Slow Fade

Summary: My take on what happened between LeBeau and his ex that would provoke the comment, "That's how I got married; volunteered the same way." One shot song fic. Warning: doesn't end happily and has some Holocaust references. Also, some OOC on LeBeau's part. Inspired by the movie Fireproof.

Disclaimer: Bing Crosby & co. own the characters (except Henri and Joelle), and Casting Crowns owns the song. I own nothing, nothiiiing! Except Henri and Joelle.

Be careful little eyes what you see
It's the second glance that ties your hands as darkness pulls the strings
Be careful little feet where you go
For it's the little feet behind you that are sure to follow

Louis LeBeau let his eyes and mind wander as he sat at his favorite table outside his favorite bistro. There were a lot of beautiful girls to watch. Never mind that he was taken. It wasn't official yet, anyway. He was merely engaged. A bachelor enjoying his last week of freedom before tying the knot with a girl to whom he'd been pressed to propose.

With Louis was his youngest nephew, five-year-old Henri. The little boy idolized Louis, his favorite uncle. He chattered on and on about how excited he was for the upcoming wedding. "Oncle, when you and Joelle are married, you will have children, and I will have more cousins to play with!"

Louis smiled at his little nephew. "Oui, Henri, there will be more cousins for you to play with. But I don't think we will have children right away."

"Why not?" Henri pouted. "I thought everyone in our family had children right when they got married. Like Oncle Jacques."

Louis had to laugh at this. Jacques was older than Henri's father, who in turn was only a few years older than Louis, but like Louis, the youngest of the LeBeau clan, Jacques had held out on getting married until about a year before Henri was born. Jeanette, the cousin closest in age to Henri, came along scarcely nine months later. As far as Henri was concerned, Jeanette and his other cousins had simply sprung into being upon the exchanging of vows between their parents. But what could Louis expect his nephew to believe? In their community it was common for couples to have their first child within a year after being wed. Another oddity was the fact that neither Jeanette nor Henri had any siblings, despite being born to parents who had come from large families themselves. Henri's anxiousness to have a cousin younger than himself to play with was thus understandable.

"I'll tell you what, Henri. When Joelle and I are ready to have children, you will be the first one we tell."

This seemed to satisfy Henri. He began to chatter about the upcoming wedding again, while his uncle went back to watching the women who passed the bistro. Whenever the waitress came by, Louis would flirt with her. This did not escape the attention of Henri.

"She's as pretty as Joelle," the little boy stated.

For a moment, Louis felt a twinge of guilt. He glanced back at Henri. "Huh? Oh, her? Non, no woman is as pretty as Joelle," he assured.

Henri just grinned up at the uncle he loved so much. "Oncle Louis, someday I want to be just like you!"

Louis smiled and ruffled the little boy's hair.

It's a slow fade when you give yourself away
It's a slow fade when black and white have turned to gray
Thoughts invade, choices are made, a price will be paid
When you give yourself away
People never crumble in a day
It's a slow fade, it's a slow fade

Months passed, and Louis and Joelle settled into the routine of their married life—a cycle of arguments followed by making up, and arguing again the next day. Louis' wandering eyes on their dates hadn't escaped Joelle's notice, and she let him know she disapproved in no uncertain terms. We're French; what can you expect? Louis thought. He never dared to say this out loud, however.

The couple's wedding had been a strange mix of Orthodox, conservative, and cultural traditions and styles. Louis himself secretly cared little about his family's heritage or faith, except when confronted by a bigoted shopkeeper or neighbor. But Joelle's family was largely Orthodox, and her conservative parents were still quite religious. Louis' predominately conservative family was close to Joelle's, and both had been overjoyed to hear about their children's plans to marry (even though they had more than had a hand in pushing for the arrangement). But in their present situation, neither Joelle nor Louis seemed happy.

"Why must I be expected to go by all these rules your parents set on me? This is my house, my life!"

"It's not just my parents, Louis, and you know it! Even when we have our own family we are still commanded to honor our parents. And that's another thing; it's not your life, it's our life! I'm part of this too, you know!"

"Oui, our life! Not your parents, not my parents, but us!"

"There can be no 'us' when you pay more attention to other women than you do to me!"

"I pay plenty of attention to you! You're the only girl in my life, and I don't care for your accusation that it could be any different!"

"Oh? Then what about that girl in Bordeaux?"

Louis froze. How did she find out about Paulette?

As if she read his mind, Joelle continued. "My sister saw you there recently. You told me you were going to see your friend Claude in Strausberg. What were you really doing, Louis?"

Louis was mad now. Whether it was at Joelle for her pinpoint accusation, or himself for being caught, he didn't know. He glowered at his wife. "I don't need you or your sister playing watch dog over me! What I do on my trips is my business, not yours! For all you know, I could be out doing something for the greater good of France! There's a war coming, you know! So don't question me!"

Joelle looked aghast. "'Doing something for the greater good of France?' Even if I believed you for one second, Louis, don't you forget that I am your wife, and I am the greatest 'good' you are ever going to get! What you are doing in Bordeaux, and He-knows-where"(at this, she pointed upward) "goes completely against everything the scriptures teach! You have no respect for the old laws!"

Louis swore. Joelle jumped back as her husband shot a look of rage at her. She knew he was short-tempered, but she'd never seen him so angry.

"You know what, you're right! I don't care! I haven't cared in a long time!" He was in her face now. "I've never cared about your parents' beliefs, or your grandparents, or any of them! This is who I am, and they can take it or leave it! And that goes for you! You're not to question me! By your own laws, I'm the one in charge here, not you! And I say you just worry about how you live, and I'll worry about how I live! You're not going to change me, Joelle! Get used to it!"

Joelle sank down against the wall, sobbing. This was not her husband. She had no idea who he was, but it wasn't the generally good-natured, amusing, easily-frustrated, easily-placated Louis LeBeau she thought she had fallen in love with. "I want out," she whimpered.

"I never wanted in in the first place," Louis retorted before turning on his heel and storming out the door, leaving his wife hunched up against the wall, tears streaming down her face.

Be careful little ears what you hear
When flattery leads to compromise, the end is always near
Be careful little lips what you say
For empty words and promises lead broken hearts astray

Louis sat reading and rereading the letter he'd received from a girl he'd met a few weeks before his last fight with Joelle. His friend Claude teased him about the girl, saying she was "young enough to be your daughter."

Louis raised an eyebrow at his friend. "I'm only 34. This girl is 21. Well, almost."

Claude chuckled. "That still makes her 13 years younger than you, mon ami. You had your bar mitzfa a full year before she was born."

"The same year she was born," Louis corrected him. "A bar mitzfa takes place at age 13, not 12."

Claude waved him off. "So I am wrong. What big deal is that?" He sat back. "So, what brings you to Strausberg? It cannot be my radios. More trouble with Joelle?"

Louis sighed. "We had another fight. She says she wants a divorce."

"Well, do you?"

Louis lowered his gaze so as not to look his friend in the eye. "I told her I never wanted to marry her in the first place. I don't like being tied down. She can be so controlling!"

"So why have you not left yet?" Claude pressed. "There are plenty of girls out there. That letter in your hand proves it. Do your laws forbid divorce?"

"Non. Actually tradition holds that men can divorce their wives over something as minor as burning their supper."

Claude laughed. "In that case, it's a good thing I am not Jewish. I would have divorced Annette dozens of times by now!" When he noticed Louis' look of disdain, Claude quickly turned his laugh into a cough.

"The truth is, both her parents and mine pushed for this arrangement. I'm just glad my parents aren't Orthodox. I would be even more trapped than I am now." As soon as he said it, Louis wished he'd found a better word than "trapped," but for the moment, it seemed to fit. "My father, before he died last year...one of the last things he said to me was that he was so proud of me for finally settling down, and that I had the greatest thing in the world with Joelle. Part of me doesn't want to disappoint him, even though I'm not...religious, like he was. Another part of me is afraid of her parents, what they might say. But now that she wants out, I guess I have nothing to worry about there."

Claude said nothing for a while, wondering what it would be like if he and his wife were in the same situation. Finally he said, "What ever happens, Louis, bonne chance. And I'll be here, mon ami."

Louis smiled weakly.

The journey from your mind to your hands
Is shorter than you're thinking
Be careful if you think you stand
You just might be sinking

Over the next few weeks, Louis tried to control his thoughts and actions. He didn't flirt with the waitresses at the bistro or the bars. He stopped answering letters from various girls. He avoided glancing at magazines when he ran errands with Joelle. But the path to avoid temptation is a narrow one indeed, and often times leads right back to that which we try to avoid. This was something Louis found out one night on his way home from work.

He had just stopped off at the bar for a quick drink. Some of the men in the bar noticed him and either greeted him with a shout or began to call him all the names he and his siblings had long ago grown accustomed to. These jibes were answered by his various friends. Louis smiled to himself. He wondered how long it would last, however. War was coming. Rumor had it that Germany was planning to invade neighboring countries, and that could include France. Men in France were subject to the draft, and Louis found himself almost hoping that he would be included in the call to arms. It would at the very least take him away from his problems at home. Out of twelve children, he was the only one without any kids of his own, and thus there was little he would leave behind.

The door to the bar opened, and almost immediately wolf whistles and cat calls rang out. Louis looked up to see whatever young woman had obviously walked in. He was startled to recognize her.

"Paulette!"

The young woman sat down beside him. "I was told I'd find you here. You have not gone home yet?"

Louis mind flashed ahead to what Joelle would think if she found out. Surely there was no harm in talking to his "friend." Joelle would understand. "Non. I always come here after work. What brings you to Paris?"

"Visiting family. And friends. I have a sister who is getting married tomorrow."

Louis gave her a playful grin. "A sister? How come you never told me this?"

Paulette punched him lightly on the shoulder. "You know better, you naughty boy."

Louis' grin faltered. "Well, I am trying to be good for Joelle."

Paulette was silent for a moment. "Monsieur LeBeau, would you walk me to my hotel? The streets of Paris can be so dangerous at night."

Louis shrugged. Doing one little favor out of common courtesy couldn't hurt. He agreed and pulled on his jacket, then escorted Paulette back to her hotel.

He didn't return home until nearly dawn the next morning.

It's a slow fade when you give yourself away
It's a slow fade when black and white have turned to gray
Thoughts invade, choices are made, a price will be paid
When you give yourself away
People never crumble in a day
Daddies never crumble in a day
Families never crumble in a day

Joelle never forgave him when she found out what had happened with Paulette. She retreated to her parents' house after another shouting match with Louis. A few weeks later, the divorce was made final, and Louis took off for Strausberg to celebrate with Claude. Somehow he managed to numb himself to the whole situation, returning to the ladies' man status he'd enjoyed before the war, much to the chagrin of his mother and siblings. Henri was especially disappointed to learn that he would never get any cousins out of his favorite uncle.

In 1940, Louis LeBeau was drafted. He used his paternal grandfather's name to hide the fact that he was Jewish, at the insistence of his mother. He quickly achieved the status of corporal, before being shot down with his Lieutenant and taken to Gestapo headquarters in Hammelburg, Germany. From there he was transferred to Stalag 13, where he befriended two men who seemed to understand his love for the ladies completely. One proved to be even more obsessed with girls than Louis had been accused of being. Thus a friendly rivalry was begun between them whenever they had the opportunity to meet local frauleins.

He never heard from Joelle or her family again. They disappeared during the occupation.

Oh be careful little eyes what see
Oh be careful little eyes what you see
For the Father up above is looking down in love
Oh be careful little eyes what you see

…......

This idea has been running through my head ever since I first heard LeBeau mention that he was married. Since he's portrayed as being single throughout the rest of the series, I thought I should explore his past relationships. I tried to keep him in character here, but if he's not, please attribute it to mixed feelings on LeBeau's part. That and none of us like to be accused of doing what we're really doing. Besides, this idea made a great song fic. The song can be heard here: www dot youtube dot com/watch? v=n-8SYA6rfbs&feature= PlayList&p= B7F5454C0650548D&index= 0&playnext=1. Eliminate spaces and add dots where appropriate.