"Now watch. Watch." Newkirk tapped his deck of cards, then split it and pulled out a card. "Is this your card?"
Henri scrunched his face. "Yes. But I still did not see."
"Okay, no problem, little mate. Let's go over it again."
Hogan smiled as he leaned up against the dirt wall of the tunnel, watching Newkirk try to explain his magic trick again. Over the last few days, Henri had warmed up to them and had proven himself to be a bright little guy, but he couldn't seem to be able to wrap his head around magic tricks.
LeBeau had obediently stayed in the cooler. Hogan knew he couldn't keep him there forever- for one thing their sentence would end soon- and he wasn't sure he wanted to.It seemed cruel to keep him away the whole time. Hogan wasn't sure he would allow LeBeau to divulge the true nature of his relationship with Henri, but he should at least have the chance to interact with him. Hell, they were so much alike that maybe Henri would figure it out himself.
From Kinch's radio there came a series of beeps. Kinch, who had been trying to figure out Newkirk's trick along with Henri, got up and put on his head set. He grabbed a pad of paper and a pencil and began scribbling. Kinch looked up at him and frowned, then his eyes darted over to Henri. Hogan felt his stomach sink.
The beeping stopped and Kinch tore off the paper and handed it out to Hogan. Hogan took it and read it over. It was from Olsen. It was short, but certainly not sweet.
Gestapo shot Frau Vahlen outside Dusseldorf. Confirmed dead. Maid whereabouts unknown.
Sorry.
Hogan crumpled the paper and tapped his fist against his forehead. He looked over at Henri who was trying to shuffle the deck of cards in his little hands. Newkirk was watching him with an amused smile, but when he glanced over at Hogan, the colonel saw that he knew something was wrong.
Hogan smoothed out the paper on his chest and left without a word. He didn't stop until he reached the cooler. He wiggled through the narrow passage to LeBeau's cell.
LeBeau was sitting up in his bed, watching the entrance expectantly. "Colonel?" he said as soon as Hogan was through.
Silently, Hogan handed over the paper. LeBeau grabbed it eagerly. Hogan watched his face fall and met his gaze as he looked up in horror.
There was nothing to say.
Hogan had been wondering what sort of punishment he could give LeBeau, but the look on the corporal's face told him it wasn't necessary.
This was punishment enough.
Hogan left him alone with his thoughts. When he got back to the radio room, Newkirk and Henri were gone. Hogan knocked on Kinch's desk.
"Alert the sub. We'll send Henri and the information along tonight. Newkirk can hand him over to the underground. They'll take him the rest of the way."
"Sure thing, Colonel," Kinch said, the light words clashing with his heavy tone. "At least… At least London will get the information about the sun gun. That'll make them happy… That's a win, Colonel."
Hogan choked back a bitter laugh. "Yeah, they'll be happy. Maybe it'll even pull my bacon out of the fire. But, Kinch, we both know there are no winners here."
LeBeau hung back as Newkirk knelt in front of Henri and helped him with a heavy wool coat. Newkirk had managed to cobble together a suitable travel outfit for him to replace his thin pajamas.
Henri scowled and batted Newkirk's hands away. "I am not a baby!" he insisted. "I can do up my own jacket!"
"Right. Sorry mate," Newkirk said, holding his hands up in surrender.
"Monsieur Papa Bear," Henri said, looking up at Hogan, "did you find my mother?"
Hogan shook his head and LeBeau arched an eyebrow. The Colonel had apparently decided to withhold that information. Not that LeBeau could blame him. It was too much all at once. And Henri needed something to hold onto.
"But we'll send her along as soon as we do," Hogan said, sounding for all the world like he believed it himself.
Henri nodded, accepting it as truth.
"All right, this is it," Hogan said. "Listen to Newkirk. He'll pass you along to some good people who will keep you safe. And then you'll take a submarine to London."
The prospect of going on a real submarine filled Henri's eyes with excitement. "I will be good," he promised.
Hogan gave him a half smile and ruffled his hair. Unsurprisingly, Henri scowled and swatted his hand away.
Hogan stood back and nodded to LeBeau who stepped forward and knelt down in front of Henri. There were a thousand things he wanted to say to him. A thousand things he wanted him to know. But he couldn't say any of them. Not now. Maybe one day. Maybe never.
"Monsieur Henri, bonne chance," LeBeau said, holding out his hand. Henri shook it. "I promise, when the war is over, I will come to England and give you that cream puff."
Henri looked confused for a moment. "Oh. Yes. I forgot about that."
"I did not," LeBeau assured him with a weak smile. He looked him up and down, memorizing every detail- his too small body, his too big ears, his deep brown eyes, his unruly black hair. Gingerly he held his hand up and then gently rested it against the boy's cheek. Henri gave him a strange look, but otherwise didn't protest. Then, before he really had a chance to think about it, LeBeau pulled him into a great bear hug. He thought, maybe, he could smell a bit of Hélène's perfume on him.
All too soon, Henri wriggled out of the hug, pegging LeBeau with the same strange look as before. But then the look melted and was replaced with cautious curiosity. Henri tilted his head and then carefully reached out and mimicked LeBeau's earlier action by placing his hand on LeBeau's cheek. LeBeau turned his face and kissed it. "Bonne chance. Bonne chance, mon fils. Adieu."
Henri dropped his hand and looked up at Newkirk. Newkirk smiled and patted his back, shepherding him forward.
LeBeau watched him go and felt his heart crumbling.
He would never get the chance to tell Hélène how sorry he was. He would never be able to say all the things he wanted to say, or ask all the questions he wanted to ask. She was gone. And he would never get the closure he desperately needed.
But, maybe, one day when the war was over, he would find Henri. He would confess and beg forgiveness, and he would tell him his mother was a hero. And, even if Henri wanted nothing more to do with him, LeBeau would be the best father to him that he could.
One thing was for sure: Louis LeBeau would never be the same again.
This idea has been percolating in the back of my head for a while, but I wasn't planning on writing it for a while. However, except for the prologue, I ended up writing it all over the course of three days. I'm a stress writer- I write when I'm stressed. Most of it was written on a mobile device, so I apologize for the more than average amount of typos. I probably should have sat on it for a while, but... eh.
I hope you enjoyed it and stay tuned for the next instalment of my Mad Scientist Universe: As The Romans Do*
Title subject to change.