Bonus chapter! Because the last one was short, here's another short chapter! I count this as a bit of a bonus scene.

Chapter 13

Despite having no opportunity to cheat, the Brit ended up on one of the crews, although Carter and LeBeau both missed out. With Kinch in charge of one crew and Hogan overseeing the other, the German's supplies were quickly unloaded and stacked in the storage buildings in the camp. Then the precious Red Cross packages were distributed to each barracks, with Barracks 2 being last.

As soon as packages had been delivered, the trading began. Men paid off debts from gambling and bets and gave over items to pay back borrowed items, traded the things they didn't need or like for what they wanted. It seemed an impossibly complex system of debts as far as who owed who what, especially when debts were passed from one person to another as easily as cash in the rest of the world. LeBeau moved from one barracks to another, gathering up food stuffs owed to him and bargaining for what would sustain his planned cooking projects. Carter did his best to trade away his canned meats for additional candy.

Kinch made his way back to the barracks and had put away most of his own package, after making sure to put the packet of coffee into LeBeau's locker. Then he noticed Newkirk stretched out on his bunk, staring at a tattered paperback book. Anyone else would assume the Brit was reading but Kinch knew the man better.

Walking over, Kinch tilted his head to pretend to look at the cover of the book. "Good book?"

"Mmmph." grunted Newkirk without looking at him.

"Must be the best book ever written, if it's keeping you from collecting all the loot you're owed from poker games. You know you might not get paid off if you wait." Kinch watched the half shrug. "Okay, so what's wrong?"

"Nothing." Newkirk turned a few pages in the book, obviously forgetting how a person read a book. "I'm just... just reading."

"Liar." Kinch raised an eyebrow when Newkirk finally looked at him. "So are you going to tell me what's wrong?"

"No." Newkirk got up and jumped to the floor. Picking up his Red Cross box, he slit it open and began setting out the usual milk, margarine, tinned vegetables and the dried eggs for LeBeau to add to their communal pantry. Picking up a tin, he snorted. "Carter will be 'appy, they sent me 'errings again."

Kinch gave a snort. "I prefer the tuna myself." Newkirk made a soft sound of agreement. "Ahhh, did you want a pack of cigarettes or the prunes?"

His interest wavered slightly. "Prunes? Not raisins?"

"Sorry, prunes this time." Kinch held up the container hopefully.

"No, cigarettes." Newkirk took the pile of his items to LeBeau's footlocker pantry and picked the lock easily to put the foodstuffs inside. He smiled to himself a little over the incongruity of a thief picking a lock to put more things into a footlocker rather than the opposite. Glancing at the package LeBeau had left on the table, he slipped it into the footlocker as well before closing it up.

Kinch watched him, handing over the pack of cigarettes when he came back to the table. "There was one Canadian Red Cross package, we gave that to LeBeau."

Newkirk stood for a few seconds before sighing and tossing the extra pack of cigarettes into LeBeau's bunk. "The blighter will be after me smokes then." When Kinch looked puzzled, Newkirk shrugged. "Canadian packages have more food but no smokes."

"Ahh, well, good thing everyone in camp seems to owe you cigarettes." Kinch grinned.

"Not everyone." Newkirk almost smiled and then looked at the false bunk. When he hesitated about it, Kinch cleared his throat. "What?"

"Sorry, Peter. The BBC reports won't be on until later tonight." Kinch watched the Brit's face show just a hint of frustration. "Are you worried about London? Your people are strong. Anything Germany knocks down, you'll rebuild."

"Yeah." Newkirk picked up his cards and looked at them absently. "I just..."

Kinch almost cursed when the door opened up and two prisoners piled in. They were from other barracks, coming to find Newkirk. Kinch saw his friend's expression turn to his normal amiable smirk instantly.

"Well, 'ere to pay up, are you?" Newkirk's hands tucked into his pockets. "If I don't disremember, you both owe me for last thursday's poker game."

The first shrugged and handed over a handful of cigarettes, which Newkirk counted before dropping into a small box he pulled from his bunk. The second set down a box. "Now I know I bet fourteen smokes, but..."

Newkirk tilted his head slightly, looking thoughtful. "But... you want to keep your ciggies and pay in kind?" He pretended to think about it and then gave a slight nod. "What's the offer?"

Brightening, they settled in to haggling and arguing. Kinch simply stood back and watched except for asking one pointed question about whether the American had gotten raisins. The light-hearted negotiations suddenly went serious as Newkirk decided to change the entire deal to include the dried fruit.

In the end, Newkirk gave up a few cigarettes in order to get the pack of cookies, one tin of margarine which went directly onto LeBeau's bunk and half of the pack of raisins. Then it became a discussion of how to fairly split the raisins.

Finally Kinch sighed and walked over. "Look guys, you want to make it fair, right?" Everyone agreed. "Then one of you split the raisins and the other one gets to pick which pile is his."

Newkirk looked at the other man and then shrugged. "Your choice, mate." Separating the raisins began immediately, with great detail to the condition of each dried fruit. LeBeau came in while Newkirk was standing by watching as the other made the two piles.

"Kinch..." said the Frenchman quietly. "What are they doing?"

"Splitting up the raisins evenly." Kinch explained. "Matthews is dividing them and Newkirk gets to pick which half he gets."

"How is that going to work? What if Matthews makes one pile bigger?" asked LeBeau.

Kinch smiled. "If Matthews makes the piles uneven, then Newkirk will just pick the bigger pile."

"But... ooooh..." LeBeau beamed. "Smart." He unlocked his pantry and began loading in items from his arms. "Mon ami..." Looking up at Newkirk, he tossed a small bag at him. "Sugar cubes."

"Thankee, Louis." Newkirk tucked them into one of his deep coat pockets. He kept a close eye on the splitting process. "Smokes on your bunk."

LeBeau picked up the pack of cigarettes and then flopped onto his bed, letting out a yelp of pain. Sitting up, he fished the tin of margarine out of the blankets and glared at the Brit.

Without even looking away from the raisin drama, Newkirk waved one hand slightly. "And a can of Oleo."

"Merci. Maybe next time you can warn me before I break my back on it." LeBeau tossed the can down to the foot of his bunk. "Where did the extras come from in the pantry?"

When Newkirk merely grunted, Kinch pointed at him. "That's out of his package. I put the coffee into your locker."

"Merci, Kinch. Make sure that Carter remembers not to trade away his coffee, yes?" LeBeau stretched and laid down where he could watch the raisin counting himself. It wasn't exactly an exciting thing, but there were not many exciting things to watch in camp.

Finally Matthews finished and bent to look carefully at the two piles. "Okay..." he finally stepped back. "There. That's half."

Newkirk bent to peer just as carefully at the two piles, humming softly to himself. "I want that pile." He pointed at the pile on the left.

"Damn... okay." Matthews scooped his half back into his container while Newkirk gathered his half up. "Good doing business with you, poker this friday?"

"No, guards get paid this friday. Check Barracks 10 to see when they're holding a game." said Newkirk absently. The two other POWs took the not-so-subtle hint and left.

Newkirk stood staring at nothing for a few minutes before abruptly grabbing up his coat. He was out the door before Kinch could say anything, and the radioman sighed heavily. "I wish he'd just tell us what's eating him."

"He's worried." LeBeau sat up on his bunk, picking up the can of margarine to turn over in his hands. "I think he's worried about all the bombing in London. Before the war, he had never even been out of the city except with the circus, did you know?" LeBeau lifted one shoulder up in a shrug. "I worry about Paris too, but me, I have been many places and Paris will always be there. The Germans are not dropping bombs on my city every night."

Kinch nodded at him. "Yeah, and since France surrendered..." He held up his hands to pacify the suddenly bristling Frenchman. "...temporarily capitulated... let's say..." He got glared at anyway. "Anyway, the Germans don't have much reason to destroy the city now. But London is catching Hell now. It's the symbol for the British and one of the only big symbolic targets they can hit easily. They're going to level the whole place if they aren't stopped."

"Well, that's why we're around, to make sure they're stopped before that happens." LeBeau lay back on his bunk. "Do you think that Newkirk is trying to go back to London in his sleep? It would make sense."

"I don't know." Kinch shook his head. "I'm sure Newkirk will tell us sooner or later." He smiled wryly. "If he figures it out himself."

end chapter

I based Newkirk's desire for raisins on the character seeming to have small bits of something that he was eating in a few episodes and on the fact that both raisins and prunes were found in Red Cross packages. In fact, all the little details about the contents of red Cross packages are true. I had a lot of fun researching it.

Thank you all for reading!