A time like no other

by Warks1999

It was an ever changing world, but a world that would soon be at War, with consequences that would devastate families forever... their family included. A new adventure, setting the characters back in time to World War II. Enjoy :)

56. Christmas Beatings

Chapter 56: Christmas Beatings 25th December 1941

Morning dawned in Italy.

A morning of great significance to the whole country, but for a man held prisoner in his second Italian city, it meant nothing to James Maguire. He had no way of knowing how important the day was, isolated away from anyone else other than the guards that stood outside his door. Doctor Van Der Heijden stayed true to his word; he'd not returned to see the young man and neither had his Lieutenant, who James disliked after only a few minutes of knowing him. The two deaths that the young man was responsible for were already enough for him to form an opinion.

The days were tougher than they were in Taranto, despite having an almost identical arrangement when it came to eating and hygiene. He was allowed access to clean water to wash and shave in, as well as being provided the same meals he had been in the city further south. That part of his imprisonment remained the same even when he had moved cities, but that was because the Doctor needed him healthy for whatever was to come next. The Nazi would return to him on one day or another, he was sure, and until then they wanted to keep him healthy. In most situations the prisoner would be denied food, but for whatever reason, they wanted him to be fully coherent. He could not complain though, as they never once missed a meal even when they were the enemy.

The difficulty came from the part of his capture in Taranto that did not translate across to Rome. In his prison further south, there were church bells that would ring out, the Englishman working out a system of knowing which day of the week it was and often found out through Molinari, which month it was. There was no church anywhere near him in Rome, which he'd deduced with even the smallest view out to wherever he was being kept. All he could tell was that there was an airfield close by, hearing the sound of engines firing up before heading off for flight. He knew the sound so well that it was hard to miss. He missed being able to go up into the air himself, to fight the enemy and enjoy the vastly different skies. Those days felt further and further away as he struggled from day to day in Rome, in what was fast becoming a tomb in his mind.

There was also the major issue of a lack of human contact, which became worse to him when the days were so cold. If he had to guess, it must have been November or perhaps December, waking up nearly every morning absolutely freezing cold. They gave him blankets to keep him as warm as possible but sometimes, it still was not enough. His new Italian guards did not speak English nor did they speak much at all, which although he was used to from Molinari's assistants, they did at least try to smile to him occasionally. The guards in Rome threw clothes and blankets at him, rather than hand them to him gently, showing their disgust about having to guard an Englishman. His involvement in the raid on Taranto was not known to them, and the guards in the Port city would be understandably more aggrieved, yet some Italian men still hated what the British stood for. Special treatment might have been being received, but it was not going to be handed out nicely when it didn't need to be.

Doctor Van Der Heijden leaving him alone for weeks with only the untalkative guards, gradually ate away at him as time went on. Coupled with the cold, James found no other human beings to talk to, no one to share even an argument with. Less mentally capable men would have faltered within a week, but he'd kept going for as long as he had without yet breaking. It did not mean that there were not times where he would contemplate asking for help, calling for Kurt to come and free him. He was not tied up anywhere, having a proper bed unlike most prisoners. He could not let the Doctor take the advantage in the mental mind games they'd conducted, hoping to hold out until the next visit from the man.

With weeks alone, James did have time to reflect and wonder who the Doctor really was. There might have been belief from them that he was a spy given his background but he wondered whether the Doctor was to. There was something more to the man that he'd seen in the briefest of flashes, the sinister, darkness that lurked within. He certainly was no spy, but he was more than the average general practitioner too. He'd noticed during their short interactions that there was an element of uncertainty behind the veil of control that the man wore, as if he were not used to having to commit such a task. It seemed strange that a man with a qualification of Doctor, who may have lacked experience, would have been assigned as a torturer, especially when Molinari told him of how effective his methods were. Then again, the same man ensured that his friend was killed when his usefulness was deemed at an end.

Spending all of those weeks trying to work out who Doctor Van Der Heijden was did not happen though, and without any other distractions, James often found himself thinking of the woman that he loved but could not see. Towards the end of the year it was Erin's birthday, the tenth of the month of December, and he knew he was either about to miss it or had done. Waking up to her on her birthday would have been wonderous for him he knew, having a whole day where he could devote himself to her, not that he wouldn't be doing already. To be able to find such love at his age, proper love and not one forced by the wishes of parents and society, was a gift, the Englishman longing to be able to have his gift again. He would have lavished her on her birthday too, making sure that she knew that she was the most special woman in the world. Erin's beautiful smile would often drift into his dreams, but when he woke and she was not that there, his heart was hurt just a little more each time. She remained his motivation though, the reason for him to continue life… to continue the fight to survive from the grip of the Nazi's. She lived and would be there for him when he got home… he had to get home.

Love could be deadly when it truly gripped onto a human's heart, and as much as she was the reason why he could fight on, James was also devasted by every day with her that was missed. In Taranto, he'd almost been able to ignore his melancholy, but in Rome without as many means to distract himself, it continued to grow on him. On the days where it affected him the most, the young man found himself having to wipe tears from his eyes, silent tears that the guards outside could not hear. They only ever heard him when he did his pull ups on the new bar that he found across his new, much more comfortable bed, but even the physical demands of the exercise could not distract him from what his heart wanted. The name Erin could fall from his tongue easily when he thought of her in his mind. He needed her more than he needed the food or warmth he was given, because although they could sustain the systems of his body, they could not answer the yearning of his heart. Only her touch under his fingers could do that.

However, in the days before that morning, an old ally that he thought was lost did come back to his side. There were many allies he would have loved to have in the prison, David being one. Although they both would have been locked up away from the world, they'd have kept such good company together that their combined morale would never be broken, no matter what Kurt or the rest of the Nazi's could throw at them. He would have enjoyed having any of his men from the Fleet Air Arm too, as they were just as able to share laughter and amusement as David, though it would be less personal with them. Erin's little sister Anna would have been brilliant too, because she'd have most likely been able to talk them out of custody, such were her smarts. He could not have any of them though.

He had Frank the Pigeon instead.

Pigeons could be the strangest creatures at the best of times, as well as some of the most frustrating. Their fighting antics could be quite entertaining to watch though, far too entertaining for some, as proven by Orla accidentally setting fire to the McCool household. They could be incredibly loyal to each but very disloyal to humans, however Frank was a different bird entirely compared to his fellow pigeons. To the naked eye, it might not have been the same pigeon at all that once used to graze on the grass outside the barred window to the basement in Taranto. Somehow though, James knew that it was his old friend and ally, that could sometimes frustrate him just as much as his isolation from the world. He could never stay too angry at all with Frank, the pigeon always coming back despite then going away again when they were mid conversation. Frank was all he had left in the world other than the photograph and the spoon, James being delighted that the Pigeon somehow found him again.

When his eyes flickered open that morning, the Englishman was already awake, having lay back with his eyes closed whilst he tried to think of happier times. Almost every happy memory led back to Erin somehow, which only served to torment him further when she could not be there. Without the war, the young Captain believed that they would have been married, possibly even with a child by that moment in time, raising a family together in the relative seclusion of his cottage. It would have to be extended if they were to have any further children, but it was an extension he knew he would have committed to without hesitation. No cost was too much when his love for Erin was on the line. A dream it was though, with the reality being that he would probably die long before any chance of starting a family with her would be a possibility. Reality was ignored in favour of hope, but the former's influence easily drowned out the latter's to anyone with an ounce of sense.

Having slept in the clothes that were provided for him to wear in the day, James woke warm, slipping his feet into the one pair of shoes he was allocated, before tying up the laces. Other men might have used the laces to hang themselves… but not him, not when he still had something… or more importantly, someone, to fight for.

Groggily making his way over to the barred window, the early rays of light shining in through the gaps between the bars, James yawned loudly. His breath hung in the cold air of the morning, birds chirping away in trees somewhere in the distance that he could barely make out from the small view that he did get. Requiring a chair to be able to have a position where he could see out of the tiny window from, he'd kept the only chair in his room underneath it. The smell of damp wood filled the air whenever it rained, rainwater dripping onto the badly positioned chair from above. He wasn't bothered at all, sitting down on the side of the bed only or on the floor if he did not want to sit anywhere else.

Clambering atop the unsteady wooden object, he used the bars to grip to, pulling himself all of the way up. The first time he'd done so, James wondered whether he'd dreamt the slight loosening that he could feel under his muscle. Almost certainly he had heard it, but such was his size, he would never have been able to fit out of the tiny window, even without the bars off. There was no escape from Rome, as there was no escape from Taranto… despite the efforts of those who'd died trying to make it possible. Once he was stood up straight on the chair, which still wobbled, surprise etched out across his face when confronted with the sight. The cold ground of Rome was blanketed in snow, which hadn't been there when he went to sleep the night before.

The perfect White Christmas, not that he knew it.

From his view, there was nothing worthy of a postcard, but further into the city, there were views that were more than worthy. The Trevi Fountain with snow alighting the ground around it was a sight to behold. James would have enjoyed it himself, but he was instead confronted with the view of just the snow on the ground, the tops of distant trees and a building opposite the one that he was being held in. That soon changed though, as swooping down from those very trees, Frank came to join him by settling in a shallow patch of snow close to the window.

"Hello Frank!" James exclaimed, excited by his ally's presence. "How are you this morning?"

As he always did, James imagined what the Pigeon would say in response, trying to believe that the bird could actually talk back to him. It was completely normal behaviour for a man so devoid of human contact to have to make it himself, finding that it did not compromise his gentlemanly outlook. A gentleman could talk to Pigeons as if they were real, a perfectly natural thing for one to do when they wanted someone to talk to… perfectly natural…

"I am glad to hear it. I am well thank you too. The snow was surprising wasn't it?"

…

"I know, I went to bed and it wasn't either!"

…

"Yes, it does make a change. Thank you for asking about Erin… I still think of her everyday".

Admitting to a pigeon that he could not forget the woman that he loved so dearly, seemed less mortifying than admitting it to anyone else. He certainly would not be mentioning her to the Doctor, although he was not naïve enough to believe that his contact in Derry would not know that he was with her. Dealing with that situation would have to be thought of at the time though, loving the blonde far too much to willingly tell him about her. Even her existence could remain a mystery until his contact found out for him.

Frank being Frank, he was quickly bored by the conversation that James offered up, as well as being cold from sitting in the snow. Almost as quickly as he'd swooped down from the trees to join the prisoner, he flew away again to leave James all alone. Watching his avian friend fly away, he held no anger towards him, as he would have probably flown away himself if the roles were reversed. All that anyone, human or otherwise, must have seen was what he feared the image of himself now was. James was once a proud young gentleman, but after over a year in captivity, he was nothing more than an abandoned part of a bigger machine that still ticked on without him. Useless to the world, his only purpose was whatever Doctor Van Der Heijden decided it was going to be, just like it had been with Professor Molinari.

Removing himself from the chair, the dejected Englishman walked back over to the bed. He assumed that it would soon be time for breakfast, the first of three very predictable meals for the day. Bread, cheese and water. Occasionally there would be fruit, but only once or twice had a piece of fruit found its way to his plate. It was more times than it had done in Taranto, once again grateful for the care he was being offered, but he would have liked more of it. Every single meal arrived in exactly the same way, differently to how it had been in the southern city. The larger iron door that held him locked inside the room, also contained a slit that could be opened from the other side, which the soldiers would hand the meals to him through. Pleasantries absent, it was a more of a business like approach, which did not surprise him when it came to Doctor Van Der Heijden.

Instead of the usual wrap on the door that signalled the first meal of the day, ten minutes later, James still reflecting glumly on life on his bed, heard the sound of the door being opened. There were footsteps outside that he'd heard seconds earlier, but assuming it to be the usual delivery of food early in the morning, he thought nothing of it. His head rose up from where it was in a deep staring match with a chip in the concrete floor of the room when he heard the sound. The door was opened slowly, not because it was heavy, but more for a distinct dramatic effect. It could only mean that it was the day he'd been waiting weeks for; Kurt's return.

He was right. A few seconds later, the Doctor's grinning form appeared, carrying a pistol with him which he held vaguely in the Englishman's direction. Frowning at first, James understood the need for a pistol a second later, looking over Kurt's shoulder to find that his young Lieutenant was not there with him. Taking the precaution against him, James chuckled internally that he could elicit such worry when he held no plans of fighting back. Showing him that he could still unsettle the Doctor, it brought a smile to his face.

"MERRY CHRISTMAS!"

Kurt shouted the greeting, closing the door behind him with his foot, eyes never leaving the Englishman. He was up early regardless of whether it was Christmas or not, the day holding significant importance for the Dutch born Doctor. The weeks of James' test were up, and surprisingly, he'd not broken how he'd predicted. He would not vocalise the thought, but Kurt couldn't help but continue to admire the dogged resilience that his prisoner presented him with, all the while finding that it drove him on even more in his quest to rid every secret out of the Pilot.

"Christmas?" James enquired.

"Yes James".

Kurt replied, walking over to him before changing direction to fetch the chair from underneath the window. Being the man that he was, instead of picking the chair up, he dragged it along the concrete ground, deliberately digging the legs into it as much as he could to make a scraping sound. The torture began at that moment, though it might have been light, it was an absolutely horrid sound nonetheless.

"You impress me…". Kurt began to monologue, putting the chair in front of the Englishman, the back facing James before he straddled the other side of it. "… I expected you to have shouted for me to come back weeks ago, but here you are".

"How long has it been?" A still surprised James asked.

"You have been down here for… six weeks or so".

Six weeks. James didn't need to go to much effort to work out that he must have been taken to Rome around a year on from when he'd attacked Taranto himself. That was inconsequential, because the news hit him hard that he'd been down there for so long. He would have said a month at most, but more than that genuinely shocked him. Although he lived alone in Derry, at least until his relationship with Erin began, he was always used to having people to talk to, making it all the more surprising to him that he'd survived without such contact. He might not have been over talkative, or mouthy like his cousin, but he did enjoy a conversation. Frank must have been the key, he quickly scrambled a thought to the front of his mind, another validation that his imagination's voicing of the pigeon was vindicated.

"You Englishmen like to show resilience…". Kurt noted. "It is a strangely admirable trait, I have to say… but it will not last".

"Won't it?". James raised an eyebrow.

Staring back at him intently, for a moment James could see the same fire he'd witnessed in Kurt's eyes before. He might have been perfectly amicable on the outside, but it was all a front for just how angry he really was with the continued defiance. Showing that he could survive weeks without hearing from a single soul did not impress Kurt at all despite what he'd said; he hated how James could exist that way. He was a man who did not hold onto any connections for too long, other than his mentorship of Hans and, since around the start of the war, his love for Lyla. For years previously, he went from woman to woman in his libertine quests, never wanting to be alone but not wanting to commit to a woman completely either. Captain Maguire shattered his myth of how life should be.

"Why have you come to see me today of all days?" James enquired, speaking up before Kurt could. "Nothing better to do?"

"Ha!" Kurt chortled. "I have plenty to do today, James, why do you think I have came down to see you so early?"

"Well I thought after last time, you would have asked me to take my clothes off…".

James tried to engage him again in a battle of wits, though inside he shuddered at the memory. Gravely humiliated on a day that he was constantly trying to forget, he could only just use it against the Doctor without outwardly showing his embarrassment. It still brought a smile to Kurt's face, but again beneath the mask there was a burning fire within the eyes of the Nazi. He did not enjoy James fighting back as much as he might have said he did…

"Perhaps another time we may have to check for lice again. I am afraid you are not the person that I wish to unclothe today… I have a woman for that".

"A woman?" James answered, feigning shock. "She must be quite desperate".

"I am offended James!" Kurt played along too, the war of wits beginning again. "Am I not handsome? Have I not been kind to you?"

"There is a saying in England, Doctor, that some things are just too good to be true. You are a perfect example".

Stroking his chin, Kurt buried his face away for a second, disguising his anger. Weeks on from when he thought he would be seeing the English prisoner again, he was already furious that he hadn't broken sooner, even if he did not need him to. James was resilient, far more so than he'd expected, although Professor Molinari had warned of his ability to survive based upon the recovery from the injuries he'd received after being shot down. The fact that Kurt had initially chose to ignore those reports was coming back to haunt him.

"You do not need to tell me about your sayings James…". Kurt explained, another slight smile flashed his way. "… I am familiar with England".

"London?"

"Yes. I studied in London some twenty years or so ago".

"We may have passed on the street when I was in my pram…". James joked. "… not that I would remember… or would wish to".

Kurt did not reply to James' latest taunt, deciding to run a hand through his hair instead. The two of them were both aware of the games that the other was playing, with neither able to gain a significant advantage. In theory, the Doctor held the bigger hand being the captor, but his captive was smarter than the average prisoner. His brains alone can't have been why his country wanted him back so dearly, but it could have been a contributing factor, he noted to himself while looking at the young man.

"My information from the Professor and my contact, say that you lived in… Londonderry, before the start of the war. How does an intelligent man like yourself make such a move?"

Beginning another game, the Doctor changed his tactic to get closer to the point that he wanted to make and the information he wanted from James. There was fun in sparring around topics which were not relevant to who the Englishman really was, but they were only techniques to try to soften him up. The softening hadn't quite worked on James when he'd deployed it, finding that his prisoner was more than able to fight back, forcing Kurt into a different strategy. Although the man before him was English, looking like it and sounding like it, through self-admittance the young man had already revealed where he'd lived to Molinari as well as the spy in the city having fed back to Germany that James lived there. They'd told of much, much more than that too… but Kurt would hold onto that information for another day…

"A man has to follow his destiny, Doctor. I am sure you will dine at death's door sooner rather than later".

"I was not joking, James…". A menacing tone crept out from Kurt, moving the pistol up underneath James' chin. "Why?"

The cool end of the barrel sent a chilling wave of nerves through his body, but on the outside, James remained calm. Doctor Van Der Heijden would not shoot him, when he required him to be alive for the information that the young man was yet to be truly asked about. He could do him serious physical harm though, leaving James on guard at all times. Having a pistol resting under his chin was far from comfortable…

"I did what I had to at the time". He answered vaguely.

"Did you?" Kurt frowned, furrowed brows like pincers into the Englishman's mind. "Or did someone else make the decision for you? Perhaps your parents?"

"My parents are dead…". James lied, without any hesitation whatsoever. "… they cannot make a decision from their graves".

Kurt stopped for a moment, appearing to be contemplating the answer. While he mulled it over in his own mind, James was disgusted with himself about having to lie. He hated doing it, only ever applying mistruths when there was no other way out of a situation. His mother, he hoped, was alive and well, within the neutral borders of Switzerland where she was hopefully living merrily amongst the noble families of the country. Her happiness remained important to him even when they'd spent so long away from each other, approaching three years when it came to the next spring. She might not have always been a constant in his life because of her work, but Kathy always made sure that her son got the best he could when their circumstances were far from ideal.

"I am sorry to hear that…". Kurt finally replied, measuring his answer. "… I am sure they would be proud of their heroic Pilot son".

"Their heroic Pilot son who got himself captured?" James enquired, raising an eyebrow. "I doubt that they would".

For another couple of moments there was silence from the Doctor. Kurt, deep in thought, continued to try and dig away at the barriers that surrounded his prisoner, still yet to find much success. When his hand was so great, there was so much to choose from to confront the young man about, with the aim to get out of him the truth of why he was so important to Britain. Confident that the young man knew thanks to the valiant defence that he was putting up, the Doctor told himself that he only needed to find one correct opening to unlock the young man's secret. He was mistaken though… the information he wanted, James did not have, and if a certain group of individuals in London had anything to say about it, would never have.

"What about a woman?"

James had only feared that morning that Kurt might start to ask questions about Erin, though he'd displayed no indication that he knew about her specifically. The Nazi Doctor gave nothing away through his facial expressions, though that was nothing out of the ordinary when it came to their ongoing battle of wits. With nothing to go on from Kurt, he did not answer immediately, copying the man opposite him who would pause before answering. It was the other man who acted first though, removing himself from where he'd straddled the chair, to begin to walk around in front of his prisoner. Although there was no general rush for the information that was required, it was still Christmas Day, a day which Kurt did not intend to spend with James alone. He'd made a promise to Lyla that he would not be long on his visit… and his true reason for being there was still not known to the prisoner. It would be though…

"I am not married". James finally responded to the question.

"But you have a woman back home? A good Irishwoman?" Kurt mocked.

"As I have said, I am not married".

"But that does not mean that there is no woman?" Kurt probed, his voice becoming deeper as his anger grew. "Do not try to avoid the question James, I will find out from you through a much harder way if not".

The much harder way was through some form of torture instrument, James knew, but he would happily accept such a punishment if it meant keeping Erin safe. Thinking on his feet, he decided that only another lie would suffice, as much as he hated having to tell it, even to Doctor Van Der Heijden. Although he'd never properly admitted it, despite David having told him on a number of occasions, he knew he was well liked by the young women of the city. Half of them had dreamt about him in one way or another, though all fell behind Erin when it came to actually being able to be with the young Englishman. One girl in particular tried harder than the rest, and it was she that formed the basis for his lie, though there was truth in it. Love was shared between the two but all of it came from one side, and it was not from him.

"There was someone… once…". He began, pretending to be morose, catching Kurt's eye. "… but she left me before the war started…".

"She left you?"

"Yes. I thought that we were in love but she did not feel the same way. There was another man with a lot more money and privilege than I".

Moving over to kneel down in front of the Englishman, Kurt almost came to comfort him, though the pistol remained pointed in James' direction. He must have done enough in his lie to convince the Doctor that he was heartbroken over the woman that he'd lost before the start of the war. In some ways, he'd still lost the woman he'd loved from that time, but it was he who walked out on her rather than the other way around. The call to arms shouted louder than Erin's declarations of love for him, the honourable gentleman winning out over the respectful lover. His heart still lay broken that Christmas Day in Rome, but not because of the young woman that he was about to tell Kurt about. The woman who'd he lied about made her advances upon him once upon a time, but it was then that having Erin as a friend, before they confessed their feelings for each other, saved him from a life he would not have wanted. He was prepared to name that young woman to the Doctor.

"I am sorry James…". Kurt apologised, somewhat sincerely. "… young love can be most difficult on some occasions. Was this man a… what do you call it… a noble man?"

"Yes…". James lied again, stomach churningly, picturing a character in his head. "… his father was an important man in the city. I would not risk their wrath if I tried to stay with her".

"A wise decision. I have some knowledge of how the British aristocracy works… it is most strange I have to say".

"At least she does not have to put up with the pain of missing me".

The young woman that he lied about loving might not have been putting up with the agony of him being supposedly killed, but the one that he truly did was. Hurting inside from all the lies that he was having to tell, James caught the eye of the Doctor once more, finding more darkness every time that he did. Kurt's plan for the day was unfolding more or less how he'd expected, on track to be able to begin to extract information from the young man before he'd had to go to any stricter resorts. The job he was performing was not one that he trained for, but it came naturally to him, he was finding. Hitler's judgement was as brilliant as ever to him. He was the right man for the job.

"Does this woman have a name?"

Hesitating for a moment, James only had a couple of seconds to commit to the lie. He couldn't back down, not properly at least, but he was about to name a young woman from Derry, who could be found if there truly was a contact who worked for the Germans within the city walls. Whether they knew about his relationship with Erin or not remained a mystery, but when his back was against the wall, he had to try something different. Lying always came with the risk of being found out, which almost always was the case, he knew, but it was just about all that he had left. Erin's safety was paramount, leaving anyone that got in the way as collateral damage. The woman he was about to name had already fallen foul of trying to stand between him and Erin.

"Jenny… Jenny Joyce".

Jenny Joyce found out the cost of admiring him the same way that Giovanna did, facing her death. Though their deaths may have been very different, Jenny dying with a slit throat without every really knowing why she'd been killed whereas Giovanna was killed in action. Kurt's contact almost certainly did not know about his relationship with the young Joyce, or non-existent relationship as the case was, which left him with somewhat of an advantage with his lie. He'd never loved her at all throughout all of the unwanted advances she threw up on him, remembering the tour of her house that conveniently ended at her bedroom door or the time she'd tried to kiss him after David's wedding before Erin stopped her.

"Jenny?" Kurt enquired, an inquisitive look across his face. "Such a nice name but such a horrible woman".

"I would not say horrible…".

"But I would". The Doctor interrupted James' defence of her. "I have an Irishwoman of my own, she is nothing like your Jenny".

Frowning, James tried to understand whether the Doctor was telling him the truth or was playing their game of dare. An Irishwoman in Germany was not something he'd considered, though the Pilot quickly supposed he could have met her in the Netherlands too, after having deduced Kurt's nationality. There was talk of a woman leaving her husband to run off to Europe, he remembered whilst silence hung in the air, but he could not recall the woman's name. The likelihood of it being the same woman was remote anyway, though it was hardly as if there were hordes of women from the Emerald Isle living with Nazi Germany's borders.

The thought was still on his mind when Kurt opened his mouth to address the prisoner again, only to be interrupted by the sound of the door opening. Lieutenant Hartmann was the new arrival to the room, joining his fellow Nazi in front of the prisoner. Untrusting of a man he put close to a similar age as himself, James' eyes never left him. Hans did not enjoy being stared at by the prisoner, but chose not to rise to the stares, ignoring them to best of his ability. He was looking forward to his first Christmas with Elsa and Leo together as a family, a close knit group that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. He'd left their side to be able to join Kurt, doing so later after being allowed a few more moments with his loved ones. Kurt was not completely soulless; he allowed for such festive joy when it came to his Lieutenant.

"You will have to excuse Lieutenant Hartmann's timekeeping James…". Kurt explained to him. "… he has recently been married and has a young son. He needed to spend Christmas time with them".

Once again the young Pilot found himself frowning. He hadn't expected that the Lieutenant would have such a perfect life at such a young age, reminding him of exactly what he could not have with Erin. They were denied the chance at being married and having a young child of their own, and when confronted with the knowledge that a murderer such as Hans could have that, he was outraged. Showing such outrage would have only meant more trouble for him in the long run, but he could ignore his feelings. He'd done everything that his country had asked of him, everything that the world needed him to do… and he had nothing left to show for it other than a photograph and a spoon.

"He is excused…". James mumbled, looking away from the two.

They exchanged words in German whilst the young Pilot contemplated his thoughts and feelings on a chilly Christmas morning. Soldiers were waking up on various fronts to see in the festive day, some not seeing the end of it, as fate would almost certainly dictate. He thought of Derry in those brief few moments, thinking about what it must have been like on Christmas morning at the Quinn household. Anna would no doubt be excited to see if she'd gotten any presents, though the likelihood being that she wouldn't with the harsh realities of war. He was in no doubt that Mary and Gerry would make it special for her one way or another though, a smile and a chuckle falling from him when he thought about what they might get up to for the rest of the day.

"James…". The Doctor addressed him again, turning his head to him. "… as much as I have enjoyed our chat, I really do need to find out some information from you".

"I wish you luck with that". He replied, instantly falling back into the fighting spirit that saw him through every single day. "I have very little information to give you and all of it you already know".

The dark smile that lit up on the faces of both men was concerning… very concerning. There was more than just menace, there was a warning within their eyes. James didn't know if he was walking into a trap or not, but he certainly felt that he might have been. Kurt was the next one to speak up a few seconds later, staring into James' eyes before he did. Hans stood in the background with his gun drawn, once again pointing it roughly in the direction of the prisoner without looking like he would fire it. His orders were to leave the Englishman alive, but if he had it his way, James would no longer draw breath. Hatred for the British ability to resist the might of the Nazi empire he was brainwashed into believing in, burned as brightly as ever, even when Lyla and Elsa tried to teach him respect for his enemies. They were not making much progress.

"I will ask you once and if you answer correctly… you will be spared from this morning's punishment".

"Under duress, there are no correct answers…". James replied tilting his head in Hans' direction.

Ordering him to lower the weapon, Kurt's features remained firm to show that he was in control, despite Hans worrying otherwise with the look he shot back in return. Distrusting the intentions of their prisoner, he would not see his mentor harmed because of a lack of care on their part. A man of his duty though, he did as he was obeyed, allowing the Doctor to ask the question that he wanted to, hoping he would receive the right answer.

"Are you a spy, James?"

Expecting a question he would have to think about, it was James' turned to be amused. Laughing out loud at it, he could see the resentment written on the face of the young Lieutenant, who tried hard not to use the submachine gun on him. James was in no position to goad anyone, but he was still British. He was not afraid of them or anyone.

"No".

"Good…". Kurt laughed. "… very good".

"You did not want me to be a spy?" James asked, still trying to play the game again.

It hadn't escaped the Englishman, before he heard Kurt's reply, that Lieutenant Hartmann exited the room. The two captors displayed similar levels of understanding before on the night they'd halted his rescue attempt in Taranto, and we're doing so again. He might have been playing the game still with Kurt, but James was feeling ever queasier by the minute. Telling the truth, which was an odd rarity that morning, he began to believe that his answer was about to do him more harm than good.

"Maybe I did… maybe I did not".

"It appears your Lieutenant does not want to stay to find out".

Another one of the menacing smiles that the Doctor made almost caused him to shudder. He knew he'd given the wrong answer but still under duress, there was no right or wrong… either answer would have led to what Kurt had planned for him next.

"It is Christmas, James…". Kurt reminded him, clapping his hands together. "… we have a new toy to test. I am giving you the honour of playing with it first".

Very quickly, it became clear why Hans left them when he did. James heard the wheels trundling along the ground at first, looking up to find what was making the noise as it entered the room. Kurt moved back to hold the door open for his Lieutenant, not before looking back to James one final time. It was a look that told the Englishman that he'd not been careful in what he'd wished for and he was about to pay the price for trying to battle the Nazi's. Britain itself was to find a cost for doing the same, standing up to fight when they should have bowed and kneeled before Hitler's war machine in great deference. Not many of his fellow countrymen were to face the toy he was going to though. One that was not new at all; it had been around for centuries.

"Do you know what this is James?"

Kurt asked when he took up a spot next to Hans once more, the so-called toy with them. The two took a moment to lift it off the wheels, James swallowing quietly to himself whilst trying to remain as calm as he could. It took a lot for a man to remain unflustered when he saw what was in front of him though.

"The rack".

A torture device that centuries of men and women had faced was stood before him, eye-piercing with the fear it resonated. Commonplace use of the rack was nowhere near what it once was, but locked away from the world where few even knew he still survived, James was the perfect candidate to be tested upon it. The damage it could do to those who were fixed into it varied, some coming out without any long term injuries whereas others would die upon it before the information that their torturer required, spilled from their lips. His predicament was worse, because even if he was tempted to cave in and betray his country, he had nothing to betray Britain with. The secret that even he did not know could never be told in that room, hidden away in London in the minds of the few who possessed it. He would rather die than betray all he stood for anyway.

He would face the rack and all its power with no mercy in sight.

"I do not need to tell you what happens next, James.". Kurt slowly strode over to him. "We are going to see who you really are today. It is the season of spreading joy after all… it is time you enlightened me with the joy of the real you".

To rise to the comment would have seen an ounce of control slip away, one that he could not afford to yield when he was the captive and Kurt was the captor. Declining to make a further comment, he instead settled for a moment of mental preparation. There were few times in his life when he'd feared for it… genuinely feared that he might die. Another one was being added that morning, the Englishman ready to receive his Christmas beatings.

Standing up, his eyes were on the rack.

A new hell awaited him.

---

There was a joy to Christmas, which could be felt through various generations of a family. Children were often the ones to enjoy the season the most, even in war time, as they were lost in the magic of such a wonderful time of the year. Adults could enjoy it too, some being lost in the wonder alongside their children while others mostly enjoyed a rest. Peace would have been far better than Christmas but without having one, the other was an ample distraction. Few children could ever be lavished upon at the time of year, but a solitary present was often manageable in even the poorest of households. Most other members of families did not have to have presents, usually sacrificing their own so that the children could. In Northern Ireland, it was no different.

The day began early in the Quinn house, thanks to Anna being up first and deciding that, in her glee from knowing that it was Christmas Day, she would wake the rest of the house up. Her parents were woken first that morning, Anna having shaken her Mammy awake, which in turn woke Gerry when Mary started complaining about being woken so early. She was not happy at all that her youngest denied her additional time in bed, though he was far more understanding when his sympathetic smile fell upon Anna. It was a big day for Gerry too, finally able to give Anna the present he'd hidden from her for weeks. Ever since her academic successes were known, he'd been wanting to get her a gift, and thanks to some friends at work, he was able to do so at a relatively low cost. Knowing how much she would adore the present, it had been a difficult task keeping its existence hidden from her. Finally, he could let her know.

Erin was woken early by her sister too. The Erin Quinn of a couple of months earlier would have never let Anna forget such an early intrusion, shouting the walls of the house down in her fury no doubt. That was not the young woman that woke on Christmas morning of that year in her room. For a few weeks she'd kept the positive trajectory of becoming more talkative, and generally more approachable around the family. The Autumn was over, another one completed in silent suffering for her when only her parents knew, leaving the blonde to be able to end the year in a much better mood. The year before she was still grieving for the fella she'd lost during the period so it was a Christmas that was not enjoyed, but she'd made a promise to herself one night that month that she would try to relax during the current one. Continuing to be a successful idea, she wrapped her arms around Anna as soon as she woke, the sisters sharing a moment that solidified their friendship and sisterly bond, that was returning to the strength it held before the war.

They made their way downstairs as a family that morning, Anna leading the way ahead, skipping her way down the stairs. Mary, still half-asleep, groggily rolled her eyes at the enthusiasm but Gerry and Erin were left smiling. The latter was privy to the former's gift to her sister, having asked him what he was doing for one morning when there was only the two of them at the breakfast table. Wholeheartedly approving of such an appropriate present, Erin would have loved it for herself let alone Anna, the thoughtfulness standing out. She was the only other person who did know, with Mary even unaware of her husband's present for her daughter. All that she knew was that Gerry was taking it upon himself to find their youngest a present, telling her not to worry about buying one, not that she could afford much.

A makeshift Christmas tree had been assembled a few days earlier, the girls aided by Orla in constructing it. It was only a small tree that sat in the corner of the room where Napoleon used to sit while he was alive, and without lights it was quite barren, but the girls used candles to illuminate the feature in the dark of the December morning, enhancing its aesthetic beauty. A lit-up Christmas tree only served to light Anna's face up even more, receiving another cuddle from her older sister to thank her for the joy that she was providing. Mary, continuing to wake, felt her heart skip a beat at watching her daughters exhibit their close relationship. She was immensely proud of them both for maintaining it, but more so Erin, especially after everything that her eldest had been through. The war had taken its toll on many families, theirs included, yet the spirit of Christmas allowed the troubles to fade away for a single day.

Underneath the makeshift tree was a solitary box, a small wooden one which Anna eyed curiously. A family with little money to be able to lavish gifts upon each other, it would only be their youngest that received a gift that morning. Erin didn't mind at all though, her days of being mesmerised with a Christmas gift long over. She was still owed a present for Christmas, but unfortunately it would never get to her. Before he'd left to fight, and eventually die, in the war, James promised her that they would wake together at the cottage on Christmas morning as a couple, to enjoy a day together without any interruptions. That promise was made for the Christmas of two years prior and his death before the day a year earlier prevented it from ever coming to fruition.

"Is… is that for me?" Anna tentatively enquired with her Da.

"Aye that's yer so it is love…". Gerry grinned. "… a good girl like yerself should always be rewarded at Christmas".

Not every child could be rewarded for being good, plenty finding the season to be far less joyous. Some were orphans thanks to the war, a father killed in battle and a mother killed in a bombing raid, whereas others were living away from their families in the country after being evacuated. The need for them to do so with Anna was not great, Mary telling Gerry when they first heard of evacuations being a possibility that she would not allow Anna to go. He agreed, and a lot of other families in Derry shared the same prerogative. After having received only one bombing raid, which was even by accident, there was no real risk to the children whatsoever.

"Daddy, ye shouldn't have! What about a present for Erin?"

Ever the caring young soul, Anna became aggrieved by her older sister not being able to have the delights of opening a gift that morning. In the weeks of change in Erin's behaviour, she'd been the major benefactor, being able to spend quality time with the sister she really knew. The loving, caring Erin would give Anna lots of cuddles and support her with her schoolwork, which was exactly what she'd done in the run up to Christmas. There were no more examinations, at least not yet, for her to worry about but there was still classwork which she liked to know she was understanding. Erin was there for her where she'd refused previously, the younger of the two extremely grateful for her being so.

"Ach don't worry about me Anna. You open that present". Erin told her, smiling.

Settled by Erin's smile, Anna began to pull the lid off of the wooden box, to reveal what was inside. Erin took a step back to stand next to her Da, the two of them smiling when they watched Anna's reaction to seeing what it was. Mary was staring more than anything else, intrigued by what Gerry had managed to buy for their youngest. It was evidently small judging by the size of the box, and they didn't have the financial resources of the Kavanagh's to be able to make a grand purchase. His thoughtfulness knew no bounds though, which Erin told him in similar terms when she'd first seen the present herself. Anna was absolutely elated when she turned to look her Da fully in the eye.

"Daddy… it… is amazing!"

Chuckling proudly to himself, Gerry took a step forward to accept the cuddle that Anna was prepared to give him. As she did, Mary took the wee wooden box out of her daughter's hands, to see what the present was for herself. When she did, she could fully understand why her younger daughter was so pleased by what was inside. A studious, bright young girl would find great use for a pen, and she already had a couple of her own up in her room. What was different about the pen that he'd purchased her for Christmas, was the initials that were engraved on it. 'A.Q'…. Anna Quinn. It was her pen and her pen only.

"Thank you Daddy". She mumbled into his midriff.

"There is no need to say thank you love…". He told her softly, pulling away so that he could see her face. "… all of us know ye deserve that. Ye make us proud with yer schoolwork, Anna, prouder than we could ever hope to imagine".

Christmas morning was not a morning for tears, at least not in Derry, but Anna was having trouble not spilling them in joy. Overwhelmed by the reiteration of love from her family, her day started perfectly. Secretly she'd hoped for a brilliant present from her family, but would have understood if they could not get her one. She was smart, not naïve, aware that they were not a family that were going to be lavishing her with gifts. It didn't matter to her though, because any gift was a blessing to the younger Quinn daughter. To be able to spend a pleasant day with them was almost enough anyway, hopefully without any bombing raids, she thought to herself. Easter Tuesday was a long time ago though and with no appearances since, it appeared to her that the Germans had given up with attacking Northern Ireland. London was the main target of raids still, and though many in the city could not care if English lives were being lost, she thought of the poor people of Britain's capital every day. Such was her nature, it was hard for her not to.

Breakfast was on the way shortly after, not before Anna gave her mother and sister hugs first. Rationing made it difficult to have a huge meal at the start of the day, but they ate well that morning, the butcher having been kind to Mary, sneaking her some extra rations. They would be pooling their rations later in the day with the rest of the family, with everyone coming over for a meal. Having been empty since the fire, the McCool house next door was enjoying the presence of life again, repaired extremely quickly thanks to Joe's insistence with the local authorities. Quite how he'd managed to get them to work on it so quickly, they did not know, but a couple of days earlier the all clear to return was given. Sarah, Orla and Marie were still in the process of moving back over, the latter two moving first before the former moved. Orla and Marie were almost settled in completely, spending the prior night sleeping there, and from what Mary could gather, Sarah would be spending one of the next couple of nights back in her room with her daughter and granddaughter settled.

The rest of the morning progressed peacefully. There was no need for any of them to go into work as they had done during previous years, as despite the need for uniforms still being great, they could be spared for a day. Families around the city were meeting on the day, free from the constraints of work and other commitments. Unlike in Rome where there was snow, Derry was instead given rain rather than the delights of a White Christmas. Light enough to allow families to move around, but frequent enough showers to be considered a nuisance, the rain stayed throughout the morning. Luckily, apart from Sarah who was coming from Ferguson Street, the rest of them only had to dash across from the house next door.

Joe, Orla and Marie arrived just after eleven o'clock, Marie rushing over to play with Anna the moment that she arrived. The two of them were forming an ever closer bond, Anna acting as almost a big sister to her, even when she was not. Encouraging it as much as possible, both Mary and Orla were delighted by their children showing such friendship to each other, when they easily could have been horrible. Many children in Anna's position would often find themselves jealous of the younger child, who would receive far more attention than them. It was not the case for her though, as she could just as easily hide away in the corner with a book rather than form the centre of attention.

Awaiting Sarah's arrival, the girls were still playing in the living room whilst in the kitchen, Mary was aided by Erin and Orla in preparing Christmas dinner. Like with breakfast, it was hardly going to be a meal that would be considered a banquet, but with the additional rations put together to make a Christmas meal that was worthy, it would at least be better than normal. There would most likely be too much food, which was a rarity since the beginning of the war, though none of it would be wasted. Mary didn't care which one of them ate what was left, but it would be eaten unless they all wanted to face her wrath. Rabbit was the choice of meat for Christmas, though that was kept from the children in case it upset them.

Only a few minutes later, the front door opened, signalling the arrival of Sarah. Joe and Gerry, who were watching the children play in the living room both rose from their seats to see her in, though the former scowled at the latter for copying him. In Joe's mind, it was the man of the house's job to greet the arriving guests, and he was much more of a man than Gerry. However, the spirit of the festive season was soon doused in flame when Sarah walked into the living room, because she did not do so alone. Wrapped up in a jacket behind her, Shane was with her too, unexpectedly to all of them. From what they understood he was going to be on duty during the day and would therefore enjoy his meal with the rest of the firemen. His appearance in the Quinn household that morning suggested that it was not the case.

"What is he doing here!?" Joe angrily pointed at him, demanding an explanation from Sarah.

Nervously she looked to her fella, who none of them knew was her fella, and then to Gerry, desperately hoping that one of them might know the answer. Whilst the two of them might not have told anyone that they were together, it was to their advantage that it was the southerner in the room with them. The family may have been unaware of the relations that were carrying on between the pair, but he'd seen the looks they'd given each other at church. Love was surprisingly easy to read when a man or woman knew how, and although they hid it better than James and Erin had two years earlier, Gerry could still see that it was there. Happy for them, though concerned for what Joe might say, he decided to do them a favour before his father in-law became riled any further.

"I invited him, Joe. It wouldn't be fair to leave him out".

The disdain that Joe looked at him with was incredible, although it paled into insignificance when he caught Sarah's thankful smile out of the corner of his eye. The two of them would have to inform her father of the relationship at some point soon, Gerry only seeking to ensure that it was on their terms and not Joe's.

"I should have known! You stupid eejit!" Joe shouted at him, drawing attention from Anna and Marie.

"Come on Joe…". Gerry attempted diplomacy with him. "… Shane's done a lot for Sarah and the girls, so he has. He's just as much welcome here as you are".

The diplomacy came with a sting in the tail, that left Joe with a burning red face. From the kitchen, Mary heard every single word that was being said to make sure that she didn't need to come out to intervene. Surprised by Gerry's decision to lie about inviting Shane, it at least solved one of her problems by the fireman turning up for Christmas dinner. Her worries about having excess food were extinguished, as an extra mouth to feed nullified the potential for it to happen. Unlike her husband, she was yet to work out that there was anything other than a good friendship between Shane and her sister, leaving her to question why exactly he was there, without Gerry's lie considered.

"You'll be welcome at the morgue with that attitude boy!" Joe reprimanded him viciously. "I see what's goin' on here though, so I do. You pricks are combining forces to annoy me, so ye are… at Christmas of all times! Ye should be ashamed of yerselves!"

"Mr McCool, I can assure you that m-". Shane tried to get a word in.

"Keep yer mouth shut ye great tool!" Cutting him off, Joe's anger was beginning to raise eyebrows throughout the house. "I didn't invite ye, so you just watch yerself".

Point taken, Shane said nothing more in order not to rile Joe, but he was absolutely raging beneath the nod that he gave the man. Unused to being spoken to in such a manner, although he was quickly becoming expectant to it from Joe, he was enraged by the audacity that the man had. There were old fashioned men like him that still liked to rule the family, but not in the same way in which Joe did. Unlike Gerry who would willingly soak up the abuse, trying to find moments to dig back against his father in-law, Shane was prepared to speak up if he was going to be continually attacked by the family patriarch. He loved Sarah dearly, their love growing during the weeks of secretly being together, but he could not commit to the next step of a relationship if he was going to have a hostile Joe to deal with all of the time. The only reason he hadn't exploded already was because it was Christmas, and he did not want to ruin the occasion for the children.

An hour and half went by, the house brimming with tension, Joe spending the majority of it with his eyes firmly fixed on Shane. The fireman spent most of the time talking to Mary and Gerry along with Sarah, as well as playing with the children for a few minutes. A smile was on Sarah's face when he did, finding more ways to love the fella that she'd wanted for so long. They'd fallen into a relationship so easily after the first night, loving and caring for each other deeply. Difficulties arose in trying to express their love for each other with Orla and Marie in the house back at Ferguson Street, but they'd found their moments. Christmas Eve night was incredibly special for them too with Orla and Marie spending the night at the McCool house, allowing them to have it to themselves. That was why, she thought to herself, that she woke that morning in such a good mood. Unlike the mornings when Orla would wake early, Shane did not have to sneak back to the sofa. She stayed warm in his arms for an hour or more longer than usual, completing a perfect Christmas morning.

Christmas Dinner was cooked to absolute perfection, a joint effort between Mary, Erin, Orla and, eventually, Sarah, that saw the family well fed. Prayers were said, whilst they thought of the loved ones that couldn't be there with them. Upsettingly, Marie asked a couple of times that morning why her Daddy wasn't home for Christmas with her when he should have been. She was not ready to know the truth about her father's death, Orla instead explaining that he could not come home because the war wasn't finished yet, an explanation that she accepted at her young age. Other young servicemen were home for Christmas, and had it have been Anna, the excuse wouldn't have worked because of how perceptive she'd been even at that age.

A day, even the twenty fifth day of December, could never continue to go smoothly in the Quinn household, as was proven just after they'd all finished eating. Full from their meals, nobody had moved from their seats, which left one of them with an opportunity to get something off of their chest. Before they'd walked over to the house after spending the morning together, Sarah and Shane agreed that it would be the day to reveal their relationship to the rest of the family. Gerry was already thinking to himself that they should but was about to be surprised by an even quicker admission from the pair. She was the one who would be doing the talking they'd decided, more appropriate for her to address the family than him. Joe's earlier performance only indicated that the decision was correct, though it made her stomach churn after the meal when she knew the time was right. She dreaded what her Da was going to say.

Standing up announced, all of their eyes were upon her in an instant.

"I… I have something I need to say".

Immediately, a shocked Gerry looked to Shane, who dipped his head slightly in an interaction that thankfully none of them saw. Cogitating over his Christmas meal, Shane knew that Gerry had worked it out because of how he'd lied for them, being able to then confirm what the southerner was asking when it was put to him silently. Internally though, Gerry was cursing them for picking Christmas Day to do it, because he knew exactly what it would do to his father in-law.

Searching for encouragement in the fella that she loved, Sarah glanced down to her right to see a smiling Shane who was ready to face whatever was to come, with her. She kept on loving the fella even more when he did things like that…

"Me and Shane are… together now".

Startling the family, some a lot more than others, the fireman's hand came to link with hers. A gentle squeeze was given too, the couple sharing a look of love that could melt hearts before they turned back to face the barrage that they knew was coming. She hoped that her Da would not be the first one to speak up about it, and that hope became reality, when it was her daughter that instead had the first word on her announcement.

"Aye that's cracker so it is Mammy!" Orla shouted. "I can start all the fires I want now, so I can!"

Laughing out loud when Joe was yet to speak was a poor idea, Shane knew, but he could not help but want to when Orla spoke. He was very fond of his partner's daughter, who he'd gotten to know very well since she'd moved into his home. As far as he was aware, he'd never held strong paternal instincts, however he always felt somewhat fatherly around Orla. An odd sensation, he cared for her and Marie as if they were his own flesh and blood, which they were not.

Flesh and blood filled the mind of another member of the family too, but not in the loving sense. He might not have been able to get the first word in, but Joe was going to get the second.

"Are ye now?" He snarled, raising himself up from where he was sat at the head of the table. "Outside with me now, boy!".

On the receiving end of Joe's ire, Shane was not rattled but almost immediately, tears began to form in Sarah's eyes. Her worst nightmare seemed destined to come true, that her Da would not accept Shane at all, demanding that he leave. The fireman was not going to leave her side at all, wanting to be with her out of love, but without Joe's acceptance, he would never be able to continue the relationship. Showing his compassion for her though, an attempt to show the older man that he truly cared for his daughter, he put his arms around her, Sarah sinking back into him as she started to cry. It was another mistake made though, the last thing Joe wanting to see being any physical contact between the two.

"Oi! Get yer hands off my daughter!" He bellowed.

"Joe…". Gerry intervened as carefully as possible. "… let's be adults and talk about this sensibly. It's Christmas".

"Precisely! But you stay out ye prick, it's between me and the Belfast shite over there!"

"DA!" Mary shouted at him. "Not in front of the children!"

"I don't care who I'm front of. I will not let this… leech… hold onto my daughter! I know yer game, gettin' her under yer roof ye f-".

"GRANDA!"

Heads were darted left and right as various members of the family tried to keep up with the verbal spars that were traded, until one voice silenced all of them. Slamming her fist down onto the table from the opposite end to her Granda, a raging Erin found all of the family with their eyes on her. She wasn't perturbed at all though, fed up with her Granda's nastiness towards others in the family, particularly good fellas like her Da and Shane. She might have been in no position to complain about nastiness when she'd spent the whole of the Autumn being horrible to anyone she pleased, but she could not care less. She would defend them.

"What is yer problem!?" Asking through gritted teeth, she turned her intense stare on him.

"Don't you dare talk to me like that young lady!" He yelled back. "Yer mother will give ye the spoon if you talk to me like that again!"

"And I'll accept it! I am fed up with yer attitude to people! What's so wrong with Shane? He's looked after Sarah, not hurt her or been unkind to her! If they love each other, so be it!"

"Watch yer lip! I will decide what is right here, not you, Erin! Ye've been brought up to have respect, so have some!"

Trying to stop it progressing any further, Mary went to speak up, but was stopped by Gerry. Although it was not pleasant over Christmas dinner, he knew it was better to allow Erin to vent her anger at her Granda rather than keeping it pent up inside. He too wanted Joe to know it was wrong to threaten Shane in the way he had done, but knowing his own voice being behind the shouting would do none of them any favours, Erin's did the job he could not. There was no need for Mary to stop her when she was taking Joe down a peg or two.

"No! I will not watch my lip when yer making Sarah cry! It's alright for you when yer out… gallavantin' with Maeve…".

"DON'T YOU D-"

"SEE!? Don't try and lie Granda, we all know what yer up to on Pump Street even if we can't prove it! Why do ye never accept any fella in this family!"

"I accepted yer James!" Joe rounded on her angrily, slamming his fist onto the table. "Or have ye forgotten him now!"

Joe knew the second that the words fell from his mouth that he'd crossed the line… not only crossing it but taking a train away from it and not stopping until the end of the line. Acting like a stupid fool in his anger, he knew that she would never forget the Englishman that she'd loved so much in the short time she was with him. Unlike Gerry and Shane who he did not approve of, he liked the English fella, knowing there was something about him that was different to other men young or old, without being able to put his finger on what it was. Using his name in vain was a poor lapse in a usually wise judgement.

Amazingly, shocking every single one of them except Marie who didn't really know what was going on, she did not shout at him back. Contrastingly, she spoke so calmly, it would almost certainly put an end to the argument.

"I think you should leave, Granda".

Mary's blood pressure was through the roof at Erin asking Joe to leave, but still reeling from her daughter's masterful control of the argument, she could not find the words to reprimand her. It had taken them so long to get her not to burst out into tears at the mention of James' name in a positive light that the moment he was mentioned in a negative one, all of them expected an outburst. Instead she'd shown the maturity that she desperately lacked at times when it was least expected, even managing to stop Sarah from crying. Not used to tasting such defeat within the home, a humbled Joe added to the shock by nodding, accepting his fate.

"Fine…".

Joe sighed, somewhat sadly to hint at his own regret for taking the argument too far, far further than it needed to be. It would not be the end of the argument though; he would deal with Shane another time… and would let him know it too.

"But don't you consider this over boy". He pointed at him. "I'll get dirt on you yet".

Turning on his heel, Joe rushed through towards the front door, not stopping to look back nor was he stopped by anyone else. At a loss for words for a multitude of reasons, the family did not know what to say at all. Shane flashed Erin an appreciative smile, that she courteously dipped her head back to, as well as one from her Da as well. Few people ever stood up to Joe, no one ever doing so when he was as angry as he was after dinner. Christmas didn't quite feel like Christmas at all after the ferocious battle that sparked between Grandfather and Granddaughter, but it was always going to end that way when Joe found out that there was more going on between Sarah and Shane than just friendship. Only a positive Gerry could lift the mood again.

"How about we all have a cup of tea and calm down". He suggested, smiling. "I'll make it".

There were nods arounds around the table from the adults, apart from Orla who'd noticed an ant on the floor and was staring at it intently, far more interested in it than the outcome of the words had between Erin and Granda Joe.

"Come on Marie, let's go and play".

Anna shared a knowing look with her father after her comment to the youngest member of the family. His eyes told her that he was thankful that she read the situation perfectly, correctly believing that the best way to lift the wain's spirit was more playing time.

Before long, a festive atmosphere returned.

Unbeknownst to them all though, the argument around the table after dinner was nowhere near the ordeal that a certain young Englishman was going through that day…

---

Many men had been to the rack before down the ages, with few walking away unscathed. A device designed not only to torture the poor soul that was bound within it, but to anyone watching on as well, many came away from the experience unable to use arms or legs again such was the ferocity that could be applied. A medieval favourite alongside being broken upon the wheel, it looked out of place in a modern world where new technology was forever discovering different ways for humans to torture each other and bring misery to the world. The depth of human suffering was forever pushed by the new discoveries, bodies pushed to limits they'd never been before because of it. For James though, it was going to be an old fashion way that was used.

He put up no resistance when Kurt led him over to the rack, once it was in situ, Hans guarding over him the whole time in case the lack of resistance changed. With nothing to fight back with and no hope of an escape, his only reason for fighting was to choose death. Death would have spared him being put through the rack, but he still had too much to fight for to be able to choose the fate lightly. He had Erin to go back to when he could get away, when Britain won the war and killed men like the two in front of him. To choose death would have gone against his own personal beliefs and unwilling to compromise them to allow the doctor a victory, he instead allowed the smaller victory for his enemy by glumly presenting himself on the rack.

Lying down with his back on the device, James' wrists were chained in place above his head, to a roller whilst at the other end of his body, his ankles were also tied to a roller. The method of torture was very simple; gradually the chains would be retracted, increasing the strain of his muscles to force him into talking. Victims were meant to be left in significant pain through every turn of rollers until they could take no more but by then there was often damage that was irreparable. Few walked away without at least one injury, with others not walking away at all such was the damage that their bodies suffered. In medieval times when the study of the body was nowhere near as advanced as it was to that day, some would be killed out of mercy after being on the rack because they were no longer of use to society. If Kurt's intention was to keep him alive, the Englishman doubted that it would go that far, on the other hand not trusting the Doctor's intentions at all.

"Are you comfortable, James?"

The longer that Christmas morning went on, the more disgustingly dark Kurt's voice became. For a captor, he was at the ultimate point of power, his captive strapped to a torture device that could very easily break him. A breakthrough as such was not yet required, but it would be another positive for him if he could finish both of his projects ahead of time. Adolf Hitler would be most proud of one of his close friends for once again being a loyal man that he could rely on. His Generals and Admirals could lose him battles and valuable lives; his favourite Doctor held the ability to find new ways to take enemy lives. There was a reason why he was so favoured…

"I assume you do not have a pint of beer for me? That would have helped?" He answered, trying to ignore his predicament, much to Kurt's delight.

"You are such a brave young man!" The Doctor exclaimed. "Handsome, charming, surprising… is there anything you cannot do, James!?"

"Give you what you want, there is one".

"Ah. But my young English friend, I think you will find that you will be talking soon enough.

Sharing the responsibilities of the torture, Kurt operated the pulley closest to James' head, looking down on him from behind as if he were an angel. A dark, twisted being. Lieutenant Hartmann was given charge of the pulley at the bottom that would stretch James from the ankles and up. Hans spoke no English at all, therefore staying out of the conversation, but should he have been able to express himself in the language then he would have mocked the Pilot. For so long he hated the British for the stupendous decision to defy the regime that he so loved, men like James coming to represent everything that he despised about the country. An inability to quit when they were faced with the most grave odds, he found it to be a country that could bounce back from any blow and defy those who were superior rather than bending the knee. Every country in the world should have bent the knee to his Germany. With James on the rack, he hoped to rather literally making him bend a knee… or two.

"So, this is what is going to happen". Kurt took over the room once more to explain the process. "I am going to ask you some more questions James, and you are going to give me the answers that I want. If you answer with what I want to know, then we will not retract the chains, but if y-".

"Oh do be quiet and get on with it…".

Regretting not gagging the Englishman for the explanation, James found another flash of anger beneath Kurt's calm exterior when he looked into his eye, showing the regret. Speaking up when he was not spoken to and shutting down the Doctor whilst he was midway through his explanation, the Captain tempted his own fate. In reality, he wanted the ordeal to be over with as quickly as he could without having to know what would happen when the chains were retracted. Naivety was not something he possessed, reasonably certain of what was to come without the need for the Nazi doctor to explain to him the gruesome details. Kurt hid his anger well enough though, not as well as Hans, who James glanced at momentarily. He looked ready to kill their prisoner there and then but was under orders from Kurt not to kill him until he was told to. Begrudgingly, he obeyed.

"Such positivity James… it is almost a shame that is has come to this, but when you will not answer me truthfully, then you have left me with little choice". Kurt shook his head, grinning.

"I have told you everything". The Englishman replied, reiterating his stance.

"You have told me nothing!" Shouting back, Kurt leant down so that they were face to face. "The games end here, James. You will speak honestly or pay the price!"

The price would be paid irrelevant of the prisoner's thoughts on the matter. With the knowledge that he could not give the Doctor anymore information because he knew nothing more himself, the punishment would have to be suffered through. Neither he nor his torturer could even dream of the secret that saw Britain push so desperately to have him back from enemy hands. Guarded from him for the whole of his life, the attempts to guard him and his secret from Nazi hands were still succeeding. There were so few people alive in receipt of the true answer to who he really was, all of them completely loyal to keeping it out of the public eye, that trying to bleed the answer from any of them would be pointless.

Kurt turned his attentions away from James for a moment, conferring with Hans instead. Giving him his final orders not to do anything unless he was instructed to by his superior, Kurt needed to ensure that his hatred for Britain did not interfere with their aims that morning. Promising to be back in Rome for dinner with their loved ones, they didn't have very long at all to perform the interrogation. Fearing that his Lieutenant may use the time pressures as a justification for adding his own touch of torture to the Pilot on the rack in front of him, he once again affirmed his orders not to try to kill the Englishman. Kurt decided James' fate… no one else.

As the two spoke in German, James allowed himself to think of better times and of Erin. If only the world had not gone to war, he often found himself fixed on the alternative reality, then they would be joyously enjoying the festivities. Picturing them at his cottage in front of the fire, with a child playing in front of them and judging by the size of her belly in the dream, another on the way, it was the perfection that he longed for. Tied to the torture rack, the already slim hopes he held of returning to her side faded even more, but Erin's light shone so brightly into his eyes that he could not give up completely. His fellow countrymen made it a point not to surrender at their most pivotal hours of need. Being a classic English gentleman, he would not break the mould.

"So James, I will ask you again… are you a spy for your country?"

The truth was that he was not, but it would still not be the answer that the Doctor required. If he was foolhardy then he would have told him that he was, however, with his lack of espionage experience, he thought to himself that keeping the lie going would have been too difficult, and perhaps detrimental to him. Answering no was detrimental too, but it would be strangely easier to continue by doing so. If easy could ever be used for a man giving an answer that was not required whilst he was tied to the rack.

"No. I am not".

Shaking his head and sighing, Kurt did not believe him at all. James was a spy, whether he was even truly called James or not. The first turn of the pulleys would be completed, using his left hand to indicate to his Lieutenant that he could give one turn of what was almost a wheel that was in front of him.

Turning the wheels slowly, James only narrowly avoided shouting out in agony as his muscles were pulled, stretched out to excruciation. The strain was only light compared to how far the rack could truly take the muscles of a human body, but every retraction of the chains would elicit significant agony from the captive regardless. Held in stasis as he was stretched from both ends, James' chest and stomach were also strained as he was pulled, generating pain throughout his body that was already brutal. Left with only his mental strength to fight his captors with, he stifled the shouts of pain that could so easily have fell from his lips. He was going to fight with everything that he had.

"That was a bad start James…". Kurt lectured him, a haunting look on his face. "… I hoped that you would co-operate with me to save yourself from this… ancient punishment".

"Fraternising with the enemy… is an act worse than death". He breathed out through the pain.

"You cannot be faulted for your loyalty James… but it is time that you became loyal to me and forgot about your country. When they lose this war, you will never be able to go back. So work with me and I can secure your future in our new world".

Even with a body that was suffering, James found the energy to burst out laughing. Instinctively turning his head to Hans, Kurt's eyes contained a warning for his Lieutenant not to rise to the bout of giggles that took over the Englishman. Hans' face grew redder every time that James made the decision to disobey their authority, making him wish to put the prisoner through even more pain, much quicker than what they were doing. It would go against The Führer's wishes if they did though. Kurt made that very clear to him.

"Proceed how you wish with me, Doctor Van Der Heijden…". James spat out his name, jaw clenched. "… there will not be a day where I ever cede my loyalty to you".

One second was all that it took for Kurt to reveal how he was going to proceed. Another motion to raise was given to Hans with his left hand, whilst he turned the wheel aggressively himself with the other. James stood no chance of holding in the pain a second time around. The screams of agony that Kurt hoped for soon started to fall.

"ARGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

James' already stretched muscles were stretched even further, the strain still a constant with the chains fixing him in place. Wincing in complete agony, he did not wish to contemplate how much further that they were going to go, instead focusing upon the pain that he was in. If he could have hidden it from Kurt then he would, but the Doctor was always going to maintain a victory over him when torture was involved, being the nature of such an interrogation method.

"Why did your country send you to Italy? For what purpose were you to serve?"

He did not respond for there was no answer. Only over Italy in the first place in an ambitious attempt to cripple their precious fleet, there was nothing more to it than that. Another turn of the pulleys was coming and he knew it.

"ARGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" He yelled again, as he was strained further, muscles almost tearing under the force, fibres crying out.

"Come now James, look at the pain you are putting yourself through by staying so loyal to your country! Where are they now!? They have not tried to rescue you again… they have abandoned you! Protecting them is pointless!"

"They… they have not… abandoned me…". He replied, doing so slowly as he fought with the pain. "… they do not know… where I am".

"They found you once James. They may find you again!" Kurt shouted. "But they are in no rush, are they? Speak… now. You have my word that we will stop".

With no knowledge to be able to impart on the Nazi doctor, James couldn't betray Britain anyway. Standing by his principles that he would not dare sacrifice his morality by giving up information about his country in exchange for his life and, perhaps, freedom, he could only do one of two things. Remain silent to convey the answer without requiring going into detail or answer the man back, continuing their battle of wits even when he was at his most vulnerable. Any smart man would have chosen the first of the two, but being the brave, completely foolish young Captain that he was, James chose the latter.

"Your word means… nothing to me. I am of no use to you, Doctor… so do as you wish".

The biggest of fools gave license to their torturer to pile on more pressure. Rather than respond by increasing the amount of strain that the Englishman's muscles were under, Kurt left him as he was for a moment. Excruciatingly painful in his current state, it was no respite for James at all, who was starting to wear away at the layers of coating on his teeth such was the power he was putting into gritting them.

On the outside, Kurt remained in control of the room, but internally he seethed over the defiant performance James was displaying whilst resisting his overtures. He wasn't looking to break the Englishman fully on the rack that morning, and he could only go so much further before he did any lasting damage, leaving him immensely frustrated that James would not tell the truth. He'd only asked a few questions, there being few more to ask anyway until the young man gave him the answers that he required. Trying to get the answers out of his prisoner through the rack clearly was not going to work, but gradually Kurt could tell that it was chipping away at James' morale. Every turn of the wheel, and every cry broke the young man a little more.

He still needed to be taught a lesson too. A lesson which the rack could certainly help with.

"Did you really love Jenny?"

Focused entirely on the pain that his body was under, for a split-second James thought he'd misheard Kurt. A prisoner of war placed on a torture rack was not expecting questions about a love that he'd falsified to protect the woman he truly loved, especially after being asked only about whether or not he was an agent of espionage or not. Not even the slightest shred of him had ever loved Jenny Joyce, though he'd considered her a friend to a certain degree. In agony, James struggled to think of an answer that would give him the upper hand against the Doctor, forcing him to lie rather abruptly.

"Of course I did".

"LIAR!"

As Kurt shouted, his left hand raised and both of the pulley wheels were turned rapidly, retracting the chains that held the Englishman in place even further. His screams could be heard from the other side of the trees.

"ARGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

"ARGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" He continued to reel in agony. "ARGGGGHHHHHHH! ARGGGHHHHHHHHHH!"

"DO NOT LIE TO ME JAMES!" Kurt attacked, ignoring the pain James was suffering. "I studied with her father in London. He shares… or perhaps, shared, the same views as me for the world! I know what you were to him… you were responsible for his finances not loving his daughter!"

"I… I was… both…".

"YOU LIE! I know that is what Michael wanted for his daughter, he told me in his letter to me just before this war started! He said that you were a rich young man who was perfect for her. But now I have not heard from him and my contact in Derry tells me that he is dead! And who happens to have been the only other person in regular contact with him before his death…".

Kurt paused for a moment, allowing the rage to flow through him. He was a man of remarkable tolerance at times, but he would not allow the Englishman on the rack before him to lie to him. That was not James' purpose.

"You!"

Personal vendetta was not something James ever considered, but his mind was already blown through a mixture of pain and shock. Professor Joyce never indicated any tendencies that suggested that he was a Nazi yet Doctor Van Der Heijden confirmed that he was. Stunned that the Professor would have written about him to the Doctor, he could not comprehend why he would have done so. All he was to him was the man at the bank in charge of his finances, nothing more. Professor Joyce could have bemoaned his daughter's unsuccessful bid to win his affections without mentioning his name, making it all the more strange that he did. Understanding how it looked, it dawned on him why Kurt thought he was a spy, even though he was not.

"Did you kill him, James? Did you know about where his loyalty belonged? Is that your purpose… an Assassin for your country!?"

"I… did not know…". James croaked in reply.

"WHAT ARE YOU HIDING!?" Kurt bellowed, the words rebounding off the walls. "Your country wanted to rescue you, but you do not why!?"

"Nothing… special… I…".

James' greatest problem was that he was something special, something different. He was not just the ace Pilot that he'd proven to be. Kurt knew that and though he did not know what, he was aware there was more to James than the young man was letting on. He'd lied to him about loving Jenny Joyce, one of the worst attempts at a lie that the Doctor had ever seen in forty years of life. James hated lying, and his hatred for it was justified when it backfired. He could have chosen most of the rest of the women in Derry and Kurt would have been unable to contest it, but in choosing Jenny, who'd genuinely held designs if not feelings for him, he chose very unwisely.

One final reminder was given to him so that he did not lie again.

"ARGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

*POP*

The popping sound even brought a shudder from Hans, who looked up to find the source of it, catching Kurt grinning out of the corner of his eye. It hadn't affected him at all, bringing him more joy than anything, watching his prisoner suffer because of the lies that he continued to tell. He would not torture the young man anymore, mostly because they were running out of time, but also because any further torture would have done damage that even the greatest medical mind could not fix.

The pop was James' left shoulder, where he'd been shot just over a year earlier, popping out of place. Kurt could fix that injury for him quite easily but waited for a moment to watch the Englishman's facial expressions as he fought the pain. Through gritted teeth, James tried desperately not to cry out again, but his face was scarlet red from the effort, jaw aching from the strain of being clenched so tightly. Summoning courage, the very spirit of the nation that kept Britain in the war, he once again pulled out the unexpected, placing the shock back in the minds of the two men that presided over his torture.

He snorted laughter at them.

"Is that all you have got?"

Correctly deducing that Kurt would not push him any further with the torture, James picked himself up to ignore the agony that his body was in for a moment, to fight back against his aggressor. Paying the price for lying, he was hurting, but Erin was safe and that was all that mattered to a man with very little left in the world. Finishing up in a détente, Kurt could do nothing more other than reset his shoulder, not even able to find the words to give himself the last laugh. If anything, despite the torture, it was James who'd won in the end.

When he was let down from the chains, shoulder back in place from where it had popped out, they picked up his flailing legs and carried him to the bed. No words, English or German, passed between the two when he was thrown onto the bed, gritting his teeth again from the painful launching that he'd received.

Kurt and Hans soon left, the call of their women and a Christmas meal louder than the call to extract every piece of information they could from him. James' Christmas Day ended up with him eating just one meal, that was not delivered until later that afternoon. His body ached, his muscles burning from the pain of being stretched beyond what they should have, for an extended period of time. His brilliant mind was still intact and fighting on though. Physically he'd lost, but his ability to withstand the pain thanks to the power of his mind, gave him an unexpected victory.

However, he was under no illusions about what was to come.

When, he did not know, but Kurt and Hans would be back to try to get information from him again, whether it was from the rack or through other means.

The pain was only just starting…