It goes well, but they do not find Fischer.

Jäger leans against the door to open it. He almost trips inside. There’s a girl inside, perhaps only 18 stocking on some of the shelves.

She meets Graeber’s gaze and frowns. Her eyes don’t match her appearance. Too old for someone who otherwise looks young.

Otto shouts at her, and she drops a bottle. Otto curses while Jäger continues to cough. “Calm down, Otto. She’s just a girl.”

“Fucking subhuman more like,” Otto goes over and slaps her, now yelling in Russian. Jäger shouts at Otto, but the girl crumbles to the floor in tears, pleading something in her native tongue.

The Germans move along. Graeber moves less awkwardly than Jäger as he recovers from his fit as grabs Otto. “God damnit!” He snaps, yanking Otto. “We can’t hit these people, Otto!”

Otto pulls away from Jäger and jabs a finger at the girl. “She’s a whore! No better than the sluts that sold themselves to the Jews in Berlin!”

“Stop it,” Jäger commands, regarding the crying girl on the floor. “We need to build a relationship out of these people if we want them to help us find Fischer!”

“That bitch probably killed him!” Otto snaps, motioning towards his Walther. “These people will understand ****!”

Jäger grabs his wrist. “It isn’t the Wehrmacht's job to do things like this.”

Otto glares at Jäger. “Nacht und Nabel,” he answers flatly.

Jäger darts his eyes at Graeber, who had instinctively put himself in a lower ready position. His MP43 pointed downward, his eyes over the girl and the space behind the counter. Jäger decides to go back but tells Graeber to stay behind to clean up.

“Why?” Graeber protests.

“Because everyone here knows who we are, but they don’t know you,” Jäger looks like he thinks when he pauses but ultimately continues. “This is the first time you’ve been down here, so if there’s anyone here willing to do any harm.”

Graeber shakes his head. “You’re kidding me, right? One look at my uniform and they'll strangle me.”

Jäger regards Otto, who is eyeing the girl on the floor. “Then I’ll come back for you. Just stay in here, so I know where to find you.”

“What is this?” Otto complains. “Let’s just torch this fucking place. We’ll find Fischer quicker that way.”

“You be quiet,” Jäger coughs. “Fuck it. I’m reporting you to Jürgen. Graeber sit tight. I’ll be back.”

“Why do I need to stay here?” Graeber almost follows Jäger, but he’s stopped.

“Help the girl,” Jäger says. “We don’t want any remaining people to see her in a mess.”

Graeber stares at the Russian girl and then out the window, where he sees Otto and Jäger rushing back to where they first met.

The Russian gets up, sniffing hard to regain some of her appearances. However, her nose is still red, and her eyes are glossy with tears.

“Get up,” he tells her, flipping the sign on the door to what he assumes says “closed” before walking over to her. “Get up, I said.”

The girl, at first, refuses to listen to him, but Graeber closes his eyes and exhales, realizing that being brutal to her probably isn’t going to help any. So instead, he kneels to meet her eyes. “Sprichst du Deutsch?”

She frantically shakes her head. So he follows up. “English then?” She does the same.

Graeber looks over the counter. “Nach oben,” he says, pulling on her. She’s nothing but a limp toddler. “Nach oben!” He shouts, finally forcing her to stand.

“Where do you live?” He asks. “Where do you—“

Her big brown eyes are wide with terror. “Relax,” he tells her. “Peace. No harm. Good guy.” He gestures to himself. “I won’t hit you.”

Graeber then notices her cheek where Otto had struck her. He frowns, and his voice softens. “I won’t hurt you.”

The tension in the girl’s body lessens, and she nods. “Name?” She asks with a voice infected with a deep accent.

“I am Sofia,” she says, her index finger pointing at her chest. “You are?”

“Samson,” Graeber says, figuring his “Jew name” will gain more favor with her.

“Sam,” she smiles, and her fingers leave the fabric of her long blue dress. “The others, why do they hurt my people?”

He didn’t have an answer. These last few weeks have encouraged more hate against the civilians than he had ever felt. In some ways, he hated the people more than the soldiers. Otto had no right to smack Sofia, but partisan activity had a role in his reasoning, no doubt.

By this point, there wasn’t a person in the occupied state that didn’t have something against the axis, and there wasn’t a person in the axis that didn’t have something against the people in the occupied state.

“We have our reasons. We all do,” he manages. She stares at him, trying to translate the words. “Vergiss es.”

She nods, though she doesn’t know why. “Where do you sleep?”

Sofia stares, sucking in the corner of her lower lips. Graeber charades the act of sleeping. Sofia blinks and smiles slightly. She points down. “Here,” she says. “I sleep here.”

“Where?” He asks.

She looks back wearily. Graeber follows her gaze and grabs her, forcing her forward to what he assumes is her room. A staircase connects the store. “Go,” Graeber says.

“Why?” There’s some panic in her voice, but Graeber makes sure he doesn’t entice her to bolt or do something drastic.

“I’m hiding you from the others,” he says. They look at each other, and he realizes she doesn’t understand. “You. Hide. Don’t get hurt.”

“Stay,” she says. “Stay here. You.”

“No,” he says, now growing suspicious of her. “Trust me.”

Sofia frowns. “Please stay. I’ll go.”

“Is there someone else here?”

Her brows knit.

Graeber sighs. “More. You. Upstairs?”

She shakes her head, her smile being crooked and ****. “No. No more. Just me.”

Graeber pinches his nose and pushes her back gently, getting his rifle out. “Go up.”

“Stay here,” she pleads. “Please stay here.”

“I can’t,” he says. “I have to know if I’m safe.”

“Safe down here,” she blinks, her cheeks flushing. “Sam, please.”

Graeber points his **** rifle at the girl. “Sofia. I won’t hurt you unless you give me a reason to.”

She stares at his gun and then at him. “Fine.”

The duo climbs the stairs, the silence unnatural and surrounding. The creaking promotes the unknown, and the dim lights invite fear, denying faith and security.

Sofia reaches for the doorknob and starts to twist, but Graeber grabs her wrist. “Slowly,” he tells her before letting go.

Sofia sucks in on her lips and does as she is told. She pushes the door open and flicks on a light, disappearing as she steps inside.