!" he argued.
I scoffed. "Well you seemed to do fine sitting by and doing nothing for the past two months."
He froze, the hurt evident on his face. I regretted the words as soon as I said them. I didn't mean it, I wanted to scream, but I was out of breath.
"I—I haven't even slept, darling," he stammered, barely able to hold back his tears, "I've spent a total of three nights in Marseille since you were arrested; the rest of it spent camping out—no—hiding out in search of you. Because, well, because I love you, Louisa."
In an expression of frustration and desperation, I shoved Benjamin with what little strength I had, barely even moving him.
     He let me push him, looking deep into my eyes with compassion and taking my arms in his gentle hands. I couldn't stop the tears from falling, collapsing into his chest in weakness.
How could I have been so terrible to him? It was Benjamin, for heaven's sake! The man whose name I had whispered to myself every night as I fell asleep, the only hope I had left. The man whose photograph I hid from the soldiers, the necklace burning painfully into my throat during every experiment.
And now he was here, and I had been cruel—as though I didn't want to see him. What was wrong with me?
"I'm sorry."
"I'm sorry too, my love."
"I think I need help."
"I know," he whispered, tears of his own running down his tired face, "and you'll get it soon."
"I can barely breathe."
He nodded, putting a hand around my waist and pointing to one of the bomber planes. "I have a place where you can rest. Are you hungry?"
I shook my head.
"Alright, forget I ever asked the question," he said softly, "You need something to eat."
Benjamin produced a small RAF ration of bread and cold meat from his pants pocket, unwrapping it while we walked.
I devoured it. My previous aversion to mystery-meat had no place in an internment camp, and I smiled a little at the buttery taste of the hard biscuit.
Just as I took the last bite, I felt it burn in my stomach. Falling to my knees in the grass, I vomited it all back up, coughing and spitting as Benjamin sighed.
"I'm sorry," I panted, standing back up weakly and wiping my mouth, "I just wasted your ration."
He smiled a little. "Don't worry about it. I wasn't going to eat it anyway. It'll take some getting used to eating again."
I nodded. "I guess I ate too fast."
"Your stomach is empty."
"I usually eat every other day but the past few days have been a little different."
     "Every other day," he gasped almost silently as if to force himself to believe it, putting a hand to his forehead and running his fingers through his hair.
He began to pull out his canteen but I held up a hand. "It's alright. I've had enough water recently to last me a lifetime." I didn't tell him that I drank it from an indoor tank that almost killed me; that story would have to come a little later.
"Is it the experimentation? Is that the problem?" he asked timidly, helping me up the tight ramp under the bomber.
     "What do you mean?"
     "I want to know what is bothering you. You seem different."
"I am different, Ben. I've seen things. I've treated you horribly since you got here, and you're just trying to be nice. I'm Hitler's own personal science fair project. Every time I find a friend in this place, they're killed. I haven't slept in days. I'm alone."
Ben removed his leather jacket and placed it gently on the floor of the plane, right beside a hanging row of un-discharged bombs.
"How can I help you feel less alone?" he asked.
I was glad he didn't argue that I wasn't alone anymore because he was here. I was alone in what I had experienced, and Benjamin's presence here would not change that fact, no matter how much I loved him.
"Just be patient with me," I said softly as he took the black Nazi jacket from around my waist, rolling it up as a pillow, "and don't leave."
He nodded. "I won't leave. Not ever. Just rest for a while; I'll be here the whole time. I'm sorry it's not very comfortable."
     "It's alright," I said in a voice below a whisper, "I feel like I'm on a cloud."
     He chuckled. "I'll get you some medicine for your fever when you wake up, but I bet the worst of it will go away just with sleep," he said, taking a seat beside me and leaning back against the bomb rack with a sigh. 
     "Thank you."
     "Here," Benjamin said, "let me bandage your hands."
     "They don't hurt."
     "That's because your body is pumping an unbelievable amount of adrenaline right now. It'll hurt when you wake up."
     I relented, allowing him to take my hands in his.
     "That place in there," he breathed, as though speaking too loud would send us back into the building, "That was terrifying."
     I was silent.
     "That was your cell, wasn't it? The one between Jeanne and Lucas?"
     Looking up at him, I nodded as I blinked back tears.
     "Why did they choose you?"
     "I don't know," I said, "I guess because I was an American."
     He began playing with his fingernails anxiously, trying to avoid looking at me. "And what they did to Jeanne—they did that to you too, didn't they?"
     I just nodded. "A few times."
     His face turned with a look of brokenness and understanding.
"Oh, gosh, Louisa," he whispered, putting his head in his hands.
     He looked back up at me a moment later, realization in his eyes. "Are you," he stammered, "unable to have children?"
     "I don't know."
     Tears streamed down my face, my body shaking from the sobs.
     He pulled me up into his arms, letting me cry into his chest as sobs of his own stuttered his breathing.
     "I'm sorry, Benjamin," I cried, "I should have let us try to have a child when I was home for a few months. We should have stayed home."
     "Hey, hey, hey," he said comfortingly, "don't think like that."
     "I was just so focused, you know? I was too focused on having a career; focused on beating everyone else and proving that I was capable of my job. I thought we would have time after we got home and the war ended."
     "We don't know yet, Louisa. We don't know yet."
     "I haven't—you know—bled since I got here," I said softly, "but neither has anyone else, I don't think. Does that mean I can't have children?"
     He shook his head, gently rocking me back and forth on the floor of the plane. "No, that doesn't mean anything. It's just a symptom of starvation and stress, my love, I've seen patients with similar problems. It's going to be okay."
     I sniffled quietly, lying my head in his lap and letting him squeeze my hand. "I've heard of men divorcing their wives when they find out they can't have children—"
     "I'm going to stop you right there, Louisa. I'm not divorcing you. I didn't marry you for children; I married you for you."
     He leaned down and kissed me gingerly, wiping away my tears with his thumb.
     "Sleep, okay? Just sleep."
     "I don't think I'll be able to."
     "Just try."
     "I'm sorry for how I spoke to you today," I said as I closed my eyes.
     "It's okay. Just go to sleep."

     "Hey, Dutch," I heard Benjamin whisper above me as my eyes fluttered open, groaning in pain, "How do you feel?"
     "Worse," I grunted, trying to stretch as I laid across his lap. Crickets screamed in the darkness, the light of a kerosene lantern flickering as rain drizzled just outside the plane door.
    "I expected that," he said softly, "but I got you some medicine."
     He tipped my head forward, putting a cup of brown liquid to my lips. I pulled away instinctively at the smell, coughing and grimacing as it exacerbated my headache.
     "It smells horrible," I cried.
     "It tastes even worse."
     I rolled my eyes and swallowed it quickly, grimacing.
     My palms were bandaged tightly, and I looked at Ben with a smile. He was right; the pain was unbearable now. "How long have I been asleep?"
     Benjamin checked his watch. "About three hours."
     "You haven't missed much," I heard someone say from behind me.
     I turned to find six of the British soldiers sitting against the opposite wall of the plane, including the Wing Commander.
     "Oh," I said, trying to sit up, "I didn't notice you all there."
     "I don't believe I properly introduced myself," the Wing Commander adjusted his position on the floor, "My name is Guy Gibson. It's a pleasure to finally meet you in person, Ma'am."
     "I'm sorry you have to meet me like this. I haven't exactly been my best self today." I looked up at Benjamin with a small laugh, and he took my hand.
"Do we have the camp in Allied control now?"
Gibson nodded solemnly. "We lost four men in the bomb shelter raid, but everything is taken care of. More troops should be here by dawn to help us effectively liberate the rest of the city, but we're doing our best with the few medical personnel we have on site for now."
"Is that where everyone is?" I asked as I adjusted my legs.
"There's a line that winds all the way through the camp," one of them said, "and they're just trying to give everyone food and water as quickly as possible before giving them a blanket to lay on. There's nowhere near enough people or supplies; we expected this to be a simple bombing operation. But we set up Major Tallmadge's tent for you two—that way you don't have to keep spending the night in the plane."
I nodded gratefully. I was glad they were bringing in more troops and helping us get comfortable, but I was anxious to leave this place. At the current rate, it might be weeks before Benjamin was permitted to leave.
"Oh," Benjamin said abruptly, "I gotta show you this, Lou." He reached behind to retrieve a small handkerchief, opening it up to reveal an enormous louse.
I looked up at him in amusement, unable to keep myself from laughing at his childlike excitement.
"You got this from my head?"
"Yeah. Isn't it giant?" he turned to the soldiers, saying, "Anyone have a dime on them?"
The men chuckled. "We're not American, Tallmadge. You're the only one that would have any dimes."
I rolled my eyes weakly.
"Oh, you're right," he said, unfazed, "Well, either way, this thing is as big as a dime!"
I didn't tell him I had eaten ones even bigger than that.
"I tried to get all the lice from your head, but there were more than I first imagined. It'll take a little while, I think."
I nodded. "I'm in no rush; I'm used to them by now. Here—help me sit up," I said to Benjamin, taking his hand and putting my elbow on his thigh to hoist myself up.
"Oh, bloody Nora, Lou!" Benjamin exclaimed, wincing as I put weight on his leg.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" I said rapidly, trying to fight through the pain enough to fully sit up. It was useless.
I collapsed back on his lap, holding my ribs in pain.
"All that and you couldn't even get up?" Benjamin said with a small laugh of exasperation, "What's wrong?"
"I'm fine," I gasped, "It's an old wound. I'm fine."
"Let me feel it."
"It's nothing, Ben; I promise. I got it the first week I was here; it's just sore."
He moved me from his lap to the floor and pressed firmly against my left side in various places, saying, "Tell me when it hurts."
At one spot in the middle of my ribs, I cried out when he pressed down, frantically grabbing his hands to get him to stop.
"That's the spot?"
I nodded, unable to even breathe properly. "I've never felt it hurt like that before. What did you do?" I exclaimed, glancing down to make sure I wasn't bleeding or swelling.
He held up both hands defensively. "I just touched it, darling! What happened?"
"I was kicked," I muttered, trying not to draw the attention from the other soldiers. I didn't want a pity party.
"Is it bruised?"
I shrugged. "I haven't looked in a while."
He narrowed his eyes with suspicion, wondering how I could go two months with this pain without even checking on it. The fact was, I was simply too tired any time I got the chance. I was either in the experimentation building or sleeping.
The soldiers took it as their cue to leave, even though I tried to argue, and Benjamin began to examine the spot.
"Wow."
"Is it bad?"
"The rib is definitely broken, Lou. It's badly bruised. I don't know how you've even been able to breathe correctly with this. Does it hurt to breathe?"
I took a deep breath as if to check for myself, saying, "I guess...but just a little."
Ben sighed, sitting back on his heels. "There's nothing I can do here, but when we get out of this place, I'll help you get that healed."
"That's fine. Can we take a walk? I can't just lay here all night."
He leaned forward to feel my forehead, raising his eyebrows in surprise. "Your fever is breaking, actually. I guess it was just a virus."
I shook my head, knowing he should know the truth. "It was an injection, love. Not a virus."
"You mean they raised your body temperature to a deadly degree on purpose?"
"Yeah. It was a test to see if it would help German pilots survive longer in freezing cold water. If you all hadn't begun bombing, I would have died."
I could tell he was stunned. "That's where you got the uniform," he breathed, "They put you in water, didn't they? And did it help?"
"It seemed to. The other test subject died without the injection."
It seemed as though the reality of my close-call with death hit him suddenly, and I could see the look in his eyes. "I almost lost you." The statement was more like a question.
"I guess," I said quietly, wishing he knew all the hundreds of other times he 'almost lost me' in the past few months, "Now, are we gonna walk, or just sit here?"
He helped me to my feet, putting an arm around my waist to steady me as I reeled from a sudden, splitting headache.
The camp was sullen and still in the middle of the night, candles and a few electric lights dotting the soldiers' camp behind us. Where the prisoners were lined up, there was complete darkness.
The air was alive with restless cries of starving young children, a few scattered laughs that seemed quite out of place, and the sounds of thousands of people assuring their loved ones and friends that they would get help soon. It was obvious that they would not get help any time soon.
The medical tent was just a simple canvas cloth held up by a few wooden poles. The collective efforts of British doctors and a few healthy prisoners with a medical background were enough to keep the line moving at a painstakingly slow speed. There were a few bodies that had been discarded alongside the line.
"This is awful," Benjamin breathed, the humid August wind whipping his hair from beneath his officer's hat.
"Anne-Laure!" I heard someone call, turning to find the face. Francis jogged up to us, putting his hands on his head as he tried to catch his breath.
"Francis," I said in surprise, "I was wondering what happened to you all. Is George alright? And how is Adrienne?"
"That's the thing. We need help."
Ben and I followed him into the line, finding George and Adrienne lying beside each other on their backs.
I could tell Colonel Armstrong recognized Benjamin, and they exchanged a quick glance of acknowledgement. "She's having the baby," the Colonel told us, "and I don't think she'll make it until we reach the front of the line."
"And George?"
"I'm fine," he croaked from his position on the ground, "Don't worry about me."
"Alright," Benjamin said, scooping Adrienne up in his arms, "everyone follow me."
     He marched to the front of the line, approaching the man guarding the entrance with determination.
     "She's having a baby," I said, "Please give her a bed."
     The British man shook his head. "I'm sorry; she'll have to wait in line like everyone else."
     Benjamin looked at him with indignation, stepping forward. "Did you not hear what she said? This baby won't wait."
     "And neither will the rest of the injuries here, sir."
     "Do you know who I am?" Benjamin exclaimed, his anger beginning to boil. I put a discreet hand on his forearm to remind him to be calm.
     "You're an American, sir, but it doesn't matter."
     Adrienne cried out, and I stepped up to interrupt Benjamin from saying something about his identity that he'd regret. "She's having this baby now."
     "And hundreds of others are bleeding to death now," he countered in a condescending tone.
     Benjamin and I exchanged a glance.
     "What now?"
     "To my tent. Come on, everyone."
     Colonel Armstrong and Francis carried George behind me, following us into the British encampment.
     "Who are you?" Francis asked Benjamin respectfully, stumbling to keep up with him.
     "He's my husband," I interjected, "Major General Tallmadge."
     A look of surprise came over his face, and he narrowed his eyes at me. "Your name isn't Anne-Laure, is it?"
     I shook my head as we ran. "I'm sorry. I was trying to keep my identity a secret for as long as possible."
     Ben turned around with a smug grin on his face, saying, "Because she's famous."
     I punched him gently in the arm.
     Just as we passed one of the barbed wire gates, I jumped at the sound of banging on the other side. The British soldiers let the group in, and Benjamin said, "It's the French Resistance."
     "That's just what this camp needs," I said to Ben, "More zealots."
     We both chuckled, thinking of Gaston Deffere.
     When we reached Benjamin's officer's tent, I hurried laid blankets down onto the dusty ground for her to lay on.
"Gentlemen," Benjamin said to Colonel Armstrong and Francis, "I need as much water you can give me. And more blankets, if you can find some."
They set George down on the outside of the tent so that he was out of the way, and hurried off to find the supplies.
"You've never delivered a baby before, have you?"
He sighed, shaking his head. "You probably know more than I do, darling. Have you ever seen a birth before?"
I scoffed. "Yeah, when I was six years old."
"Well," Benjamin said softly, "With our combined knowledge we ought to amount to the level of a partially inept midwife, right?"
"Right."
"Let's get to work."

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