Chapter 7 – My Cocaine

You say that you would be better off without me

No doubt about it

Even if it's the only way, I'm always right here, waiting, cold in the rain

'Cause you're my cocaine

His head aching and his shoulder beating a tattoo of pain at him, Kinch handcuffed the boy to the nearest unmovable and heavy object, which happened to be a pole.

"No, please!" the boy begged, his accent thick, but the words undeniably a call for mercy. Kinch ignored them and instead turned away, his heart hammering in his chest, a thousand questions making his head spin.

Who was the kid? Where did he come from? How did he get into their bunker? That was a real gem of a question, because even the underground network had trouble finding it and they were told exactly how to access it. So the chances that some random had just wandered in were next to damn impossible.

Kinch huffed as he hurried along the passage back to his barracks.

The most worrying thing of them all, and there were a lot of things to be worried about, so that was saying something, was the SS uniform that looked 100% authentic, as real as that blonde hair and blue eyes. What if this was a trap? What if, even now, Hochstetter was about to descend on them and every single one of their worst nightmares were about to be realised?

Kinch shuddered at the thought as he reached the ladder leading up and triggered the trap door. He hefted himself with little grace and plenty speed, "Carter, LeBeau, with me," he demanded from the ladder before climbing back down.

LeBeau was in the act of serving out their dinner and had paused with the pot on his hip and spoon in hand. Carter and Newkirk stared at him, perplexed at their acting commander's sudden order,

"NOW!" Kinch bellowed from bellow and they jumped, quickly letting go of what they were holding and making their way to the ladder.

Newkirk winced as he forced his bruised body into action, his head throbbing and nausea and fatigue washing through him in waves, the struggle to keep his eyes open increasing with each passing moment. He glanced up and caught LeBeau's worried frown as the French corporal noticed the turmoil Newkirk had thought he was hiding rather well. The English corporal made an effort to straighten up then, desperate not to miss whatever was going down just because his friends were concerned he might hurt himself and unconcerned that Kinch had not called for him.

"Peter," LeBeau started, as the English man began to make his way to the tunnels, but the corporal had been pushed to his very limits of tolerance for all of this coddling.

"FUCK OFF!" he barked, the exclamation loud and entirely unexpected. LeBeau took a step back at the force of it and a tense silence fell on the cabin - but LeBeau did not get angry and Peter felt his own anger step up another notch because of it. Had it been any other day, any other situation, the Frenchman would have whacked him with something heavy by now,

"Pierre…" he instead said, softly, "You cannot climb the ladder with only one arm, my friend," he said and Peter's glare hardened,

"Watch me, you bloody frog," he spat, turning for the tunnel, but then Carter was there, a restraining hand on his chest, all huge blue eyes and earnest expression. Newkirk managed to glare for another moment, but even as he stood there, the cabin began to spin dangerously, and he could feel every hurt in his body returning with full force now he wasn't trying his level best to ignore the whole damn thing.

"Fuck." He instead said, dropping his gaze, as he swayed on the spot. LeBeau was there, a guiding hand on his shoulder, a comforting arm around his waist, even as his hearing was replaced with ringing and a throbbing began at his temples.

LeBeau guided him back into the CO's cabin and shut the door, placing him gently on the bed. Newkirk sank gratefully into the mattress and had no idea when he lay down, but there was a bunk on top of him, and LeBeau was covering him with a sheet, mumbling something gently in French.

He was so angry he wanted to scream and kick and yell until they understood. They had to understand, he couldn't sleep, if he slept, if he missed something…what if he did, what if…what if the Colonel came back? Needed him?

Newkirk's thoughts grew completely incoherent and then, and, as his eyelids slid closed, he felt a sharp spike of betrayal as realisation dawned on him.

Sleeping pills…those fuckers…

LeBeau shut the door and turned, feeling horrible at what he, Carter and Kinch had just done. But Peter would not listen to them, would not stay in bed and wouldn't let them give him the sedative he needed so his body would heal. Every movement he made was gingerly done, every breath appeared to pain him, but he just soldiered on like there was something wrong with admitting he was human too.

"Is he out?" Carter asked and LeBeau nodded,

"I expected it to happen sooner," LeBeau muttered, hurrying for the ladder where Kinch was no doubt waiting. They scrambled down to an irate glare from the man,

"What took you so long?" he asked, evidently having gone on to wherever he wanted to take them and coming back, judging by the slightly laboured breaths that walking for extended periods of time in the tunnels caused.

"The sleeping pills finally took effect," Carter said and the annoyance on Kinch's face dropped to be replaced by a wry smile,

"I call dibs on not having to go and wake him in the morning," he said and the other two laughed,

"So what is the problem, Kinch?" LeBeau asked, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the pillar next to him

"Yeah, what's so urgent?" Carter added, looking at the other sergeant intently.

Kinch seemed to consider for a moment then said, "Perhaps…I should show you," and with that he set off down the tunnel with the other two of the command team trailing behind him, the oil lamp in his hand swaying with his stride and casting a ghostly flicker on the brown walls.

Hogan was running, laughing as he did, his bare feet slipping on the wet grass, his shirt blowing open in the wind and his hair flopping onto his face as the rain pelted down around him. The laughter was echoed from behind him, and he glanced over his shoulder to see Newkirk take a running leap at him, attempting to grab his shirt tails,

"You'll never catch me," Hogan laughed, using a thin tree trunk to help turn him right, towards the large house that sat on the hill, surrounded by the lush woodlands,

"Oh?" Newkirk panted from behind him, clearly struggling to keep up with the taller man, who was built for athleticism and speed,

"Never!" Hogan felt another laugh burst from his lips, the exhilaration of the chase, the knowledge that Newkirk was just there, within his reach, all of it was lifting him to a natural high, where it felt as if the world smiled at him.

The colonel decided that enough was enough and he collapsed onto the grass with a squelch, aware that his clothes were ruined, but knowing that if he stopped here, then Newkirk would follow suit.

The corporal barrelled into him at full speed, grabbing him around the waist and they both tumbled to a halt, Hogan landing on top of the corporal, his wet hair falling forward, dripping onto the man he now had trapped in a cage made by his limbs as a rumble of thunder sounded above them.

"I think I got you just a little bit" Newkirk said, his eyes dark and his voice husky,

"Alright, alright, I'll concede just this once," Hogan replied, unable to tear his gaze away from Newkirk's face. He reached out with his palm and he traced the apple of his cheek, the skin smooth and wet, and watched as those cheeks heated at his touch, the man turning his face to kiss Hogan's palm, before sending a cheeky grin up to the colonel and proceeding to lick a strip up to his wrist. Hogan felt his stomach flip as a rush of arousal ran through him,

"I love you," the words were out before Hogan could stop them and he watched as Newkirk's eyes widened in surprise, before they crinkled with a smile,

"I love you too," he replied, kissing the Colonel's wrist this time, and Hogan let himself collapse to land on top of Newkirk, completely covering his body with his own, the heat a wonderful contrast to the cold rain that should have sent them inside.

Just as the Colonel leaned a little further forward to kiss the man who he wanted to spend the rest of his life with, he felt a sharp stabbing pain in his chest,

"What…." He grunted, sitting up and grabbing his chest. He looked around him, suddenly they were in the living room, and the rain was gone, and so was Newkirk. A sudden spike of fear hit him, "Peter!" he called, panic building as he realised that his voice refused to sound,

"Peter!" he yelled louder, and then his whole left side felt as if it were on fire. God how it hurts, he just wanted it to end. The whole world suddenly went dark and Hogan wasn't sure where he was anymore. It seemed his eyes weren't working. None of his senses were. All he wanted was his Peter.

"PETER!" he yelled again, when suddenly, a slightly accented voice reached out to him,

"Colonel Hogan?"

It wasn't a familiar voice, and it sounded German, which was strange, but at least he could hear it,

"Yes?" the Colonel rasped,

"Can you tell me your name?"

"Colonel…Robert…Hogan…"

"Very good," the voice responded, and Hogan felt another stab of fear and anxiety,

"Have you….have you seen…Peter?" he croaked and the voice laughed,

"Yes I have," it replied,

"Can you….tell me?"

"Only if you can tell me something first," the voice asked, and Hogan felt a spike of hope. He was going to see Peter again, "anything…"

"What is the name of the French underground agent that you are always in contact with?"

"…Tiger," Hogan replied as soon as he could. He wondered if Peter was okay. Was he going to mind his absence with this stranger?

"Thank you. And where does she stay?"

"…Heimstrasse dreizhen….Dusseldorf," Hogan quickly supplied,

"Many thanks my dearest Hogan. Now, I believe I saw Peter go over there, where you saw him last, why don't you go and join him?"

"Yes…"

And then Hogan smiled widely, when after a few moments, Peter appeared in front of him, leaning against a tree, eating an apple, as the rain dripped down gently now, subsiding from its earlier downpour.

Hogan thought to himself he must learn to trust that voice from now on.

Strauss grinned as he left Hogan's room, precious information in hand. Hogan had been set up on an IV drip an hour ago, and his limbs were now tied down to the bed, the wounds stitched and bandaged to prevent too much blood loss or infection. There would be no point to a dead Hogan, who is worth his weight in gold for the information that he has.

Nothing could stop the screaming though, but the SS guards standing guard at Hogan's door were trained well. They knew better than to so much as flinch as the prisoner started yelling and struggling whenever Strauss went back into the room. They didn't know what the doctor did everytime he went in there, and even when they went in to help with the cleaning, they never questioned. It was not their place. They watched Strauss fold the piece of paper he carried as he walked towards the stairs with a spring in his step. Clearly, something had gone right for the doctor.

Kessel was half way through his reports when Strauss opened the door and walked in, dropping the slip of paper on the major's desk with a triumphant flourish,

"What are you smiling about?" Kessel grumbled, as he picked the paper up, not in the mood for any of the doctor's theatrics.

"Read the slip," the doctor prompted nodding at the piece of paper.

Kessel did so and his brow furrowed, "Whose address is this?"

"Leader of the Dusseldorf underground, none other than Tiger herself,"

Kessel sat up straight so fast he nearly cracked his knee on the desk, "From Hogan?" he asked in wonder, disbelieving that Strauss could have achieved such results,

"From the wunderkind himself," Strauss confirmed and leaned against the desk, "now what do you say to this new technique?"

Kessel folded the paper and raised his eyebrows, "If we get Tiger, I'll buy you drinks for the next month,"

Strauss' laughter echoed down the corridor as it rang out, their victory sweet after so many months of trials.

"This little visitor dropped in last night," Kinch said, pointing to the boy on the floor, sitting in a bedraggled heap, his head bowed and his breathing uneven,

"Is that an SS officer?" Carter said, stopping dead in his tracks as Kinch's lamplight fell on the silver lapels,

"Sacre bleu!" LeBeau exclaimed, needing to hold onto Carter for a little grounding at the sight of an SS officer sitting in their very secret, formerly very safe tunnel system, "What do we do?" he half exclaimed and half asked a disturbed looking sergeant, who frowned and shook his head,

"For all we know, Gestapo is going to bear down on us right –"

"No!" they were all startled by the outburst from the boy on the floor, his accent heavy and pronunciation sloppy "No, please you have to listen to me,"

"And why should we, SS pig?" LeBeau spat, his hatred for the SS not a new development,

"Please…I am not SS. Not anymore. I defected months ago, but then was recruited by a major against my will. There was nothing I could do,"

"If you defected, why are you still in Germany?" Kinch asked,

"Because Britain has been using me as a spy. That is how I know the location of these tunnels. You must believe I am not Gestapo!" his pale cheeks were heating now with the vigour of his protests and his breathing had evened out, "also…" he paused, as if unsure he should go on, "I was taken by Major Kessel. I don't know why, but I had caught his eye. And not one day ago, I escorted Colonel Robert Hogan up the stairs to a torture room," he dropped his eye contact then, "I told him a lie. I said they had my family and therefore I couldn't let him go when I asked me to. I couldn't tell him them the truth, as I would blow my cover,"

There was a moment of silence as LeBeau, Carter and Kinch exchanged meaningful glances, "How do you know it was a torture chamber?" Carter asked, almost wanting the boy to be wrong,

"Because we hear the screams of other prisoners. I have taken the bodies away after the interrogations are finished. I will tell you more about the procedures that the Colonel will face. I only ask you let me up from this, as I was wounded in my escape," he nodded downwards and for the first time Kinch noticed that his leg was indeed a bloody mess, the pants torn and the skin mangled. It was testament to the boy's fear earlier that meant he could outrun Kinch for as long as he did,

"If you were a spy then you would have a code name," Kinch said and the boy nodded,

"I do, it's Little Boy Blue," he said and LeBeau shook his head,

"One day, England will learn to come up with better names," he muttered,

"No matter," Kinch said, "We will check with London. In the meantime, Carter will stay with you. LeBeau, with me,"

And with that, Kinch walked away from the boy with LeBeau in tow. Kinch ran a hand through his hair, dislodging his beanie before stuffing it back on again. How much was true? How much was to be believed? And just what kind of torture were they putting Hogan through?

"Alright, thanks Mama Bear," Kinch hung up and exchanged a surprised look with LeBeau. Little Boy Blue checked out. The only question that remained was why he left his post and came to their base of operations.

"So he's the last contact we have with Hogan," LeBeau said as they started a path back to where their new ally,

"Yes. Though the news that he has brought us is not exactly reassuring" Kinch added and LeBeau nodded,

"I hoped he was wrong," he admittedly silently and Kinch grimaced,

"Me too, buddy," he said, as they rounded a bend and the SS trooper met Kinch's softened gaze,

"Do you believe me now?" he asked, and Kinch nodded, throwing the handcuff keys to Carter,

"Let him up, Andrew," he said and Carter did as he was bidden, crouching down, "We apologise for the handcuffs," Kinch said, not sounding terribly sorry, the SS trooper thought, "but we have to take no chances,"

"I understand," was the boy's reply, as he gingerly got to his feet, wincing as he put pressure on his leg and leant against the wall, "and I apologise for running. I have only been told about this place once before and I wasn't sure where I was when I couldn't keep going any longer," he smiled rather wistfully, "that was when you stumbled upon me in the dark and we both were…what is the word…"

"Surprised?" Kinch supplied and the boy nodded,

"Ah, yes, that,"

An awkward silence fell for a moment, before Carter cleared his throat, "I'm Andrew," he said, holding his hand out,

"Rudolph Baum," the SS trooper replied and LeBeau chuckled somewhat sardonically,

"Of course you are," he muttered under his breath, but he held his hand out none the less, "Corporal Louis LeBeau," he said, and Rudolph shook his hand with a smile,

"Free French?" he asked, "I have heard and admired many of the brave exploits of that group of men. You are rather spectacular,"

LeBeau puffed up like a peacock and grinned, "I could like this guy," he said and the other men managed to crack a smile,

"Well that just leaves me, then," Kinch said, "Sergeant James Kinchloe, at your service,"

"It is a pleasure to meet you…standing up," Rudolph added and Kinch laughed wholeheartedly,

"Let's get your leg fixed up, shall we?" Kinch turned,

"That would be prudent," the SS trooper grinned rather abashedly, and limped after the three men he had just met, the sound of thunder and rain penetrating down into the darkness and accompanying them back to the heart of their underground system.

"HALT! HALTEN SIE!" The bellow startled Tiger right out of her bed, the darkness of her apartment suddenly flooded with light, blinding her as she lay on the ground and the sound of harsh German, heavy footfalls, the smell of gunpowder and the sound of the thunderstorm overwhelmed her senses,

"What…" she mumbled, as she was dragged upright quite bodily,

"We have her sir!" a voice yelled out of the mess of bodies that Tiger struggled to see from the painful lock across her shoulders a soldier, Gestapo, she thought with sudden fear, was holding her in.

From the mass of people, a major appeared, reaching out to her chin and lifting it, all the better to view it in the torchlight of around 20 torches, "Beautiful," he muttered, "such a pity she's also a traitor to the Third Reich" a ripple of laughter sounded around her, while Tiger felt a horrible sinking in the pit of her belly as the day all agents always feared had come,

"You'll never break me," she spat, and the Major laughed,

"They said we'll never break the great Colonel Hogan, and yet, here we are, you being his gift to us,"

Tiger's eyes widened in absolute horror. What had they done to the Colonel that they had gotten the information of her location out of him? What had they done…?

And with that bombshell still ringing in her ears, the major ordered her to be taken away.

HELLO! Remember me? The absent author. I know its very short but I felt I had to give you guys something. This is always in the back of my mind. Sorry sorry sorry for the abuse poor Hogan is going through. And I would love to assure you all that it will end soon but...I don't want to lie to you.

Thanks for sticking with me! I know it's been difficult with such long breaks. Much love!

Aza