The next day, Olsen and Newkirk were standing against the water tower causally watching Mueller, a guard who'd entered camp about the same time Waechter had. "What do ya think?"

"I don't know. He's not the most observant guard, and he's avoided the nightshift like the plague," Olsen replied.

"So the opposite of Waechter," Newkirk said. "But that's not really what I meant."

"You're right, Hochstetter's plan was to lay-low and observe. This guy takes as many naps as Schultz does, so that's probably a little lower than even Hochstetter would allow. I'd say we don't cross him off completely, but move onto the next guard, Pfeffer," Olsen started to move away, when Newkirk stopped him.

"You did what had to be done," Newkirk deadpanned him not allowing Olsen to leave. "Now you're not sleeping or eating. All you've done since we got back has been to avoid everyone, which, in itself, is a pretty good trick, especially considering the close quarters in the hut. We have to talk about it, or it's going to eat you alive."

"There's nothing to talk about," Olsen replied sharply.

"Which only proves even more that something is wrong."

Olsen turned away from Newkirk taking deep breaths before facing him again. "He wasn't the first enemy soldier I've killed and I seriously doubt he'll be the last. So you see there's no reason for you to be concerned. Drop it."

"Then tell me why you haven't been eatin'?"

"LeBeau has been showing off for François cooking really rich French foods. My stomach can't handle the food he's putting out. If you want to fix something, make LeBeau start cooking normal again. I'm about ready to eat the German cooking in the mess hall!"

"That I'll give ya," Newkirk said with a hand over his stomach. "Me system can't handle it either. But you haven't been sleeping either and you can't convince me it's the food. The bags under your eyes are gonna make Klink think you're digging tunnels. And I know for a fact that you hate digging."

"In some cultures, if a man saves another man's life, the one saved owes the rescuer his life and he never questions him."

"Yeah, well I'm British. In what culture would that be?"

"The Japanese culture, so leave it alone."

"Funny, we're fightin' them too. Care to try again?"

"What do you want?" Olsen asked, harshly.

"I want to help you work this out. If you didn't look so bad, I'd back off; but have you looked in a mirror recently? Brian, talk to me. You can't hold this inside or it's going to destroy you. I should know, cause I'm the expert at it. I did the same thing after the first time I killed."

"Why should it bother me? He's not the first man I've killed," Olsen said angrily. The look on Newkirk's face made him soften his tone. "I think I just need some time."

"I'm guessing he's the first kill up close and personal that makes a difference," Newkirk replied.

"Actually he wasn't. It doesn't make any sense to me either. I just need to get my head wrapped around it and I will."

"That I'm sure of, just remember I'm here when you're ready to talk about it," Newkirk placed a hand on Olsen's shoulder.

"Thanks," Olsen said with a small smile. "Let's change the subject. What do you think of Tiger and François being married?"

"Well that was one heck of a bloody shocker. Let me tell ya, when we had to pull Tiger off of him and she was so angry. I'd rather been facing Hochstetter than her! She's one scary lady when furious."

"There's no love in that marriage. The way he talked about her when he thought she was dead, and how he's acting now. I can't understand it. It's shaken the Colonel too. Man do I feel sorry for him," Olsen shook his head.

"You're telling me! I don't know who was more shocked, François and Tiger each finding out the other was alive, or the Gov'nor learning Tiger was married. Tiger will have some explaining to do. Speaking of which, maybe we should go see what's happening. Pfeffer won't even be awake for a few hours, and then we can pump him for information. Bloody hell, I hope there are no more Gestapo spies hanging out around here," Newkirk said as both men went to the barracks.

As the men entered the hut, Schultz passed them leaving it. He'd begged Hogan to ensure the Kommandant didn't find out that Tiger was in camp, again.

"Carter, can I borrow Tiger?" Hogan asked, standing behind her.

"Sure, sir. Thanks for talking to me," Carter said to Tiger.

"I enjoyed our conversation. Perhaps later we can visit some more," Tiger let go of Carter's hand she'd been holding for the last hour then followed Hogan into his room. "I think I know what you want to discuss. François."

"He's asking to talk to you. How do you feel about that?" Hogan asked cautiously, not wanting a repeat of last night.

Tiger sighed pacing around the little room. "I will speak with him. There's a lot we need to go over. Like how to get a divorce. I'm sure it can be done once he's in England, but I won't escort him to the coast."

"That goes without saying. Umm," Hogan hesitated, unsure how to ask the next question. Tiger gave him a confused look. "Do your knives need to stay up here?"

She smiled before answering, "I promise to not stab him as long as he behaves himself. As Newkirk said earlier, it would make an awful bloody mess to clean up. Non, if he gets out of hand, there are less messy ways to kill him." Both of Hogan's eyebrows shot up, he wasn't comforted by that statement. "Relax, I'm joking. Mostly."

"Let's try to keep the killing to a minimum," Hogan replied. "Do you want me to be there while you talk or do you prefer privacy?"

Tiger paced a moment thinking over the options. "I think we need the privacy for now. But in case he gets out of hand, I would like you to be close by if you don't mind."

"You know I'd do anything for you. Newkirk and I will be close enough you just need to shout and we'll come running. If you're at all uncomfortable or he tries to make a move on you, yell. I made you a promise and I intend to keep it," Hogan said, worry evident.

Tiger stood in front of him, "I know. Let's get this over with." She reached up and gave him a kiss. Then they went downstairs with Newkirk. Tiger walked into the area where François waited.

"Marie," François said with an air of superiority.

"François," she replied tersely.

"You look well," he said watching her every move, unsure if she'd pull out another knife. He'd hoped Hogan had disarmed her as he'd requested.

"And you're alive."

"When I saw the fire, my first thoughts were how to get to you. I had to save you," the sincerity in his voice didn't fool her.

"Me, your work, or your mistress?"

"You of course. I had no mistress. How could you ask such a question?"

"Because I know you and knew all about you and Juliet. I didn't mind, it meant you left me alone," Tiger replied standing a good distance from her husband. He was momentarily speechless that she knew the woman's name, or anything about the affair.

"Juliet was a mistake, a temporary lapse in judgment. I'm very happy that you're alive, although a bit confused," he took a step towards her stretching out his hand to touch her. Tiger pulled back, crossing her arms, an angry look upon her face. He got the message and moved backwards. "How did you escape the fire?"

"Don't you mean, how did I get out of the apartment you locked me in before the building exploded?"

"Did you have something to do with the explosion?" he asked, a little afraid of the possible answer.

"Non, I don't know how it started. I was outside when the first explosion occurred. I saw you go to the side door, just before the second explosion. What happened?"

"Fortunately, I never made it inside. All I could think about was getting you out, and was devastated by losing you. Do you know how many people you hurt by allowing them to believe you were dead? Where did you go? If you thought I was dead, why did you leave?"

"Everyone thought I was dead, and that was the best way to start my life over. I took the next train to Paris where I found people that would help me," Tiger answered.

"What people?"

"Good people. Honest, decent, and they cared about me. Why do you want to know anyway?"

"I would like to thank them for taking such good care of you, and show them my gratitude," François said.

Tiger glared daggers at him. "You're not on the same level as these people. These are good people and I'd never subject them to the likes of you." They were the beginnings of the French underground when Germany invaded France in 1940, and she'd never reveal who they were to him.

François didn't respond, but promised himself that when he got her to London he'd get the names out of her. They'd know his wrath for hiding his wife. "That's all right; I wouldn't want you to do anything you weren't comfortable with. I'm not the same man I was when we were together. When we get to London, we'll have time to get to know each other again."

"I'm not going to London with you!" Tiger declared, her body language reinforcing her words.

"Of course you are, you're my wife and will do what I say," François said angrily, regretting the words as soon as they left his mouth.

"You haven't changed one bit. You're still the same arrogant, controlling, bastard that you were when we married."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean that. I spoke out of anger. The thought of finding you and losing you again makes me afraid. I don't want to lose you ever again. I love you so much. Please forgive me," François begged.

"You never had me to lose and will never know what real love is. You'll always be a callous bastard."

"Me callous? You cruelly let people think you were dead. Do you know how devastated your friend Isabella was? She couldn't even attend your funeral. Rémy came explaining that his sister was too shattered to attend," he threw at her. Tiger didn't try to hide her smile. "You think destroying your best friend is funny? And you call me a monster?"

"I'd heard of the other deaths, and was at the memorial service the next day. It was so tragic, but I didn't stay long. Isabella had been injured in the explosion and Rémy didn't want me to leave her alone. The day of my funeral, Rémy went to keep up appearances. Isabella took me to the train station and saw me off to Paris. I had a suitcase, a paper with a name on it, and a few francs. So no, she was never upset or destroyed."

"Then you knew I was alive. Why the act that I wasn't?"

"What do you mean?"

"Rémy knew I was alive. How could you not?"

"He knew?" Tiger was taken aback.

"Both of them did. I'd see them from time to time. Perhaps they weren't as good of friends as you thought they were," François smirked.

"Non, they were even better. They knew I needed time to heal, so they protected me, and then the war happened, so you mattered no more. Only saving France matters. Next time I see them, I'll have to thank them." Tiger said pacing slightly. "When you get to London, have the divorce papers drawn up and I'll give you an address to send them to in England. Once I've signed them, then we can end this farce of a marriage."

"Divorce? I'll never give you a divorce. You belonged to me then and you're still mine. You will come to London with me whether you like it or not," he said and then yelled. "Colonel Hogan!" Hogan and Newkirk came into the room cautiously watching both husband and wife. "You know how badly London wants my expertise. Make arrangements with them for both Marie and I to travel to London. She goes with me or I don't go at all. Make it happen!" François ordered storming out of the room.