5.

A/N Again, I'm not even going to try to explain where Kinch went. And I didn't know if Baker would swear, but, I mean, he is a soldier …

Sorry this one is shorter. I don't know Baker very well. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ But I do imagine him having some problems living up to Kinch; maybe a lower self confidence?

Oh, just one more note. I upped the story's rating because I realized I used some language that kids probably shouldn't read. I never use any of it IRL because I'm a Christian and I don't believe I should, but I also believe in historical accuracy, and I'm pretty sure Newkirk would be the subject of many curses :)


It was awfully quiet. Newkirk had been supposed to check in 8 minutes ago, and though he could get lazy, if it was this long a wait, something was up. Baker knew he wasn't supposed to leave the rendezvous, but …

Baker crept towards the ammo dump stealthily. The hole that Newkirk had cut in the chain wire rattled softly as he crawled through. He looked around. No guards. Baker felt the radio's knobs, reassuring himself.

He lost the feeling when he saw Newkirk's limp body lying on the ground. He rushed over. "Newkirk! Eyes open." Baker found the fluttering pulse, but something else was off.

Silence.

"Oh no. Absolutely not. Breathe, Newkirk!" The dark blue line around his friend's throat convinced Baker that the Englishman had been strangled. "If you don't breathe, your brain will die and your heart will stop. Now, breathe!"

Silence.

"Dammit!" In terror and desperation, Baker pushed Newkirk's stomach; hard. The forceful hit induced the gasp that would forever live in Baker's memory as one of the most exquisite sounds ever made.

Breath.

Though he was now breathing - for which Baker would be eternally grateful - Newkirk remained unconscious. Which meant that Baker would have to carry him. Through an ammo dump (guarded by Nazis), a forest (guarded by Nazis), and into a prison camp (also guarded by Nazis). Just great.

Breath.

He never was sure how he had done it. The trip back to Stalag 13 with a floppy Newkirk was a new experience. At least for him. And the only thing Baker had going for him was the lack of moon and limited knowledge of the area.

Breath.

Baker did make it to the stump, however. And it was very nice for once that everyone were such worrywarts, because that meant Newkirk's weight was relieved before he had to climb the ladder. He felt the adrenaline fade before the fifth rung and nearly tipped. After the second ladder climb to the barracks he remembered the night of sleep and two meals he had missed. That bunk looked really tempting. Maybe a nap while the others helped Newkirk.

Silence.

His nightmare was a grey cloud. No sound, no screams, no movement. There was nothing inherently scary about it, but somehow, the nothingness was the horrible part. The quiet woke him. He looked around at the seemingly silent men, all sleeping. Snores and tossing.

Silence.

Getting out of bed, Baker went back down the tunnel entrance. As he peeked in the darkened room he remembered Newkirk being hustled to, he saw LeBeau sitting by a cot. The Frenchman smiled and motioned him over. They watched the steady rise and fall of Newkirk's chest for a while, Baker not daring to glance at the white bandaged throat. LeBeau whispered, "He will not be able to talk for a while, but it looks worse than it is."

"He stopped breathing." Baker admitted.

LeBeau's head whipped down and he glared at Newkirk. Then he turned to Baker and put his hand on the stiff shoulder. "But he is now. And that is because of you. Thank you."

Breath.

Breathing.

Alive.