A short story that ran away from me and you can now expect 3 parts to be posted over the next couple days. Thanks to Hoskky for helping with the French bits, Suguelya for helping with the German bits, and Silkofscarlet for helping with the British bits.

Part I - Crash

"It's time to head back," Flynn said.

"Already?" Yuri pulled his hands from the controls just long enough to stretch with a yawn. One hand 'accidentally' bumped Flynn's face. "We haven't even had any real action."

Flynn swatted Yuri's hand away. "Do you want to get shot at? I'm happy for an easy night." He fumbled with a chart in his lap and clanged between it, the radar, and the stars visible through the clear cockpit.

"What's taking so long?" Yuri asked.

"I need to double check out position because somebody took us off course on a wild goose chase halfway to Germany."

"He was getting away!" They'd almost had action earlier tonight, but the Luftwaffe plane had been infuriatingly faster than them. Yuri gave chase, but eventually Flynn convinced him this just might be a trap leading them into an ambush.

"Adjust your direction three degrees north. Anyway, you downed your fifth plane last week. You're already officially an ace, so I think we can let one plane go without getting ourselves killed over it."

Yuri yawned again and checked his watch. It was quarter after four, so they should be back at the airfield by 4:45. With any luck he'd be able to hit his bunk by six. "It's the principle of the thing."

"My principle is to land on time and get at least five hours of sleep. Then maybe have enough time to walk around on solid ground while the sun is up and remember that the world is more than the night sky."

Yuri snorted. "Where's the fun in solid ground?" Having spent his childhood in a gutter, he couldn't think of any better place to be than behind the controls of an aeroplane.

"It's just exhausting night after night," Flynn said. "Ever since the invasion, there's been hardly any rest."

"Hey, on the bright side, if we keep up this pace, we'll get the Jerries out of France by the end of '44."

"That would be good."

Yuri stared into the stars. He had to trust Flynn's navigation skills, because they were flying over empty fields of France with not a single light to guide them. His gloved fingers drummed on the controls as he thought about those smug pilots who zipped around in Spitfires and Hurricanes in broad daylight. They got so much praise for being so flashy, but their job was easy. Anyone could fly a plane when they could see where they were by the ground, and targeting an enemy plane by sight was child's play. It took real skill to operate in the black of night using the stars as a compass and radar to target the enemy.

"There's something coming." Flynn's voice startled him out of his thoughts.

"What kind of something?"

"There's a plane at seven o'clock. I don't think it's one of ours."

No, they were at the fringe of the mission area and the other British planes would be heading back to the airfield in Normandy peninsula by now. "Is it our friend from before?"

"Might be, and he's brought a mate. There're two of them now."

"Lucky us." Yuri twisted the controls.

"What are you doing?"

"We already know that bastard is faster than us. I'm not going to race all the way back to the airfield and let him shoot up our tail."

As he swung around, moonlight gleamed on the wings of a pair of planes. The one he'd crossed pulled up did a barrel roll while Yuri set his sights on the other.

"I told you we shouldn't have trailed him so far! We were just supposed to be patrolling to intercept enemy bombers!

"Relax. I got 'em." The second plane was turning to face him so Yuri unleashed a brief torrent of gunfire before jerking back on the stick and looping into the air. He'd been hoping the one coming up behind him would end up shooting his mate, but they weren't that stupid.

At the top of the loop, they rolled to the side. Flynn clutched his seatbelt as they swooped down and gravity pressed them into their seats. Yuri fired again, but the plane twisted to the side at the last second.

"Four o'clock!" Flynn shouted.

Yuri dove but as he started to pull up again, a cloud passed over the moon and he lost his sight. "Dammit! Flynn, where are they!?" Yuri squinted through the glass of the cockpit, trying to spot any form of light on the enemies.

"One's right above us and the other is off the starboard wing."

"Then let's say hello from below." He angled up and fired into the darkness something sparked and he was certain he'd hit something, but it wasn't debilitating.

Flynn had his eyes locked on the radar, watching the battle on the screen. "The other is coming on fast."

Yuri twisted to the side as another stream of bullets just missed them. He rose steadily and then the clouds moved on and the sudden moonlight bathed the sky. Specifically, it bathed the enemy plane flying parallel to him, far too close for comfort. It started to turn to get him in its sights so Yuri yanked upwards. But the second one was right behind him and as he pulled up to avoid getting hit by the first, he felt the entire plane rumble as bullets peppered the tail.

"Shit!" The plane faltered and his attempted loop dropped a few feet before levelling out.

"We can still fly," Flynn snapped. "If we just-"

Heat exploded through the cockpit as a cannon blast hit their side. Something hit Yuri's leg and a cool breeze rushed into the cockpit. He was nearly blinded by the sudden light of fire.

"The wing's on fire!" Flynn shouted.

"I noticed, thanks!" In front of him, dozens of needles raced to the red side of the gauge and he reflexively pulled back to try to keep the nose level. More bullets peppered the opposite side, because a burning plane was an easy target on a dark night. Glass shattered and Flynn gasped. He clutched his upper arm and Yuri spared a second to glance at him.

"What happened?!"

"Got hit," Flynn grunted. "Not serious – concentrate on the plane."

Yuri had the stick pulled back as far as he could, but the nose was still dipping down and tilting to the right as the burning wing collapsed. Having a plane made of wood made it incredibly maneuverable and easy to take off, but now he felt like he was in a flying pile of kindling.

"Come on…" Yuri muttered. "Pull up, pull up."

Flynn fumbled to unbuckle his harness with one hand.

"Sit down!" Yuri snapped. "Buckle up for a crash landing!"

"This isn't going to be a crash landing, we're just going to crash! Do you even know how close we are to the ground!?"

Yuri tore his eyes away from the nose and glanced at the altimeter, which was careening to the dangerous end of the scale along with all the others. "You're right." He unbuckled and hopped to his feet, then cursed and stumbled, his knee crashing into the seat.

"Are you all right?" Flynn had already hopped over his seat and started strapping a parachute onto his back. Blood soaked his right arm, but neither of them had time to pay it any attention.

Yuri clutched his calf and his hand came away slippery. "Got hit by some shrapnel. Hadn't noticed in the panic. It'll be fine, just pass me a 'chute."

At least the gunfire had stopped. What was the point of wasting ammunition on a plane that was already going down? Yuri struggled to get the harness strapped around him and he realized his fingers were shaking. That was weird, because he felt oddly calm. The entire affair from spotting the enemies to deciding to jump couldn't have been more than five minutes, but time seemed to move in slow motion.

Flynn slammed the release to swing open the cockpit and the wind nearly ripped Yuri out of the plane. The plane spiralled toward the ground and tilted so far to the right it nearly threw them out. Yuri finally managed to tighten the parachute properly and then said, "Last one to the ground's a rotten egg!" and leapt into the sky.

As soon as he cleared the plane, Yuri jerked the cord and heard the rustle of fabric spread out above him. It tugged him to a stop and he watched hisplanespiral away in a growing ball of fire. Seconds later, Flynn's parachute unfolded not too far away, and he took a long sigh.

Damn. He'd never even been hit before and now he'd gone and lost his goddamn plane. He wanted to punch something but he was dangling in the sky like an idiot. Blood trickled down his calf and he wondered how deep the wound was. In all the adrenaline of the fight he hadn't even noticed the pain, but it was starting to creep into his attention.

Branches came into view through the darkness and he focused on landing. They'd been fairly low when they jumped, so he was still falling fast even with the parachute. The trees seemed to be racing up to meet him, but thankfully they were sparse enough that there was plenty of open ground to land on.

He braced himself and then slammed into the grass. His injured leg gave out and twisted to the side, causing him to fall to his knees with a gasp. The parachute billowed behind him as the light breeze filled it with air like a sail. He quickly unbuckled the harness before it could drag him across the ground.

Freed from the 'chute, Yuri sat still, catching his breath. All around him was grass dried by the summer heat. There were sparse trees behind him and a crap load of French countryside stretching out as far as he could see.

In the distance, he heard a crash that must be his plane hitting the ground. Well… he thought as he stared at plume of smoke and fire in the distance, at least I wasn't in it.

His leg was still bleeding. That needed to be treat. With a grunt, he forced himself to shift position and stretch his leg out. The parachute had deflated, so he dragged it toward him by the strings in case he needed a bandage. Yuri yanked his trouser leg out of his boot and found red smeared across his calf. The epicentre was a six-inch gash. The dull burn he'd felt earlier was heating up now that he had nothing else to focus on. He pulled a penknife out of his other boot and slashed a strip of canvas from his parachute. This made a quick bandage and another strip wound around his knee to try to stabilize it. He then he cut a few more strips for Flynn and looked around for him.

Yuri didn't see another parachute on the ground, but then movement caught his eye and he spotted Flynn dangling out of a tree like a marionette. He was only a few feet off the ground and swayed gently while clutching his arm.

Yuri shakily got to his feet and limped toward the tree. It was more of a staggering hop as he tried to figure out a way to walk without ever putting all his weight on one leg. At the base of the tree, he leaned against the trunk to give his knee and calf a rest.

"You all right?" This close, Yuri could see Flynn's gloved hand clenched around his upper arm, blood oozing between his fingers. "Hell! You said it wasn't a serious injury!"

Flynn glanced down at him. "You had more pressing concerns."

"I'll get you down." Yuri used his knife to cut right through the straps of Flynn's harness and in moments Flynn thudded to the grass. He fell on his ass and hissed at the movement.

Yuri dropped, gingerly stretching his leg out. "Move your hand. I'll bandage it."

Flynn did so and Yuri slashed open the sleeve of Flynn's flight suit so he could get to the wound. There were two of them – the bullet had gone straight through his arm. Yuri winced in sympathy and then wound a strip of canvas around the wound as tight as he could. Flynn was lucky it hadn't hit an artery.

When he'd wound as many strips as he could around the wound until blood stopped soaking through to the outer layer, he sat back and said, "Other than your arm, are you all right?"

Flynn sat up and clutched the bandages. "Yes." He took a few deep breaths. "Your leg?"

"Nothing to worry about. That arm is going to need medical attention."

Flynn wearily nodded. "There's a village… that way." He point to his left. "Saw it on the map just before we were attacked."

Yuri's leg throbbed at the thought. "It's going to be a long walk." His fist smashed into the grass. "Damn! I can't believe we lost our plane."

"Any landing you can walk away from is a good one."

Yuri gazed at the smouldering wreckage in the distance. "Calling that a landing would be generous."

Flynn sighed. "We're on land. Close enough. Ugh, what do we do now? It won't be long before the Jerries get out here to search the wreck and look for us. I suppose we could save ourselves the trouble and surrender-"

"Hell no!"

"- but that option is obviously off the table." With his good arm, Flynn shook off his glove and reached into his jacket and fished around until he pulled out a wrinkled grey photograph.

Yuri leaned over and smiled at Karol and Estelle's faces. They stood on a train platform with suitcases at their feet and a handwritten sign between them saying 'Come home safe!' It had been over three years since he'd seen Karol – the kid would be twelve by now – but he could easily imagine his face if anything happened to himself or Flynn. "We have to get home."

Flynn's grip tightened on the photograph. "Right."

Dawn was peeking over the horizon when Flynn and Yuri collapsed against a low stone wall. Yuri's knee throbbed with a ferocity that made it seem like the joint was trying to break out of his skin and escape the abuse he'd put it through. Across a short stretch of grass was a small cottage on the edge of the village.

"Do you think…" Flynn panted, "the people who live here… will… help?"

Yuri didn't like how white Flynn's face was. Red seeped through the canvas wrapped around his arm. "Dunno. We're on their side, but if they get caught helping us, they could be killed. That, or they'll turn us in for a reward." Out in the field, all he'd had to worry about was their immediate injuries. Now, the paranoia of being behind enemy lines sunk in. There could be German soldiers anywhere. Yuri had no intention of sitting out the rest of the war in a prison camp.

First things first: Flynn needed fresh bandages on his arm. The blood soaked through Yuri's bandage was dark and dry, but Flynn's was fresh. He spotted a sheet hanging out to dry behind the house. He spoke enough French to ask the owners for help, but he'd rather not risk them being foes.

Yuri nodded toward the sheet. "Let's grab that."

Flynn pouted, which was a feat for a Lieutenant in the Royal Air Forceto accomplish without losing pride. On anyone else it would look silly, but on Flynn… no, come to think of it, it still looked silly. Yuri had just known him long enough that it was filed under 'standard Flynn expressions'.

"We'll leave some money. It's not stealing; it's purchasing without asking. Help me up." Yuri leaned on Flynn's uninjured side as he had down all the way here. Together, they staggered to the clothesline. With the sheet between them and the house, Yuri pulled off the pins and eased the sheet of the line.

A door slammed open and a woman spoke in French. "If you ever want to father a child, get your hands off my laundry. I have a gun and I'm a good shot."

Yuri whipped his hands away from the sheet, but momentum was already going and it slid to the ground. A young woman stood on the back step of her house, glaring at them with fury. She had long, dark hair that almost looked blue in the faint dawn light, but Yuri was more interested in the way the light gleamed on the shiny barrel of her pistol.

When she saw them, she kept the gun pointed straight at Yuri. "Who's side are you on?"

"What's she saying?" Flynn hissed.

Yuri whispered back, "She wants to know if we're the good guys or not." He would really have to thank Mr. Ragou for teaching him French, so he said, "We're British! Do you speak English?"

She lowered the gun. "Enough. Toss me your tags."

Yuri slowly reached to his neck with one hand, carefully positioning himself so she could see the gun in the holster on his waist and proving he wasn't reaching for it. He pulled the cord off his neck and tossed the leather discs to her feet.

The woman didn't take her gun off them as she crouched to pick them up. She glanced over the red and green tags and seemed to find them sufficient, because she lowered he gun. "Ok, you seem safe. Get inside before anyone else sees you."

Flynn helped Yuri limp across the grass and into her kitchen. The room was simple, with scrubbed wooden floors and a table with a few chairs. She pulled one of these out and Yuri gratefully sat down. Flynn slumped into another chair and rested his forehead on the table while clutching his arm.

"My name is Judith." She tossed the identity discs back to Yuri and asked, "What should I call you, Sergeant Lowell?"

"Yuri. And this is Flynn." He jerked his thumb at him. "He got shot. I stopped the bleeding as much as I could, but it's still pretty bad. Do you have any first aid supplies?"

She nodded. "I'll be right back." Judith opened a door revealing steps into a cellar. Just before walking down, she paused and looked back, and then said, "Oh – da ist eine Fliege auf deine Wange."

Yuri wrinkled his brow. "Pardon?"

She smiled. "Just checking."

When she was gone, Yuri turned to Flynn. "What was that about? Was that German?"

Flynn raised his head. "Something about a fly on your cheek. Probably checking if you'd reflexively respond to German in case we're spies."

Yuri brushed his cheek, just in case. "You speak German?"

"Studied the basics in training…. Figured if I was going to be at war with Germany it might help."

"Lucky you didn't get sent to the Pacific."

Flynn yawned and lowered his head again. "Yes, well, Japan wasn't in the war yet when I enlisted."

"Do you know any French at all?"

"A little. Je t'aime."

Yuri snorted. "'I love you'? What good is that going to be?"

"I wasn't planning on using it."

Judith returned with a wooden box adorned with a red cross and an old wooden cane, which she passed to Yuri. "If you go down the hall, there's a bathroom with a shower. Clean yourself up and then go ahead and sleep in my bed at the end of the hall."

"But Flynn-"

"Won't be helped by you sitting there worrying." She was already unwinding the strips of parachute around the arm with fresh bandages and disinfectant lying in wait on the table.

Yuri reluctantly agreed with her. At the mention of a bed, he remembered how tired he was. He'd been awake since noon yesterday and now that they were moderately safe, it was hitting him all at once. He nodded, took a roll of bandages for himself, and hobbled out of the kitchen with the cane.

Yuri didn't know what time it was when he was shaken awake, but he immediately snapped to attention at the frantic expression on Judith's face.

"How good is your French?" she blurted as soon as he met her eyes.

Having just woken up, it took him a few seconds to formulate an answer in French. "Decent enough. Why?"

"Because Germans are knocking on doors looking for you. Get up."

Yuri bolted up at this. He immediately swung his legs out of bed and started to stand before remembering his knee. Judith hurried around the room and pulled clothes out of a wardrobe.

"Get changed," she tossed a chequered shirt and some trousers to the bed. "When they ask, you're my boyfriend from Paris. They aren't native French speakers either – with any luck they won't notice your horrible accent."

Yuri only half understood what she'd said as he hurriedly changed out of his uniform. Every word of French he knew flew through his head and he suddenly felt a lot less confident in his fluency now that his freedom depended on it.

Dressed, he hobbled out to the kitchen. "Where's Flynn?"

Judith scrubbed blood off the table. "Hidden. I have a secret compartment in the cellar, but it's only big enough for one."

"How's his arm?"

"He'll live." She ran down the hall again and Yuri heard thumps from the bedroom. When she came back, she reached for his collar and hastily opened the top few buttons. "I'm going to put lipstick on your face."

"You're wha-?"

She grabbed his shoulders and pressed his lips against his, pecking around his cheeks a few times until he was left with rosey smears. Then she slapped her own cheeks and rubbed until her face was flushed. "I told you – you're my lover from the city. We've been in all day. And you only speak French! Now sit down."

Yuri limped to the chair and leaned the cane against the table. An old clock above the sink said it was just past four in the afternoon. His knee felt better after a rest, but still ached in the background.

"When you say Flynn'll live-"

"What did I say about French?!" Judith peeked around the curtain by the door and then hurried to the table. "They're coming. Do you want them to hear you speaking English through the door? La balle a perforé son bras, maisa raté toutes les artères ou l'os. Je lui-"

"Whoa," Yuri held up his hand and shook his head. "Slow down, please. I'm not that good."

Judith nodded and spoke again, slower this time. "The bullet went through his arm, but did not hit any major blood vessels. I gave him some messy stitches and then-"

Someone rapped on the door. Judith went still and then slowly rose to her feet. "Stay calm," she whispered. "Let me do most of the talking."

Judith swung open the door and athin man in a military uniform strode past her. "Good afternoon, Mademoiselle. I am Capitaine Cumore."

Judith smiled and closed the door behind him. "How can I help you, Monsieur?"

Cumore strode into the room, eyes on Yuri, who kept his face carefully blank. "Are you aware that an Allied plane was shot down not far from your village last night?"

Judith frowned and tilted her head. "Hm… I thought I heard something last night, but I didn't know anything for sure. I was…" she glanced at Yuri and gave a girlish giggle Yuri was certain was fake. "Distracted last night. Why?"

"No bodies were found in the wreckage of the plane, but there were two parachutes nearby. We believe the downed airmen made their way to this village seeking shelter." He turned his head to Yuri and said, "And who are you?"

Yuri stuck out his hand with a casual smile. "Hi, there. I'm in town…" he glanced at Judith with a coy smile, "visiting. My name's Jacques Piaf." He'd used the entire sentence to wrack his brain for an authentic fake name, and that was the best he could come up with.

Cumore stared at him for a long second. "As in, Edith Piaf? The cabaret singer?"

Damn, he should have known Cumore would be familiar with her, too. Yuri had heard her on the wireless and it was the only French surname he could think of in the spur of the moment. He just laughed. "Yes, people are always laughing at me about that!"

"Of course." Cumore scanned the room, as if hoping to spot a pilot's uniform sticking out of a cupboard. "And why are you here visiting? Family? I was not aware of any other 'Piaf' in this village."

"He's visiting me," Judith said.

Cumore crossed his arms and glanced between them, daring them to say something incriminating. "Where were you last night, Monsieur Piaf?"

Yuri just smirked and reached his hand over to squeeze Judith's thigh. "Ah… Capitaine, don't make me dirty this woman's name." He felt that any second now he was going to bite his tongue. He wasn't confident enough to try any complex sentences in case he screwed up the grammar and outed himself, but he also didn't want it obvious he was speaking as simply as he could, and he had to do all that on the spot while acting totally cool.

"Mademoiselle Judith, were you not questioned last year for your alleged involvement in transporting explosives that derailed a train out of Paris?"

Judith tilted her head with an expression of innocent curiosity. "Yes, but since I had nothing to do with that, they told me it was a mistake and I wasn't charged."

"M-hmm…. They couldn't find any evidence, at least."

It was a good thing Cumore's gaze was focused on Judith, because he didn't notice the surprised look Yuri shot at her for a second before regaining his composure. Ah, he should have known. A young woman armed and confident to shoot, with the medical knowledge to treat a bullet wound and a hidey-hole in her cellar had to be involved with the resistance. They must have picked the best house in the village to stumble upon.

Cumore stared at her, and then his eyes fell on the cane sitting near Yuri. His heart skipped a beat and he realized he should have asked Judith to hide it. Without a word, Cumore grabbed Yuri's arm and wrenched him to his feet. He shoved Yuri forward, and after a single stumbling step his knee buckled and he clutched the table with an involuntary gasp.

Victory glinted in Cumore's eyes. "How were you injured?"

Yuri glared at him while massaging his knee and Judith slapped her hands on the table. "Monsieur! Please, I would rather not say."

"Let me see your leg." Cumore crouched, grabbed the cuff of Yuri's trouser leg and pulled it up, revealing the bandaged calf and wrapped and swollen knee. "Voilà! A hard landing from a parachute, perhaps?"

Yuri scoffed. "How would landing cut my leg?"

"And it looks recent." Cumore straightened up and smirked at him. "Just how did you get injured while staying in all last night, Monsieur 'Piaf'?"

"Monsieur, it's – it's embarrassing." Judith covered her covered her mouth and she'd even managed to make her cheeks redden. "It was my fault. He was injured while we were trying… something new."

Cumore glanced between them in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"There's a sharp bit of brass on the footboard of my bed. I'm afraid I never noticed because ordinarily no one's leg would go near it while sleeping. He insisted we keep going after I bandaged the cut, but that was when we got very… adventurous. I tied the rope around his ankle too tightly and when certain events caused him to fall from the bed, well…"

Yuri stared at her in amazement. He was certain he'd lost some of the details as her explanation sped up, but what he understood was brilliant. It was the perfect excuse, because based on Cumore's expression he had no desire to press for details.

"I suppose you wouldn't mind if I searched your house, Mademoiselle?"

Judith nodded and held her hand toward the hall. "If it would make you feel better. Although, please excuse any untidiness in the bedroom. We were…" Her fingers played up Yuri's shoulder to his neck. "Busy."

Cumore wrinkled his nose at them and then walked away. As he left, Yuri suddenly realized he'd left his uniform on the floor. Shit. As soon as Cumore entered the room the game would be up.

Judith saw his expression and remarked, "You're so untidy, mon cher. Aren't you glad I picked up your clothes for you?"

"Oh, right. I wouldn't want the capitaine to have to see my pants."

Judith raised her voice just enough that Cumore was sure to hear but it could still pass for normal conversation. "I really hope he doesn't look in the wardrobe, though."

A few seconds later, Yuri heard a creak that could only be the wardrobe door opening. A minute later, the door slammed shut and he hurried out of the room. Cumore didn't look Judith in the eye as he returned to the kitchen and Yuri had a sudden need to know exactly what was in the wardrobe. Cumore went down to the cellar and Yuri heard things shuffling around, but it didn't seem to take very long for Cumore to come back to the kitchen.

"Everything seems to be satisfactory, Mademoiselle. I'll leave you and your… friend alone, shall I? Be sure to make a report if you see any signs of the airmen. They might be quite dangerous, and I would simply hate for any harm to come to your village."

Judith smiled pleasantly. "But of course. I'll keep my eyes peeled."

Cumore nodded in farewell and left the house.

As soon as he was gone, Yuri's musclesun-tensed and he leaned back in the chair. "Thank god."

Judith looked away from the door and said, "Piaf? Really, Yuri?"

He crossed his arms with a scowl. "I panicked. Anyway, where's Flynn?"

She rose and crossed to the cellar door. "Come on, he's down here."

Yuri grabbed the cane and then carefully hopped down the old wooden steps. "So what was in the wardrobe?"

"In the back of the wardrobe, the panel can be pulled out to reveal a hatch in the wall. Behind that is a compartment filled with an interesting variety of leather handcuffs, whips, and, well, use your imagination."

Yuri stared at the back of her head as she crossed the smooth stone slabs on the floor. "Seriously?"

"Yes. At which point, any searcher immediately becomes highly embarrassed and incapable of looking me in the eye. This is fortunate, because they then have no interest in examining the compartment further to discover that the bottom can be pulled up to reveal my gun, a handful of fake IDs, underground newspapers, and whatnot."

Yuri grinned as she approached a barrel of potatoes against the wall. She shoved this out of the way and, kneeling, dug her fingers in a crack between flagstones. One of the square slabs pulled up and she reached in to grab Flynn's outstretched hand.

Yuri hadn't even noticed there was anything off about the floor, but it apparently concealed an opening large enough for a full-grown man to lie flat. "Of all the cottages in all the villages in all of France, we walk into yours."

Judith helped Flynn to his feet with a mild smile. "Fortunate for you, I'd say. Although, if you'd knocked on just about anyone else's door, they'd have brought you to me. How do you feel, Flynn?"

Flynn, white-faced and woozy, leaned on her. "Hungry."

She bobbed her head. "Come upstairs and I'll make some food. We have things to discuss."

Upstairs, Judith busied herself in the kitchen while Yuri and Flynn sat perpendicular at the table. Flynn rested one arm on his lap while the other was pulled tight against his chest in a sling. He closed his eyes and leaned back in the chair while Yuri watched him with concern. "Are you all right?"

"Just… very sore. Ah, well, at least now I can say I've had the entire war experience. I'm a bit miffed the bullet went right through so I couldn't keep it."

Yuri forced a smile. "On the plus side, when we get back we'll have an excuse to head to the hospital and visit Estelle."

Flynn smiled at the thought. "That would be nice." Yuri knew Flynn was still unhappy about the idea of Estelle being here. They'd tried to keep her safe when they insisted she and Karol leave London back in 1941, but this spring she'd turned 18 and decided it was her patriotic duty to aid in the war effort by becoming a nurse.

"And you'll get a fancy new stripe to put on your uniform," Yuri said. "How dashing."

"You, too. You also got wounded."

Yuri waved his hand. "Me? I scratched my leg and busted my knee because I didn't land right. You're the one that got shot. Besides…." He folded his hands on the table. "It's my fault this happened. If I hadn't gone after that plane-"

"We're a team." Flynn's tired eyes flashed to alertness to glare at him. "I'm your eyes in the dark, and you're my wings. We share the wins and losses."

Yuri smiled, but he still couldn't stop his brain from playing out the dogfight over and over. He kept trying to think of something he could have done differently; some way he could have out-maneuvered the enemy or kept the plane in the air.

Judith came to the table with a plate of ham sandwiches and some fruit. "Well, boys, this is all very touching, but we have business to discuss."

Yuri stared at the plate and his mouth watered. "Are those apples?"

Judith tilted her head. "Do you not have apples in England?"

Yuri snatched the shiny red fruit from the table. "I haven't had fresh fruit since…" It was depressing how difficult it was to remember. He'd still been a kid when the Depression hit and fresh fruit became far too expensive for a street kid to even dream of, and things only got worse when rationing started. "Flight training," he recalled. "Out in the middle of nowhere in Canada, some local farmers gave them to us cheap. It's been crappy mess hall grub ever since."

"Where did you get these?" Flynn inspected the apples like he expected a covert grenade. "I thought France was under rationing as well?"

"Yes, but in the country we eat what we can find on the land. It's technically illegal, but I already have a pair of British airmen in my house, so it's the least of my worries."

"I can't thank you enough for sheltering us," Flynn said. "You're risking your own life to help us."

"I know. But, you're risking your lives to help liberate my country, so I suppose we should call it even. Now, where do you want to go from here?"

"Allied territory," Yuri said. "Specifically, Picauville Airfield."

"You have three options. Option one, you head to Spain. I can get you started on an underground network of safe houses across France and over the border. Once in Spain, you should be able to make it to Gibraltar without much hassle."

"How long would that take?" Flynn asked.

"Several weeks at a minimum. It's a risky journey, and in the past it was the only option we had. I can't guarantee yoursafety, but I can say I've met my share of airmen en route to Spain. A lot of them make it home."

"And the ones who don't get dragged off to a prison camp – if they're lucky." It was hard to scowl while eating an apple, but Yuri did his best. They didn't have weeks to spend sneaking across France, then however long it would take to get back to England, and then get deployed again. It could be months before they were back in the air, and just as long before they were able to get a message home informing people they were alive. By now, they'd have been officially recorded as Missing in Action, and Yuri could only imagine the letters a tearful Estelle was sending Karol and Rita. They couldn't make their friends wait months to find out they were alive. "What's option two?"

"You sit tight and wait for Allied territory to move to us. Your boys are pushing the line back every day. I firmly believe that within a month, this village will be liberated. You'll be safe then."

Flynn frowned. "And until then you have to hide the pair of us under the noses of those German soldiers?"

"I've sheltered airmen here before. If you're worried about resources, my neighbours will happily assist with food and clothing."

"I'm not sure how long I can keep this up," Yuri said. "Cumore knows I'm here, and I can tell he's suspicious. He's just waiting for me to slip up, and I'm not sure I can keep up the charade long enough for our Colonel Whitehorse to march in. I can't stand just sitting here waiting for him to find an excuse to arrest me. What's option three?"

"Option three is very dangerous and likely to get you killed, but I can already tell you're probably going to go for it. We head west for a few days until we reach all the tanks and machine guns that want to kill us, and then slip around them and break into Allied territory that way."

Flynn frowned. "That does sound very dangerous."

"It'll get us back within a few days, though?" Yuri asked.

Judith nodded. "Assuming we don't get caught or killed."

Yuri already knew what he wanted to do, but he looked to Flynn. "What do you think?"

Flynn met his eyes and gave him that look that said, I can't believe you're suggesting this, you moron, but he said, "I'd like to get to the hospital as soon as possible. Besides, Yuri is right that staying here would be dangerous, and if we go all the way to Spain before looping back around, the war might be over by the time we get back in the air."

Judith grinned. "Oh, good, I was hoping you'd say that. The third option sounds much more fun."

"Oh, yes," Flynn said. "What's not fun about getting shot at? Why, I've been having a jolly good time on this delightful holiday to France."

"Exactly," Yuri said with a cheerful smile. "What's the point of holidaying in France when there's not a war on?" When shit hit the fan and all hope was lost, there was no one Yuri would rather have at his side than Flynn, because even in the darkest times he could always find pleasure in taking the piss out of him.

"We'll leave tomorrow," Judith said.

That night, Flynn and Yuri lay side by side on the floor. "How's your arm?" Yuri asked into the darkness.

"Don't worry about it." His clothing rustled and then he pulled out the picture of their friends again. It was a shame Rita hadn't been able to make it to the station to see Karol and Estelle off, but she'd already run off to become a boffin cracking codes for the government.

When they were small, it had just been Yuri and Flynn. Flynn's parents were poor, but they scratched together enough to provide for Yuri as well. After they died, they'd fended for themselves on the streets rather than get sent off to some orphanage. They pseudo-adopted Karol when they were about fourteen, and then Rita and Estelle had come into the mix to round off their family. Estelle's parents always made sure they had at least one meal a day when they couldn't scrounge it up themselves. Life had been hard, but they'd sworn to stay together and make it through.

Then the war happened. They were only sixteen when it started, but the next summer they watched Spitfires fly overhead in the Battle of Britain and realized there was no way they could sit this out. He and Flynn and argued a lot, but eventually decided they couldn't both leave. Someone had to stay behind to watch out for Karol and Rita, who had still been quite young. So they'd all said their tearful goodbyes to Flynn and he set off to join the Air Force like a good little soldier.

Things were relatively calm until the bombs started falling on London. If they were close enough to Estelle's house, they could make it to the Heurassein family's Anderson shelter, but most nights Yuri spent trying to console a petrified Karol camping out with crowds of strangers in an Underground station. With plaster raining from the ceiling and the booms of explosives hitting the street over their heads, Yuri had to think Flynn had got the better deal, since he was safely in Canada for training.

But then everything splintered all at once. Rita's latent genius had been discovered when a crossword contest she thought was a 'silly simple newspaper game' turned out to be secret test from the government. The night before Rita was to leave, they'd all gone out to celebrate and say farewell. When the bombers came early, Estelle had huddled in the Underground with them rather than running home. The next morning, they'd walked back to her street only to find that… well, Estelle was lucky she hadn't been home that night.

That was the last straw. Mr. and Mrs. Heurassein had done everything right and had a shelter in their own back garden and even that wasn't enough to protect them. Despite Karol's insistence that they'd promised to stick together, Yuri wasn't going to let his friends keep living on a giant target. A few days later, he and Estelle were sent out to a foster family in the countryside. With no one else to hold him back, Yuri followed Flynn into the Air Force.

Then there had been the busiest but most enjoyable months of his life learning how to fly aeroplanes, and now they were here. Being a pilot was thrilling when you zipped through the air, spinning in loops and whooping as you shot down the bastards on their way to bomb your home city. It wasn't so great when you crashed into enemy territory and had a hell of a hike back home hanging over your head.

"It seems like it's been ages since I've seen Karol and Rita," Flynn said.

"Almost four years. Karol's twelve now, can you believe it?"

"I wonder if we'll even recognize him when the war is over."

"When the war is over… it seems like we've been saying that for years. Everything good in life will be 'when the war is over'. I'm getting pretty tired of it."

"Me too. It can't be much longer, though, right? We've breached the continent. Germany is losing territory. We're going to make it to Berlin, Yuri."

"Is that a promise?"

"Yes, it is. We're going to get out of here alive, we're going to make it back to the airfield, and we're going to keep following the invasion all the way to the finish line."

Yuri held up a fist. Flynn slipped the photo into his pocket and bumped arms with Yuri. "I can swear to that. We're both going to survive and we'll bring Karol a souvenir from Berlin. Hitler's toilet seat or something."

Flynn chuckled. "Might be hard to squeeze that into your kit."

"I'd get rid of that photo if I were you, though. Don't you know how it goes? Going on and on about loved ones back home is deadly. You might as well join 'one last mission before retiring'."

"I'm not going to die just because I talk about missing my friends."

"That so? I think photos of loved ones are some kind of magnet that attracts bullets. Having that in your pocket is probably why you got shot in the first place."

"You're just superstitious."