Troublemaker
Hogan
He needs to knock it off and not let every little thing get under his skin.
I know they give him a rough time, Harper and Bartoli. Olsen and Murphy. Belknap and Addison.
It's immature behavior. But so is his reaction.
If he would just try harder. Maybe take a breath. Think about what he's going to say before he says it.
He's got talent and he's valuable, but that temper is volatile.
Then I see LeBeau with him, off to one side. Cleaning him up. Talking softly. I see hurt in his face.
His pain's deeper than I realized.
Newkirk
The only reason my eyes are brimming is because Harper and Bartoli each landed a punch. My top lip and nose throb. It's not that it hurts. Just a lot of nerve endings there, that's all. And LeBeau is pressing on them with that wet cloth.
Shh, he says. In French, it's chut.
I close my eyes, concentrate on his voice, his hand on my shoulder. Steady. Real. Chut.
Good advice. Talking always gets me in trouble. Chut.
"Sorry, mate."
My eyes prickle. But now the Colonel's looking. I've no choice.
"Leave off, LeBeau. I don't need a bleeding nanny."
LeBeau
I know he gets embarrassed easily. That's why he pushes me away.
Now he'll lash out at anyone who looks at him cross-eyed. Hard words, a shove, a punch, all because he's terrified to look weak. Carter will try to say a kind word and he'll get the worst of it.
Pierre wants comfort. He desperately needs it. I've been with him in the cooler where no one could observe him and tease him. He'll sag in my arms and stay there.
But out here he is determined to be tough. A man, with the soft heart of a child.
Newkirk
I don't want nothing and I don't need no one. Peter Newkirk can stand on his own two feet.
And I don't care if I hurt LeBeau's feelings. He fusses too much. I'm not a child.
I don't need no one looking at me. If I let him rest a hand on my back, everyone will stare.
If there was a quiet place to go I might allow it. Because he is my mate and I don't want him unhappy.
But it would be for him, not for me. Because I'm tough and don't need no looking after. Not me.
LeBeau
He'll come to me. He always does. Eventually, when he's low, he'll sit beside me and lean in slightly.
That's my sign to wrap an arm around his shoulder and tell him he's un imbécile, which reminds him everything's alright. If I'm lucky, he won't argue. And he won't bite Carter's head off if I'm gripping his arm.
He cannot ask for help. He doesn't trust words. Luckily I know what he needs. He's not that complicated—just sad and confused sometimes.
He leans heavily into me. I don't mind. It seems impossible that I haven't always known mon frérot.