I drove without hesitation and with purpose, unerring of my direction, not needing to stop and confirm it. I was in tremendous pain, but the driving forced me to concentrate, taking my mind off my physical condition.

I found myself edgy and very irritated. I dearly would have loved a drink, or God forgive me, a slight, just a very slight, dose of the heroin to take the edge off the situation and calm me down. Guest had assured me the heroin would be perfect for stressful situations. My situation certainly qualified as stressful.

I immediately placed my thought aside, aghast, knowing the reason supporting it. If anything was evident of my addiction, this was it. Guest had been insightful: I could already feel the lure of the drug calling me after just a few short days. I would have become like Cheri if I had been held captive much longer.

After nearly an hour of driving, I finally halted. I quickly scanned the horizon, but we were not being followed. I took the opportunity to check on Troy who had been restless since our escape. I found a jug of water in the boot and gave several sips to Troy. He was weaving in and out of consciousness and I was not even sure if he was aware of our escape. The water helped revive him and his agitation lessened.

I stopped only a few more times. During them, I gave Troy the majority of the remaining water and confirmed we were still not being followed. After the third stop, I finally relaxed, convinced there were no pursuers.

It was not long after I had resumed driving when Troy spoke for the first time.

"We're heading into Allied territory, aren't we?" It wasn't necessary for him to ask. He was very much aware of our direction.

"Yes," I replied simply.

"Why? The Axis territory is closer."

"I believe you already know the reason why, Sergeant." When he said nothing, I expanded on my brief response.

"The Afrika Korps will be surrendering soon, at the most within a week. However, with German efficiency there will be sufficient time for you to be processed into a POW camp and then sent to Europe. You would remain there for the next few years until Germany is forced to accept the unconditional surrender which I believe is inevitable."

Still no response from Troy. I could imagine however that he was quietly contemplating the idea of going to a prison camp for the remainder of the war. And knowing Troy, quite possibly already plotting escape strategies.

"As much as I would enjoy seeing your harassment of the Wehrmacht come to an end, I find no reason for it to end is such a manner. Besides, you are in dire need of medical attention, something the Afrika Korps is unable to provide you in its current state."

Troy finally nodded. "Pretty much what I thought you would say. I didn't take you for the sentimental type though, Captain."

I couldn't help the small smile that crossed my lips. "I am delighted to still possess the ability to surprise you."

"And what happens to you after my return?"

"I will provide you with the final surprise: Once I return you to your team I will then make my way to the German lines. I will be with my men when the time arrives to surrender."

"You could surrender to me now," Troy offered.

"And my men? What about their fates? Am I to leave them believing I defected without giving them a second thought?"

"We could go get them. It all ends now, and no one else has to die."

I gave a bitter laugh.

"You are hardly in a condition to accept my surrender or my men's. If anything, you should be surrendering to me, Sergeant. No, not now. The time nor the situation is not right."

We rode in silence for several minutes.

My edginess began to increase as the silence continued. I had the dark fear Troy would eventually comment on my cries of obvious sexual ecstasy when I had climaxed. Would he suspect what had happened or would he assume I had merely been entertained by Cheri as a parting gift before my supposed death?

Or, had also Guest performed the same despicable honor on Troy? I myself would never, and could never, ask him such a question. Gradually, as I continued driving, my tension lessened. Either Troy had not heard, or he understood the reasons why Guest had performed it and he was too embarrassed for my sake to comment.

"Why did you come back for me?" Troy asked, breaking the silence. His voice was weaker, the prolonged conversation having taking its toll on him.

"Well, you were obviously not handling the situation, Sergeant. I'll agree that it was not necessary for me to step in and rescue the both of us," I said to him lightly, concentrating on my driving. "I simply grew impatient while waiting for you to rescue me."

Now it was Troy's turn to laugh.

"Never knew you had a sense of humor, Captain. I was just gathering my strength to escape when you beat me to it. Besides, if anything, you're in a worse condition than me."

"No one believes we Germans have a sense of humor," I laughed again, which hurt my back. "I'm actually considered to have a wicked sense of humor."

"What, by your German mother?"

"Actually, my mother is Prussian. And yes, she does believe that I possess a sense of humor."

"I had forgotten your mother was Prussian." Troy sounded thoughtful, as if he was remembering much more than just my mother.

My eyes narrowed. I turned around to face Troy. "Pray tell me how you knew my mother was Prussian?" I asked coolly, my voice with a hint of danger.

He responded with a laugh and then grimaced from the pain it caused him. "Take your pack off and stand at ease, Captain. I did my homework about you, just as I'm sure you did that on me."

"Homework? And what did you learn?"

"You have an impressive life: Prominent German general for a father, highly regarded Prussian aristocrat for a mother, extensive land holdings in Coburg and assets stashed away in Swiss banks, Academy graduate at the top of your class, you speak several languages and have been awarded a chest full of medals including the Iron Cross with Oak Leaves."

I was speechless at Troy's depth of knowledge of me.

"You're definitely not a second stringer, Captain. You've had Rommel's eye for several years. Or at least you did when he was here."

"You know quite a bit about me, Sergeant. Too much, I would say. I am a very private person."

Troy shrugged. "Moffitt found most of it out. He's good at that kind of stuff."

Now it was my turn to strike.

"And what about you, Sergeant? The quintessential American cowboy from Wyoming?" I countered. "Rather unoriginal, wouldn't you agree?"

"See? You did your homework, too, if you know where I'm from. Don't tell me you're one of those American hating Europeans? Believing all of us Americans to be cowboys?"

My silence provided him my answer.

"Just as I thought. I would have been surprised if you felt any different. Everyone loves to hate the Americans, but deep down inside everyone wants to go there and become one."

"Hardly, Sergeant," I responded with indignity. What was it about this man which always raised my hackles? "Unfortunately, it appears that I will be going there against my will to spend time in a POW camp until the war ends. Either there or Canada. Hopefully, Canada. It is at least half-way civilized and the food is not quite so tasteless due to the French influence."

"Well, America accepts everyone, even Germans after the war ends. You might think about staying. We would take even you. Bring everyone else and make it a family affair."

"My goal is to return to Germany and to my family in one piece, not to leave it. Besides, my family would no more desire to immigrate there than I would."

My thoughts switched to my homeland. Only God knew what condition it would be in when the war ended. Troy rudely pulled me back to the desert.

"Just a thought, Captain. Keep it in mind for when the war is over. I could use a man like you."

"And pray tell me, what is your business in Wyoming?"

"My family does ranching."

So Troy actually was a cowboy.

"So you hit cows?" I asked.

"Hit cows?" I could hear the puzzlement in his voice before he suddenly burst out laughing.

"The slang phrase is 'punching cattle'. We also farm hay and oats, to feed the livestock, and vegetables to feed the family. We're fairly self-sufficient."

"And I suppose that your family owns half of Wyoming?"

"No, nothing like your land holdings. Our place is small, but it provides a good life for us. Been in the family for a few generations. It'll be tough hiring hands after the war. American soldiers who have seen the world aren't going to be satisfied with handling cattle anymore. We're going to need men afterwards. Seriously, I could use you a man like you to run and expand our operations."

The idea was almost as absurd as Guest's suggestion that I work with him. I couldn't help but laugh. Working for Troy after I had so many months worked to rid myself of Troy was unfathomable.

Suddenly, I remembered an incident from my senior year and my humor died away. I recalled a tirade from a drunken general when I was chauffeuring Schnass during my probationary period. The general was degrading me for being Schnass' driver and being an embarrassment to my father. He joked that the only worse occupation would be for me to be working on a ranch in the United States. His words still stung after all these years even though I had achieved success as a soldier. It was something that I had sworn would never happen to me. The memory made me angry, and angry at Troy for unknowingly opening an old wound.

However, it was hardly Troy's fault. Unlike the general's comments, Troy's words had been well meaning. I took a breath and let it out, nearly changing the subject. "Those are almost the exact words Guest used and I also refused his offer."

Troy cocked his head and grinned. "It's quite a bit different running cattle than dealing drugs. We run an honest operation."

"Still, I think not," I said. "The two of us working together? One of us would end up finally killing the other out of frustration."

"Maybe, maybe not. We've worked several times together in the past. And who knows, we will probably again." Troy was quiet for a moment. "On a different note, would it be too much to hope for that you also grabbed my cigarettes when you picked up my hat?"

"It would be."

I hadn't thought about cigarettes during my entire captivity. But now, when Troy mentioned them, my nicotine addiction came roaring back in full force. Suddenly, I was dying for a cigarette. The desire settled upon me like a raging thirst and I was unable to think of anything else.

I frowned at Troy. "I could shoot you, Sergeant, for mentioning cigarettes. I was perfectly fine without them until you said something. And not only do we not have any cigarettes, I also was unable to procure the drug given the limited time we had to escape."

"I didn't ask about the heroin," Troy responded quietly.

"I was merely anticipating your next question," I lied to him irritably.

"That's not the path you want to walk down. I know it's not what you really want."

"You know nothing of me, Sergeant," I said dangerously. "You may believe that you do from our brief encounters. And from what you've read in a dossier, impersonal words on flat paper. But you know nothing about me."

We rode in silence for several minutes before he broke the tension.

"What happened to Guest?" Troy asked.

"Dead. I killed him when I escaped," I answered.

Troy nodded. "He got what he deserved then. Sick bastard."

"How were you captured, Sergeant? I was never successful at containing you for even half this long."

"I was in the town with a twenty-four hour pass." Troy shifted position. "Cheri slipped me a note stating you needed to meet me nearby. Given the German situation, I honestly thought you wanted to defect or surrender so I went with her."

"And you believe you know me?" I snorted. "You should know me well enough by now, Sergeant, to realize I would never betray my oath as a German officer in such a way."

"If it's worth anything to you, I had serious doubts about the note being for real, but I wanted to give you the opportunity in case it was legitimate. I felt I owed you something."

"Go on."

"I was waylaid in an alley while Cheri was supposedly taking me to you." Troy sighed. "Moffitt warned me my sentimentality would lead to my downfall and he was right. And you? How were you captured?"

"My capture was not due to a reason as noble as yours."

"A woman?"

"Yes."

"Don't tell me it was Cheri?" Troy involuntarily made a face before he recovered his composure.

I raised an eyebrow at him.

"She just doesn't seem like your type. That's all."

"Perhaps not, but at the moment, she was my type."

"Your Prussian mother was right: You do have a sense of humor." Troy grinned. "Speaking of Cheri, what happened to her? She definitely offered nothing but reckless love for anyone who came near her."

"Also dead."

Troy's eyes widened. "Did you leave anyone alive, Captain?"

"Cheri died from an overdose, not by my hand. She injected herself with the syringe meant to kill me. I was unable to stop her. As for the others, they were still alive when we escaped."

"So how did they get you?"

"I was drugged in the bar and captured in the alley when I was accompanying Cheri to her residence. I had no idea you were involved until Guest began questioning me and mentioned our supposed collusion." I thought for a moment before continuing.

"Are you aware it was Hauptmann Wilhelm Meyer who betrayed us to Guest?"

"Yeah, though it took me until the next day to even remember who he was. Meyer must carry a pretty mean grudge against the both of us."

"Your words are an understatement. Meyer's disagreement with me stretches back for several years. You, I am sure, were an added bonus."

"Son-of-a bitch." Troy's mouth narrowed. "He'll get his in the end when the fat lady finally sings. I'll see to that if no one else does."

"I'm sure you won't be the only one waiting in line to give Meyer his due."

"Probably not, but I think that I might be at the front of that line."

"When did you Americans become so 'chatty'? I don't remember you being quite so talkative the final time I visited the United States." I was beginning to prefer Troy when he was unconscious. The quiet would have provided me the opportunity to think. Or, to nurse my screaming addictions in peace.

"Makes sense you were there. Faint accent, knowledge of our culture," Troy replied, ignoring my sarcastic question. "Where were you and when?"

"I have visited your country several times, various locations. My last visit was to the western United States, primarily in California, in the spring of 1939."

My mind went to Irene. I had thought that I had spotted her in San Francisco during my final visit, but I had never been sure. I hadn't pursued the woman. I had been afraid that it had been Irene, and I had wanted to allow her peace. Despite that, I still longed for her, even after so many years and so many other women.

Troy gave a low whistle. "No kidding? My kid sister goes to college in California. Some private blue blood university in Los Angeles. Wouldn't it have been something if you had ran into her when you were there?"

"'Blue Blood'?" I frowned. I was unfamiliar with the term. The Americans were too free were their metaphors and none of them made any sense. Another annoying trait I found in them.

"It means rich," Troy responded laughing. "She received a full ride, err, I mean scholarship to attend college. Bubs is the smart one of the family."

I raised an eyebrow. "You can't possibly be serious for your sister's name to be 'Bubs'. Your parents could not have been so cruel to burden a poor child with such a name, even if they were Americans." I felt incredibly sorry for Troy's sister.

"Nah, it's just the nickname we've called her since she was a toddler. You'd like Bubs. She'd be your type. All the time."

"We've repeating our earlier discussion, Sergeant. I seriously doubt that you know my 'type'. You know nothing of me as a man let alone my taste in women." I glanced behind me to glare at him again.

"Oh, I think I know you well enough," Troy grinned. "Besides, I was right about Cheri, wasn't I?"

"Being right one time hardly makes you an expert when it comes to relationships, Sergeant, especially one involving me," I said firmly, hoping to end the topic of conversation. I was becoming exasperated with Troy. The man always could find the strength to annoy me even given the most trying circumstances.

I had listened politely, but I cared not in the least to hear of his family, especially his sister who probably was just an annoying, unattractive female version of Troy. I wanted to keep my relationship with Troy nothing but professional and impersonal. Rescuing him had been one thing, but I was drawing the line at discussing relationships with him.

Troy said nothing for a few minutes and I thought he had lost consciousness again. I felt something akin to relief at the prospect of some peace and quiet. He then repeated his original question.

"Why did you come back for me, Captain?"

I thought a moment before answering him. The truth was a sentimental thing, as Troy had shrewdly assessed earlier.

I took a deep breath.

"We have both been warriors together for over fourteen months, Sergeant, unfortunately separated by different governments. I respect you as a soldier and as a man. I would never have left without you to die under such conditions. It is better for the both of us to die together in the desert than in a dank basement from a purposely administrated heroin overdose at the hands of Guest," I told him truthfully, "as pleasurable as that death would have been." These final words slipped out before I could stop them and I was shocked to hear them leave my mouth.

I took a quick glance at Troy, but his face was impassive. If he was moved at my speech, shocked at my admission, or felt anything at all, he certainly didn't show it.

"The evening we were both captured, if we had met in the bar, I would have bought you a drink and toasted you, Sergeant Troy. You have been a worthy adversary and taught me to respect the Americans as soldiers. Perhaps another time, another place?"

"Captain, I'll take you up on your offer. I'll buy, though. After all, it's the least I can dol."

"Yes, it would be." Considering all of the misery and frustration that Troy had visited upon me during our time in the desert, I felt it fair to allow him that.

Troy chuckled.

We reverted to silence. When I glanced behind me again, Troy had drifted off into sleep.

I frankly had no intention for the two of us to die. I had been told a lifetime ago that my destiny was to save Troy's life. I knew it must mean more than just assisting Troy to escape from Guest. Another part of her prophecy foretold Troy saving my life. Since he had not yet done so, I needed to ensure that Troy lived.