A/N: This story contains depictions of rape and suicide. If you are not comfortable reading about these topics, you should stop here. This story is not intended to promote suicide; far from it. It simply depicts part of a storyline mentioned in my other story "Brothers in Arms".

"No one notices your tears, no one notices your sadness, no one notices your pains, but they all notice your mistakes."

Jout entered his room and found it empty. He immediately started to worry because George was supposed to meet him in there. The whole day, Brawley had teased the young sergeant and Jout had the feeling that George started to sink into depression. Therefore, he wanted to talk with him about a transfer again and had asked George to meet him in his room. After checking George's room and finding it empty too, Jout left the building and began to search for him. The first person Jout ran into on his search was Sergeant Goodwin, a tall and lean Texan with ash blonde hair who was incredible kind and always smiling.

"Hey, Sergeant Goodwin," said Jout as he approached him. "Have you by any chance seen Sergeant Kisro?"

Goodwin thought for a moment. "Kisro? I think the last time I saw him was by the workshop, Sir."

Jout thanked Goodwin for his help and made his way over to the workshop. He wondered what George was doing in the workshop since he was assigned to the armoury and most flyers never went into the workshop because they had no notion about mechanics. And George was one of them. When Jout entered the workshop, he was greeted by the same sight as before; the hall was empty. He looked around the hall and suddenly he heard muffled cries coming from the far end of it. Without thinking, Jout ran in the direction of the cries and as he looked behind one of the planes, his heart stopped beating. He was greeted by the sight of Fanbrick and Leach holding George down while Brawley was kneeling over him with his pants down. The muffled, but still audible painful cries of George were entering his ears and went right into his heart, crushing it.

"What the hell?" yelled Jout as he ran to the group and pulled Brawley off from George. Fanbrick and Leach were totally surprised by Jout's interruption and let George go. Jout pushed them in the same direction he had pushed Brawley and yelled, "You sick bastards!" Then he knelt down next to George and removed the cloth they had tied around his mouth to keep him silent. "It's me George," Jout said when he flinched at his touch. "I won't hurt you."

In the meantime, Brawley had pulled up his pants and zipped it up. "Who do you call "sick bastards"? You two are the perverts!"

Jout rose and helped George to his feet. The young sergeant hurried to put on his pants and quickly ran away. Jout called after him and tried to stop him, but George was too fast for him. Jout sighed and turned his attention back to Brawley. He would later deal with his friend. "Do you even realize what you have done? You raped him! Now who do you call a pervert?"

Brawley laughed. "Come on, Hogan. You know as well as I do that he wanted it"

Jout clenched his fist and he had to use all his strength to not beat him up. "And that's why your sidekicks had to hold him down? And as far as I recall it, you don't scream in pain if you want it." He went past Brawley to make his way out of the workshop and said, "You won't get away with that, trust me. Fanbrick's father may have covered up your blackmailing, but I won't allow that he covers up something for you monsters again."

As he passed Brawley, Brawley grabbed him by the shoulders and prevented him from walking away. "You know, because of your interruption, Fanbrick and Leach didn't have the chance to have some fun." He pushed him into Leach's arms and flashed him an evil smirk. "I think you owe them something."

Suddenly, Leach and Brawley pushed Jout to the ground while Fanbrick tried to open his belt. With all the strength he could muster, Jout kicked Fanbrick in his crotch, which made him fall on his back and exclaim some nasty cusses. Then he stroke out at Brawley and Leach, who tried to get a hold of his hands while also turning him on his back. Jout managed to hit the two multiple times in face and ribcage, which made them stumble backwards. Fanbrick was still kneeling down, his eyes pressed shut as he covered his crotch with his hands. Brawley was propping himself up on his elbow when Jout looked back at him, and Brawley gave him an evil smirk. Jout used the opportunity to rush to his feet and run out of the workshop faster than the speed of light.

As he left the workshop, he saw Goodwin again and went over to him. "Have you seen Sergeant Kisro?"

Goodwin nodded. "Ran into the direction of the armoury. Is everything alright, Lieutenant? I heard shouting coming from the workshop"

"Nothing you have to worry about, Sergeant. Thanks again for your help"

Jout quickly smiled at Goodwin and then ran towards the armoury. A million scenarios were playing in his head while he rushed across the airbase in the direction of the small building containing the few hand and machine guns the base possessed. Since they were an airbase, the only transportable guns needed were for sentry duty. When Jout reached the armoury, he pushed the door open and ran inside. George spun around, a gun pointed against his temple and tears running down his cheeks.

"Don't come any closer, Sir!" George yelled while taking a few steps back. "Or I'll shoot myself."

Jout closed the door behind himself and raised his arms. "George, please put down the gun."

"No, Sir!" George took another step back and sniffled. He rubbed with his free hand over his cheeks. "I can't live with that!"

"George, I'm unbelievable sorry for what they have done to you. But killing yourself is not the solution. They have to pay for what they did; not you," Jout said in a calm and soft voice. Seeing the flushed cheeks of the other man and how he was shaking broke his heart. And knowing that it was all because of him made Jout feel even worse.

"But they won't!" George screamed. "Just like with their blackmailing. They never have to pay for anything that they do."

Jout took a step towards George. "Not this time. I promise you; this will have consequences. I won't let them get away with having raped you."

George shook his head. "You don't understand, Sir. Killing myself is the only way out."

"That's not true, George." Another step. "Killing yourself is never the solution. Never."

"I said don't come closer!" George yelled as he removed the gun from his head and pointed it at Jout. "Or this won't end well."

Jout gazed at the shaken young man in front of him, who was the same age as him and threatened to end his life at such an early point. He sighed. "Alright, George. I promise I won't come closer. But please put the gun down so that we can talk."

George bid his bottom lip, and Jout could clearly see how the other man debated with himself. His teary blue eyes showed clearly how troubled George was. Eventually, George lowered the gun and placed it on the counter next to him.

"I'm sorry for pointing a gun at you, Sir." George lowered his gaze. "You know I would never shoot you."

Jout smiled a small smile in relief at seeing the gun out of George's hand. "I know that, George. I never feared that. But why do you think killing yourself is the solution?"

George closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around his body. Tears began to escape his eyes and slowly ran down his cheeks. "I'm…I'm so ashamed, Sir."

"Ashamed? Why that?"

"For letting them do this with me. For not having fought harder." He tightened the embrace around his body. "I feel so dirty."

Another piece of Jout's heart broke off. "George, don't you ever think you have let them do this with you. They have done this to you. Without your consent. You fought back. No one would ever think you were okay with this. I saw how you fought."

"But everyone else will think that!" George yelled. "They already bully me for suspecting that I'm gay. What do you think they will do when they hear about that?" George swallowed and closed his eyes again. "I'm better off when I kill myself now. No one will miss me."

"That's not true, George –"

"My father said it to me himself!" George interrupted him. "The day he kicked me out, he said, "I hope the next time I hear from you is if someone tells me that you killed yourself."

"But I will miss you!" This time Jout yelled too. "I have already lost Henri. Do you really want me to lose you too?"

This made George open his eyes and look at Jout in shock. "You…you will miss me, Sir?"

A small smile appeared on Jout's face. "Of course I would. You are my best friend around here. Please, George, whatever the reason that you think you have to kill yourself; I promise you, there is a better reason to stay alive."

The small flicker of hope that Jout thought he had seen in George's eyes died down. "I wish I could believe you, Sir. But for me, there is no reason to stay alive. Not a single one." He grabbed the gun and pointed it against his temple again.

"Please, George. Don't do this," Jout pleaded.

George pressed his eyes once more shut as tears streamed down his cheeks. "It's all too much, Sir. Everything I do is a mistake. I am a mistake. When my father found me kissing a boy, he beat the living daylights out of me. Then he threw me out on the street with nothing but the clothes I was wearing. That was when I was fifteen. I spent the following years partly on the street and partly in the cells of the local police station. Then I found a job at a local greengrocer, but instead of using the chance, I throw it away when I stole something to eat. I knew that was stupid, but what I was earning was just not enough. Then the war came along and I got drafted. I thought that was my chance to work myself up, to show the officers that I was worthy. And where am I now? All the officers would rather spit on me than trust me. And now Brawley." He sniffled. "Thank you for believing in me, Sir. For trying to help me and for not judging me. And I'm sorry for disappointing you, but I can't do this any longer."

Jout rushed forward but did not reach George in time. There was a gun shot ringing through the air, and the sound of a body dropping to the ground. For a short moment, Jout was frozen to the spot, watching how the pool of blood next to George's head grew bigger and bigger. When his initial shock faded, Jout knelt down next to George's dead body. He lowered his head as he gently placed a hand on the young man's shoulder. Tears were welling up in him, a mixture of anger and guilt washing through him.

"I'm so sorry, George," Jout finally mumbled. "It's my fault that Brawley went after you. I hope that one day, you can forgive me."

If you suffer from depression, suicidal thoughts, or simply feel the need to talk to someone, please reach out to a person close to you. If you feel not comfortable talking with someone you know, you can also call specific hotlines. You find the numbers that apply to your specific country in the internet. Don't think that you have to go through your problems alone; there is always someone willing to listen and to help to you. I know that sometimes, the hardest thing in the world is to ask for help, but in the end, it's the bravest thing you can do.