As awareness slipped back, a faint voice blurred with a familiar accent and cadence prompted her to open her eyes, an effort that revealed Sergeant Moffit sitting beside her cot and reading slowly from a slim book in his hands.

She blinked a few times before really catching what he was saying. "Assyria?" She asked, and his eyes snapped up from his book.

"Tully," he set the book aside, "welcome back."

"Donner," she tried to sit up, and slowly settled herself back to the cot as every ache and bruise made itself known at once. "Ow."

"Taken care of, and Troy has handled everything else."

"The plans," she blinked a few times, thinking of her last view of Dietrich and the pleased smile on his face. "The next."

"I've been instructed to tell you that it is not your concern," Moffit looked pained. "You've got a nasty headwound and Troy instructed me to relay that unless you wanted to be promoted to the rank you'd need to worry about these things, to not worry."

Tully frowned, "An officer?"

"Colonel Boggs supported the threat, if you're not careful, you'll become a sergeant too."

That was enough of a threat to keep her back on her cot, and she eyed the book that Moffit was holding.

"The Excavations in Assyria and Babylonia," he held up the book, revealing the lettering stamped on the cover. "Fascinating stuff, the finding of lost empires and such."

"Can you get him to read anything else?" Someone called and Tully frowned as the curtain swept away to reveal a grinning nurse and a chagrined looking G.I. "Lady, I've been listening to this for an hour, the only dirty thing in that book is the stuff they moved."

Tully glared, "I like it."

"You've got screwy taste."

"I would hardly read anything inappropriate to a lady." Moffit looked insulted. His British reserve kicked in at the strangest times. One night they could share a tent and a sleeping bag to avoid the freezing chill of the desert at night, and the next he would avert his eyes if he saw her bare forearm. It made little to no sense, given that he'd travelled the world, and had encountered their unique cultures.

"You all need to be quiet," Dr. Hogan swept behind the curtain

"What? It's after breakfast. We ain't bothering anyone."

"You're bothering me," Dr. Hogan told them, "Sergeant? Where's your fussier half?"

"Rather busy, I'm afraid."

"Go be busy with him, I've got patients to deal with."

"I rather thought you might appreciate the fact that I'm putting them to sleep. Certainly makes them less excitable."

"Leave the book," Tully asked, and accepted it as Jack stood. "Where's Hitch?"

"Checking on the jeeps, he'll be back for a visit soon enough."

"Having rats in the hospital is unsanitary," Dr. Hogan snapped, but he was smiling. "Out, out, out, I'm checking on my patient." As soon as Jack was gone, Dr. Hogan took the vacated seat and snapped the curtain shut. "You're a bit popular. Hitchcock was here earlier and I told him if he woke you up then he'd be in serious trouble."

"I'm fine."

"Uh huh," he helped her sit up and looked at her head. "They bandaged it up pretty well, and we cleaned out your arm so that should heal up nicely if you obey your nurses."

"Shouldn't be a problem."

"You cad," Dr. Hogan grinned, and she tilted her head to the side. "You were out for a while, which is problem for concern. If you feel."

"I know how it goes, doc."

"Then you're going to be fine." He leaned back, and as he opened the curtain, he glared at Jack Moffit. "Sergeant Moffit?"

"I have a duty to look after my men," Moffit replied stiffly, and Hogan rolled his eyes.

"Private, how do you feel about eating?"

"I could eat."

"Good, Nurse! Bring this miserable soldier some breakfast." He turned a wicked smile on Sergeant Moffit, "since you're here to help, you get to make sure she doesn't pull that arm doing something stupid."

"I," the job seemed to have the opposite effect on Moffit, instead of blushing or cringing away from a seemingly menial task, he accepted the tray with his characteristic charm and closed them off from the rest of the hospital with a nod. "That should keep the rabble out."

"We can still hear you," Dr. Hogan exclaimed, and a few of the other patients laughed. "Shut up! Go back to healing!"

"Loud fella," Tully remarked, and remained silence even through the painful process of sitting up at an angle at which she could eat. "What happened to Dan?"

"Dan?"

"Mars."

"Ah," he settled the tray on her lap, careful to keep it balanced, and winced as she tried to eat. "He's with his unit, he was in a little bit earlier but you were sleeping."

"Sarge?"

"Fine, dealing with officers."

"Not fine then." Rations were fine, and she wasn't picky enough to complain, but she was missing some of the nice dinner she'd had on base. "They seemed awful pleased to see me."

"Capturing the most fearsome member of the patrol would promote any man," Sergeant Moffit smiled, "I am quite certain the good captain could make Major if he got rid of one or more of us."

"Wouldn't break the team."

"It would seriously damage morale." What he didn't explain was that the Rat Patrol had become something of a legend among every combat unit in the desert and on both sides, feared and revered, and respected above all else.

"I guess."

"You have a gift for understatement, Tully." Moffit observed. "Truly it is a gift."

#$#$3

Private Mars had been bombarded with questions as soon as the rumors that he'd been friends with Tully Pettigrew of the Rat Patrol, he'd also been ordered by several majors, a colonel, Sergeant Troy and Private Hitchcock to say nothing about his friend. He wasn't sure why, but he knew how to follow orders.

He responded with the same answer he gave everyone, "There's not much to say and gossiping ain't polite." Being told that he might be targeted specifically because he was connected to Tully was a nasty shock. It had gotten him relegated to a desk job in an office with his unit commander, where the heat was almost too much and the breeze was nearly non-existent.

It was a little better than a prison cell, at least he could argue with the other staff without getting shot.

ERE$#$3

To hear that Private Pettigrew had escaped was hardly the surprise that Dietrich expected it to be. He had almost anticipated it at this point, and taking the plans ahead had been a strategic choice. The rats could get one or the other, not both.

It was also likely that the colonel had removed Pettigrew from the room and placed her in a cell, which was easy access for experienced escape artists like the Rat Patrol. He could only hope that his spy would succeed in bringing him something .

The plans, while bloody, were still intact enough to give them the advantage in the next push. Even if they Allies were aware that the plans were taken, new schemes were already in motion, and he had his next assignment.

#$#$#

Colonel Boggs seemed pleased, so did the other men in the room, save for Corporal Klinger who looked utterly miserable. Which is what you got for trying to wear opened-toed heels in the desert. Troy was impressed that the man was managing to make the tea at all, given the fact that one heel looked like it was about to snap in half, the low cursing in Arabic was making Moffit smile, and Sam decided that he really didn't want to know.

He'd watched the man's skirt swirl as he stood and gave a sloppy salute. "I'll leave the tea to the Englishman, if you don't mind."

"Go ahead, Abdul. Check on the requisition forms."

"Yes, sir!" The man was gone in a huff and left a lingering scent of a perfume that ticked Troy's nose enough that he had to stifle a sneeze.

"Right, well, I didn't want to bring you in on this but considering your history and the rivalry with Dietrich, the higher-ups thought it would be best."

"Yes, sir." Sam would have been embarrassed, but after the incident in Alexandria he found he couldn't really care what officers thought. As Jack finished off the tea and handed them each a cup, he glanced at his partner and almost smirked at the baffled look on his face. He would only bring up Klinger and his get-up is someone else mentioned it, otherwise it would stew long enough to drive him mad. Since there wasn't much that would rile up Moffit, Sam decided to let sleeping dogs lie.

"Private Pettigrew didn't fail her mission," Boggs told them, surprising them both.

"Captain Dietrich has the plans." Moffit said gently, and the man gave a self-satisfied nod.

"He has plans , but not the plans."

"Tully was bait." Sam said flatly, and ignored the alarmed glance Jack sent him. He knew how far he could get with Boggs, and he hadn't even begun to approach insubordination yet.

"Unfortunately yes, a calculated risk, we didn't expect the convoy to get hit so early, but she did carry out the mission we wanted her to, just not the one she was assigned."

"Tricking Dietrich into thinking he had the next set of battle plans."

"Yes," Boggs looked at them, "and you're not just here to learn that we're setting up for the next major offensive and pushing through Rommel's lines."

"Just how close are we to."

"You've been out there, you both submitted reports on the attacks on our convoys and the limit of rations and supplies they're getting from Germany. We've got a chance to hit them where it hurts while they're hurting. We'd put you out there, but the prognosis on Private Pettigrew is that she's going to be healing up for a good bit."

"And you're not going to send us out without her?" That wasn't a question, and it resulted in Colonel Boggs squinting at him over his untouched tea.

"What did you do before the war?" Sam remained silent. Boggs sighed, and gestured at Moffitt. "You're being pulled back for special training."

"Special training?"

"All three of you, as soon as Tully is cleared. You are going to be teaching these three German and everything you know about Germany. It'll be a series of cross-training, not to mention some new things. Each one of you is going to teach everyone else what they know." He glared at Troy, waiting for the man to pick apart his scheme from the offered information. When the man remained silent. "And you've got a new CO."

That took both men by surprise, Troy's blue eyes narrowed and Jack's widened.

"Captain Scamander," on cue the door opened and through it came an absurdly tall red-head with a face littered with freckles, a devilish smile, and an impeccably pressed uniform.

"Hullo, lads," he returned their salute, "Captain Scamander at your service, and most pleased to make your acquaintance."

"Captain, this is Sergeant Troy and Sergeant Moffit, the best of our patrols and just about as clever as they come.

"High praise, gentleman." Scamander beamed, and took the last seat, swiping Troy's teacup as he did so. "Well, Klinger has certainly gotten better at making tea."

"Family recipe," Boggs put in, 'but enough chat. Captain Scamander is going to help take over your training, and he's going to learn to work with you as well."

"And you can certainly learn to work with me." Scamander grinned. "Now, I am pleased to see our little scheme with Private Pettigrew went through." He ignored the glares now directed at him. "The training should prove interesting and I'm sure we'll all be wonderful friends." The sarcasm wasn't lost on Troy or Moffitt, who looked faintly embarrassed by the other Englishman's actions. "Now, I believe that you two have an awful lot of paperwork to do, I'll be off." He handed the now empty tea-cup to Troy and left almost as quickly as he'd come. When Troy and Moffitt cast a questioning glance Boggs, he shrugged.

"I'll be the first to admit that I didn't want to give you to just any captain or officer, but I'm told that Scamander got his rank legitimately."

"Ah," Moffitt said delicately, "I certainly hope so."

"Troy," Boggs groused, "you're a bad influence on Sergeant Moffitt."

As soon as they were excused from the colonels office, Jack and Sam retreated to their quarters with more than enough to discuss. As soon as they had completed their standard bug/microphone check, the sat opposite each other in silence for a bit before Moffitt opened the proceedings.

"He didn't make a mention of Tully."

"No, he didn't."

"Certainly he knows, or he wouldn't have sent her out."

"What are the odds he's going to try and cause her some trouble?"

"Well," Jack leaned back, "he is from an old family. Scamander pops up in history books and elsewhere, and fantastically wealthy."

"Do you trust him?" Sam knew that officers from rank and wealth were usually some of the worst in the army. Everyone knew, even Tully had held Moffitt at arms length until he'd been able to prove himself..

"I couldn't say, Troy. I don't know the man, if we're going to be doing training then we'll have more of a chance."

"Seems like special training...spy training."

"We're already commandos, spying is already part of what we do. A jack of all trades outfit we are."

"True," Sam puffed on his cigarette a few minutes longer. "Will he cause trouble for Tully?"

"I don't think so."

"Right," apparently taking him for his word, he gave a sharp nod. "So...how hard is it to learn German?"

"Ah," Jack grimaced, "we'll see then, won't we."