A/N Written for the SSSW 2021. Only used prompt is "Lady in the dark". Special thanks to Abracadebra for her fast beta reading. Thank you very much. All remaining mistakes are my own.

My first thought had been Uriah Heep's "Lady in Black", followed by Kurt Weill/Ira Gershwin's musical "Lady in the Dark". And in the end, even Louis Armstrong added his voice.

A Voice In The Dark

It happened without warning.

One minute Kinch was shifting through his backup parts; the next minute dirt started to rain on his head. He jumped up, adrenaline pumping through his veins. There was only one possible reason for this – a tunnel collapse.

But before he could turn completely to flee, a beam came down, blocking his way.

And right after that, the whole ceiling collapsed.

:~:~:~:

Gasping for breath, Kinch's return to consciousness filled his mind with both pain and unexpected thankfulness for being alive. A cough broke free from his chest, awakening the awkward sensation of being strangled.

"You're not getting strangled. It's just the supporting beam that has fallen on top of you," a female voice said.

He tried to push himself up but the voice was right. He was stuck. Then he paused and strained to listen. A female voice didn't belong to the tunnels, and yet he had heard a woman. Opening his eyes wide, he hoped to see something, but only darkness greeted him.

"Isn't this darkness something you're familiar with?" the woman spoke again.

Fighting to free his arm, Kinch managed to turn a little until he could get his arm out from beneath his body and up to his face. He rubbed at it, searching and finding something wet on his forehead. "I'm hallucinating," he realized and relaxed again. Nothing more than a hallucination. Time to take stock of his situation.

"A side tunnel collapsed. You didn't get out," the lady in the dark said.

"She's not real," Kinch told himself. "She's not real."

"If you say so."

Kinch shook his head. It didn't matter. The only thing that mattered was getting out. He forced his eyes wide open again, but the surrounding darkness was so thick it threatened to squeeze every ounce of life out of him by itself. Kinch wasn't even sure if he was lying on his back or prone. He strained his neck to see some source of light, guiding him to where he needed to go, but he couldn't even detect a glimmer. He was trapped in absolute darkness.

Swallowing a cough, he heard a melody. The lady in the dark was humming a few notes.

Kinch listened for more sounds, hoping that nearby tunnels could still be reachable. But the silence seemed to have swallowed his whole world. In the dusty air no fresh oxygen reached his hot skin. He was truly sealed in.

If he wanted to survive, he needed to find a way out or to remove enough rubble to allow oxygen in. He kicked his legs, trying to find some leverage to free himself. Something shifted, and he felt like he was failing.

:~:~:~:

The ballroom was brilliantly lit. Kinch couldn't believe his eyes. Never had he seen such luxury, and yet the decor was tasteful. With pride, he wore his new dress uniform. His shoes were shining, and the only thing brighter was his smile.

They had done it. They had defeated Hitler. London was celebrating and given them a hero's welcome.

"Hey mate, look at this," Newkirk ambled over while presenting his new uniform. Newkirk had made sure that everybody saw the additional stripe. But this time he wasn't interested so much in the uniform as in the golden cuff links they had given him. Kinch hadn't gotten anything except a clean uniform, but he didn't want to complain.

"That's great!"

"And are you excited about our very own memorial? What did the colonel say? It's going to be a painting, right?" Newkirk asked. He bounced on his feet, unable to stay still.

"Yes, painting," Kinch said wearily. "I'm sure it's going to be great." In truth, he suspected that it would only tell half of the story, the half the American government wanted to tell, but he wouldn't share this worry with Newkirk. It was like it was.

With a grin that bordered on devious, Newkirk rocked back and forth. "It's going to be great. I know it."

Irritated, Kinch stayed back as Newkirk joined LeBeau at the door, who was rubbing his hands together.

"Kinch?" Hogan appeared at his side and Kinch snapped to attention.

"At ease," Hogan said easily. "I thought we agreed that it would be unnecessary."

"In the same room with a lot of four stars?" Kinch raised an eyebrow, still unsure about this strange event. Usually the officers should celebrate among themselves, leaving the enlisted personal to their own parties.

"If you put it like that." Hogan shrugged. "It's something I," he emphasized the pronoun, "have to learn myself again."

"Trying to play the general like Klink?" Kinch allowed a small smile on his lips.

The colonel sighed. "I'm going to relearn it fast, don't worry. A few years with Klink cannot undo all the training before."

"If you say so."

"Listen, Kinch," Hogan began, turning serious, "I saw the painting already."

Kinch knew what the pain on Hogan's face meant for him personally and all the other black men's effort.

"I'm going to fix this. Talking to the general isn't as easy as Klink, but I'll fix this, okay? I couldn't have done it without you and I'm going to make sure that everybody knows it."

"Thank you." Kinch raised his head and found Hogan's eyes. It was easy to believe the sincerity in Hogan's stance. And he couldn't and wouldn't blame him if he failed.

"Yeah," Hogan lowered his gaze, carrying guilt that wasn't his alone to carry. "I just wanted to warn you and to promise you that I'm on it."

Before Kinch could answer, the general stepped onto the small stage and went to the microphone. It was time for the highlight of the evening.

"We're here to celebrate the heroism of Papa Bear and his men. Their bravery and strength, their determination and willingness to sacrifice their freedom, their image, and their life to bring victory to our cause will never be forgotten.

"Not now nor in the future. We can never allow ourselves to forget it. This painting will always be a reminder for us." And with that, the general revealed a large painting to the applause of his audience.

Kinch also clapped his hands as the red cloth fell down. It was expected of him. But as he registered what he saw, his hands remained clapped together. He blinked.

"What the -" Hogan muttered while the general seemed stunned but unwilling to say anything aloud.

The painting not only featured Colonel Hogan prominently as Kinch had come to expect, but all prisoners. Besides Newkirk, LeBeau and Carter, Kinch recognized himself in the first line. Then he picked out Olsen and Baker, Wilson and all the others, who had stayed back in camp and had helped to keep up the image. Colonel Hogan was just a small figure in the sea of a lot of men, only recognizable by his cap.

Pride filled Kinch's chest as he finally allowed the applause and cheers to enter his heart. They were applauding all of them.

"They didn't," Hogan grumbled before he laughed out loud.

"Sir?" Kinch asked, still too stunned to follow the events. But as he looked over to the colonel, he could also see across the room finding LeBeau and Newkirk huddling together with shoulders shaking from laughter.

"They switched the painting," Hogan said, still laughing. "They switched the painting." He put a hand to his forehead, shaking his head.

Kinch smiled widely. There was just no losing with friends like these. Enjoying the applause, Kinch joined again in with the clapping, also giving his thanks to all who had made it possible.

:~:~:~:

Kinch gasped. The thundering applause revealed itself to be more dirt raining down on him. His heart was beating fast in his chest.

The lady in the dark laughed softly.

Shivering at the pleasant sound, Kinch dug his fingers deep into the rubble, trying to find something to hold onto.

"I like you. And your friends," the female voice said. "You're all so smart. And brave."

"That they are," Kinch coughed out.

"Then why are you so worried? I'm sure they're coming for you."

"But you're already here."

"I have time," she said and hummed again a melody.

:~:~:~:

"What happened!"

"A side tunnel collapsed."

"Mon colonel, Kinch is in there! I saw him. He's in there."

"What! Then we need to dig!"

"Carter! We need more men. And shovels! Run!"

"Kinch? Can you hear me? Hang on, we're coming!"

:~:~:~:

Kinch took another deep breath. The more he breathed, the more he felt the heat of the air. Somewhere in his mind, he knew he could calculate how long until he ran out of oxygen, but he didn't want to know. This danger had always lurked as the men worked down in these old tunnels. A small mistake, a little too much force, and everything would come down on them. Kinch had agreed to this danger. He just hadn't wanted to be aware of his last minutes. To have time to think about life hadn't been part of the calculation.

As his eyes dropped again and the pain from taking a deep breath against the weight on his chest intensified, he heard again the melody from the lady in the dark. He knew it. He knew that song, but he couldn't place it and just as he expected the main part, she broke off.

"I want to hear it."

"Then you need to remember it," the lady said.

Kinch shook his head. But before he could come up with a good reply to his own hallucination, he started to see lights. He didn't realize that it was just another hallucination before he lost consciousness again.

:~:~:~:

She looked even more beautiful than Kinch had expected. The white wedding gown showed nothing and yet revealed everything. He couldn't take his eyes of her as she walked down the aisle.

He was marrying a real princess. Yowanda had kept her word, and they had met again in Toledo after the war. Life could be so much easier without a war. Her smile brightened up the room while Hogan led her down the aisle. She held out her hand, and Kinch grabbed it. Together they turned to face the minister.

Kinch blinked. Either Carter had a brother or he had assumed the role. With Carter, everything was possible.

Realizing that he had stopped listening, Kinch shook his head and refocused on the minister that looked a lot like Carter. "I now declare you husband and wife! You may kiss the bride."

Kinch leaned forward, enjoying the sensation and warmth in this centuries-old tradition.

Newkirk's whistle was loud enough that Kinch could pick it out without trouble. "Here's to the new prince of the telephone company!"

LeBeau was waiting for them as Kinch led his new wife out of the church and into the garden. "I'd like to invite you to come to visit me in the City of Love. I will show you the most beautiful places, the best restaurants and you will have the greatest honeymoon that you cannot buy, what do you say?"

Yowanda smiled, her eyes crinkled and her body reflected her sheer joy at the prospect. "Here I thought, I'd marry an upright and honest worker, but I guess I picked the richest man in the world and a real prince. Who else has such friends?"

"We're paying for the ticket and LeBeau is going to offer you his guest room," Newkirk added. Kinch just clapped LeBeau's hand.

Then it was Hogan's turn. "Congratulations," he said, while he leaned forward, giving Yowanda a kiss on each cheek. "Kinch has good friends because he is a good friend," he whispered in her ear.

:~:~:~:

"I truly love her," Kinch whispered. He wasn't sure who he was loving, but he knew it was important.

"That's great, isn't it? To love and to be loved."

"Who are you?"

"You know who I am," the lady in the dark replied. "Are you ready?"

Kinch was too tired to argue. "Ready for what?"

"You're buried beneath the rubble of a collapsed tunnel. What do you think you should be ready for?"

The air had become so thick, Kinch had to fight for every breath. He could taste the death like he could taste the blood on his lip. "I'm not answering that."

"But you should think about it."

Kinch closed his eyes. Or maybe he had never had opened them. Either way, no light of hope reached him.

And the lady in the dark hummed again her melody.

:~:~:~:

"Newkirk! Newkirk! Stop it! You can't dig with your bare hands. Carter is bringing shovels."

"We can't wait."

"We need to. We need to put in some stabilizer in first."

"He's right, Newkirk. If we don't wait, we'll bring down even more on him."

"Kinch, can you hear me mate? We're coming."

"Finally! Olsen, get upstairs and see if we're clear there. Everybody else starts to stabilize the ceiling, and then we start digging. We need to move fast."

:~:~:~:

His head had gained weight. Kinch never had so much trouble to lift it as he had now. Straining to hear, he tried to make out what had awoken him.

"What-" he coughed, "what's happening?" Maybe his lady in the dark was more useful than just as a running commentary to the end of his life.

"Go down ..." she hummed. "Oh right, you wanted to know what you heard. What do you think you heard?"

Or maybe not. Kinch dropped his head again. If he just could make out what she was humming, he maybe could remember why he would bring it up in his last minutes. The surrounding sounds followed him in the blackness of his mind.

:~:~:~:

"Kinch, that's the best party I ever went to," Newkirk put an arm around his shoulder. "And I haven't even had a drink, yet."

Smiling, Kinch said in his chair on his porch overseeing their little garden. Yowanda had turned it into a small paradise. "I'm glad that you're enjoying yourself."

"It's too hot but this isn't your fault," Newkirk continued and wiped the sweat from his forehead. "But after the dull party the colonel had on his farm and Carter's picnic I thought everybody in America would celebrate like that."

"Oui," LeBeau came over, "this is how you celebrate the anniversary of the liberation."

Kinch rose up. His knees and back complained about the movement and all the years of work they had endured. "Newkirk, we're both now in our seventies. Are you sure you should still lie?"

Newkirk put a hand to his chest. Indignantly, he took a step back. "Mate, I wouldn't lie about the quality of a party."

"It's not a real party. We're baking our own bread and cooking our own food." Kinch paused. "And we don't even serve alcohol."

"But you have a great family, man," Newkirk said, "great people with so many stories. So many stories. And they all listen, I can tell my tales and everybody is laughing at just the right places. It feels like my family from the circus. Oh, and real food, not things you cannot pronounce like the colonel had served. By the way, I have been too often the waiter in these scenarios, it dampens my enjoyment."

Finally, Kinch realized that Newkirk and LeBeau really meant it. They had come all the way from Europe to celebrate together the anniversary of the liberation. Since they all were retired, it had become a tradition. Usually, Colonel Hogan or Carter would host the party in their houses, as they had more room. But this time, it had been his task as Hogan was recovering from surgery and Carter had wanted to stay with his wife in the last weeks of her life.

"You should do these parties more often. I like this freedom," LeBeau added. "Maybe you can do it next year again."

The ending came nearer and they all knew it. Maybe there would be no next year, but this year he intended to make the most of it. "Thank you guys," Kinch said, "but you have to excuse me now. I have a beautiful wife who's waiting for her dance."

His hips would make him rue the way he danced the two steps to the left and two to the right in their small garden. But it would fill his barn of good memories with another haystack. And if the end came, he could truly say, he was rich and blessed with memories, friends, and a place to call home.

:~:~:~:

Kinch jolted awake. A small whiff of fresh air reached his nostrils, and he sucked in a deep breath.

"Why are you so surprised? You are a good man. Why shouldn't you get good things?"

He shook his head. He couldn't explain it. Too much had happened. "I'm always the minority, the exception, the one with the strange taste."

"Minority. What a strange word for human beings. There is no strength in numbers. Have faith."

She hummed again her song.

:~:~:~:

"I got his leg. Kinch? Can you feel me? We're coming."

"Kinch?"

"We need Wilson."

"Get Wilson!"

:~:~:~:

The lady in the dark was still humming. Her voice soothed the pain in his chest and the fear in his heart. Somehow the song she was singing gave him hope.

Out of the blue, Kinch recognized the song. "Go down, Moses." It had been his favorite song in Sunday school as a kid. But it also was the reminder of one of his most important memories.

:~:~:~:

"James," his mother said, "why don't you go out and play with your friends?"

"I don't like the games they're playing. I'm always supposed to play their servant."

"Oh, James," she said, wiping off her hands on a towel before she squatted down in front of him. "You are immeasurably worthwhile. You see, as God created you he had a wonderful day and made you to his image. He loves you. Don't forget that, he loved you enough to send his son and if you're the only one who loves him back, then it would have been worth it."

Kinch looked down. "But the other kids, the white kids, they -"

"James," his mother raised his chin, so he had to look into her eyes, "say after me: God gives me dignity, and He gives it also to all other people. Nobody is more or less worth, and if they can't see it then they are blind. But you're not blind, are you? So, go out and play with your friends."

"And what should we play?"

"How about how Moses led his people out of Egypt. Everybody who then wants to play master is going to end up drowning in the Red Sea because nobody is the lord or master except God." His mother stood back up. "So, go, Moses, take your sister and brother and go to the pharaoh and tell him: Let my people go!"

:~:~:~:

"Wilson!" a commanding voice demanded, startling Kinch. A strong hand held his chin. "He's coming around."

"Kinch?"

Frowning, Kinch tried to place the voice.

"Mate, are you all right?"

It was easier to breathe as the weight had been lifted from his chest. Come to think, he could even see some light through his closed eyelids.

"Comment tu vas?"

Experimenting, Kinch took a deep breath. A cough with pain spreading through his body was the result, but as he tasted the fresh air, he took another breath, but this time only a shallow one.

"Colonel, is he all right?" A dim voice asked out of the background.

"Yes Carter, you all did well."

Carefully, Kinch opened his eyes as he finally recognized Hogan's voice. He was lying on a bunk in the radio room with his friends standing around him.

Wilson sat beside him. "You have definitely some broken ribs and a lot of scrapes and bruises. You're going to feel it the next few days, but you're alive."

"Alive," Kinch whispered. "Alive."

Hogan grimaced as he clapped his hands together. "All right, fellas, we need to get all upstairs fast before even Schultz figures out where we are, and we need a good plan to explain Kinch's injuries." Hogan shooed them all away but not before they all had touched either his leg or his hand, just to reassure themselves that he was alive. Even Newkirk had touched his ankle with his bandaged hands.

Finally, it was just Wilson and Hogan.

"Don't ever do this again," Hogan said, shaking his head and for once allowing the terror he had felt to be displayed on his face. "Don't frighten me like that."

"Sorry, sir," Kinch whispered.

"Get well, soon, I need you." Hogan patted his ankle. "Wilson, I also need you upstairs before Klink gets any ideas. I have already one missing prisoner to explain."

Wilson made a face. "We shouldn't leave him alone." But then he nodded as this was something the colonel knew himself. He wouldn't ask for it if it wasn't necessary. "I'll be back soon," Wilson said before he also left.

Alone again, Kinch tried to sit up but decided that the pain in his ribs wasn't worth it. At least, they had left the lights on and enough fresh air. Even the usual stale air tasted wonderful after he realized how limited air was below the ground. He never had been claustrophobic, and he wouldn't allow himself to become it now.

In the silence, he heard her again.

"When Israel was in Egypt land. Let my people go! Oppressed so hard they could not stand. Let my people go!"

Closing his eyes, Kinch spoke a prayer of thanks to the God who promised his people and his children freedom, not silk, gold, or pearls. And freedom he had found. Freedom to dream. In a POW camp in Germany. From all the places.

"Let my people go!"

The End

A/N Thank you for reading!