So this does take place during and the after the episode "The Flame Grows Higher" in Season 1, I couldn't resist :P It will take quite a bit of twist though.
All characters and lines borrowed don't belong to me, I'm just lucky enough to play with it for a bit.
This chapter is RATED M for violence and language.
Chapter 2 – Ships in the Night
Turn the lights down low,
Walk these halls alone,
We can feel so far from so close
Like ships in the night
- Ships in the Night, Matt Kearney
Newkirk was as surprised as the Colonel to see Captain Warren, whom they had just helped to escape last week brought back into the camp, and he and the others stopped in the middle of their laundry to stare as their colonel frowned and walked over to the Captain, watching as Klink gloated over the capture.
Newkirk exchanged a glance with LeBeau as the captain was sentenced, and Kinch raised his eyebrows as Hogan attempted to manipulate some time alone with the man from their favourite sergeant of the guard, and Carter continued to mutter under his breath about the unfairness of the Captain being captured, just after they had managed to free him,
"Looks like the Guv' might need me 'elp," Newkirk muttered as Shultz's "Verboten!" carried across the frigid compound,
"Let's go," LeBeau agreed, and Kinch nodded, allowing the English corporal the lead,
"'Ey, Schultz, Shultz!," Newkirk called, elbowing his way past his CO accidentally, and grabbing the large man on the shoulder. Behind him, Kinch struck up a conversation with the guards, and Hogan placed a finger over his mouth, as if he was about to interrupt but thought better off it.
Even as Newkirk skilfully stole the key, and hooked it into the back of Shultz's belt, and then started acting like the innocent corporal he most certainly was not, something in the back of his mind was grinning madly at the tiny nod of approval and hint of a smile Hogan had thrown his way.
Blimey, but this is an overreaction, Newkirk had to admit, yet found himself powerless to stop it, joining in with the others as they made a right ruddy fool out of their hapless guard and Hogan stood some while away, his look getting steadily darker as he talked to Captain Warren.
It was ten minutes later that they had decided to have mercy on the sergeant, give him the cooler key back and were sitting in their own barracks, gathered around their table. Hogan paced back and forth, his eyes locked on the ground and silent. After a year together, they all knew better than to disturb the colonel, instead attending to their own work as he thought their problem through.
Carter and LeBeau were finishing up their laundry while Kinch had picked up his whittling project. Newkirk sat at the other end of the table, smoking his cigarette and doing his best not to watch the Colonel pace, although that was hard considering that he was doing so directly in front of them.
It had been another six months since their first sabotage attempt and to say that they were seasoned, would, in the corporal's opinion, be the understatement of the century. Sometimes he felt like his colonel was trying to win the war all by himself, and I suppose the batty ol' officer could probably do it, too, Newkirk's mind helpfully supplied, a peculiar warm feeling accompanying those thoughts.
The corporal was getting extremely adept at ignoring this feeling steadfastly.
He instead chose to watch Andrew and immediately found something to distract him,
"Andrew!" he called and the sergeant started,
"What?" he asked, looking down and then around as if checking for something he had done wrong,
"Is tha' me bleedin' shirt that I've been lookin' for everywhere?" he asked, his voice dangerously close to the growl that Carter had learnt to mean trouble. The sergeant's eyes flicked towards Louis momentarily and the English man narrowed his gaze, turning it instead on the French corporal, whose eyes quickly snapped down to the Colonel's spare shirt, which he was ironing at the moment,
"What's goin' on?" Newkirk asked, and LeBeau wasn't going to reply, but then Carter dropped the damn iron on his foot in a fit of nerves, and he knew their game was up,
"Well, mon frère," he begun but Newkirk pointed a finger at him,
"Listen mate, none of that brother stuff. I've been wearing this bloody top for two ruddy months! You'd better 'ave a damn good reason as to why,"
Next to him, Kinch had up until then managed to act as if he had been zoned out from the daily bickering, but when a guffaw escaped him, that was more than Newkirk could take, and LeBeau spoke before the corporal launched into one of his anti-American, anti-French tirades that usually followed after Carter had accidentally burnt Newkirk's last pair of non-torn socks or LeBeau had made Bouillabaisse soup again,
"We needed it," LeBeau started,
"Yeah," Carter added, "honest, Peter, we never would have borrowed it otherwise,"
"Borrowed?" Newkirk repeated, one eyebrow reaching for his fringe, his tone deceptively calm, staring his friends down,
"She was cold, Pierre!," LeBeau exclaimed and that more or less knocked Newkirk off-kilter,
"Huh?" was the corporal's reply and Kinch laughed again,
"A rabbit, Peter. Carter has a rabbit down in the tunnels and she found your blue polo, when you had ripped it off before the Colonel set you out on a short collection mission," Kinch explained and it dawned on Newkirk that that was the day the shirt went missing, "she found it and apparently was absolutely-"
"Really sad, Peter,' Carter cut in and continued, "When I tried to take it away! And her ears were all floppy and her nose was all twitchy so I couldn't take it, except she finally let go this morning so…" he trailed off and the English man pinched the bridge of his nose. Had it been anyone else who had used his top for a rabbit, Christ, but this one's 'round the bend, he would probably not forgive them. Unfortunately for him though, it was Andrew, who once made a model of a deer for him out of scrap wood, leaving it on his pillow the day after he had told the guys how much he missed the forests him and his family used to see deer in, back in England, when they went camping. Andrew, who would fold his clothes for him when he unceremoniously dumped them on the bed after a mission, and who had once even sacrificed his blanket when Newkirk had gotten a terrible flu, covering the corporal after dark, without anyone else seeing and spending the entire night cold and uncomfortable.
"Never mind," he found himself muttering and as he went to turn back to the table he caught Kinch's eyes, an amused glint in them, "shut up," he countered while Kinch chuckled,
"I didn't say anything," he said, "but you're going soft," and then he added in an affected British accent, "old chap,"
"Sod off!" Newkirk shot back, playfully punching him on the arm but they all quickly sobered up when Hogan dropped between them with a, "Knock it off, guys, and listen up,"
Newkirk turned so he was facing the Colonel and, doing his very best to ignore the fact that he could smell the Colonel's cologne at this proximity and found he didn't really mind it, and knowing that anything more than a subtle shift away may attract more attention than necessary, focused on what the Colonel was saying instead.
The Colonel described the route that the Captain had taken, and insisted that there must have been a traitor along the way for the Captain to have been picked up.
"We'll just have to travel the route ourselves," the Colonel finished with a flourish, getting to his feet, and Newkirk felt a spike of excitement as the guvnor mentioned his name along with LeBeau's, ignoring Carter's comment about the laundry, "We'll be the pigeons, the bait," Hogan continued and Newkirk sighed internally. He was at a stage, and he knew for a fact that LeBeau was too, where he would happily have followed Hogan into anything, but he quickly wiped the smile off his face, to keep up appearances, and looking up, said,
"I would consider it most cowardly, to escape at this time, my duty is here, at Stalag 13," and he watched with some amusement as Hogan didn't react at all, but listened to LeBeau's complaint. Then the Colonel looked down and continued, "There are a couple of girls that operate the Keiserhof," in that same tone Newkirk had heard used far too many times on Klink, but Newkirk grinned anyway, volunteering his services freely along with the Frenchman,
Blimey, at last! Frustration don't even begin to cover what I've been feeling, couped up in here.
Newkirk picked up his playing cards, a small grin on his lips, as the Colonel arranged for Carter and Kinch to start a fake fire, and then left for the Kommandant's office to con Klink into letting them out of the camp for a day, easy pickings for his silver tongue.
Hogan grimaced as the cold air hit him and tried not to feel a sense of irritation that volunteers only ever turned up when girls were involved – because he knew that his men are only ever play acting, always trying a new game out, something to break the monotony. He saw their dedication to their cause, and, though he felt slightly arrogant when he thought it, to him, in the quality of their work and their sheer resilience - and he knew he shouldn't be so bothered by the fact that it was Peter who jumped up so fast he would have bruised his leg if he'd leant a centimetre more forward. They were men, and they had been here a long time. Women should be a reward he should be glad to give his men and on deeper examination he found he didn't mind the thought of LeBeau with the pretty fraulines they were bound to meet. It was his other, louder, snappier corporal that he was really struggling to picture with a woman and it was approaching that odd emotional barrier he had erected last time when he had discovered his bias towards Peter. It was making him uncomfortable and he didn't have the time to analyse this.
Hiding all of this under a brilliant smile, he entered the Kommandantur and kissed Helga's neck softly as she rifled through a cabinet and murmured in her ear, nipping it lightly as he did, eliciting a most gorgeous giggle out of Klink's secretary. Only his heart wasn't terribly in it, and he decided it must be the very idea of a traitor in their system that was putting him off today.
Except you've been off for a while now, Rob, that irritatingly accurate, snide voice in his head whispered and he shook it away as he entered Klink's office. I'll analyse that after this mission, he decided and then proceeded to play Klink like the Kommandant's tortured fiddle.
Newkirk started as the barracks door banged open, his head whipping around to reveal Shultz, looking surprised at the force at which the door opened, "blimey, Shultz, this may not be Berchtesgaden but d'you mind not knockin' the door down?" Newkirk asked, not sure what the sergeant was doing here but eager to get rid of him so they could start preparing for the mission,
"Sorry, Newkirk," he said, looking genuinely sorry and from the ironing table, LeBeau called out,
"I've not made any food today Schultz," and the sergeant nodded,
"Ja, ich weiß, I know, you have not, but I have a, how you say, little something for you?" his round face lit up and Kinch shrugged when Newkirk looked at him,
"Well what is it, Shultz?" Carter asked, "gee, I don't like being kept in suspense," and Newkirk rolled his eyes. Sometimes he wondered how Carter got into the air force.
Shultz, meanwhile, pulled an actual block of cheese and white bread from the inside of his jacket, "I found these," he stated, putting them onto the table while all gathered stared at the goodies like every Christmas had come at once,
"That's not real cheese," Kinch said, looking at the block like it might explode and the sergeant laughed,
"It is!" he said,
"C'mon Shultz, where did someone like you, get something like this?" Kinch asked and Newkirk nodded,
"I know nothing," Shultz replied with,
Right smug bastard, Newkirk thought, but found his usual hatred of the Nazis, as always, was hard to stretch towards Shultz,
"I was wondering, LeBeau, if you could make that bread pudding with the Käse?" the guard asked and Newkirk watched the other corporal fight the urge to say no,
"Yeah, Schultz, now get out of here before the Kommandant sees you fraternising with us," LeBeau said and the guard nodded,
"Ja, I will go. Call me when it's ready!" and with that the man walked out, closing the door more gently this time,
"Look at that," LeBeau huffed, his hands on his hips, "now he thinks we take orders,"
"Well I told you, feed him only once a day, or he'll get used to it and then we'll have to retrain him," Kinch said dryly, and LeBeau scowled while Newkirk and Carter laughed,
"Oh yeah? Well see if I make the pudding,"
"What pudding?" Hogan asked, as he walked through the door of the barracks, and was immediately filled in by the others, and gave his French corporal an understanding look,
"We need him on our side, LeBeau," he reminded the man gently while the Frenchman was one step away from pouting,
"Damned Bosche," LeBeau said, conveying that he did not want to cook for a German for the sake of cooking, because he was no collaborator,
"And think about it this way," Hogan said, causing LeBeau to stop glaring at the cheese and look at him instead, "if you fatten Schultz up enough, all we have to do is trip him onto Hochstetter the next time he comes in and it will be deemed an accident," to which the French man smiled and reluctantly conceded to Hogan, to laughter but no surprise from the rest of the men.
It was three hours later that they found themselves running away from Shultz, who was still at their 'forest fire' and approaching the Kaiserhof. Newkirk felt almost self-conscious in his worn out navy blues, compared to the still shiny leather jacket Hogan was wearing. An' me boots are scuffed beyond savin' he added, looking at the dust covered shoes that had so many holes it was like wearing a sieve. It wasn't that they didn't have access to better equipment as such, it was more to the fact that if it was inspected and found to be in good quality, after being in camp for two years, they would have a hard time explaining it.
The Colonel was leading the three of them, and he entered the door of the Kaiserhof, the warm lighting and heat a welcome change from the bitterly cold winter's day outside. Suddenly there was a gun on them so fast, they barely had time to react, held by one of the two lovely ladies waiting inside. Hogan quickly gave the recognition code's first line and the tension was released as the girls responded correctly, lowering their guns. Newkirk glanced back at LeBeau and grinned, fine lookin' pair they are too, exactly what I need to…clear me 'ead, he added to himself.
Hogan leant against the bar as the frauline in green, asked if they were escaped prisoners, and then watched in amusement as LeBeau all but sprinted over to kiss her hand, his excitement almost tangible. Then the colonel found his amusement fading rather sharply as Newkirk joined in, grabbing her other hand, wearing a smile that was hidden behind the frauline's hand, one that was so charming Hogan wondered if LeBeau would stand a chance, before coming back to himself, as the girls' introduced themselves,
"We'll skip our names for now," he said, knowing that erring on any side other than caution would be foolishness in the extreme and had to fight the urge to roll his eyes himself as LeBeau cut in with one of his more cheesy lines about love,
And does Peter need to hold her hand? LeBeau got there first, he should back off and – what the hell am I thinking about this for?
Then the girls decided the men should be offered some wine, and Hogan felt the patience he had snap for no immediately apparent reason he could his put finger on, as Newkirk attempted to follow LeBeau and the girl, Margit, into the cellar,
"Alright, break it up," he said, his tone firm and his expression annoyed, "watch the door," he ordered Newkirk with a jerk of his head and completely ignored the way that angry blue eyes drilled holes into his head in protest, then after one last stab with "we ain't even in the same army!" watched as Newkirk more or less stalked out. He resolutely ignored the part of him that was incredibly happy at the thought of Newkirk away from any particular girl, telling himself that it was definitely for security reasons alone that he ordered Newkirk to door, as he slid onto the barstool.
Now is not the time for this Rob, he reminded himself, instead focusing on what the girl in front of him, Eva, was saying, responding as expected of a man who had just been in prison for an extended period of time surrounded completely by men, but watching her carefully. Alarm bells went off in his head when she asked him about Warren being recaptured and they turned into klaxons when she gave her actual name on the phone conversation. Although he nearly didn't hear it because he had been so distracted by Peter's interruption and the very clear indignation still in the corporal's voice, causing a stab of guilt that was almost physical in its force.
Hogan forced it out of his mind and focused instead in getting the remainder of the information out of her, listening as she said that they needed to go down the road to get their further instructions on escaping.
When LeBeau and Margit arrived back, Hogan ordered them to move out, not sure what to make of the look Eva threw his way as he followed his men out.
Outside, Newkirk was fuming as he waited for the Colonel and refused to acknowledge him as he jammed his hat back on, "back to Shultz," Hogan instructed and they nodded, but Newkirk had to bite his tongue from adding another comment about how he couldn't believe the Colonel had put him on the door.
Finally get a chance to get back to the old me, get rid of these weird feelin's and the ruddy bastard officer tells me to look at the door. Bet 'e was snoggin' the 'ell outta that other bird.
However, now Newkirk found the imagery that thought produced was ten times more distressing that having to watch the door. Somehow he didn't like the idea of the guv' with anyone else, except then the corporal was still more confused because then he had to wonder who he wouldn't mind seeing the Colonel with, and as he went through the list of recurring female underground agents, he came up blank, so his reasoning of it's because I didn't get to be with her rather went up in smoke. Which left him confused. Again.
Meanwhile, as he led his men back at a brisk pace to where they had left their sergeant of the guard, Hogan was replaying the meeting over in his mind. Half of it was replaying the girls' reactions, going over how they seemed far too comfortable with their names and the danger, and the other half going over Peter's interaction with the girl, try though he might to move onto something more important.
She seemed far too eager to kiss me, and not nearly eager enough to check our ID, hardly the quality of the wary underground agent that she should be. He seemed intent on kissing Margit, I wonder what it would be like to be under that sort of stare. The wine offered by the girls must have been to loosen our lips, to get us to reveal our names and maybe even more. What would Peter be like truly drunk? Would he get more affectionate? The phone call couldn't be from the winter relief, surely, no-one hangs up on that if they don't want to be harassed. He can't remain angry forever, and I hope he doesn't ask me why I chose him to watch the door because I don't have a good answer.
Hogan was brought out of his divided internal monologue by Schultz's yell. The colonel made short work of distracting Shultz long enough to steal the truck and drove off with it, intending to park it somewhere it will take Shultz at least another three hours to find it.
After they parked, he and his men hopped out and he motioned for them to follow him, drawing his gun and indicating they should do the same. LeBeau had a determined look on his face, and when Newkirk made eye contact, a part of the colonel relaxed, realising that the angry pools returned to their bright blue intelligence
And I need to stop analysing Peter's eyes, he added to himself .
They arrived at the ridge over the next stop of the escape route, the three of them crawling on their bellies, guns drawn and Hogan turned to the others, "Okay, I'm going to go in first. You two stay here, and if I'm not back in ten minutes take the truck, find Schultz and get back to camp,"
"What, and-and leave you in there?" Newkirk asked, his eyebrows drawn together in worry, for once the concern all too evident in his voice,
"If it is a trap do you want to come barging in and get knocked off too?" The colonel asked and Newkirk looked away in lieu of a better argument, his mind working furiously to try and think of something to get the Colonel to change his mind,
"But Colonel, we are a team!" LeBeau chimed in, looking imploringly at the Colonel even as he shook his head,
"C'mon," Hogan said, "You've got your orders. Remember, ten minutes, then back to camp, understood?"
"Righ' Sir" Newkirk reluctantly replied as next to him LeBeau said, "okay," neither of them ecstatic as they watched the Colonel make his way down the hill,
"I don't bloody like this," Newkirk muttered, feeling like something cold was spreading in his chest,
"We have our orders," LeBeau replied and Newkirk all but growled,
"Since when do you listen to orders?"
LeBeau cast his friend a sidelong glance and only that stopped him from replying with something equally sharp. Newkirk was biting his lip, tossing his gun from hand to hand, his back leg tapping a log that was just behind it as the minutes drew on. The man was nervous and LeBeau reminded himself any harsh words from Peter when he got like this meant little.
Newkirk was fighting the urge to just go in there and find his colonel, never mind disobeying a direct order to do so. Sitting here didn't feel right, and anger and irritation warred with his concern and worry, the two emotions alternating in their strength from minute to minute. 'ow would he like it if we was the ones who ruddy well up and walked into a trap? Selfish bastard, ruddy – "what's that?" Newkirk suddenly asked, startling LeBeau, pointing to a car that was heading towards the farm house. He felt his heart lurch as he spotted the SS flags on the car, and LeBeau confirmed as much,
"The SS! Gestapo! We must get mon Colonel!" He said, looking at Peter with wide eyes, as they both scrambled up into a half crouch,
The corporal's mind worked fast, "get to the truck and get back to Shultz, tell him that the Colonel and me 'ave escaped," Peter said and the corporal frowned at him,
"You want me to leave you behind!" he accused and Peter nodded,
"I outrank you, I was made corporal before you,"
"Damn ranking!" LeBeau spat out, finding himself agitated with the idea of leaving another one of his friends behind, especially Peter, who was, he reasoned, like a rose. Thorny as you try to get near, beautiful and soft and velvety once you did, "Pierre," he tried again,
The English corporal was moved by Loius' fear for him, but he shook his head as a car door slammed shut behind him,
"No time, Louis, just go! You'll do us more good if we can't get out of here, by saying something about the gestapo to the Kommandant," he gave the Frenchman a shove, and without waiting to see if he left, Newkirk turned and deftly ran down the hill.
As he ran, he could hear the bell ringing inside the house, knowing his Colonel was still in there.
Oh god, an' the last thing I said to 'im was unpleasant, god please, let him be safe. I don't know what this world would be like without him, we – I need him, please-"
His own haphazard thoughts were cut off as he drew level with the door and voices could be heard inside. Without waiting for anything else to happen, Newkirk threw the door open, in time to see the newly arrived gestapo man pointing a gun at the guv', and he saw his hand begin to move on the trigger.
Without a second's thought, Newkirk was moving, and as he launched himself at the Colonel he heard the man's surprised yell, heard the deafening bang of the gun, and smelt the fresh cologne that Hogan so loved to use. Then he saw nothing.
Hogan stared at the barrel of the gun, "I'm an escapee, I told you I snuck in on these people, Major,"
'Germany does not abide liars," the major in front of him sneered, as his men brutally hit the old man Hogan had come upon, his wife already lying on the floor from the first hit, scarily still. He tried not to wince as the next smack resounded around the room,
"I'm not lying. They are not involved,"
"Exactly what you would say if they were. You would not care, Colonel, if they did not try and help you," the agent countered, and Hogan could feel a hint of panic now. This one was not the standard stock of Gestapo he had come across so far. This one was intelligent. Silence fell on the hut, "Germany also does not abide wasting resources on filthy, foreign prisoners," he added, and Hogan watched as he took the safety of the gun, "better if they are all, well, shot while escaping,"
"I think you might want to reconsider. I am, after all, from the toughest POW camp in Germany," Hogan said, trying to change his tact, "our Kommandant doesn't like it when others discipline us,"
"I'll take my chances," he replied, and that was when Hogan caught something blue flying at him out of the corner of his eyes, even as he watched the Major's finger twitch on the trigger. An involuntary strangled yell left him as the blur of blue collided with him and a bang echoed around the room as the figure and he crashed to the ground. Hogan groaned as a sharp pain lanced through his head but opened his eyes to see a mess of black hair on his chest, and he felt a sudden, painful spike of fear,
"Peter?" he gasped, recognising the blue cap and black hair anywhere, and he forced himself to sit up, struggling under the corporal's weight, but freezing when a moan left the man on top of him. His heart suddenly constricted, he levered himself onto one hand and with his right, grabbed his corporal's shoulder, shock and still more fear flooding him as they touched a hot, sticky substance and the corporal moaned in real pain again.
Hogan glanced up to see the major watching the situation with some amusement, "look at that, how well he protects his master,"
For the first time Hogan felt a flare of white hot anger, "you bastard," he snarled and the gestapo major chuckled as Hogan carefully turned Peter over to assess the damage. There was a bullet wound in his shoulder, the navy blues steadily tuning purple as bright red blood seeped out, and the man had passed out, and his skin far too pale and his breaths too sharp and shallow.
"Peter?" he repeated again, shaking the corporal lightly. The man didn't respond, and Hogan sat up properly, moving the corporal onto his lap, shrugging out of his jacket. He was stopped there though, as the cold metal of the gun pressed into his neck,
"What do you think you're doing, Colonel?" The major asked, his voice frighteningly close to Hogan's neck, and the colonel fought the urge to shiver in disgust at the other man's proximity, unsure of when the man had moved,
"Putting pressure on the wound," he replied, and the man chuckled behind him,
"Cute, that you think you can save him," he replied and the Colonel felt a wave of hopelessness wash over him, before he pulled himself back together,
"Please," he found the word escaping his mouth, and he would have been ashamed at the desperation behind it, if Peter hadn't shifted in his lap, making a small, injured noise, turning his cheek into Hogan's thigh, as if seeking comfort.
It was another agonising moment before the gun was removed from the back of his neck,
"I will give you your false hope. Having your hope crushed will be better for us," the major replied, walking around to the other side while Hogan wasted no time. He stripped his shirt off quickly, ignoring the cold air that assaulted him, and quickly pulled on the seam that had been coming loose, so he could rip two strips off. Then, he bundled the shirt, as the major yelled orders to the men he brought with them. Hogan glanced up for long enough to see the completely lifeless bodies of the old couple be dragged out the door, into the bedroom.
He refocused on Peter and he laid his shirt on the wound, checking and finding that the bullet had indeed gone straight through the shoulder. He braced himself mentally, then applied pressure, and he didn't know if he felt worse or better when brilliant blue eyes shot open, accompanied by a yell,
"Sorry, sorry, sorry," he mumbled, as he quickly used the strips that he had torn off to wrap the bandage as Peter dragged in laboured breaths, making tiny noises of pain,
"Guv'?" he asked, tilting his head to the side, his glassy eyes struggling to focus and the colonel laid a hand on the corporal's cheek, waiting until those eyes he so loved - loved? - focused onto him,
"Yeah, Peter," he replied, and to his shock a small smile appeared on Peter's face,
" 's good…thought….they 'ad…" he trailed off, his eyes threatening to close and Hogan put his other hand on Peter's other cheek,
"Peter!" he called, desperate to keep him conscious,
"'m 'ere…guv'," Newkirk managed to reply, his voice strained, the words slurred and Hogan felt like something sharp and cold was twisting his heart into a painful knot,
"Hang in there," he half whispered, moving Peter into a more comfortable position,
"My, my how sweet. Such a pity he will die anyway, Colonel," The major cut in and Hogan threw him the dirtiest look he could muster, allowing his hands to leave Peter's cheeks, "we are moving now, Colonel. Pick your lapdog up and follow," he said, as the other gestapo men pointed their guns at the Colonel,
"He is not stable enough to move," the colonel said, in a last bid to stay where he was, trying to think of a way to overpower these two and get one up on the Major, but finding that with Peter as injured as he was, every plan endangered the corporal,
"Shut up. Stand up. Move!" The major yelled, turning out of the room with a sharp flick of his overcoat, barking orders at his guards in German, to make sure that the Colonel followed.
Resigned, Hogan carefully shifted Peter onto the floor, and stood up, pulling his jacket on over his undershirt and picking the corporals hat off the ground, unwilling to leave anything behind. Then, he crouched down and, hooking one arm under his legs, the other supporting his corporal around the back, he lifted Peter, holding the man near to his body, simultaneously surprised and not surprised at how light he was despite his height and strength.
The colonel attempted to stop his reaction when the corporal groaned at the jostling from walking but knew he had failed completely when he heard a laugh as they emerged into the evening light, the fading rays of sun casting a red glow on them all, the corporal's blood beginning to soak through his shirt-bandage.
"In the car, Colonel," the major said and Hogan complied, trying not to jostle Peter, laying him gently in the back seat, before straightening up, placing his head near the door, legs up on the seat.
"Do I at least get to know your name, Major?" he asked, turning to stare into dark brown eyes,
"Major Kessel, Johann," the man replied, pulling his leather gloves on tighter, "soon to be Oberführer, for the capture of dangerous escapees," he replied,
"You're returning us to camp?" Hogan asked, his tone changing to one that was suspicious as Kessel laughed,
"Certainly. Gestapo have no jurisdiction over you," he said and the Colonel had to stop a sarcastic comment, and was saved the trouble of voicing his concerns as the Major went on, "you'll be returned to camp as soon as the Gestapo have, shall we say, processed, you?" he finished in a sickly sweet tone and Hogan felt his stomach drop.
Peter needs medical attention! This processing could take days. Oh my god, help me, help him, what if…what if…no.
The Major watched in interest as if waiting for Hogan's protest. He didn't get it as the colonel forced himself to gaze stoically back at the gestapo agent, refusing to give him this satisfaction, refusing to let the inner panic show. He was better than that, and he owed it to his corporal.
"Into the car, Colonel," the Major finally said, and Hogan, after casting him one last, distrusting look, climbed into the car from around the other side, just in time to catch Peter's eyes opening, locking onto his own as a lower ranked gestapo man prodded him in the back,
"Where…" Peter begun, struggling to string whole sentences together and Hogan shook his head, causing the corporal to fall silent.
Instead he lifted Peter's legs onto his own lap as the soldier behind him forced him to slide further into the car, and he found himself sending up a silent prayer for this to somehow work out.
God if only I hadn't been so foolish. If only he hadn't been so damn loyal. Why, Peter why, did you have to jump in front of me?
Yet as the car started, Hogan knew the answer, glancing down to the man he had and was and probably always will be so drawn to. He had seen his own care and concern reflected in the Englishman's small gestures – a completely knitted pair of new woolen socks for winter nights, randomly appearing on his bed after his other ones went missing; a hand on a shoulder after a long mission; a smile in the middle of a sabotage plot– all these little things that Peter did even as he tried to maintain a persona of not caring.
And damn if that doesn't make me feel like a little piece of myself is dying, Hogan thought, hand coming to rest on Peter's forearm, hoping to provide some comfort as the corporal groaned because the car drove over a rough patch,
Bastards.
Hogan grimaced as they were thrown around in the back seat again, still later, going over a ditch in the road, and Peter let out a low whine, his eyes opening a fraction,
"'m fine," he gasped out, even as his hands suddenly clenched on Hogan's forearm, and the tendons in his neck stood out as he gritted his teeth to prevent the scream and Hogan could only shake his head, the anger bubbling up under the surface,
How dare they do this to him,
"It'll be alright," he muttered, needing to close his eyes as they went over the next bump, but knowing that the image of his corporal in agony would be forever burned into his eyelids as another low pitched sound escaped the corporal. He didn't think he could take much more of this, and realised he was probably cutting off the circulation in Peter's hand from his grip, making the conscious effort to release the corporal's arm.
As they drove into the town, the only thing the Colonel could hope for now was that LeBeau had gotten cleanly away and was back at camp, and Klink had been alerted to their escape. It was a sad day that he had to rely on their inept Kommandant to be their saviour, but he was their last chance.
We'll be alright, Peter. We have to be.
LeBeau felt like tearing his own hair out in sheer frustration at the inactivity they were forced into. It was six hours ago that his CO and his best friend were taken by the Gestapo. Six excruciating hours ago when LeBeau had heard the gunshot and his friendship warred with his duty to the rest of the men here, and Colonel Hogan's orders, to get back and report what they had seen.
He had been brought in through the front gates with Shultz, and the Kommandant had commended him on not escaping, allowing him to get back to the barracks. He had quickly relayed what he had seen to Kinch and Carter in the privacy of Hogan's office and watched as both their eyes widened with horror and he felt his own heart constrict yet again at the knowledge of the gunshot, but lack of information about who was actually shot.
LeBeau had seen movement from the hill, but the light had faded fast and he couldn't make out who was who. After they had left he had snuck into the cottage to find the old couple had been beaten to death but bore no bullet wounds, yet there was enough blood on the carpet, and the memory of a gunshot, to insinuate that someone had definitely been shot. With this knowledge alone, LeBeau had been forced to leave the house, running back to where Shultz was going mad, looking for them.
"Louis, perhaps you should sit," Carter, who had been outside somewhere, said, walking through the office door and closing it behind him, breaking LeBeau out of his cyclic thoughts. He approached the Frenchman cautiously, as if he were a deer, easily startled,
"Sit? How can I sit? Mon Colonel and Pierre could be anywhere by now, being held by some filthy bosche and be tortured or-or worse!" he exclaimed, turning away from the sergeant, who looked just about as distraught as he felt. He stopped and sighed, 'I apologise, Andre," he said, standing still a moment, "I did not mean to yell at you,"
"Oh that's alright, Louis," the sergeant said, "why my mom always yelled at me when she got mad, even though it wasn't my fault. I remember this one time-"
"Carter." Kinch said, from the bottom bunk, his notepad in hand, pencil tucked behind his ear, trying in vain to come up with some plan to find their CO and their friend before it was too late, but finding that not knowing who they were taken by, or where to, was a real mountain to overcome. Though the staff sergeant did not want to contemplate what 'too late' might mean.
"Uh, sorry Kinch," Carter replied, looking bashful, the momentary light in his eyes dulled down again,
"This is ridiculous! We simply must do something! Colonel Hogan would not sit by if we were captured!" LeBeau exclaimed,
"Think we don't know that?" Kinch snapped, throwing the book at the office door as a wave of anger born of their defencelessness washed over him, "you think I, of all people, could forget how much we owe the Colonel?"
"What are you just sitting there for then?" LeBeau asked, pointing an accusing finger, "you're meant to be in charge now,"
"Oh shut up!" Kinch snapped back, springing to his feet, "I'd like to see you do better," he replied, his voice taking on a menacing tone,
"Oh yeah?" LeBeau asked, his mocking tone making Kinch narrow his eyes,
"Yeah! Why doesn't all four feet of you come over here and say that?" he asked,
"Any time, âne,"
"What did you just call me?"
"If you had any culture you would know,"
"You sayin' something about the way I was brought up?
Carter could only stand and watch from the side as the remaining command crew began to fight with each other, before he finally kicked himself into action and inserted himself between Kinch and LeBeau before their increasingly aggressive tone came to blows,
"Guys!" he yelled, pushing them both away from each other and they were momentarily too stunned to say anything. It didn't last for long,
"What the hell, Carter?" Kinch exclaimed, rounding on the young sergeant at the same time that LeBeau yelled,
"L'enfer Andrew?"
"I HAVE A PLAN!" Carter suddenly burst out.
Silence fell in the office, as only their harsh breaths could be heard and they took a moment to actually realise what they had just done.
Kinch was the first to fall into the chair at the desk, letting his head drop into his hands, closing his eyes as shame hit him. His colonel, the first commanding officer who ever acknowledged him as a human being rather than a useful tool, could be sitting in a prison being tortured. Peter, snappy, thorny, light-fingered but brilliant and funny Peter may be with him or could have been taken somewhere else for the Gestapo brand of questioning – and here he was, fighting with his team.
He looked up to see Louis wore much the same embarrassed and regretful expression as he did. They made eye contact, and then LeBeau was walking towards him, and dragged him somewhat unwillingly into a hug, "Je suis désolé, I am sorry Kinch," he muttered, as he moved away and Kinch sighed,
"Me too, buddy," Kinch replied and Carter frowned at both of them,
"I have a plan," he repeated and they both looked over to him, "if you're done being mean to each other, I think we can get the Colonel and Peter back," he said and LeBeau leant against the desk to face the munitions man fully,
"Anything will do right now, Andre, even one of your plans," he sighed and beside him, Kinch nodded, some of the frustration he had felt before released, his mind starting to function once more. The sergeant seemed unperturbed by their lack of faith as he said,
"We're going into Gestapo headquarters tonight to get the Colonel and Peter out,"
"That won't work, Andrew," Kinch replied, trying to keep the exasperation out of his voice, "we've been over this, we don't know where they are,"
"They're being held in Stuttheim," Carter stated then, and the other two stared at him,
"How do you figure that?" Kinch asked, his tone incredulous,
"I was at the Kommandant's window before and he received a call from a Major Kessel or something. So I went into the tunnels and I radioed the underground, and they said he's head of Gestapo in Stuttgard, and he happened to be passing by here today, because they spotted him at the Hauserhof, so I figured it makes sense that he was the one who picked the Colonel and Peter up, although I still don't know how he knew they'd be there. I would have come to you first, but you looked like you didn't want to be disturbed, so I checked it out myself. All those lessons you gave me are really paying off, Kinch!" he finished with a small, hesitant smile, as if he was not sure he had done the right thing.
LeBeau and Kinch exchanged a shocked expression with each other. Sometimes they forgot that Carter was so much more intelligent than his clumsiness and forgetfulness made them believe,
"That's brilliant, Carter," Kinch said with a grin, and LeBeau walked over and clapped him on the shoulder, "Let's get started, mon ami!" he added and Carter smiled, glad for once, he didn't screw it up, almost glowing under the praise of his fellows.
He moved to the door quickly, and, hearing the others follow him, headed for the tunnels.
They had a rescue to plan.
Chapter three should be coming soon! I'm trying for weekly updates. Thanks for all the support so far, and for your kind words, hope I can keep it up, I'm having a ball writing with these guys. Let me know what you think!
Aza