Crickets chirped noisily in the silent night as Newkirk opened the door to his workstation. The measurements for James sat on the edge of table next to the bolts of fabric. Because James was so small, the Brit had to draw up new patterns. The only silver lining the cynic found was that he wouldn't use too much paper.

Newkirk worked silently and quickly, trying to get as much done before lights out. Using any form of light after lights out was against the rules, and if the Krauts saw even a firefly outside your window, it was a good day in the cooler for you. Luckily for the Brit, he sketched the pattern with ease and cut it out before Schultz came in with his usual order. Newkirk flipped his lamp off and waited a few minutes before turning it back on to give him just that smidge of light. Eye strain wasn't good for an RAF pilot, but he wouldn't be flying a plane any time soon.

He started with the simpler pieces first such as the pants. For one it warmed him up for the night and for two it made his progress look better. He lit a cigarette and let it hang out the side of his mouth as he worked.

After a while Newkirk always found himself in a kind of rhythmic trance. He may not have a sewing machine, but by god if he didn't act like one. Probably why Hogan never asked London to send one over. Why waste resources on something they didn't need? The Brit snorted at the thought. Sure, they didn't technically need it. Would be nice to have though.

Newkirk pulled the cigarette out of his mouth before killing it in an ash tray. Just then, the door to his office opened, and James popped his head in. The kid's face was swollen and puffy. Christ, this kid could stop any drought.

"What?" Newkirk asked, his voice gruff.

James chewed on his lower lip before responding, "I-I couldn't sleep."

"Did LeBeau give you the rickety bed? You can have mine for the night then," Newkirk said turning back to his work.

"It's not that. In fact, Colonel Hogan said I could still sleep on his bottom bunk if I wanted." James opened the door a little more to squeeze his lithe frame in. He leaned on it to close it behind him and stood there. "I just couldn't sleep."

Newkirk sighed and nodded to another chair. Babysitting was not his favorite job, but he did like the kid. And Lord knew James needed a friend or two right now. James obliged and took the seat across from Newkirk. He still wore the long coat, yet underneath now he had a different button-up shirt and green pants. The pink triangle probably met its maker in a fire.

"I heard LeBeau found you face first in some crates," Newkirk started, thinking it best to make conversation. "What's all that about, mate?"

With a quick glance at the boy's face, the Corporal saw a soft pink color rise to his cheeks. There was silence before James answered him and explained he was dancing. "Or, trying to dance. I'm out of practice."

The older man tsked and pulled out a pin from the fabric. "Should be taking it easy, guvnor. Especially after downing half a jar of jam."

James' pink cheeks turned a soft red. "Sorry, but it's been so long since I had anything like it."

Newkirk smirked and set his sewing down. The fabric caught on the splinters in the wood. Thick, brown wool would fight off any German snowstorm. If it didn't all unravel on the table that is. "So, you really were a ballet dancer?" he asked.

James nodded. "My mother had an interest in it and taught me the basics. I never really took it seriously until I moved to France to join the Poplars."

"Moved to France in the middle of a war?" Newkirk asked, a hint of disapproval in his voice.

"No, this was before the war. Though it did start soon after I moved. I thought France was safe." James looked at the cloth and started picking at some fuzz on the pants. "Never imagined it would get raided. Much less I would become a German prisoner."

Newkirk pulled the pants close to him to keep the kid from messing with the wool. "How'd you go about getting caught for, er, you know." The last part he muttered out. It wasn't common where he was from for the likes of James to be vocal about it.

"Being a homosexual?" James filled in. "I wasn't yelling it from the roof top. I was performing in a…a man's club. Like dinner theatre. Everyone in there was arrested."

"And you've been a prisoner ever since?" James nodded in response. Newkirk shook his head. "It's rubbish. Absolute rubbish. I can't wait till the Allies win this war and we can all go back to minding our own business."

"You really think the Allies can win?" James asked.

Newkirk looked up at the lad and saw the boy's gaze stared blankly at his feet. The Brit set down his sewing before snapping to get James' attention. "What's gotten into your head? Of course the Allies will win!"

James shrugged. "All I've seen for the past three years is the German military. And even if the war ends, what's there to return to? I've seen countless villages ruined; lives destroyed. You can't tell me you can just pick up where you've left off with your life, Newkirk."

Newkirk set his jaw. The kid had the stuffing beat out of him too much. And too much German propaganda. "Well, no, but anything is better than this bloody war, innit? Maybe we can't pick up right at the time our draft papers came in, but we can start again."

"What did you do then? Were you a farmer or shop keeper or school teacher?"

The Brit smirked before going back to his sewing. These pants were taking longer than expected. "An entertainer of sorts. A magician one day, a pickpocket the next."

James chuckled and shook his head. His chair squeaked as he shifted his weight on it. He bounced the toes of his boot on the floor before stating, "I could never go back to dancing. I tried today and well…you know what happened."

"Oh rubbish," Newkirk responded. "You're just out of practice. Not to mention your feet are all banged up."

"Maybe but-"

"And with a attitude like that, you will never dance again. You gotta have time to heal, mate. In the meantime, you could also learn a new trade." The Corporal scooted his chair closer to the other and turned the pants around so James could see the seam. "Do you know how to sew?" Newkirk asked.

James shook his head.

"Alright. There's nothing to it, really," he said as he cut the thread where he was at and tying the seam off. He held the needle between his index finger and thumb. The little piece of metal glinted in the low light. The eye of it was barely visible. Newkirk rolled off a bit of thread from the spool and straightened it with his mouth. "Hold it," he ordered, referencing the needle.

Cautiously, James took the tiny piece of metal and held it like Newkirk had. Then the Brit held the needle above where James had his fingers and with the other hand he threaded it. "Not so hard, innit?" he asked. He then grabbed the end of the thread and pulled it back through the needle. "Now you try."

The boy took the thread, feeling it sink into the pads of his thumb. The needle gently shook in his hand as he brought the thread up to the eye. With the precision of a half-blind surgeon, James pushed the thread forward, splitting the thread between the needle and eye. Newkirk chuckled and shook his head. "Not so rough, mate," he instructed, taking the needle and thread back. He used his mouth to straighten out the thread again before placing it in the needle.

Newkirk handed the needle back to James, but this time kept his hand over the others. A mix of mentor-ship and wanting to keep the hand steady came over him. He also gave James the thread before grabbing his hand to ease the thread through the needle. "See? Not so hard, eh?" he said.

"You did most of it," James shrugged, setting the needle down on the table.

"Fine. I'll meet ya half way. We did it," Newkirk replied, picking the needle up and tying one end. "Want to learn how to make a seam?"

He shook his head and pushed himself up from the table. "I think I'm ready for bed. But thank you. It was nice talking to you," James said, heading to the door.

"No problem, mate. Any time," the Corporal said around a new cigarette. "And James," he added, causing the kid to turn around, "you will dance again."