This is actually a repost of chapter 2 of my now deleted story "The Time of Our Lives". I decided I had run out of steam on that one and it was going to lay unfinished for forever. So instead of letting it waste away, I took the chapters and am now posting them as stand alone stories. I think they work as stand-alones. Anyway, if you've read it before, feel free to skip. If you haven't, have at it!
Alone in the rec room, Kinch threw another punch and then another. Sweat dripped from his face and stained his shirt. His knuckles were raw and swollen and pain raced up his arm every time he made contact. But he didn't care. The pain was good. He had lost track of how long he had been at the punching bag, brutalizing his bare hands against it, but he wasn't about to let up. He couldn't. He had to keep going until his anger died down. As if it ever would. How could it? Not after what had happened.
He didn't hear the door open but did feel the cold breeze sweep in from outside. Kinchloe ignored it, pouring every ounce of his energy into beating the living daylights out of the bag.
"Kinchloe! Sergeant Kinchloe!" Schultz cried. Kinch heard the sergeant of the guard move closer. With one big wallop, he punched the bag, sending it swinging and then moved out of the way. It hit Schultz and nearly knocked him down.
"Ooof," Schultz puffed as he held himself.
"What do you want Schultz?" Kinch asked as he steadied the bag.
"Sergeant Kinchloe, it is roll call," Schultz informed him. "You should have been outside five minutes ago. The colonel is very upset."
"Let the bald eagle squawk," Kinch growled. "Won't hurt him to wait."
"Not that colonel," Schultz said. "What is the matter Kinchloe? This is not like you."
"I'm fine," Kinch snapped. "Come on, let's go."
Kinch marched towards the door. The cold air hit him, biting into the sheen of sweat on his skin but it didn't phase him. The anger that burned in his belly was enough to keep him warm. Behind him, Schultz hesitated but then followed after.
"Are you sure there is nothing wrong, Kinchloe?" Schultz asked as he tried to keep up with Kinch as they crossed the compound towards Barracks 2.
"Lay off, Schultz," Kinch warned. As he approached the line-up, he saw Colonel Hogan's disapproving look but ignored it as he fell into place. He felt Carter and Newkirk looking at him and turned to glare at them. "I'm here. Let's get this show on the road."
"Kinch are you-" Carter started but fell quiet when Kinch's eyes darkened. Good. The last thing Kinch needed was to listen to Carter talk nonsense. It could be annoying on the best of days, but with the way he was feeling right now, Carter risked a shattered jaw.
"Thank you, for joining us, Sergeant Kinchloe," Klink sneered from his spot in front of the kommandantur. "Perhaps a week in the cooler will help you learn to be punctual."
Kinch balled his fist but said nothing. He just glowered at the Kommandant, who took a step back.
"That won't be necessary, Kommandant. I'll make sure it doesn't happen again," Hogan said.
Klink took another step back, nearly tripping over the stairs. "Y-yes. See to it, Colonel Hogan. Schultz, report."
"All present and accounted for, Herr Kommandant," Schultz said with a salute.
"Very well. Prisoner's dismissed." Klink scurried up the stairs and threw a glance over his shoulder at Kinch before shuddering and retreating inside.
"All right, fellas, back inside," Hogan said, shepherding his men into the barracks. "Kinch, my office."
Kinch saw the others exchange looks as he followed Hogan into his office. Hogan waited until Kinch had passed him before shutting the door. Kinch stood at rigid attention, fixing his eyes on the wall. Hogan came round in front of him and studied him for a moment before sighing and sitting on the edge of his desk.
"Okay, Kinch, what's the matter?" Hogan asked. "You've been acting owly since mail call. Did you get bad news from home?"
Kinch's jaw tightened, but he said nothing as he flexed his hands.
"A Dear John?" Hogan pressed. "Is your mom all right? Your brother? Did he… Look, Kinch, I'm just trying to help."
Kinch kept his eyes glued to the wall. Hogan sighed in frustration.
"You know you're awfully close to insubordination here," Hogan said tightly. "Fine, your personal life is your business, but you know as well as anyone that we can't let it interfere with the operation. You took off this morning and we nearly missed a communique from Goldilocks. When you're ready to talk, I'm here, but in the meantime, I expect you to do your job. Understood?" Kinch flicked his eyes over to Hogan and he gave a quick nod. "Good. Oh, and lay off the death glares with Klink. You're going to give him a nervous breakdown." Hogan managed a small smile which Kinch didn't return.
"Am I dismissed?"
Hogan looked deflated. "Yeah. Get down to the tunnel. We're expecting a message from Olsen sometime tonight."
Kinch wondered if that was true, or if the Colonel was just offering him a chance to escape his hut-mates for a while until he cooled off.
Said hut-mates watched him warily as he stormed to his bunk and opened the trap leading to the tunnels.
"Kinch, if you need to talk, you know we're-"
"Keep quiet, Carter," Newkirk hissed as he elbowed him in the gut.
"Well, gosh, if I got bad news from home, he would want to help me. So don't you think he'd expect us to want to help him? After all we're all in this-"
Carter continued talking, even as Kinch descended the ladder into the tunnels. Carter's words caused a small sting of guilt to niggle at his heart. It was true, he would expect the others to confide in him, to let him help; they deserved the same trust from him. But this was too big. This was too much. And, besides, it wasn't for him to talk about anyway.
Kinch sat at his radio. He put his elbows on the desk and rested his forehead on his knuckles. They stung, making Kinch wince. No doubt his hands would swell even more over the course of the night, and he would be surprised if they were even functional tomorrow. He tapped his knuckles against his forehead before clasping them together as if preparing for prayer. It would be good for him to talk to someone about all this. But there was too much anger in his heart and he wasn't about to seek forgiveness. Not for himself and especially not for him.
Kinch's hand broke apart and he slammed a fist down onto the desk.
"Dammit! Dammit all!" Kinch cried as he jumped up. He paced around wildly, trying to burn off the anger that had once more set fire in his heart. From his pocket, he pulled out a crumpled sheet of paper and unfolded it, skimming the contents. Dina's usually fine penmanship was shaky and smudged, and Kinch could only imagine how many tears had fallen on the paper. As he read, the anger burned hotter until it came to the one passage that turned the anger to unbearable pain.
Please don't tell Johnny. I'm so afraid of what he'll do. And… Oh, Jimmy, I'm so afraid he'll blame me. Maybe he should blame me. I keep thinking that I must have said something. I must have done something to give him the wrong impression.
I wish you were here so much Jimmy. I need you here to make sense of all this for me. I need you to tell me it's not my fault. I need you to tell me that everything is going to be okay and that somehow I'll get through this. I need you to… I just need you to be there like you always are and I know that it's so selfish of me to say that because I know you can't be and it must be driving you insane.
Kinch crumpled the letter back up and shoved it into his pocket. His heart broke that she was dealing with this alone, that he couldn't be there to do anything and everything she needed to make the world right again. But mostly, his heart broke at the thought that she was blaming herself. Blaming herself for what that monster had done to her. She hadn't named him, only said it was one of her cooks who had just been drafted. She didn't want trouble. Didn't want anyone else to know. Just Kinch. Probably because she knew there was no way he could go after the guy.
Well, that was where she was wrong. The only emotion stronger than his anguish was his rage. Kinch was a man who kept a tight rein on his emotions, but this- this was too much for even him to control. For any man to control.
He didn't have a name, but that wasn't going to stop him. He'd find it out. And then he would make everything right. He couldn't be there for Dina, but he'd make damn sure the scumbag who hurt her would get what was coming to him.
He had a name. It had taken a little snooping, mostly in the form of casual questions to his friends who worked at Dina's diner. There was only one cook who had been drafted around that time. And, as luck would have it, he had been shipped out to England. Not that it mattered- he could be halfway around the world in the Pacific and Kinch would've still found him. But this made it so much easier. He found the rest of the information he needed from Goldilocks. And who knew just what to do with it.
"Papa Bear to Goldilocks, come in Goldilocks."
He was alone in the tunnels. Not unusual, but right now it particularly served his purposes. There was no way Colonel Hogan would let him get away with this. He could never know. No one could ever know.
"Papa Bear to Goldilocks, come in Goldilocks."
"This is Goldilocks. Go ahead, Papa Bear."
In another stroke of luck, the Goldilocks on the other side was the one he had dubbed Operator 004. They had developed quite a rapport over the last few months, so when he had asked her to keep his inquiries between the two of them she didn't press too hard as to why. Although he sensed she suspected this was less than official business.
"Goldilocks, per our conversation about 36967947. It turns out we need another cub in the den and he's the perfect match. We need him ASAP before hibernation."
"Right," Goldilocks drawled suspiciously. "I've looked into his file, Papa Bear, and I must say that I see nothing extraordinary about him. And, what's more, are you sure that he can even operate in your den? He's… well, he's…"
"I know what he is, Goldilocks. Trust me." He was a monster. But Goldilocks was probably referring to the fact he was black.
"But where do you expect him to go?"
"Let us worry about that, Goldilocks. Please," Kinch added earnestly. He really needed her to go with him on this. "Have the stork deliver our new cub to Drop Point M-15. Let me know when."
"All right, Papa Bear. I'll see what I can do. Stand-by."
Kinch leaned back in his chair and waited. His mind rolled around the rest of his plan. Once again, his conscience reared its head to try to talk him out of it, but he squashed it down with a mallet of anger. No, not anger. Justice. He was going to bring about justice, he told himself firmly.
It took almost two hours before Goldilocks called back.
"Goldilocks to Papa Bear. Come in, Papa Bear."
"I'm here, Goldilocks."
"Your new cub is set to arrive in three days at zero-three-three-zero. Drop point M-15."
"You're the best, Goldilocks. Thank you."
"You're welcome," Goldilocks replied. "But…"
"But what, Goldilocks?" Kinch asked.
Goldilocks sighed. "I just have a terrible feeling, that's all. Are you sure… it's just…"
"It'll be okay, Goldilocks," Kinch said. "Papa Bear over and out."
With a nod, Kinch set down his microphone and turned to his equipment. He checked his watch. 0200. He couldn't help but smirk. Waking Hochstetter up in the middle of the night was always a bonus.
Kinch patched the telephone through his equipment. It didn't take long to get through to the Hammelburg Gestapo.
"Get me Major Hochstetter. Tell him it's Kinchmeyer. General Kinchmeyer."
"General Kinchmeyer, huh?"
Kinch started in surprise and dropped the microphone. He whirled around in his seat to find Colonel Hogan leaning against the dirt wall, arms folded across his chest and an eyebrow raised.
"What does the good general want with the Gestapo at two in the morning?"
Kinch's mind raced as he cut off the call. "Olsen contacted me. He needs to send the Gestapo on a wild goose chase to take the heat off one of his contacts." It killed him that he could lie so quickly to the colonel. What was happening to him?
Hogan pushed himself off the wall. "Funny, he didn't mention that when he came back this evening."
"Olsen's back?" Kinch's mouth went dry but he resisted the urge to lick his lips. He hadn't seen the outside man return, but Olsen was a sneak and could've slipped past him or come into camp a different way.
Hogan nodded. An uneasy silence fell between them. "All right Kinch, I've been patient so far but there's obviously something bugging you. I don't want to order you to tell me what's going on… but I will if I need to."
Kinch turned away and clenched a fist. He couldn't tell the colonel what was going on; he'd just try to stop him. And Kinch couldn't let this monster get away with what he had done to Dina. She needed justice, even though he could never actually tell her about it.
"Kinch," Hogan implored softly. "Whatever it is, you don't have to shoulder it alone. I know you think you do because it's kind of what we've grown to expect from you, but you don't. Talk to me."
"I don't need help, Colonel. I've got it figured out."
"Right," Hogan said stiffly. "I get it. You don't need your friends. You just need the Gestapo. Great choice. They're good guys."
Kinch slammed his fist down on his desk and then jumped up, turning to face Colonel Hogan. "You have no idea what the hell you're even talking about."
"Then tell me," Colonel Hogan said with a steady voice, his eyes piercing into Kinch's. They stared each other down. Both were men of hard resolve, and their unspoken battle lasted for what seemed like an eternity.
Finally, Kinch jammed a hand into his pocket and pulled out the now worn letter and wordlessly held it out for Hogan. The colonel took it and scanned it. He handed it back to Kinch.
"So what was your plan here?"
Kinch shoved the letter into his pocket. "I found out who the guy was," he said mechanically, hiding any emotions away from the Colonel's stern gaze. "I arranged for Goldilocks to drop him outside Hammelburg."
"Where the Gestapo would be waiting with a welcoming party," Hogan finished grimly. Kinch gave a curt nod. "Look, Kinch, what happened to Dina was wrong, but you… Kinch, you can't do this. You know you can't do this."
Kinch's jaw went tight. "You don't understand. I can't just sit on the sidelines for this. I'm always on the sidelines. And even though I'm not there, at least I can do something to make this better."
Colonel Hogan tilted his head and regarded Kinch thoughtfully. "Is this about Dina, or is this about you?"
It took all of Kinch's considerable self-control not to punch the colonel right then and there. "Of course it's about Dina!"
The colonel's thoughtful expression didn't waver under Kinch's sharp tone. It made Kinch's fury heat up. What was the colonel suggesting? That this was all about him? That he was taking out his frustrations over his position in the operation on Dina's assailant? Ridiculous. He was doing this for justice. To make sure this scumbag never hurt anyone else again.
"All right, fine," the colonel conceded. "But vengeance is a poor substitute for justice. Think Kinch. Does Dina need you to murder for her? Would she really want you to do this in her name? Are you going to do that to her?"
And there it was, laid out to bare: justified or not, Kinch's plan was nothing short of murder. He had made himself judge, jury and executioner. He wanted to be a man of action, but at what cost? Kinch would die for his family and friends. He would kill for them, too. But there was a line between killing and murder that, once crossed, could never be uncrossed.
Closing his eyes, Kinch imagined Dina's face. Kinch had been a constant in her life, an unfailing friend. He knew she depended on his quiet, steady strength. It was the reason she had written to him about her terrible ordeal in the first place, wasn't it? She didn't need him to avenge her, she needed him to continue to be her rock. And if he went through with his plan, everything he was, everything she thought she knew about him, would be gone.
"Dammit," Kinch growled. It wasn't fair. He wanted to do something. It wasn't fair that he was always relegated to a supporting role.
"Kinch. You do more than you know," Hogan said, as if reading his thoughts. "You're the only one who doesn't see that."
Kinch squeezed his eyes tight and made a fist. "So what am I supposed to do?"
Hogan sighed. "I don't know Kinch. But the first thing I need you to do is cancel that drop."
Kinch nodded. He wasn't sure if the feeling building up in his chest was defeat or relief. Either way, he dropped into his chair and slowly coaxed his radio to the right frequency.
"Papa Bear to Goldilocks, come in Goldilocks."
It took a moment, but sure enough the reply came. "Goldilocks here. Go ahead, Papa Bear."
"Cancel the drop for 36967947."
"Right then, Papa Bear. I'll cancel the drop."
"Good. Papa Bear over and out." Kinch dropped the headset and hung his head. "So now what? He just gets away with this?"
"I don't know, Kinch," Hogan replied. "I'll talk to General O'Malley and explain the situation. With a guy like this, there's got to be something else in his closet if Dina doesn't want to talk. We'll do something, Kinch, but the right way."
"Yeah, sure," Kinch said, now quite certain that he was feeling defeated. "Thanks for talking some sense into me, Colonel."
Colonel Hogan gave him a weak smile. "It's the least I can do, Kinch. It'll probably take me a lifetime to catch up to you on that front." Hogan awkwardly placed a hand on Kinch's shoulder for a brief moment before patting it. "Do you need anything else?"
Kinch shook his head. "I think I'll just write a letter to Dina."
"That's a good idea. I'll leave you to it."
"Thanks, Colonel."
Kinch waited until the colonel had ascended the ladder before pulling out a sheet of paper. He stared at it forever. He had already sent a reply to her last letter, filling it with as many comforting words as he could but, at the time, they all felt like empty platitudes to him. What good were words after such a heinous thing?
But words were all he had right now. And though conveying feeling through words wasn't his strongest suit (at least where she was concerned), he'd try his darndest. She needed him to be her rock and he wasn't going to let her down. Not again.
So he struggled through, knowing it could never be enough and knowing it could never make things right. He also knew that he would forever regret the fact he wasn't there the one time she really needed him. Worse still, he had to contend with the idea that, even if he had been home, Dina still might have been attacked. It seemed that whether at Stalag 13 or at home, he was doomed to spend his time on the sidelines. The only help he could ever really offer was his reassuring presence in the face of tragedy and chaos.
He was a rock, unmoving, steady, and firm, but he couldn't help but wonder how long before that rock cracked under pressure? It had been close– so close– and the damage would have been irreversible. The man he was had almost been reduced to rubble.
And, next time, would he be lucky enough to have Colonel Hogan to stop it?