Chapter Twenty One: Freedom

"I know about Hans."

Skipper felt, for a moment, as if his lungs collapsed and his heart fell through his chest. Flashes of memories leapt through his vision in white flashes and painful squeezes. His stomach turned and when he became self aware again, he found that he was short of breath. It wasn't often that Hans' name triggered him, but to hear it come from Maurice's mouth - and with such bizarre conviction - caused an involuntary reaction.

He stepped back, and his brows furrowed into something that was probably angry. "What are you talking about?" He demanded, bewildered and slightly pained.

Maurice looked down. "I know about the two of you, and I know that Hans was arrested for killin' Clover."

That was a lot of information that didn't make any sense to Skipper. "I don't understand," he growled, deciding that this made him mad. "You knew about… Us? What did you know? And- he wasn't arrested for anything. How did you know about him, anyway?"

"I knew you were partners," Maurice explained, still retaining his dark, almost accusatory tone. "And yes he was. Eleven years ago-"

"Hans died." Skipper snapped, interrupting him with a steely scowl. He felt rage building within him. What was Maurice talking about? What was he trying to say? He'd had enough slandering of his romantic interests for one day.

"Died?" Maurice seemed confused suddenly. "No, he was arres-"

"Skipper! Oh, it's jolly good to see that you're right as rain!" Private interrupted them, running over. He embraced Skipper tightly.

Skipper pat his younger brother's back before stepping away from the hug, but his glare was still fixed on Maurice.

Maurice looked back to him and simply muttered, "We'll talk about this later."

"Agreed." Skipper grumbled. He turned to see Kowalski and Rico only a few feet away.

"'Ey, y'kay?" Rico asked, about as sensitive as he could possibly be.

"We're fine." Skipper replied, not bothering to return the sentiment before continuing. "Blowhole left me a voice-recording."

"Let me take a wild guess. It was rigged to explode?" Kowalski suggested grimly.

"Bingo." Skipper grunted humorlessly.

"Good heavens," Private gasped. "What did he have to say?"

Skipper ran a hand through his hair. "He originally planned to have us accidentally frame Julien for Clemson's murder, only to somehow prove Julien innocent later on. But, only after Julien was killed by another guy while in prison. That way, he'd put us out of business. Since we found out, though, he's just going to kill Julien himself and say we did it."

"Great electromagnetic radiation!" Kowalski blanched. "That explains why he's not here right now - Blowhole must have him."

Skipper nodded. "We have to get moving, now. Any idea where we are?"

"No," Kowalski gestured to the ladder on the wall that led to the surface. "But I have an idea as to how we can find out."

The North Wind had dropped by their Manhattan safe-house to help Hans recuperate. He had remained mostly out of commission on the ride over, slipping in and out of consciousness and mumbling nonsense. Corporal, who'd been in charge of interrogations, had carried him in and out with relatively few questions. Anyone who got too nosey or suspicious, Shortfuse was quick to take care of. The red officers weren't particularly competent.

Corporal had taken decent care of him. Their safe-house wasn't designed for comfort, but it did have a shower, which he put to good use in scrubbing the grime off of Hans' pale skin. After that, he was a bit more awake, enough to ask where he was and what was happening. Classified tried to give him the same lengthy description of their business that he had Skipper, but Hans didn't seem to fully comprehend what was going on, and just stared at him blankly.

Hans was malnourished enough that it would have actually been better for him to have had an IV, but their safe-house wasn't meant for facilities of extreme measures like that, so they did what they could with what they had. Corporal prepared him some hot soup and gave him a water bottle that he promptly consumed. When he was well enough, Corporal gently settled across from him at the table mid-room and decided to begin their interrogation.

"Can you confirm that you are Nigel's CIA agent, Hans?" Corporal questioned him as Hans nursed his bowl of soup.

"Yes," Hans murmured, rubbing his fingers over the warm surface of the bowl. He didn't make eye contact with Corporal. "My last mission was… A long time ago, I'm not sure how long now, in Copenhagen, Denmark."

Corporal peered down at him sadly. "Eleven years ago."

Hans' hands paused for a moment, and his lips twitched. "...Oh."

"Do you know where you've been for all this time?" Corporal pushed his notebook aside, deciding that he didn't even want to bother taking notes for this interrogation. Hans' downtrodden expression and demeanor was enough for him to remember for a long, long time.

"With Dr. Blowhole." Hans' eyes squeezed shut momentarily, before he picked up his spoon and began to tenderly stir the still steaming bowl of soup. "A prisoner of war."

Corporal was slightly bewildered by this. "War? If I'm not mistaken, you and Blowhole both work for the CIA - and, unless you mean the handful of international conflicts we helped settle, there wasn't a war when…"

"It was a secret." Hans elaborated softly, clearly unused to non-hostile conversations. "Ze Red Squirrel… It was about ze Red Squirrel."

"The Red Squirrel?" Corporal sat up in alarm. "Your capture had to do with the Red Squirrel?"

"It had everything to do with ze Red Squirrel," Hans bitterly explained, almost smiling but not quite. "Nigel assigned me and my dear partner, Skippar a mission… On every log you can find, and as far as Skippsy knew, all we had to do was get some informations from one of ze Red Squirrel's double agents. But there was more to it than that."

Corporal shifted uncomfortably. He knew of this mission - everyone who was anyone knew about Skipper and Hans and their tragic last mission. Not many dared to bring up the idea that there was, as Hans said, more than what met the eye or what was written down on the mission files. Finding Hans, still alive, let alone in Blowhole's captivity was staggering on its own. The idea that there was some sort of cover up? This would shake the CIA altogether.

Hans took a small sip of his soup, before continuing, still solemn and hurt all at once. He trembled. "Nigel gave me a secret mission to do while I was there. He did this lots, actually, when I went on ze Blowhole missions… Nigel never trusted him, and it's not hard to see why."

Hans paused to glare sourly at nothing for a moment while Corporal internally paled. He knew that Hans had gone on a lot of missions for Blowhole, and no one ever knew why Nigel kept making him work for another division. Now he knew, and it supplied him with concern. Nigel was right to be suspicious about Blowhole, all considered, but it was still frightening to think about all the secrets and espionage that went on beneath the surface. The CIA was meant for this sort of thing, but to spy on each other? It alerted him that perhaps he couldn't even trust his own team…

"Apparently our informant had some bad intels, or zat she was a triple agent against us, or maybe just had something zat Nigel didn't want us or Blowhole to know… He didn't tell, I didn't ask." Hans sighed. "My job vas to kill her before she could tell us anything. Without my sweet Skippar knowing, of course."

Corporal gasped silently. He had a feeling he knew which agent Hans was referring to, the agent that Nigel had ordered him to execute. Just to clarify, however, he spoke up. "Are you… Talking about the deceased agent Clover?"

"Who else?" Hans' smile looked painful.

Corporal tried to fathom that Nigel would order Clover, of all agents, to be taken out. She was a hero, practically legendary. The idea of her death being purposeful was a game-changer.

"At dinner zat night, I gave my palsy-walsy Skippar some sleeping pills so zat he wouldn't wake up ven I left. Triazolam, I think…? It's hard to remember," Hans made a sound that was something between a laugh and a sob. "I left, after he was sleeping… He was so precious back then, I-..."

Hans' voice broke and he wiped away a few tears. Corporal then began to fully grasp the depths of Hans and Skipper's relationship; he'd been told in the past that they were like Manfredi and Johnson, or Nigel and Buck. A well-oiled machine, two wheels on a bike, the inseparable duo that could take on the world if ordered to do so. He understood now that they weren't just two agents that worked well together, though. They were…

Hans cleared his throat. "I found Clover soon enough. I zink she knew zat I was going to come for her, somehow… She put up a fight and, I didn't know at ze time, but she managed to send a distress signal to Dr. Blowhole before I killed her. And, after that, he came… And zen there vas only chaos."

He stared into the distance wistfully for a moment or so, before Corporal gently spoke up. "Are you saying that Francis Blowhole was the cause of the ship's capsize?"

"Oh, I am sure he covered it up sehr gut, ze clever bastard." Hans' tone transitioned into a sardonic sneer. "Killed all of ze passengers on ze lifeboats… I heard zat only my darling Skippsy made it, since he was asleep ven everyone else abandoned ship."

Corporal knew his eyes were watering, his heart broken by the sheer pain evident in Hans' every word. Did Hans blame himself for their deaths? "And… And you?"

Hans' eyes focused back on his interrogator, as if for the first time remembering the context of his reminiscing. He sent him a plaintive smile, something cryptic about his words. "I disappeared."

"But you didn't," Corporal protested. "You're here now… And people don't just disappear."

"Sometimes zey do." Hans responded wryly. "Nigel can tell you zat - you know, it's vat he says happened to Buck Rockgut. He just… Disappeared. MIA forever - where? No one knows." He waved his hands mystically.

Corporal shifted in his seat, becoming increasingly nervous. Hans' disappearance had been well covered. No one really asked where he went, no one ever bothered to send search parties into the ocean. They just assumed he would be gone forever, and the same had been done for Buck Rockgut. Agents, no matter how legendary, were expendable. It had been drilled into their heads. The way Hans spoke about him made Corporal feel as though there were something more, though, and now that his mind had been expanded enough by Hans' exposure of the truth, he was sure that there was something he didn't know. Something probably only a handful of his superiors knew.

"I tried to explain to Blowhole zat Nigel ordered me to kill her, zat it vas beyond him, but he didn't listen… He just vanted to hurt me, you know? And he did…" Hans got that distant look in his eyes again. "I… I just vanted to make sure zat Skippsy vas safe. And Blowhole… I knew zat he could get him if he vanted."

Corporal's brow furrowed. Among the many pieces of Hans' story that confused him, something in particular that didn't make sense stood out to him. "Why did Nigel not want Skipper to know about the mission?"

Hans sighed, shutting his eyes for a moment. "Oh, mein süß Skippar… You know, Manfredi and Johnson were originally supposed to replace Nigel and Buck. Me and Skippsy were just trainees at ze time, in Shanghei…"

Corporal's eyes widened as he realized what Hans was talking about.

"It vas one of Blowhole's missions, you know? Denmark wasn't his first 'mess up'. Manfredi and Johnson were still in ze building ven it exploded… Ve couldn't get zem out. And I mean, ze two of zem had so many near-death-experiences. Notorious for it, even. But zis time - it got really messed up… After zat, Nigel lost faith in ze two of zem. So he looked at me and Skippar and thought, 'ah, these two will do'. And he made us into his perfect soldiers. Skippar vas Nigel, and I… I vas Buck." Hans closed his eyes.

Corporal decided that this was more than enough information, and sent Hans the most sympathetic expression he could. "He's still alive, you know… We actually came here because - well, after you disappeared, he became a private investigator. He took on this case, and Dr. Blowhole was involved… That's how we found you."

Hans opened his eyes, and they were reddened with raw tears. He sniffled. "C-can I see him? Zat is all I vant in life. Just to see my dear Skippsy…"

Corporal smiled. "I think we can help you with that."