Most of Western Europe. Some countries were neutral—Switzerland, Spain, Sweden, Ireland, a few others. The Soviet Union pushed the Nazis back eventually, as well.
What we call the Holocaust, now—that started in 1941. The camps began as prisons for political opponents, and weren't heavily used until the late thirties.
[There's a slight pause, and then:]
The camps you're thinking of, where people were killed on a massive scale... those were largely implemented at the beginning of the war.
[But he starts off with a few pointed questions, not shying away from the worst of it and sharply encouraging her not to, either. He'd meant what he'd said earlier. He's done imagining what the worst of the worst might be. He wants to know the truth.]
[Natasha doesn't shy away from it. He deserves honesty, and she goes into detail where he asks. It's awful, of course, and hard to talk about, but she tells him the truth.
It takes a while, too. She feels like she's talking forever, but when they're finally a lull and his questions slow down, she exhales.]
[It's gotten progressively harder to keep his voice even, and he's very aware of Fiona next to him. Her presence is a huge comfort, but he can't help but wonder if she's regretting the offer to stay now.]
I expect this conversation not to come up again. Understood?
The Soviets liberated quite a few of the camps, as did the Americans and the British. I know it doesn't change anything, but it might be worth something.
[He grunts. He hangs up, and sets the tablet aside. He threads his fingers through Fiona's hair, leans his head back against the wall behind him, and closes his eyes.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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[He stiffens up on his end.]
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[There's a slight pause, and then:]
The camps you're thinking of, where people were killed on a massive scale... those were largely implemented at the beginning of the war.
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Yeah.
Anything else you think I'd want to know?
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[He's in charge of this conversation, as far as she's concerned.]
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[But he starts off with a few pointed questions, not shying away from the worst of it and sharply encouraging her not to, either. He'd meant what he'd said earlier. He's done imagining what the worst of the worst might be. He wants to know the truth.]
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It takes a while, too. She feels like she's talking forever, but when they're finally a lull and his questions slow down, she exhales.]
Is there anything else I can tell you?
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[It's gotten progressively harder to keep his voice even, and he's very aware of Fiona next to him. Her presence is a huge comfort, but he can't help but wonder if she's regretting the offer to stay now.]
I expect this conversation not to come up again. Understood?
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[She pauses.]
The Soviets liberated quite a few of the camps, as did the Americans and the British. I know it doesn't change anything, but it might be worth something.
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[It's not much compared to the deaths, but.]
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Yeah.
That's all, then.
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[He grunts. He hangs up, and sets the tablet aside. He threads his fingers through Fiona's hair, leans his head back against the wall behind him, and closes his eyes.]