So sorry for keeping you waiting for so long; I swear I didn't mean to drag this out. My main excuse, paltry though it may be, is both laziness and getting a new job that's a graveyard shift which has been messing with my schedule something horrible.

Also, in answer to your questions, Bookwyrm (this is the only way I can reply to you)-1. I know that German is not Latin-based; my point is that Carter has a talent for languages in general. 2. I didn't know origami wasn't popular back then when I wrote the scene, so for how he knew that and Swahili, maybe he's just read some rather obscure books, shall we say? Everyone okay with that?

I think this is going to be my final chapter for now. I've gotten an idea for a new story that's kind of a companion to this work, if anyone is interested; still working on thinking it out. It's going to involve serious whump for Carter, if you're into that sort of thing, and drama and stuff.

Sorry, I'll let you read the chapter now.

"Life probably would have been kinda different if I hadn't enlisted when I did," Carter mused, leaning on his hand.

Felix the mouse glanced up from his attempt at chewing through the piece of carrot he'd given him, before biting down on it again.

"I mean, I probably would still be working at the drugstore, and woulda gotten married to Mary Jane by now." His stomach twisted at the memory of her name; despite what he'd said about there being plenty more fish in the sea, he wasn't really that over her. He just...understood her point of view. There was no telling when he'd be back in America, much less no longer a prisoner of war, and odds were they weren't even the same people they'd been when he'd first proposed to her. That didn't mean it didn't hurt to think about her, or that he was sure he wanted to see her again anytime soon.

"...Of course, I probably woulda gotten drafted anyway, and just shown up in the war later." Carter drummed the fingers of his other hand on the tabletop.

They were down in his lab; since he wasn't working on any new explosives or dangerous chemicals at the moment, it had seemed safe to bring Felix here to stretch his little legs, get a change of scenery. And while he'd been letting the mouse run around the table, and given him a fresh carrot that he'd swiped from Lebeau's kitchen, he'd started thinking. Even though some of the guys would claim it was dangerous for him to do that.

"What if there had never been a war?" he asked aloud, looking down at the mouse.

"Then I'd never have come here at all. I could have said goodbye to Grandpa...so I'd probably be the Keeper of the Soul, and be trying to live a harmonious life all the time, back in Muncie." A brief smile crossed his face at the mental image, before it suddenly saddened.

"But then I wouldn't have met all the guys. Or you." Gently he brushed a finger across Felix's back.

"I mean, sure, Kinch and the Colonel are Americans too, but what're the odds I ever woulda met them? And no way would I ever meet Newkirk or Lebeau. I never woulda gotten to watch Newkirk do his card tricks, or tasted Lebeau's strudel." Carter felt his mouth water appreciatively; something he and Sergeant Schultz had in common.

Was it necessarily better this way?

It didn't seem right to use that word to describe how things had worked out, considering the number of people who'd suffered and died on account of the war. Just having that sort of thought caused a knot of shame to develop.

But all the same...now that he'd come to Stalag 13, and become one of Papa Bear's cubs, Carter couldn't imagine life without his friends in it.

He wasn't sure how to voice what he was feeling, or even if anyone could give a definite answer to the questions he didn't know how to ask. So he focused his attention back on Felix, who had one cheek bulging with carrot, and smiled.

"You know, you're making me hungry too." He got up, and began searching the shelves for potential snacks.

"Oh boy! Crackers."

A few seconds later, people up in the barracks heard a startled yelp, followed by embarrassed laughter.

From his bunk, Newkirk hid a smirk behind his magazine.

Justice had been served.