Chapter 1

Colonel Hogan’s words kept running through his mind as the train rolled along the tracks. He was headed back to Stalag 13 after a very unsuccessful escape. He glanced across at Colonel Klink, who looked nervous and smug at the same time. And why not? His escape had been thwarted so Klink’s no-escape record remained intact. He then glanced at the third man in the car, a certain Major Hochstetter. The Major was from the Gestapo and was the one who caught him just outside Hammelburg.

He coughed but tried to hold it in. Both of the German officers looked at him.

“What? A mate can’t cough when ‘e’s got a touch of the flu?” Newkirk asked innocently.

Hochstetter scowled. Klink looked out the window.

Newkirk returned to his view out the window. Colonel Hogan’s words came through his mind again. The man had been Senior Prisoner of War for not yet a month, and he already had practically the entire Stalag under his thumb, but not Newkirk. Peter Newkirk wasn’t one to listen his supposed superiors… unless they had earned his trust. He watched Hogan breeze in and take over, suddenly instituting a ridiculous no-escape plan.

Newkirk wouldn’t have any of it. He had been a prisoner for about a year and all he wanted was to get out. Either go back to London or back to fighting, but sitting on his arse wasn’t part of his plan. Sure, Colonel Hogan ordered him to cancel his escape and he hadn’t listened, despite having a horrible chest cold. How badly he wanted a cigarette right then, but Hochstetter had insisted he be chained, hands and feet. He couldn’t reach his mouth if he wanted to.

Newkirk let out a somewhat shaky breath. He was indeed a miserable sight. Since he couldn’t reach his mouth, he couldn’t reach his nose with his handkerchief. He could feel his nose running. His pursed lips kept it from running straight down but still…

Newkirk sneezed hard, jerking forward. Hochstetter immediately reached for his gun.

Klink came to the rescue. “Major, it was just a sneeze. Corporal Newkirk has been dealing with a nasty chest cold. I saw the Medic’s report myself.”

Hochstetter holstered his gun. “Very well, then.” He sneered for all to see.

Suddenly, the train screeched to a halt.

“What’s happening?” Klink whimpered. He was about to continue when Hochstetter glared.

“I hear rumbling,” Hochstetter stated.

Newkirk’s brow lifted. Colonel Hogan had mentioned a mission to blow up a bridge and the train with it. He then realized he was on the train Hogan had mentioned. Well, at least it wasn’t blown up…

Clacking noises were suddenly heard to one side of the train. The three men looked out the window to see millions of small rocks sliding down the hillside, landing against the side of the train. The train would not be moving anytime soon.

Hochstetter growled. “I knew we should have confiscated a car.”

Klink wavered. “But, Sir, you said the train would be quicker after I suggested a car—“

“Shut up, Klink!” Hochstetter roared.

Klink did as told, pressing his lips together tightly.

Just when Newkirk thought things couldn’t get worse, the lights went off in the car, plunging them into darkness.

Hochstetter groaned. “Clearly we aren’t getting anywhere tonight. We passed a house about half a mile back. We’ll go there for tonight.” He glared at Newkirk, even though it was dark. “No funny business from you, Corporal.”

Newkirk opened his mouth to respond but all he did was cough.

Hochstetter made an irritated noise and stood. “Klink, get the prisoner and lets go.”

Klink took Newkirk’s arm and pulled, though not too hard. Klink didn’t want to hurt him.

The trio stepped out into the cold night. The freezing air set Newkirk off on a whole new coughing fit, which Hochstetter did his best to ignore. Klink frowned, knowing the young Corporal’s inability to avoid illness.

As they walked, the only sound was Newkirk’s coughing. He had briefly wondered if Colonel Hogan had known he was on the train or simply didn’t want to risk blowing it up without knowing. For that matter, why would Colonel Hogan even spare him? He’d gone against his orders…

“All right, get him inside,” Hochstetter said, holding a door open.

Newkirk was surprised they were there already. He supposed he had distracted himself between his coughing and thinking about the Colonel’s orders.

Klink pushed the Brit inside as Hochstetter found the lights. The house was small and hadn’t seemed abandoned but it’s interior proved otherwise. It looked like it had been ignored for likely a year or so. The inside was dirty and paint was beginning to peel.

Newkirk sneezed as the dust invaded his already irritated sinuses. They found a living room and Klink settled him on a couch. Klink crouched to open the shackles.

“What are you doing, Klink?!” Hochstetter roared.

Klink froze and whimpered. “I wanted to remove the shackles…”

“I can see that! Why would you want to do such a stupid thing?” Hochstetter yelled, towering his short stature over Klink’s crouched form.

Klink just blinked owlishly and frowned. He had wanted to be the humane Kommandant his men knew him to be.

Newkirk moaned. “Sir… please…”

“Quiet unless you’re spoken to!” Hochstetter roared. “Leave him chained, Klink, or I’ll chain you up, too!” He spun on his heel and went to search the house.

Klink sighed and stood. “I am sorry, Corporal, but you heard the Major.” He paused, then pulled out his own handkerchief and held it in front of Newkirk’s face. “No tricks?”

Newkirk nodded, then spoke nasally, “No tricks.” Klink pressed the handkerchief to his nose and held it while he blew. He sighed when finished. “Danke.”

“Bitte,” Klink replied, nodding at the Corporal’s respectful response. Considering this, he knew the Englander was still sick. He sighed, they needed to return to the Stalag sooner than later, if for no other reason than to get Newkirk somewhere warmer.

Klink paused and listened to Hochstetter’s footsteps clomping around. The corner of his mouth twitched. For a small man, he certainly made loud footsteps. He turned back to Newkirk but found his eyes closed. He decided to let the Brit rest. Perhaps he could, too. He settled on the other end of the couch and closed his eyes.

-HH-

Colonel Hogan sighed. He was down in the radio room of the tunnels. He was still at times, even after a month, amazed that the men had managed such a tunnel system. Since Klink had been installed as Commandant shortly before Hogan arrived, Hogan had made the no-escape clause to keep the spotlight off the Stalag and thus have the ability to use the tunnel system freely when necessary.

When Hogan had contacted the Underground about the train, he was adamant about not blowing up the train itself. He hadn’t wanted to offer that Newkirk may have been on the train, even if he was quite sure he was.

Corporal Peter Newkirk had been a thorn in Hogan’s side since day one. In addition to stealing his wallet on day two, he had been a nuisance. Newkirk clearly walked to the beat of his own drum and seemed to have a loathing for officers.

Yet, Hogan found something rather endearing about the Englishman, even if Hogan wasn’t quite sure what that was. At least, that was until Newkirk announced he wanted to try another escape. Hogan told him that he had agreed to the no-escape clause. Newkirk had scowled and turned on his heel. That had been the end of it… until Newkirk turned up missing at roll call.

Klink had been beside himself. He sent Schultz out with a search party and made phone calls from his office.

Hogan had made his own call then to the Underground to ask them to not blow up the train, just in case.

Klink met with Schultz when he returned without Newkirk.

That’s when Hochstetter arrived. Klink begged the Major to let him help search and save his multi-month long no-escapes record. The two officers left in Hochstetter’s car.

“Sir?”

Hogan turned at the voice and found it was Kinchloe. “Yeah, Kinch?”

“The tracks were blown, but no one was on the train.”

Hogan sighed. “Get back on and see if the Underground can search the area. I take it Klink nor Hochstetter have returned.”

Kinch nodded. “They have not returned.”

“We need a munitions man…” Hogan shook his head. “When you finish on the radio, get LeBeau. Bring your heavy coats. We’re going out to find them.”

“How, Sir?”

“With the help of a Schultz.”

&&&&&

Chapter 2

Klink was fretting about his record during the drive out in Hochstetter’s car. They had tried the Hammelburg train station and gotten nowhere.

Headed back to the Major’s car, Hochstetter threw an arm out in front of Klink. Klink was about to start blubbering when the Major shushed him. There was movement inside the car.

Suddenly the car came alive and flew backwards out of the parking spot, then it flew forward and got hung up on a curb. Newkirk cursed and hit the wheel. It had simply been too long since he’d driven a car, though he realized he still had a heavy foot. He made a move to get out but entered into a sneezing fit first.

The car door opened and a hand reached in holding a handkerchief. Newkirk sniffed and followed the arm up to a sneering Gestapo Major. He recognized him but couldn’t remember his name.

“‘Ello, mate.” Newkirk paused, noticing Klink cowering behind the Gestapo man. “It would seem I found a right bit of trouble…”

“Yes, it would.” Hochstetter yanked Newkirk’s arm, pulling him from the car. The Major scowled at the car. “We’ll have to take the train back now.” He moved around to the boot and removed a set of chains. “Klink! Put these on the prisoner!”

“But, Major…!” Klink simpered.

“DO IT!” Hochstetter bellowed. He waited until Klink got the chains on Newkirk’s ankles before disappearing back into the train station.

“‘E’s in a ruddy bad mood, ain’t ‘e?” Newkirk commented. “‘Ey, Commandant, is this really necessary?”

“Yes, it keeps me from being sent to the Russian Front,” Klink replied. He snapped the wrist chains on. “I am surprised you did this with that cold of yours and the freezing temperature out here.”

Newkirk lifted a shoulder. He wore his greatcoat but was currently sweating in it. He knew he was feverish but didn’t wish to share that with Klink at the moment.

Hochstetter returned. “We’re getting on the train. It runs just beyond Stalag 13 where we can get off, then, Klink, you will call for a car to take us the rest of the way.”

Klink nodded as Hochstetter grabbed Newkirk’s arm and shoved him, nearly causing him to stumble due to the chains. They headed back into the train station.

&&&&&

“KLINK!”

The Colonel snapped awake and nearly jumped. “Yes, Major?” He quivered beside the couch where he had dozed off.

“You DARE sleep with a dangerous prisoner beside you!?” Hochstetter roared.

Klink turned to the silent Newkirk. He slept right through Hochstetter’s yelling. Klink’s brow creased. He noted the RAF Corporal looked flushed and seemed to be shivering in his heavy coat. “Uh, Major—“

“I don’t want to hear it, Klink!” Hochstetter sighed, scowling at Klink. “Stay awake and watch him. I am going to sleep for a few hours.”

“Yes, Major—“ Klink began, but Hochstetter was already out of ear-shot. Klink sighed and sat back down on the couch. He looked over at Newkirk again. As if the Englander could be any trouble in his current state.

&&&&&

Hogan drove one of the trucks from the camp motor pool. Schultz sat beside him. Kinch and LeBeau were in the back.

The truck followed the train tracks as best as possible. Hogan wasn’t completely sure what he was looking for but the map had shown a minor amount of promise.

Schultz fidgeted nervously in his seat. He just wanted to collect Newkirk and return to the camp.

Kinch and LeBeau kept watch from the back just in case.

Hogan slowed the truck and stopped. “There’s the train.”

“Looks like the rocks slid down and stopped it,” Kinch said.

“I wonder where they could’ve gone?” LeBeau asked rhetorically.

“Hm,” was Hogan’s only response. He knew there was a safe house around nearby but didn’t want to give away his knowledge of it. Instead he simply decided to drive in that direction.

As they neared the house, they found footprints, though much too many for only one person. Hogan groaned internally. He stopped the truck just as the house came into view.

“I’ll pull in closer. Schultz I’d like you to go in there. Meanwhile, we’ll set up back here as though you’re alone. And you are alone.”

Schultz nodded nervously. “Jawohl… uh ja, Colonel Hogan.”

Hogan finally parked the truck right outside the house and sent Schultz to his errand.

Hogan sighed. “I have an idea Newkirk is in there with Klink and probably Hochstetter, too. We’ll have to stay out of sight. Now, find a decent hiding place and get comfortable.”

Had Hogan known that Hochstetter wasn’t involved, he was sure they could’ve gone in too and just given Klink a story. He didn’t wish to take the chance. It was bad enough Newkirk tried to escape.

Eventually, Schultz returned with an angry Hochstetter, a cowering Klink, and a nearly passed-out Newkirk who was unceremoniously thrown in the back of the truck. Schultz was told to drive with Hochstetter taking the passenger seat. Klink climbed in the back since no space was allowed him in the front.

Hogan and the others watched Klink settle beside Newkirk who had passed out again. He was still shackled. Klink leaned over and surprisingly stroked Newkirk’s head in a fatherly manner.

Hogan was impressed. Klink actually was humane as he so often claimed.

&&&&&

Once back at camp, Hogan did a bit of fancy footwork and finagling as he quickly joined the small group in Klink’s office and took responsibility for his man.

Newkirk kept his head bowed, though he coughed and sniffled.

Hochstetter, disgusted with the entire thing, slammed his way out of the office with a resounding “BAH!”

Klink relinquished Newkirk to Hogan without any cooler time.

Hogan began to walk Newkirk across the parade grounds towards the barracks.

“Sir?”

“Yes, Newkirk?”

“I shoulda followed yer orders. I’m so used ta trying ta get out of here…”

“I know but listen, we have a lot to do here and I want you to help,” Hogan said.

Newkirk sneezed.

“But first, we gotta get rid of your cold,” Hogan said, smirking.

-end-

Dull. The room was dull, to say the least. There were no windows, just four walls, a ceiling and a floor. The one and only door was well disguised. Normally, even a well-disguised door would have been no problem for the figure curled up in a ball on the floor in the room. Normally.

After the war, Hogan and the unsung heroes were finally freed from Stalag 13 and, after a short stay in London proper, they were allowed to go their own way. The others had each offered to bring Newkirk with them, with LeBeau to France, or with Hogan, Kinch, or Carter to the States.

Peter Newkirk resolutely refused.

Newkirk was determined to go back to Stepney and find out what had happened while he was gone. What he found... or rather didn’t find, tore apart his world.

His sister Mavis had been killed in one of the last bombings.

Peter wandered the streets aimlessly immediately after. Eventually a good Samaritan decided to take him in and try to help. Things had gone fine... until someone said the name Mavis and Peter brought down a rain of fists on the pour soul who had no idea what they had even said to enrage the lost young man.

Peter was taken to the recently re-opened Maudsley Hospital in South London.

And this was the place where the heroes made an impromptu gathering. Hogan had gotten word from London about Newkirk’s breakdown and contacted Kinch, Carter, and LeBeau. They dropped everything to see what they could do for their fallen friend.

They congregated in the lobby initially as Hogan went to the front desk to inquire about Newkirk. The clerk initially denied their visit, but Hogan managed to talk their way in.

However, they could only visit one at a time.

They all agreed that Hogan should try first. An orderly opened the door after telling Hogan to knock when he was ready to exit.

Hogan stepped into the room. The door closed softly behind him. He turned and could barely make out the outline of the door. He sighed and turned. What he saw absolutely floored him.

Peter Newkirk was curled up tightly on the floor, still in his RAF blues, with an unlit cigarette stuck between his lips. His eyes were open but stared at seemingly nothing.

Hogan forgot how to breathe in that moment. When he finally remembered, it came out in a rush. “Oh, Peter...” He had been warned not to touch Newkirk, just in case. Hogan walked over and sat down on the floor in front of him. He listened to Newkirk’s noisy breathing... as it got noisier. Hogan slowly reached a hand over and gently rested it on Newkirk’s shoulder.

“Peter... I know there’s nothing I could say that would fix this...” Hogan paused and sighed. “All I can do is tell you that I’m here and the others are here, too. They wouldn’t let all of us come in together. I might be able to persuade them otherwise, but I didn’t wanna push things on our first visit.” A grin had crept on Hogan’s face as he said this, but it quickly disappeared when he received no response from Newkirk. Actually, he barely even blinked...

“I’m so sorry this happened, Peter. The war was... hell. There’s no two ways about it. As you’d say, the war was bloody hell,” Hogan said, skipping any attempt at an accent. He gently rubbed Newkirk’s shoulder. “I don’t know if you can hear me, but I’ll keep talking as though you can. I always kept talking even when I knew you weren’t listening.” Hogan shook his head. “If you’d actually been in my command, I’d have written you up for insubordination about a hundred times over the handful of years we worked together, rescuing all those people, getting them out of Germany and over to London.”

Hogan paused... and watched Newkirk blink. Suddenly, the lead in Hogan’s gut disintegrated. He allowed himself a small smile. “We did a lot of good at the camp, but we made a lot of sacrifices too. We all could have left at some point. Yeah, we could’ve left...” Hogan paused, briefly wondering if this was the right direction to go in. He decided to go full speed ahead. “We could have left, instead of sacrificing our own time with our families and friends. Maybe this isn’t the humblest thing to say, but who in their right minds would have taken over for us if we’d left? Would the war have even gone the way it did without us? We might still be fighting... we might have even lost.” He sighed... and earned another blink.

“Peter, I know you’re in there. I know you can hear me.” Hogan paused and chose his next words carefully. “I’m very sorry about what happened to Mavis.” He paused, watching Newkirk intently.

Newkirk blinked... then blinked again... then his eyes closed.

Shit, Hogan thought to himself, thinking he’d driven Newkirk further into his own head. He was about to start talking again when Newkirk’s eyes opened. Hogan recognized those eyes this time. That deep blue color, although muted by emotion. “Peter?” he whispered, softly, so as to not scare him.

“Guv...” Peter croaked, then blinked a couple times in succession. The unlit cigarette fell from his lips... then he rolled onto his back, knees bent with his feet planted flat on the floor. His hands went to his face as he began sobbing unabashedly.

Hogan rubbed his shoulder again. “I’m here, Peter. The other guys are all here, too. They’re waiting outside, but we won’t do anything until you say you’re ready. You just tell me when.”

-HH-

It took nearly a half hour before Hogan was able to get Newkirk on his feet. Sitting up had taken only about five minutes so that Newkirk wouldn’t drown himself in tears. Or so Hogan had commented with a smirk. It had tugged at the corner of Newkirk’s mouth, but it stopped as quickly as it appeared.

Now, Hogan stood beside Newkirk, holding his arm around his shoulders. Hogan could feel him shaking but said nothing about it. “You’re absolutely ready to do this?” Hogan asked, not wanting to overwhelm him.

Newkirk took a long moment to reply to the point where Hogan started to wonder if this was a good idea. Finally, Newkirk nodded. “Ready.”

Slowly, Hogan helped Newkirk to the hidden door, then rapped his knuckles three times in quick succession. The door was opened and the orderly gasped.

“Everything’s okay,” Hogan said. He kept ahold of Newkirk’s arm around his shoulders and put his own arm around Peter’s waist. This earned Hogan another twitch of his lips, which then settled back to the usual pout he wore. Hogan had to admit, he missed that look.

With careful steps, they made it out to the waiting room where the other three were. Kinch and Carter were sitting and LeBeau had been pacing. LeBeau’s eyes widened, and his mouth opened... and that’s as far as he got as Kinch’s hand clamped over his mouth. Hogan nodded to Kinch his thanks. The last thing Hogan wanted was for even the slightest thing to set off Newkirk, simply including a noise that was too loud. Carter had moved beside Kinch, grinning big.

“Gentlemen, I think Peter has something he’d like to say,” Hogan said, then looked Newkirk in the eye. “Go ahead.”

Newkirk finally turned his gaze from Hogan to the trio waiting. He licked dry lips, then pursed his lips briefly. He finally spoke softly, “Anyone up... for a game... of Gin?”

-HH-End-HH-

Mess could hardly be called a feast but when one was hungry, it could certainly be presumed a feast. His stomach growled loudly as he looked at the plates surrounding him.

LeBeau set a plate on the table then sat down beside him. He gave him a look begging forgiveness. “Mon pote, you know we have to eat.”

He sighed from the back of his throat, just about the only sound he could make currently. He gently placed the side of his head in his hand and closed his eyes. He let his thoughts wander back to just a day ago…

Newkirk sat on the bench outside Barracks 2, fag dangling from his lips. He watched the Americans play their football and folded his arms, scowling past the cigarette. He would never understand their fascination with the so-called sport.

Even though Newkirk despised the game, he watched, his full attention on the game. It was a good thing he was as the football was thrown, well over the head of the man receiving the pass, and headed straight for where Newkirk sat. He had the wherewithal to stand just in time and make a great catch. The Americans applauded and hooted.

Newkirk took the bait. He walked over to them, football tucked under his arm. “You mates use another player?”

They drew him into the game and started back up. Soon the game drew a large crowd of bystanders including the rest of the members of Barracks 2. Carter and LeBeau sat on the bench Newkirk had vacated to join the game. Kinch stood beside the bench and turned when the Barracks’ door open and Hogan stepped out.

“What’s going on—?” Hogan began but stopped when he spotted a flash of blue stopping to catch a pass. He turned towards his mates no long enough to wave and grin, then run back into the game.

“How the hell did they get Newkirk to play American football?” Hogan asked, incredulously, his tone of voice raising to match his level of surprise.

“Don’t know, Sir, but he’s certainly making a show of it,” Kinch replied. He stood, leaned against the building, hands in his pockets and smiling faintly.

“Mon dieu!” LeBeau gasped as Newkirk made a sideways catch that he was sure he’d miss.

“Who knew Pete was good at playing football!” Carter exclaimed, rhetorically.

They continued watching the game, cheering and crowing as the Englander never seemed to tire. He didn’t even seem to be breathing hard, despite his constant need for cigarettes.

Newkirk eventually started to go after plays the other men were doing, effectively forcing himself into every ounce of the game.

The Americans were regretting their decision to include a certain feisty Englander in their game.

Both sides huddled to talk strategies. Newkirk led his team while the other team talked about Newkirk instead of strategy.

The teams broke and spread out. The next play began and Newkirk grabbed the ball. Two men on the other team rushed him from behind and literally mowed him over. One came up with the ball as the ran down the chosen field.

Newkirk was flat on his face on the ground, unmoving.

LeBeau jumped to his feet. “Sacre bleu! Pierre is not moving!”

The quartet from Barracks 2 rushed the field. Hogan and Kinch rolled Newkirk onto his back. LeBeau spotted a trickle of blood from Newkirk’s lips and turned away.

“Oh boy, we gotta get him to Wilson!” Carter voiced the one thing all four were thinking.

Kinch hefted Newkirk up and Hogan took one of his arms around his shoulders then Kinch followed suit. Carter and LeBeau led the way, even ignoring the two men that ran over their friend.

The pair exchanged looks of guilt. They hadn’t intended to knock the Englander unconscious. They just wanted him to stop enjoying the game so much. They frowned at each other then started arguing, one blaming the other.

Wilson joined Hogan and his men as they settled Newkirk on a cot. “What happened to him this time?” he asked, a bit exasperated as he saw Newkirk more often than most of the other men added together.

“Over eager football players,” was Hogan’s response.

“Yeah, they ran him over like a steamroller!” Carter supplied.

Wilson sighed. “Colonel, fellas, let me work on him. Give me a little while before you come back. Please?”

Any time Hogan or any of his core cree ended up needing medical attention, the others tended to hover and got in the way, though not intended, of course.

Hogan nodded. “Sure, Wilson. Come on, fellas. Not much we can do here anyway.” He steered them out and was just out the door when he heard Wilson sigh in relief.

When they returned a half hour later they were all shooed away except for Colonel Hogan. Wilson took him aside and spoke in hushed tones, explaining Newkirk’s situation. As Wilson spoke, Hogan’s eyes widened.

“You’re kidding?!” Hogan asked, voice raising an octave.

Wilson simply shook his head and stepped away.

Hogan crossed the camp in a bit of a daze. He didn’t even believe himself when he explained it to Kinch, Carter, and LeBeau.

Newkirk’s jaw was to be wired shut, which meant the Englander would be silent and unable to smoke for far longer than any of them thought possible.

Newkirk sighed as a liquid was placed in front of him. The two men that bowled him over had brought a peace offering. He listened as they apologized and had just the right amount of guilt on their faces that he believed them. Finally, Newkirk nodded, and the pair walked away from the table.

Indeed soon, Newkirk would feast on LeBeau’s food… even if it was fish stew. Maybe.

-End-

It was shortly after 10pm when a red Mustang pulled up alongside the road running by the lake. When the car door opened, voices could be heard. They sounded like they were having fun. Larry sighed. His gut kept telling him that this was a bad idea. However, he had been asked to join in and he really wanted approval from this group. He distinctly heard Becky Jo’s laughter. He took a guess it was because Bunky had told her something funny.

He frowned thinking about how those two ruled the Senior Class. They were into everything. And if they didn’t like you…

Larry shook his head. He opted to take a chance and left his keys in the car. He did not want to lose them in the lake. He took a deep breath that he let out slowly, then began to make his way down the embankment.

“There you are!”

Larry was slightly caught off guard and looked up, surprised to see Becky Jo and Bunky walking towards him. They flanked his sides, with Bunky putting an arm around him. “Hiii…” He winced at how drawn out it sounded, but at least he wasn’t babbling… yet.

“Everyone’s taking a dip in the lake. Why don’t you join in?” Bunky suggested.

“Well… oh, I didn’t wear trunks!” Larry said, realizing his mistake.

Bunky leaned in conspiratorially. “You’re wearing shorts, aren’t you?”

Before Larry answered, he glanced around and found everyone else was in swimsuits or trunks. He nodded. “Ye… yeah,” he stammered, then winced.

“Fine!” Bunky slapped his back, then he and Becky Jo walked ahead. They joined everyone else in the water.

Larry swallowed hard and took a deep breath. He didn’t want to be known as the wimp or wuss anymore. He began to strip his clothes off, leaving them in a pile on the dock. Down to his shorts, he began feeling a little adventurous and decided to do a canon ball. He rushed down the dock, but at the edge he slipped and belly flopped.

Laughter arose from the others. Larry heard it before he even surfaced. Once he did surface, he realized everyone else was out or getting out of water. “Hey…?”

No one replied. Instead he watched everyone go back up the embankment, carrying arm loads of clothes with them. Larry sighed and made for the ladder. He climbed out of the water, took a few steps, then froze. His clothes were gone. He moaned, though it sounded more like a whine. He trudged forward, hanging his head. He berated himself for falling for something so stupid.

By the time Larry reached his Mustang, his cheeks were a bright crimson and tears streaked from his eyes. He reached into the back seat and retrieved a jacket that he pulled on, then used a sweatshirt on the driver’s seat. He sat with a loud squish behind the wheel and whined. Larry rested his head back. More tears fell as he continued berating himself. Why did he seek the approval of that group? All they did was cause him trouble and anxiety.

Larry remained like this for about five minutes, then finally sat up and started the car. He pulled away and headed for home.

A short while later, the Mustang pulled up along the curb in front of the house. Larry got out and paused, noting that the house was completely dark. He eased the car door closed and locked it. He made his way through the gate and up to the front door. He used his house key in both locks, then pushed the door open carefully.

Inside, the house was still dark. Larry sighed then closed and locked the front door after him. He took a step, then saw a light come on from the living room.

“Larry?” His mom’s soft voice came from the living room.

Larry swallowed the lump in his throat as he felt his cheeks burn. His shoulders slumped as he walked into the living room.

He felt her put something around his shoulders and realized it was a towel. How did she know? Despite a voice in his head telling him not to, he looked up and met her eyes.

She frowned, then gently kissed his cheek. “Go to bed, Larry. If you want to, we can talk about this tomorrow, just you and me, okay?”

Larry only nodded, not trusting his voice. He pulled the towel closed around his shoulders and shuffled quietly out of the living room.

His mom watched him go. She sighed, feeling absolutely horrible for him. She only wished she knew how to make everything better.

End

3:30am

Larry lay in bed, back turned to the door. It was a dreamless sleep. Suddenly, his eyes popped open. He sat up and looked around. He could have sworn he heard a noise. Something definitely woke him up. But what? He listened and all was quiet.

Larry heaved a sigh and lay back down. He closed his eyes as his head hit the pillow. That’s when he heard it. He sat up again, eyes wide now. He looked around his room. The little nightlight shed some yellow light across most of the room. He sat still and listened. He frowned, thinking he was just hearing things.

Then he heard it again. Larry’s eyes became wide again. He couldn’t place what the noise was and it was really starting to bother him. There it went again! It wasn’t sounding with any sort of regularity. He glanced out the window, but didn’t notice anything. He could get a better look if he actually got out of bed, but he was too nervous to move.

His fingers curled and clenched the blanket. His eyes were still wide and moving about the room. There, again! He pulled the blanket up in front of him. He wanted to crawl underneath and hide… but he wasn’t a little kid anymore.

Larry figured he should turn the lights on and get a better look around the room, but he sat frozen. His fear of the dark had a hard grasp on him. This noise was louder! Larry screamed and threw the blanket over his head.

Within moments a knock came at his door. He knew it was Balki, but his fear wouldn’t let him answer it. He sat there still and quiet, willing, presumably, Balki to go away and back to bed. Larry heard his door open.

“Cousin?” came Balki’s voice, softly. He turned on the lights. He tilted his head, seeing the odd sight on the bed. “Is that you under there, Cousin?”

“No. There’s no cousin here…” Larry replied, softly, his voice trembling.

Balki sat on the bed. He pulled at the blanket and finally uncovered Larry’s head. This action left Larry’s curls sticking out every which way. He frowned, lips pressed together with the upper completely disappeared. “Cousin?” Balki began gently, “did you have a bad dream? I heard you scream.”

“I heard a noise…” Larry answered, sounding very much like a scared child.

“What did the noise sound like?” Balki asked.

Larry was about to respond when he realized he hadn’t heard it since Balki came in. “Balki… were you already awake?”

Balki nodded. “Yes, Cousin, I was.”

Larry sat up straighter. “You weren’t by chance making any noise, were you?”

“I was no making any noise,” Balki answered. This caused Larry’s eyes to widen. Then Balki continued, “I needed to say more prayer but wanted to make sure I was heard so I tapped a spoon on a rock to get some attention.”

Larry sighed. “Balki… go back to bed. And the next time you need to say another pray, save it for the next night. Now, go!” He pointed at the door.

“Okay, I go back to bed,” Balki agreed, standing. He went to the door and paused. “Cousin, maybe you want to think about saying your prayers, too. It will help you sleep better.” Balki left and closed the door behind him.

Larry sighed, eyes narrowing. He looked up to the ceiling. “Why me?”

As if to answer, he heard the noise again. Larry quickly turned off the lights and laid down, burrowing under the blankets.

End

Canon: Late 7th Season.

St. Valentine’s Day. Or simply Valentines Day. Honestly, he sort of used to despise the day. In school, any of the girls he would give a Valentine to would shove it back in his face.

But school was long over and so to were the scoffs and laughter of the dating scene. He at least hadn’t had a similar experience lately.

All right, so he had struck out a lot back then. He wouldn’t admit it out loud, but he was still kind of nerdy and could be a bit over the top when he really got into something.

That’s mainly why he was surprised that Jennifer still hung around. Thinking back, his mind conjured all of the vacations that went awry or the plans that blew up in his face, which they often did.

He shook his head, while still gazing down into the sink. He was supposed to be getting ready to go out. Essentially he was ready: he wore slacks with a dress shirt and tie. His jacket was slung over the back of the couch waiting for him.

He half expected a knock at the door and a “Cousin?” to follow it, except he had insisted that Balki take Mary Anne out for a nice evening so that, for once, he could do this himself.

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Finally, he lifted his head and looked at his reflection. Well, he squinted at his reflection. He kept getting told he should wear his glasses, but he hardly ever did. So what if the up close stuff was a little blurry? His distance vision was perfect and didn’t need glasses for driving.

Besides, the glasses made him feel old. Not that he actually was by any stretch of the imagination. But still…

He ended up sticking his tongue out at his reflection. Then his eyebrows creased in amusement. He was being silly.

He straightened his tie and left the bathroom. He paused at the top of the stairs and found Jennifer sitting on the couch. She seemed a little annoyed with waiting for him, especially when he watched her look at the time.

He knew he was cutting it close with the reservation time, but… He moved carefully and quietly down the stairs and came up behind her. He wrapped his arms around her.

And Jennifer pulled him over the back of the couch and he landed with his head in her lap. He gave her that typical bug eyed look of his in embarrassment, but she just laughed and leaned down to kiss him.

Larry could not have asked for a better Valentines Day.

End

Canon: S2: Before “The Rent Strike.”

Larry walked into the cafe and paused, glancing around. He then headed for a table and sat down. “Hi, Susan.” He gave haler a small smile.

“Hi, Larry, I’m glad you could make it. I’ve been on third shift at the hospital and I don’t get to see anyone,” Susan replied, then sipped her drink. “Balki at class?”

Larry nodded. “Yes, he is. He loves it. I wish I had had half of his enthusiasm about school.”

Susan grinned at him. “Well, you must have liked it enough. High school Salutatorian and tenth in college. Those rankings are nothing to sneeze at.”

Larry shrugged. “Guess I’ve mentioned those a time or two.”

“Larry…” Susan paused. She wasn’t sure how to proceed but she had to.

His gaze remained on her, waiting patiently. A slight smile playing on his features.

She took in a breath and let it out. “I like you, Larry.”

He kept looking at her and didn’t respond. She started to wonder if she had actually said it aloud.

Finally, Larry sighed softly, his brow creasing. “Susan—“

But she already knew his stance and she couldn’t bare to hear it. “No, it’s okay. I just had to say it.”

Larry couldn’t believe what he was hearing, honestly. Had she said this a few weeks ago, before meeting Jennifer… “Susan, you’re a great lady and you’ve been a great friend.”

She nodded. “You’ve also been a good friend. I didn’t want to ruin that by saying something.”

“You haven’t ruined anything.”

Susan shrugged. “Still friends, then?”

Larry nodded. “Absolutely.”

End

“I am a hollow reed,” Larry said to himself. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. It had been an extremely long and difficult day at the Chronicle. He still didn’t think much of this phrase, but he decided it couldn’t hurt. Besides, sitting there in the Mustang no one could hear him talk to himself… or perhaps AT himself.

“I am a hollow reed.” Another deep breath and slow exhale. Larry knew he only had a few minutes before his exuberant cousin Balki would fling the car door open and get in. So he repeated his phrase from his “Think and Grow Calm” tapes. However, he missed the passenger door opening.

“I am a Halloween?” Balki said, misinterpreting what Larry said. “What that means?”

“I am a hollow reed!” Larry corrected and glared at Balki who was grinning at him. “I was trying to relax when you interrupted.”

“I am a Halloween sounds relaxing, even if you won’t tell me what it means,” Balki said, causing Larry to groan loudly.

-End-

Canon: About a week after season 3 opener “All The News That Fits”

“If I pay you, will you please pretend to be my friend, just this week?”

Larry sat back in his chair at his desk. He flipped over the slight piece of paper the message was written on. It wasn’t signed and therefore he had no idea who left it on his desk at the Chronicle. He was honestly flabbergasted. Who wanted him to be their friend for only a week bad enough to offer payment?

Larry spotted Balki returning from delivering mail to the upper floors. “Uh, Balki?”

“Yeah, Cousin?” Balki answered and went to the side of Larry’s desk.

“I just had the strangest thing happen. I came back from lunch and found this note on my desk,” Larry said and handed him the note.

Balki read the short message. His face creased with curiosity. “Who this from?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, I would answer yes, but I wouldn’t need any digdas for it,” Balki said and handed the note back to him.

Larry sighed. Of course, Balki would say yes to such a request. “Well, thanks, Balki.”

“Anytime, Cousin!” Balki said, then headed to the mail table to do more sorting.

Larry stared at the note. He picked up a pen, then wrote “Yes… but you don’t have to pay me.” He taped the note, folded, to his desk lamp.

The next morning, Larry arrived earlier, preparing for a long day of being out an about. He stopped at the entry way when he spotted someone sitting at his desk. He recognized the young girl from when he’d gone to the Kenzie Youth Center a week ago to write an article about a protest.

Larry walked over to the desk, his shoes tapping the floor. Her head went in his direction when she heard the footsteps.

She smiled a bit sheepishly. “Hi, Mr. Appleton.”

“Hi, there,” Larry replied and smiled back.

“Um… thanks for answering my note,” she said.

“You’re welcome. I do have a question for you, though. Why me?”

“Well, um, the Center has a father daughter dance coming up and… I haven’t seen my dad in years.” She paused. “When you came to the Center, I thought you seemed really nice. You cared enough to show up, so…”

Larry was a bit flummoxed. He definitely hadn’t considered anything like this. “You know, I talked to a lot of your friends that day and I can’t remember your name.”

“Lucy Gates,” she answered.

“Lucy, you seem like a very sweet girl, but…” Larry paused here, seeing her frown. “Listen, the thing is, you don’t know me. I’m a stranger.”

“What if you volunteered at the Center for a week?” Lucy suggested.

Larry sighed. She had this whole thing worked out. He smiled again. “All right. It’s a deal.” He put his hand out to her for a handshake.

Lucy shook his hand, then kissed his cheek and ran out, cheering happily.

Larry shook his head, still smiling. He wondered if Balki would believe this.

-End-

It was one of those nights where there just wasn’t anything else to do. Larry and Balki sat at their kitchen table playing poker. Only a week before had Larry taught Balki how to play, but it was Larry who had won back Balki’s money. They played hand after hand with Larry winning every single hand.

Balki sighed. He had wanted to stop playing, but didn’t know how to tell Larry. Honestly, Balki thought it was a great confidence boost for the smaller man. The only problem being his new reactions to winning.

“Yes! YES!” Larry crowed. He raised his arms in victory. “I’m hot tonight!”

“Well, it is a little warm in here,” Balki said.

Larry just gave him a questioning look. “Oh, no, that means I’m playing great!”

Balki nodded, but said nothing.

They continued to play. As a matter of fact, they continued past midnight. By then, Larry’s eyes held a wild look… very similar to when he’d had the gambling bug in Las Vegas.

Balki finally had enough. He slapped down the cards he held and glared at Larry. “Cousin, I can no lose any more. I don’t mind jump starting your ego, but I’ve had it up to here,” he pointed at Larry’s nose, which made him go cross eyed looking at his finger, “with losing!” Balki scooped up all the cards and dumped them in the trash bucket. He then continued to his bedroom and slammed the door.

Larry was left stunned. He hadn’t realized that Balki was such a bad loser. “Well.”

-End-

(Note: I know Balki wasn’t a bad loser, but Larry thought he was.)