Finally, away from the war. Finally, in the Americas. Finally, together. You and Florian bought an old farmhouse on a large chunk of land; a good mile away from the outside world.

You got a dog, a German shepherd. Ironic. You finally had a good life, full of laughs, smiles, rough but delicate love.

But that didn't mean the past didn't haunt you. Emilia dying after saving both of you from the sinking Wilhelm Gustloff. Ingrid falling through the frozen lake, trying to help everyone cross. The shoe poet sacrificing himself for Klaus. Not to mention, all the other horrors of running from the Russians.

Florian buried his guilt deep inside, but not completely. Nightmares plagued him, shadows and small noises kept him on high alert. He wouldn't let the world hurt him again, hurt you again.

He was on the porch, looking out at the grey sky and the dog playing in the yard. He had a cigarette in his hand and a lot on his mind.