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THE LAST TIME I SAW PARIS
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The city streets were alive with people, cars, and music. Everyone seemed to be doing something, going somewhere, but no one was rushed. And despite its current occupation, the city was bright and cheerful. Paris would always be Paris and no German could change that, no matter how hard he tried.
LeBeau took a moment to pause on the sidewalk beside a little café and take a long, deep breath, savouring the smells and sounds that surrounded him. It was good to be home again. Even if it was only for a short time, he was going to enjoy every moment.
"Why're you stopping LeBeau?" Sergeant Carter asked as he stopped beside his friend and looked around. "You see our contact?"
LeBeau shook himself out of his thoughts and glanced at the American. "Oh, sorry. I am just enjoying being home, that is all." Oh, how he missed it. There had been many times he'd been tempted to escape from Stalag 13 and never come back. But he knew he did more good for the war effort as a POW and a saboteur. So he stayed in that wretched camp in Germany, though the means were at his disposal to leave. Sometimes it just killed him.
"Let's go, or else we will be late," LeBeau finally sighed as he continued walking. Cater nodded and followed, trying to look as natural as he could in such an unnatural environment.
LeBeau paid little attention to his companion as they made their way along the city streets. Instead, his eyes hungrily ate up the familiar signs and shops that he loved so much. He suddenly stopped again, but this time not with sweet remembrance, but unabashed anger and hatred. There, just ahead of him, a Nazi flag was draped over the railings of a bookshop. A swastika over a bookshop, now there was a contradiction; Nazis burned books, they didn't read them.
Growling to himself and clenching his fist, he quickly walked past the offending flag before Carter could ask him what was wrong.
He hated to see his beautiful hometown defiled by such things. Flags, German soldiers and Gestapo men roaming the streets- he hated them. He hated the Germans for taking over this place, for trying to make it cold and efficient. It was part of the reason he stayed at Stalag 13. Everything they did there helped to bring a quicker end to the war, helped to free his beloved France from the clutches of evil. And until that day came, he could content himself with the little things: saving precious paintings, freeing beautiful underground agents, or simply gathering intelligence, as he was doing now.
Colonel Hogan had received word that the Germans were building a rocket factory outside of Paris. The underground has obtained it's location and plans for a new type of rocket that was being assembled there. It was far too dangerous for the underground to relay it over the radio or send someone to deliver it, so Hogan had decided to pick it up instead. Of course, LeBeau had volunteered to go, more for a taste of home than any desire to risk life and limb for the information. There had been too many things going on at the camp for Hogan to go and so after a quick draw of the straws, Carter, for better or worse, had won the coveted job of his travelling companion. LeBeau didn't mind so much. Hogan didn't allow for much pleasure on trips like this. While LeBeau would put the mission first he could now afford to take the time to do some things he wanted to do. And besides, Carter had never seen the Eiffel Tower up close.
"Hey, LeBeau, isn't that the café up there?" Carter asked, pointing down the street. LeBeau followed his finger and nodded.
"Oui, that is it." He casually checked his watch. "We have about ten minutes before our contact shows up."
"That mean we got enough time to eat something? I'm starved."
LeBeau grinned. "Oui. I will buy you the most delicious pastries you have ever tasted! If you think my cooking is good, wait until you try something made in a real kitchen."
Carter clapped his hands together and rubbed his growling tummy. "Oh boy."
"Oh boy is right," LeBeau grinned, feeling excited himself. Real food. While he was an excellent cook, he often lacked the right ingredients and the proper equipment for making true culinary masterpieces. And while this was only a street café, it offered a glimpse into what he was missing. Of course, there was a food shortage, so perhaps these kitchens also lacked important ingredients. So perhaps it was no better here than at camp.
Sighing at the suddenly depressing thought, LeBeau led Carter to the café and took a seat at a small table. Carter glanced at the menu, his face contorting with confusion. "I don't get any of this," he mumbled. He suddenly shivered. "Boy, I hope you don't run off like Newkirk said you would. I'd be stuck."
LeBeau wasn't sure whether he should be insulted or amused. "I won't leave you. Besides, you're a German officer. If anything happens, you can just bully your way through."
"I guess you're right," Carter agreed. He'd almost forgotten their cover. He was dressed as a German colonel and LeBeau was his manservant. "Anything on here edible?"
Now LeBeau was insulted. "Of course!" He scowled at Carter's smirk, but realized it was probably meant to be part of his German character. Hopefully.
A waitress came up to take their order. She glanced at Carter with mild disgust and then at LeBeau. Realizing LeBeau was a Frenchman, her look of disgust deepened. LeBeau growled to himself. She must've thought he was a traitor. And even though he knew he and Carter were just acting, he still felt his heart sink.
"What would you like today Herr Colonel?" the waitress asked through gritted teeth. Carter, who didn't understand a word, just looked at her with wide-eyed confusion, which he quickly changed to a condescending smirk. The waitress rolled her eyes and turned to LeBeau. "Perhaps you would like to speak for your friend?"
LeBeau's scowl deepened as he quickly ordered something he thought Carter could handle. With a dirty look, the waitress disappeared inside the café. Well, LeBeau had to give her some credit. She was pretty brave for being so openly hostile towards what she thought was a German.
"She didn't seem too friendly," Carter observed. LeBeau just shrugged and sat back, absently watching people pass on the street. Then he turned his attention to the café and its patrons. Suddenly, he stiffened, his eyes growing wide. "What's wrong LeBeau?" Carter whispered, looking around for what may have caused LeBeau's sudden change in appearance. LeBeau tried to say something, but found his tongue tied. Rather, he just pointed at one of the waitresses. Carter looked over and raised an eyebrow. "What?"
Again LeBeau tried to say something, but couldn't. He just kept staring, mouth hanging open. "Sacre bleu…" The waitress suddenly turned towards them and he quickly hid his face with his hand. Carter watched him with amused interest. LeBeau ignored him and silently prayed she hadn't seen him.
"Old girlfriend?" Carter asked with small grin. LeBeau shot him a dirty look. Carter was tempted to call her over, but if she recognized LeBeau then it could lead to trouble and that was one thing they didn't need. The waitress finally disappeared inside and LeBeau let out a sigh of relief. "Well?" Carter pressed.
"She is a girlfriend… not an old girlfriend." Carter raised an eyebrow and waited for him to continue. LeBeau sighed. "I was dating her before the war started. We never ended our relationship…"
Carter blinked. "Whoa…"
"Oui, whoa is right. In fact, I still write to her every once and a while."
"So why don't you talk to her?" Carter asked.
"Because I'm supposed to be in a prison camp!" LeBeau said angrily, a little louder than he should've. Luckily, no one noticed. LeBeau clenched his fist. Of all the rotten luck. There'd been many women he'd claimed to love. But this woman was different. With her, he actually meant it. In fact, every once in a while, he entertained thoughts of coming back and marrying her and opening up a little restaurant and having four or five children and… LeBeau cut that train of thought off and shook his head. It definitely wasn't fair. She was so close and he had to hide from her.
"Yeah, I guess that would be tough to explain," Carter winced. "Okay, let's just hope she doesn't get too close to us."
"No. Let's pray she doesn't come," LeBeau corrected. In this case, hope wouldn't be enough.
Any faith LeBeau had in a divine being were quickly shattered when she came out again, carrying a tray with their order on it. "No, no, no," he muttered, turning his face towards the street and shielding it with his hand.
"Danke fraulein," Carter said politely, if not a little arrogantly, as she put their food on the table.
She nodded with a small smile and cast a glance at LeBeau. He willed himself not to look. "Merci mademoiselle."
"C'est rien," she replied. She tilted her head giving him a strange look, before turning her attention to the street. "Are you expecting someone to join you?" she asked, trying to follow his line of sight.
"Oui. Two friends. They should be here shortly."
She nodded. "Would you like to order for them."
LeBeau clenched his fist, willing himself not to look at her, which was getting harder by the moment. Her familiar smell attacked his nose and her voice tickled his ears and sent shivers down his back. "Just some wine… they will not be staying long."
"All right. I will be back," she said, writing something down in her notebook before leaving.
LeBeau let out a sigh of relief. Carter grinned and started to pick at his food. "She's really pretty," Carter grinned. LeBeau said nothing. "So…"
"So what?" LeBeau growled.
"What's her name?" Carter asked.
"Marianne. Marianne Delacroix." He looked up at Carter, who was trying hard not to smile too much. "And it is not funny! If she sees me and recognizes me, which she will, we could get into a lot of trouble!"
"I know," Carter nodded with a serious look. However, the look quickly changed back to a grin. "But it's fun to see you squirm."
"I was not squirming!" LeBeau protested.
Carter just laughed. "LeBeau, I've seen worms on a hook that are stiller than you."
"Maybe we should leave," LeBeau muttered as he moved his food around with his fork. He let out a small sigh. All this had caused him to lose his appetite.
"We can't," Carter reminded him.
LeBeau sighed again. "I know…" Just then, two men approached their table. Both LeBeau and Carter looked up. One of them was wearing a small flower in his buttonhole. Carter raised an eyebrow, looking unimpressed, but LeBeau jumped up and shook their hands. "Bonjour! It is a lovely day, is it not?"
"Perfect day to meet with friends," one of the men agreed.
"Yes, there is not a cloud in the sky," LeBeau said.
"A perfect day to go ballooning," the second man said, completing the code. LeBeau gestured to their seats and the men sat down. He quickly his face again as Marianne came out and put the wine down in front of the new arrivals. She raised an eyebrow, but left quickly with a small smile. The men waited for her to leave before continuing. "Papa Bear sent you?"
LeBeau nodded. "Oui. I am LeBeau, that is Carter." He pointed to Carter who raised his nose.
"I do not care if you talk to them," Carter said arrogantly, loud enough for those around to pick up on it if they were listening, "but be quiet. I would like to enjoy my lunch."
"Jawhol Herr Colonel," LeBeau said meekly. Carter casually took a sip of his wine, trying to act uninterested and pay attention at the same time.
"Pleasure to meet you both," the second man said. "I am Andre Paul and this is Emil Boisselle."
"Do you have the information for us?" LeBeau asked quietly in English, nodding slightly to Carter.
"Oui, but not here," Boisselle confirmed, also switching to English for Carter's benefit. "Our organization has had a few problems with the Gestapo lately. We need to set up a safer place for the transfer."
LeBeau nodded, glancing around. "Do you think the Gestapo followed you here?"
"No. Andre and I haven't been identified as far as we know."
"That's comforting," LeBeau hissed, gulping down a bit of his wine. "All right, where should we meet for the information?"
"There's a theatre a few blocks from here. Tomorrow night there is a play a seven. Meet us around the back when it is done," Boisselle instructed. LeBeau nodded, repeating the information. Then, LeBeau and the other two Frenchmen stood and embraced each other as old friends would, before the Underground agents departed.
"Tomorrow. We have to wait until tomorrow," Carter asked, a bit disappointed.
"It is no problem. Now I will be able to show you some landmarks."
"Hey, yeah," Carter smiled, before polishing off his plate. "That was pretty good."
"Pretty good," LeBeau scoffed. "Americans…"
"Excuse me." LeBeau jumped at the voice and turned, coming face to face with their waitress. Marianne let out a small gasp. "Louis?"
"No, you have mistaken me," LeBeau said, quickly turning away. Of course, she didn't buy it and he knew it.
"Louis," she whispered. "It is you."
LeBeau shook his head, his heart twisting. "No, you have mistaken me," he repeated before jumping to his feet and throwing some money on the table. "We must leave Herr Colonel."
Carter yawned. "Time to see more of this decadent city?" He straightened his jacket and cap before walking off. LeBeau followed, but a hand on his shoulder stopped him.
"I know it's you…"
He winced and looked at Carter, who bit his lip. Now what? LeBeau struggled for a minute. He really should've just walked away, left her there to wonder. He should've… but his heart wouldn't let him. Slowly, he turned and looked up at the woman behind him. "Oui, it is me…"
Marianne let out a strangled cry and hugged him. "But I thought you were a prisoner," she sobbed.
LeBeau winced and tore away from her. "Shh!" She blinked in surprise and he quickly took her hand and led her away. "Quiet, someone might hear you."
"I don't understand. Did you escape?"
LeBeau squirmed, trying to come up with an answer. "Sort of…"
"But Louis, how? When? Why were you ignoring me?" she asked urgently.
"I am sorry. But you must understand…"
"I do. Oh I do. I'm just so happy to see you again mon cher." And with that, she wrapped her arms around him and planted a kiss on his lips.
A few moments later, Carter cleared his throat. LeBeau broke away and turned to his friend and then back to Marianne. "I must go. The colonel there is the reason I'm out," he said quickly. Marianne glance up at Carter and inspected him head to toe. She grimaced slightly before turning back to her love.
"But Louis, there must be some way…"
LeBeau looked back at Carter, his eyes pleading with the American to come up with some way to leave him with Marianne. Carter bit his lip, thinking the same thing. Finally he puffed out his chest and raised his nose into the air. "I can find the Eiffel Tower without you. Go spend a few hours with that…" Carter waved his hand, not sure whether he should say something rude, as a German would, or not, "woman… Meet me back at the hotel. And if you are not back before dark, I will have every soldier in Paris tear the city apart, looking for you." And with that, Carter clicked his heels and walked away.
LeBeau scrunched his nose. It hadn't been very good, but it was good enough. At least for Marianne. Had he said that in front of the Gestapo or some other German, it probably would've given them away. Shaking his head, he turned back to Marianne. "He's a bit crazy…" he smiled. She didn't respond. Instead she watched Carter leave, cocking her head to the side. Then, suddenly, she laughed and ruffled his hair.
"Oh Louis…"
--
"Oh Louis," Marianne mumbled between kisses.
Suddenly, the old grandfather clock in the corner of Marianne's living room chimed eight times. Louis grudgingly broke away from Marianne and glanced at it and then his watch. "Sacre chat, I've got to go."
Marianne giggled. "Sacre chat? What on earth?"
"Holy cats. My friend-" LeBeau cut himself off and shook his head. "Just something I picked up."
"In your prison camp?" Marianne asked, raising an eyebrow.
LeBeau wriggled uncomfortably. "Well, uh…"
Marianne sighed and flopped back against the sofa and absently played at LeBeau's collar. "I don't understand. How did you get out of there?"
"That German is my Kommandant. Colonel… Schultz… Anyway, he wanted to go to Paris but needed a tour guide, so he dragged me along."
"That's a little unorthodox, isn't it?" Marianne asked. LeBeau answered with a shrug. "Funny… I thought you would be in a Luftstalag… That colonel looks like he's with the Heer."
LeBeau winced, but tried to hide it. "Oh Marianne, I've missed you," he said, quickly changing the subject.
Marianna smiled and cuddled closer to him. "Me too." She wrapped his hair and around her finger. "Louis?"
"Mmmm?" LeBeau replied, going back to kissing her.
"Who were those men at the café? I didn't recognize them…"
LeBeau stiffened. Marianne had been asking a lot of strange, if not natural, questions. "Old friends," LeBeau mumbled.
"I thought I knew all your friends."
"I knew them before I met you ma chere," he said quickly.
Marianne just nodded and dropped the subject, instead focusing on making up for lost time. "How long will you be in Paris?" she asked as she nuzzled his neck.
"We will probably leave the morning after tomorrow."
Marianne sighed and rested her head against his chest. "So soon?"
"I'm afraid so," LeBeau sighed.
She looked up at him. "Will you come back tomorrow night?"
"I don't know. The Kommandant wants me to take him to a show tomorrow night at seven. It'll be too late after that…"
"Then come before," Marianne pleaded. "Oh please. I have not seen you in years!"
LeBeau grabbed her, held her close and kissed her. "Of course. I will come. Don't worry."
--
"I don't know LeBeau. Do you really think it's such a good idea?" Carter asked as he fiddled with the buttons on his shirt. "I know you like her and all-"
"Not like! I love her!" LeBeau corrected as he flopped down onto his bed in their hotel room. "She is beautiful, smart, funny…"
"Sure, I get it. I'm just saying…" Carter squirmed. "It's just… all those questions she asked you. Are you sure you can trust her?"
LeBeau scowled and willed himself not to punch Carter for saying something like that. "Of course I trust her! Those were all natural questions. How would you feel if your boyfriend randomly popped up after being in a prison camp for three years?"
"You're right, I guess. I don't know. I'm just trying to be cautious. We're a long way from home you know-"
"Maybe you are, but this is my home."
"You know what I mean," Carter said, somewhat exasperated. "We're a long way from Stalag 13 and Colonel Hogan. If something goes wrong-"
LeBeau threw his pillow at Carter. "Nothing is going to happen! And if it did, we don't need le colonel. Now stop worrying and go to sleep." And with that, he turned out the lights and curled into his bed.
Carter sighed and flopped down onto his own bed. "You can't stay here you know."
LeBeau grimaced. "I know that! But nothing says I can't enjoy myself before we go back to Hell."
"Aw come on, it's not that bad."
LeBeau grunted and rolled over, away from his friend. Carter didn't understand. He didn't understand what it felt like to be so far and yet so close to home. Escaping to France was a lot easier than going back to America. Carter was pretty much stuck at Stalag 13. Or at least Europe. But LeBeau could go home just like that. But he foolishly chose not to.
"Doesn't matter what I say, you're going to go see her tomorrow, aren't you?"
"Oui," LeBeau said defiantly.
"And what am I supposed to do?"
"Be a Kraut colonel. Go see the Eiffel Tower. Do whatever, I don't care. Just don't let the Resistance shoot you."
--
"I have to go," LeBeau mumbled, half-heartedly trying to tear himself away from Marianne.
"No you don't."
"It's almost seven. I have just ten minutes to get to the theatre."
Marianne glanced over his shoulder to the clock. "You can make it there in five."
"It's by your café. It'll take me ten minutes."
"The Lamont Theatre?" Marianne asked.
"Mmmhmm."
"You can get there in five."
LeBeau stopped arguing. Five minutes later, he grudgingly got up and grabbed his coat. "Now I must go."
Marianne followed him to the door. "Promise to come by tomorrow?"
"Promise," LeBeau said with a kiss. Giving her one last, longing look, LeBeau slipped out the door. Racing out of the building, he quickly made his was down the street and towards the theatre to meet Carter.
He didn't notice the two men, dressed in brown trench coats and wearing black fedoras, following him at a reasonable distance.
--
LeBeau and Carter quickly made their way through the crowds that were filing out of the theatre. Looking around to make sure no one noticed, the slipped into the side alley and made their way behind the theatre.
"Boisselle?" LeBeau hissed.
"Here," a voice called, as Boisselle and Paul stepped out of the shadows.
LeBeau went up to them. "Got the plans?" Paul nodded and pulled out a package, handing it to LeBeau.
"HALT!" a new voice shouted. All four men froze and turned. A beam of light shone back at them as two men stepped into their view. "Gestapo."
LeBeau felt his blood turn to ice. He glanced up at Carter, who went decidedly pale. Suddenly, the American turned red and began to shake.
"What is the meaning of this?!" Carter hollered. "Do you know who I am?"
LeBeau smiled. Carter might've been a little goofy, but he sure knew how to play a Kraut. He turned back to the Gestapo to see their reactions. His heart sank when all he saw were smirks.
"You are a traitor," one of the Gestapo men said coolly. "These men are with the Underground."
"This is an outrage!" Carter yelled. "I'll have you sent to the Russian Front! I'll-" Without warning, Carter reached for his handgun. He even got off a shot too, hitting one of the Gestapo men, before a burst of bullets sounded from behind them. A moment later, several more Germans emerged from the darkness.
LeBeau blinked in surprise and looked at Carter, who was equally surprised as he clutched his chest. It took a moment for LeBeau to realize that Carter had been shot. The American fell to the ground like a ton of bricks. "Carter!" LeBeau knelt down and shook his friend. Carter just looked at him, still shocked by the whole turn of events. He tried to say something, but couldn't form any words.
"Get up," the Gestapo man barked, grabbing LeBeau by the collar and pulling him up as the other Germans surrounded them.
LeBeau just looked from him to Carter. "Carter…"
"Don't you mean Colonel Schultz?"
LeBeau stiffened and turned. Marianne smirked slightly and came up to him. "Marianne? But- but- I don't understand."
"I'm with the Gestapo," Marianne said simply.
"No!" LeBeau shouted. "I don't believe it!" He glanced back down at Carter, who was frighteningly still. "How could you?!"
Marianne shrugged nonchalantly. "I like to be on the winning side. The Germans can be very persuasive. And working for them pays better than the Resistance."
LeBeau could not believe his ears. It was not possible. It just wasn't. Marianne was the love of his life. She couldn't have gone over to the Germans. And yet, there she was, eyeing Carter with disdain and smirking at LeBeau for his foolishness. "We've been following these two men for quiet a while," Marianne explained, gesturing to Boisselle and Paul, who were being handcuffed. "But when I saw you at the café, I knew there was more to them than we originally thought."
Hatred bubbled up inside LeBeau. "I won't tell you anything!"
Marianne waved her hand in the air. "You've told me plenty already. Besides, I have nothing left to ask you. I'll leave that to men far more capable. And believe me, their tactics are not as pleasant as mine."
Rough hands grabbed LeBeau, twisting his arms back and handcuffing him. Before they led him away, he shared a cold, hateful glance with Marianne. Then, he looked at Carter and then his captors. The Gestapo man Carter had shot came up behind him, holding his shoulder and glaring at LeBeau. LeBeau paled.
Carter had been the lucky one.
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