A/N: I'm not a doctor, so I'm not sure if everything that I stated in this chapter is right. But remember, this is a fanfiction, which means not everything has to be 100% right.


When Jout woke up, he found himself in his small concrete cell once again. He was lying in the middle of the room, face down to earth. As he tried to move his arms to sit up, he noticed that he could barely move them and only while in extreme pain. Jout stopped what he was doing and rolled on his back, closing his eyes again because of the pain. This was bad; both his shoulders were dislocated. He had spent a lot of time with Wilson the last year because the medic needed some hands to help him and during that time he learned to identify a lot of injuries. He also knew that his shoulders needed to be reset or else the movement of his arms could be forever restricted. If something like that happened in the camp, Wilson would usually do it since another person needed to reset a shoulder while Jout held the patient down. But now he was all alone. Jout thought about waiting for Emil to let him do this, but since the light in the cell was burning, it was at least six o'clock in the morning. This meant his shoulders were already dislocated for about ten hours, which only gave him two hours for resetting his shoulders without risking permanent damage.

Jout decided he could not wait any longer and hoping that Emil might return. So he sat up, moved forward on his knees, and hauled himself up. When he had managed to stand up, he noticed that his clothes were not wet anymore. He only hoped he would not develop a cold or worse, pneumonia, with the clothes drying on his body in the cold cell. However, that was currently not the topic of his attention; he needed to figure out how to reset his shoulders on his own. The main problem was that both his shoulders were dislocated, which meant he could not use one arm to reset the other. Though Jout knew that there was nothing in the cell to help him, he still looked around the room in hopes of maybe finding something that would help him after all. But the only things he saw was the cot and four concrete walls as well as the iron door. In that moment, Jout remembered what Wilson had once told him. "Always reset the shoulder contrary to the direction the upper arm bone left the socket." Since Jout could not move his arms to check in which direction the shoulders were dislocated, he moved his cheek down to his shoulders and checked. He felt the upper arm bone looking out slightly on the front, resulting in a bump. Bingo! At least he had some luck in here. His shoulders were dislocated in the forward direction, which meant he had to reset them in the backwards direction. And this also meant that he could try to reset them by using one of the concrete walls.

Jout went to the wall opposing the one with the cot and positioned himself close to it. He put his right leg a bit behind the left one, stabilizing his position. Then he took three deep breaths before he slammed his left shoulder the first time against the wall. The resulting ache shot through his body and made Jout bite his lip again as well as placing his forehead against the cold wall. He did not succeed in resetting his shoulder, so he took again three deep breaths and then slammed his left shoulder against the concrete wall once more. He heard a dull sound accompanied by the feeling of his shoulder sliding into the socket again. The pain in his left shoulder instantly became less and he was finally able to carefully move his arm. Jout used his newly acquired mobility to get his garrison cap from the cot and put it in his mouth to bite on it while he went back to the wall to reset his other shoulder. This time he placed his left leg behind his right one and slammed his right shoulder against the concrete wall too. Again, he felt a sharp pain that took his breath away for a moment, indicating the unsuccessful attempt at resetting his upper arm bone. After having breathed through the pain, Jout prepared himself for another try. This time he used all the strength he could muster as he slammed his right shoulder against the wall one more time. He again heard the dull sound and felt his shoulder sliding into the socket; however, he did not feel a release of pain. Quite the contrary, because the pain he felt in his right shoulder was much worse than anything he had endured in the last few days. Jout quickly stumbled to the cot and fell on it, holding his right arm close to his body. He tried once more what he had often done during his stay with the Gestapo; closing his eyes and breathing through the pain.

Minutes of breathing went by without any easing, and every slight movement of his right arm ended in tremendous pain. Then Jout heard how the iron door was opened. His heart was starting to beat faster, and he feared that Fritz and Hans came to bring him to another meeting with Fuhrmann. The heavy door was opened, and next Emil stepped into the small cell, medicine bag in his right hand. He waited for the door to be closed again before hurrying to Jout upon seeing his pain-twisted face. "My duty only started now. What happened?"

"Long story short: Fuhrmann dislocated my shoulders and I tried to reset them on my own. With the left shoulder everything went fine, but something went wrong with the other one," Jout answered, tilting his head down to his arm.

"Why did you try to reset your shoulders on your own?" Emil asked while he helped Jout of his jacket and shirt. "You should have waited for me."

Jout drew in his breath as the jacket and shirt left his shoulder. At last he replied, "I didn't know when you'll be back, and I figured I hadn't much time left for resetting them."

Emil examined Jout's right shoulder, which was heavenly swollen and covered in blue bruises. When he touched the collarbone, a crunch was heard and Jout groaned in pain. "Well, with your attempt to reset your shoulder, you managed to break your collarbone."

"Oh, great!" groaned Jout. "As if the injuries the Gestapo does to me are not enough, I have to injure myself."

"I will bandage your shoulder really tight and give you painkillers. Just try to move your right arm as little as possible. I can't do much more right now," Emil said.

He gave Jout some painkillers to swallow and then he took a bandage from his bag. While he bandaged the shoulder, trying to fix the broken bone in place as best as possible, Jout watched the German soldier's every move. He really trusted the young man in front of him now, but there were so many questions racing through his mind concerning Emil and his membership in the Gestapo.

"Emil, why are you part of the Gestapo when you don't want them to retrieve any information from me?" Jout asked at last.

Emil shortly stopped bandaging Jout's shoulder, but quickly turned back to his task. "Well, I have an infant daughter and wife to think of."

"What do you mean?"

"You make more money if you're part of the Gestapo. And by wearing this damned uniform, I make sure that I don't have to fight in Russia or the Western front," Emil explained while he finished the bandage around Jout's shoulder.

Jout felt anger rising in him. "So just for some extra bucks you are part of a criminal organisation that tortures people? How do you sleep at night?"

"Do you think I like being part of the Gestapo?" Emil yelled. Then he reminded himself of the officers standing outside the cell and lowered his voice again. "I'm only doing this for my daughter." He grabbed into his shirt pocket and retrieved a picture of a baby girl with blonde hair and showed it to Jout. "Her name is Emma. She was born two months ago in August. I only want her to be save and to grow up with a father who is still alive. And I want to protect her from the Nazis."

Jout looked at the picture of Emil's daughter, seeing the broad smile upon Emil's face on it as he held his baby daughter. It reminded him of the pictures of his own son and how much he wished to return to Tommy so that he had his father back. Jout looked back up at Emil and gave him the picture back, now feeling even closer to him. "You want to protect her from the Nazis by joining a Nazi organisation? That doesn't make any sense."

"I want only the best for Emma. So I want her to grow up in another country; a country free from war. That's why I'm part of the Gestapo. I save the extra money so that eventually, I can flee with her and my wife to Switzerland." Emil grabbed Jout's undershirt and started helping him with getting redressed. "I'm not a Nazi. I think Hitler is a madman who needs to be stopped. But there are so many Germans who believe what he says and who would rather have that the whole nation goes down than living next to Jews. I'm only a single person. I can't change anything. That's why I want to flee so that my daughter does not have to live in a dictatorship." When Jout was dressed again, Emil rummaged once more in his back to find the bottle with the lucid liquid. "I'm giving you the sedative again. With your broken collarbone, every hour without another interrogation meeting is value in gold."

Emil helped Jout to lie down and a few seconds after he gave him the shot, Jout was back in the state of unconsciousness that he had visited so often since his stay with the Gestapo.


Shortly after breakfast, Hogan climbed down the ladder to the tunnel. Newkirk's appearance during morning roll call and breakfast had Hogan worried; the Brit looked like death itself with heavy eye rings and his face seemed sunken. But before he had the chance to talk with his second-in-command, Newkirk already disappeared in the tunnel again. So Hogan decided to simply pay a visit to the sewing section and talk with Newkirk about the troubling situation.

With brisk steps, Hogan followed tunnel three to the clothing room in which he suspected Newkirk to be. When he reached his destination, Hogan peaked around the corner and saw how Newkirk was mending their clothes. Again. Though he knew how stubborn the Brit could be when it came to his feelings, he was determined to get him to talk. And he hoped Newkirk might be a bit more open to him since he was his boyfriend's brother, and with that somehow family.

"Hey, Newkirk! How are you doing?" asked Hogan as he walked into the small sewing room.

"Fine," Newkirk answered without looking up from the pants in his hands.

"I see you have mended almost every piece of clothing we possess. Why don't you make a break and lie down for a while? You look like you have not slept so much."

Newkirk forcefully stuck the needle in the seam of the pants, yanking the black thread through it. "Not necessary, gov'nor. I'm feelin' fine."

Hogan sighed and shook his head. "No, you're not." This comment got Newkirk averting his gaze from the piece of clothing in his hands, and Hogan made three big steps towards the stool by the table. "You're feeling as shitty as I do. And because you don't want to show the others your feelings, you hide down here."

"Talk for yerself, gov'nor. I'm simply takin' care of our uniforms."

Newkirk directed his glance back on the pants and stuck the needle into it once more, when Hogan grabbed the piece of clothing and pulled it away from him. The Brit wanted to argue, but he was cut off by Hogan's commanding voice. "Stop this game, Peter. You and I both know that you are only down here because you don't want the others to see you in pain. But you need to talk with someone about your feelings. It won't make you feel better if you bottle them up." His voice softened as he said, "Right now, I'm not speaking to you as your commanding officer. I'm talking to you as part of the family. And you can be sure that nothing you say will leave this room."

Newkirk was totally surprised by Hogan calling him part of the family. Of course he knew that Hogan had no problem with him dating his younger brother, but still, he was touched by his CO's remark. Without really wanting to, all his feelings and thoughts poured out of him and he opened up to Hogan. "I can't breathe out of fear for Josh. I 'ave the feelin' 'at I'm suffocatin' and 'avin' a 'eart attack at the same time. I can't sleep at night because images of 'im lyin' dead in some Gestapo cell are floodin' me mind." Newkirk lowered his glance and saw how his hands were shaking. "And the worst part is the feelin' of 'elplessness. I'm goin' stir-crazy not bein' able to do anythin' to 'elp Josh. And if I didn't take care of the clothin', I would simply sit around and wait for the message of 'is death. And 'at's somethin' I can't do. I need to distract meself." Upon realizing what he had just said to his commanding officer, Newkirk blushed and smiled sheepishly at him.

"Yeah, I feel exactly the same," Hogan admitted. "That's why I spent most of my time in my office working on some stupid papers for Klink. To distract myself from gruesome thoughts. But Peter, you can't lose hope. Everything is lost if you lose hope."

Newkirk gave Hogan a sad smile. "Well, gov'nor, right before 'e was taken away, Josh said to me, "'ope for the best and prepare for the worst". But ya know, I don't want to prepare for the worst. I want 'im to come back to me."

"I want that too, Peter," Hogan said while standing up. "That's why I say to myself that everything will turn out fine. Because our mother always said to me, "Optimism is the key to good outcomes"."

Hogan walked back out, but before he left the sewing section, he turned around again and suggested, "Why don't you work on something else? I'm sure when Josh comes back he would appreciate a cosy blanket."

"I don't 'ave the right fabric for 'at."

"Don't worry. I'll go to Klink again and try to talk him into ordering Fuhrmann to bring Josh back. I don't think he will, but I'm sure I'll get him to buy us some bales of wool. What colour do you want?"

"Blue and yellow. 'at's Josh's favourite colours," Newkirk said. Hogan nodded and turned around to leave when Newkirk called, "Gov'nor, do ya really think Josh will come back?"

Hogan smiled sadly at him. "What's the alternative?" he simply stated and left the room.