Author's note: I had to change some dates about when Brawley, Fanbrick and Leach joined the Eagle Squadrons. Nothing big that would change anything important to the story, I just wanted to make it authentic and therefore I changed it. Just check it out if you're curious.

Update November 3, 2018: I also changed Henri's rank. Makes simply more sense with my other story, "Hope Dies Last".


Jout gently touched the other man's face on the picture.

"I wish you were here, fighting the Germans with me. We would be helping to free France like you said we would. And after the war you would show me around Paris; do you remember how nervous I was at the thought of meeting your grandparents?"

Jout smiled sadly. "I will visit Paris one day, I promise. And your grandparents. France will be liberated; you can count on me!"

Jout put the picture back into his pocket and stood up. He left his hiding place to stroll around the compound in hopes this would take his mind off the painful thoughts welling up inside him. Maybe he would find Ashton and Embrey from barracks 5, and together they could play cards or play ping-pong. Everything would be better than debauch in old memories.

He walked past barracks 8 when he saw out of the corner of his eye how Brawley, Leach and Fanbrick were making their way towards him. He tucked his hands in his pockets and marched off in the direction of barracks 5.

"Hogan!" yelled Brawley.

Jout ignored the other man and kept walking towards barracks 5.

Brawley jogged towards Jout, with his friends close behind him.

He reached Jout and grabbed him by the shoulder. "Why are you running away from us?"

"I don't know what you are talking about," said Jout and he started to walk away.

Brawley pushed him hard against the barracks wall and laughed "Did you hear that guys? He doesn't know what I'm talking about"

Brawley moved closer to Jout. "Are you fucking with me?"

"What do you want from me, Brawley?" asked Jout calmly.

"You know exactly what I want from you" He turned around to Fanbrick and Leach. "But don't you all agree that with your connections to the inner core of this camp, you owe us something else?"

"I owe you nothing," said Jout.

He stared Brawley directly in the eyes. "We are not in England anymore, Brawley. Fanbrick's father can't help you here. What do you want to do? Beating me up again? You know how that ended the last time"

Brawley turned his head and snorted. Then he grabbed Jout's collar and banged his head against the wall. "Listen to me, Hogan. Listen carefully. If you don't do what we want, we will tell the Krauts your little secret"

Jout shoved Brawley away from him. "You wouldn't dare"

"You know what they do with perverts like you, don't you?" He moved a few steps back and rolled up his sleeves. "We are not inhuman monsters, though, so you don't have to decide now. We will give you some time"

Brawley motioned for Fanbrick and Leach to hold Jout's arms. "But I think this will help your decision"

He hauled off and gave Jout a hard blow into his guts.


Hogan walked back to the table. "What is it, Kinch?"

"Something happened before Jout left the squadron. A fighter pilot from his unit was shot down and killed over Kassel on February 18th, 1942"

"Well, as sadly as it is, but from time to time, pilots get killed," said Hogan.

Everyone in the barracks was listening carefully. They all wanted to know what was so special about the killed pilot.

"I know that, Colonel, but it was not just anyone. It was Jout's closest friend in the squadron"

Hogan sighed and crossed his arms. "Who was it?"

"Pilot Officer Henri Dupont. He was born on December 5th, 1919 in Van Buren, Maine to French immigrants. His parents had left France about one year earlier in November 1918, shortly after the end of World War 1. He crossed the border and joined the Royal Canadian Air Force in May 1940 after Germany attacked France to help defending France. He joined the No. 71 Squadron after its formation in September 1940, and later was transferred to the No. 121 Squadron in May 1941. According to Group Captain Preston, Dupont and Jout became friends immediately after Jout had joined the squadron"

"Do we know how Josh coped with Dupont's death?" Hogan asked.

"Well, apparently not very well. Group Captain Preston said he backed away from any other squadron member. He was always in his room, and only left it at mealtime and for duty. He requested his transfer to an American unit in August 1941, without any explanation. Jout was assigned to the 324th Bomb Squadron and that was the last time Preston had heard from him"

"Colonel, do you think Dupont's death has anything to do with Jout's behavior?" asked Carter who was still sitting at the desk.

"I don't think so. I mean it's tragic, but Dupont has no relation to Brawley, Fanbrick and Leach. I think Josh acts this strange because of the unfair practices they used to earn money"

"And what do you want to do about that?" questioned LeBeau. "Those malfaiteurs [criminals]have to be punished"

"I agree with you, but we are in a German POW camp. How should we punish them for something they did the last two years in England?" Hogan pinched the back of his nose. "Moreover, we don't have any evidence. There would never be a court-martial, not with Lieutenant General Fanbrick protecting his son"

Suddenly the door was pushed open and someone stormed into the barracks.

"Colonel, you have to come. There is a fight going on, and we can't settle it" The man looked awfully fearful.

Hogan looked to his men, and they followed the man to barracks 5. There was a huge crowd of prisoners, yelling and jostling each other, and Hogan could see how the guards were starting to notice the happening. He ran to the crowd and saw how Jout was lying on the ground with Brawley on top of him, beating Jout up. Some prisoners tried to help him, but Leach and Fanbrick kept them away. Other prisoners just stood around and cheered for Brawley to continue. Newkirk and Kinch were shoving themselves through the crowd and pulled Brawley off from Jout.

"What is going on here?" asked Hogan.

The crowd fell silent. Fanbrick and Leach tried to leave the scene, but were stopped by some other prisoners.

Brawley, who was still held by Newkirk and Kinch, said, "Just a small dispute, Colonel. Nothing serious"

Hogan knelt beside Jout. His right eye was swollen and his left cheek was cut. His lip was burst and blood came out of his nose. His whole face was bloody. "Josh, can you hear me?"

The younger man did not react. But Hogan saw how his brother fought to open his eyes, or more precisely, his left eye.

"LeBeau, go get Wilson. Tell him to come to the barracks"

"Will do, Mon Colonel"

Hogan averted his gaze from his brother and looked to Brawley. "You call this nothing serious? What was the fight about?"

Brawley didn't answer.

"I'm waiting, Sergeant" Hogan was getting impatient.

"It was about…money…I owe to him," said a hoarse voice.

It was Jout, who had managed to open his left eye.

Hogan shot a worried glance at his brother and touched his shoulder. "Josh, how are you feeling?"

"Like I was hit by a train" He gulped. "But nothing to worry about – I was worse off in the past"

Out of nowhere Hogan heard a voice yelling, "What is happening here?"

Hogan looked up and saw Klink approaching, with Schultz and Langenscheidt in tow. They stopped right in front of Jout, who had closed his eye again.

"Colonel Hogan, I demand to know why this prisoner is wounded!"

Hogan stood up and pointed at Brawley. "Sergeant Brawley beat up Lieutenant Hogan because of an old dispute. Sergeants Fanbrick and Leach helped him"

Normally, Hogan always tried to confuse Klink with some made-up stories to help the prisoners avoid staying in the cooler. But not now. Not if his brother got hurt.

"I understand" Klink looked to Schultz. "Feldwebel Schultz, take the three men into the cooler. Thirty days of solitary confinement should help them settle their next dispute in a civilized manner"

"Verstanden, Oberst" ["Alright, Colonel"]

Schultz and Langenscheidt brought the three men away.

When they went past Jout, Brawley said, "This is not over, Hogan"

"It's Lieutenant Hogan for you, Sergeant," retorted Hogan.

"Colonel Hogan, ensure that the prisoner gets proper treatment. If your medic needs any supplies, let me know" Klink turned around to face the crowd. "There is nothing to see here. Leave this place or you will all end up in the cooler"

The Germans hated it if too many prisoners were gathered in one place. It made them feel uneasy, and they always thought the prisoners would attempt a mass escape. The prisoners groaned, but eventually left the scene due to their aversion for solitary confinement.

Hogan turned his attention back to his brother after the crowd had dissolved. "Carter, run back to the barracks and tell Wilson we're on our way. Newkirk, help me lift up Josh"

Newkirk rashly knelt down across from Hogan and slid his left arm under Jout's body, right under the shoulder blade, and with his right hand he took a hold of Jout's arm. Hogan did the same on the other side.

"Josh, we are going to lift you up now, alright? This might hurt, but trust me; we will get you to a medic soon. Do you understand me?"

Jout nodded slightly and clenched his teeth. His whole body hurt, even without being dragged around the entire camp.

Hogan looked at Newkirk. "On the count of three. One, two…three"

Jout let out a cry of pain when the two men pulled him up. Kinch hurried forward to support his back, while Hogan and Newkirk each slung one of Jout's arms around their shoulder and put their other arm on his back to prop him up.

"I'm sorry, Josh. It's almost over; just hang on a little longer," pleaded Hogan.

It broke his heart to see his little brother in so much pain. He knew he had to do something about Brawley and the other men. He could not allow them to hurt Jout, or any other soldier, without punishment, just because of a General who protected his son from prosecution. And Hogan knew he would find a way to deal with them. But now his top priority was to get Jout to their barracks.

Jout squinted his eyes shut. "I'm…fine"

Hogan tilted his head at Newkirk. "Let's go"

The group slowly made its way across the compound, always trying to drag Jout as gingerly as possible. They didn't want to add any more injuries to his maltreated body. They moved past the commandant's office and Hogan was able to catch a glimpse at Klink, who stood in front of it, eyeing the group carefully. Kinch pushed the door open and Newkirk and Hogan shuffled Jout inside. Sergeant Wilson stood right in front of them.

"Bring him into the office for more privacy. LeBeau and I already prepared it"

They walked into the small room and sat Jout down onto the lower bunk. LeBeau had gotten previous instructions to keep him up, so he placed himself next to him on the bunk.

"Mon ami, it's important that you remain seated. Lean against me," he whispered to him when Jout tried to lie down.

Wilson motioned for the other men to leave the room.

"I'm not leaving his side!" demanded Hogan. "I'm his brother"

"And that's why you can't be in here. You're too emotional"

Wilson went closer to Hogan, since he moved not one inch. "With all due respect, Colonel, I'm the medic, and in this case, I'm the one who gives orders. I have to examine your brother, and this will hurt. It's best if you wait outside"

Hogan looked at Jout the whole time. Eventually, he sighed. "You're probably right"

He left the room with the rest of the men, except for LeBeau, who was ordered to assist Wilson.

The door was closed and Wilson said, "Well, Lieutenant, I think we haven't had the pleasure yet. Although I could think of a more pleasant situation than this. I'm Sergeant Wilson, the camp medic"

"It's not really thrilling for me either" Jout took a painful breath. "I'm Jout"

"We have to get rid of his jacket and shirt," Wilson ordered. "He might have some broken ribs"

LeBeau helped Jout out of his jacket while Wilson unbuttoned his shirt. LeBeau slipped it off too, and at last they removed Jout's undershirt. There were already blue marks appearing on his chest.

"Hm, just like I thought" Wilson applied some pressure on Jout's chest, which resulted in the other man inhaling sharply. "Some of his ribs are broken. LeBeau, get the bandage from my bag"

LeBeau left Jout's side to retrieve the bandage from Wilson's medical case. Even though they were in a POW camp and had no real infirmary, they were fortunate to have a fair amount of medical supplies and a rather decent medical care, as the case may be under the given circumstances.

"Jout, I have to apply the bandage, and you have to help me. Can you raise your arms up?"

"I think…I can" Jout raised his arms slightly over his head, but the pain that washed through his body was incredibly intense and he started to breathe shallow.

Wilson took the bandage from LeBeau. "Help him with his arms"

LeBeau nodded and held Jout's arms up, and Wilson started to wrap the bandage tightly around Jout's chest. Jout clenched his teeth with every new layer of the bandage and hoped that Wilson would be finished soon.

"There we go," announced Wilson after a short time. "Are there any other injuries you have besides the obvious ones in your face?"

Jout held out his right hand. "I can't really move my wrist"

Wilson examined the hand closely. "Can't you move it at all, or is it only difficult?"

"It's difficult, and it hurts immediately"

The medic laid Jout's hand on his knee. "Luckily, it's only sprained, and not broken. But I will put your wrist in a cast, just to be on the safe side"

"LeBeau, could you please set the pot with the warm water onto the stool next to me, so I can apply the plaster bandages without spilling so much water?"

LeBeau did as ordered, while Wilson placed the bandages on Jout's left knee. After LeBeau placed the pot next to Jout's right knee, Wilson started to dunk the individual bandages into the water, and then on Jout's wrist, creating a cast from Jout's hand to his elbow, that made it possible for him to wear his officer shirt with a rolled up sleeve.

"You can dress up when it's dry. Until then, I will treat your facial wounds"

Wilson took a wet cloth and cleaned up the blood that was all over Jout's face. With the blood gone, he was able to see his patient's wounds clearly. The right side of his face was vigorously swollen, which prevented Jout from opening his right eye. Furthermore, he had a cut on his left cheek, right under the eye and a burst lip. Wilson acted like a professional and stitched the cut, but inwardly he was asking himself how someone could do something like that to another person.

Ten minutes later, he was finished and said to LeBeau, "You can help him dress now"

The Frenchman went over to the desk, on which another one of Jout's shirt lay that he had retrieved from the American's footlocker earlier.

"I think we can take off the cast in two weeks; by then everything should be healed. Your ribs will need six to eight weeks, but I think you won't need the bandage anymore in three weeks. Since it will loosen up when you move, the bandage has to be applied again every three days. This can be done by someone in the barracks; you don't have to come to me for that. Slow it down a bit, but don't slacken off too much; we don't want you to get pneumonia. If the pain gets worse, I can give you some painkillers. I will check in on you next week, alright?"

"Yeah, thanks Sergeant," said Jout, while LeBeau tried to slip his undershirt over his head without hurting him too much.

Wilson packed his bag and went to the door. "Get well soon, Lieutenant"

He entered the main room, and Hogan jumped off his stool immediately, with the others close behind.

"How is he?" asked Hogan.

"He's doing fine, Colonel. Some of his ribs are broken and his wrist is sprained. I plastered his wrist and put a bandage around his chest. I stitched the cut on his cheek too. His chest bandage has to be re-applied every three days, and the cast should be removed in two weeks"

"Is there anything we should pay attention to?"

"Get me as soon as he starts to breathe too shallow; this could end in an oxygen deficiency. But otherwise, just try to keep him out of any more fights in the next weeks" Wilson made his way to the door to leave the barracks, when he turned around. "Oh, I almost forgot. In which bunk does he sleep in?"

Slightly confused, Hogan pointed to Kinch and Jout's bunk. "The upper one is his"

"It would be best if he switches with someone who occupies a lower bunk as long as his ribs are not completely healed"

"He can have mine," said Carter.

Wilson nodded and left the barracks.


"Thanks for your help, LeBeau. I really appreciate it," said Jout as LeBeau helped him into his shirt.

"No need to thank me. It goes without saying to help a friend in need"

Jout smiled, but his mind was engaged in trying to figure out how to sell the whole 'Brawley beat me up because I owed him money' story to his brother. He had to make him believe it, so that he would not investigate any further.

He had to prevent his past from catching up with him.


2nd Author's note: I'm not a medic, and therefore I have no real knowledge about treating wounds. But I researched and I watch a lot of Grey's Anatomy, so here you can admire my television-medical knowledge :)