A LETTER FROM HOME

by

Candy Apple

(Takes place before the episode, "Happy Birthday, Adolph")

Hogan walked out of his office, frowning at the absence of any sign of dinner in progress. Usually by this time, LeBeau was either busy doctoring the food provided to them or conjuring up something totally different from their secret stash of supplies. His stomach growled again before he had the chance to ask where the chef was.

"LeBeau must be doing another inventory of his mushrooms," Newkirk said, obviously figuring that Hogan, like the rest of them, was beginning to circle the stove in the vain hope of dinner. A pot of watery stew sat on the table.

"Well, the krauts are on time, anyway," Hogan said, poking at it with the wooden serving spoon left in it.

"Punctual people, the Germans," Newkirk agreed.

"LeBeau's in the tunnel?" Hogan asked, frowning.

"Been down there..." Newkirk looked at his watch, "about half an hour now," he concluded, going back to sewing a button on his uniform jacket.

"I'll see what's keeping him." Hogan opened the tunnel entrance and went down, closing it behind him. "LeBeau?" he called, looking around the corner to the spot where LeBeau's supplies were stashed. He found his man sitting on one of the stools near the rickety little table they sometimes used for serving food to the people hiding in their underground world. LeBeau had a letter in his hands, and he continued to stare at it as if Hogan hadn't said a word. "Louis?"

"Colonel," LeBeau said, startled. "I didn't hear you come down." His voice was a little strained, and he folded up the small letter.

"Everything all right?"

"I came down to get some spices. I can usually make something of the stew with a little ingenuity."

"The spices are over there," Hogan said, smiling and gesturing toward the shelves Newkirk and LeBeau had built together to house Louis' cooking supplies and contraband food items. Hogan pulled up a stool near LeBeau's and sat down. "What's going on?"

"Letter from home."

"Not good news, obviously."

"It's from my wife." LeBeau smiled ironically, shaking his head. "Well, for now anyway."

"What do you mean?"

"She wants a divorce."

"That's lousy. Because you're in here?" Hogan felt a stab of guilt every time something went wrong in one of his men's personal lives because they were held back by his no-escape rule. And for as many as he processed through Stalag 13, he not only didn't want to lose his inner circle of men, but he also realized there were some who were so recognizable that sneaking them out and substituting another man just wasn't possible. LeBeau was one of those men who would likely be with him for the duration. Selfishly, that thought had always made him happy.

"She's in love with someone else." LeBeau swallowed, laying the letter on the table, partially open. It was in French, so Hogan knew even if he read it, he'd get little more from it than the gist of it that LeBeau was telling him. "I suspect my being here has little to do with it, except maybe making it a little less socially awkward."

"You think this was going on before the war?"

"Not before the war, but before I was captured. The man she's in love with..." LeBeau took in a deep breath. "She was in love with him before, but he left her to go to the United States to a university there. He came back home a few months after we were married. I guess she thought he would stay in America, but instead, he came back to France."

"You don't think she would have married you if she'd known he was coming back?" Hogan prodded.

"I know she wouldn't have married me. She barely knew I was alive when he was in town. I should have known better. He is tall, about your height. Very handsome. I should have known I was someone she settled for."

"Don't say that, Louis," Hogan blurted, and then wondered how to follow up that heartfelt outburst. Maybe because LeBeau was his friend in addition to being an important part of his team, he couldn't quite handle hearing him berate himself as being somehow "less" than a taller, more dashing, university-educated prick who stole his wife. Knowing how sensitive and thoughtful LeBeau could be, and how passionately he loved the things and the people who mattered to him, Hogan figured she was a very foolish woman who would probably wake up one day and realize that, long after it was too late.

"It's true. Jeanette was one of the prettiest girls in school. All the boys wanted to go out with her. But it was only Adrien she had eyes for. When he left for school overseas, she was still in school. He was two years older. Jeanette and I were in the same year. I felt sorry for her because she was always so sad. So I started bringing her flowers and trying to cheer her up. I never even asked her out because..." LeBeau shrugged. "I never thought she'd look at me that way. Finally, she asked me why I didn't ask her out, and I did, and she said yes, and here's where it got me," he said, picking up the letter and tossing it down again.

"So she used you and dumped you? That makes her the loser, LeBeau, not you."

"If that's true, why doesn't it feel that way? I don't want to feel badly about this, but I was stupid enough to love her, to think she might honor our marriage, even if she didn't really love me."

Hogan slid his stool closer, and rested his hand on LeBeau's shoulder.

"Would you have wanted her for a lifetime if she didn't really love you? Spending your life with somebody who wants somebody else isn't much of a life at all."

"That all sounds good, Colonel, but I can't help how I feel."

"I know." Hogan slid his arm the rest of the way around LeBeau's shoulders and squeezed a little. "Are you going to cooperate with the divorce?"

"Oui, I am. I always seem to end up doing what she wants. I knew better than to ask her out, but it was her idea. And getting married? I wasn't so sure about that, either, but all her friends were getting married, and she started hinting at it..."

"You weren't ready?"

"For marriage? No, not really. I was a cook in a restaurant. I hadn't even made it far enough to be called a chef by the chef's standards. I didn't make much money. I thought it was what she wanted, so I proposed and we got married. Then Adrien came back from the States, and I knew she was miserable. She'd rushed into getting married so she could have a wedding and a fancy dress like her girlfriends–or maybe so she could write to Adrien to prove to him what he was missing...I don't know. Then the man she actually wanted came home, still single, and she was stuck with me."

"Frankly, I think they deserve each other."

"They probably do."

"And you deserve better."

"She was the most beautiful girl in town, the one everyone wanted."

"Funny thing about girls that beautiful, Louis. Sometimes they're as ugly inside as they are beautiful on the outside."

"You never seemed to have an aversion to beautiful girls, Mon Colonel." LeBeau elbowed him gently, grinning.

"I didn't say it wasn't fun looking for a good one," he said, smiling. LeBeau chuckled a little. "I'm sorry this happened," Hogan said, becoming serious again.

"She hasn't written me more than two letters since I've been here–including this one. I knew what was going on. I just didn't want to accept it." LeBeau folded up the letter, tucking it back in its envelope.

"What about that other girl–what's her name...Pauline?"

"Paulette," LeBeau corrected. "We were friends. She worked at the restaurant where I did. And don't tell anyone, but Renee is my cousin. She scents her envelopes so I can show off because she knows Jeanette doesn't write much," he added, snorting a little laugh. Then, he sniffed the envelope in his hand, his smile turning sad. There was a hint of perfume still clinging to the paper. "Jeanette always scents her paper and envelopes. Everything about her is like that. Beautiful." He brushed his hand past his eyes a little self-consciously.

"The stew's upstairs," Hogan said, leaving his arm draped casually around LeBeau's shoulders.

"How bad is it?"

"Well, let's put it this way. It's almost an hour past dinner time and I'm the only one who was brave enough to move the spoon around."

"For that I will need more than a few spices."

"For that, we'll need a miracle," Hogan said, smiling. "But I'm sure you'll come close."

"Merci, Mon Colonel," LeBeau said, genuinely pleased at the compliment.

"Okay, let's pick out the supplies. Tell me what to take upstairs." Hogan led the way to the shelves, and before long, Jeanette's letter was tucked in LeBeau's pocket and he was selecting spices and a few vegetables from the shelves.

Hogan took the items LeBeau handed him and headed for the ladder. He paused and looked back at LeBeau, the letter still sticking out of his pants pocket while he chose the final few items to bring up with him.

"Louis?"

LeBeau looked in his direction, startled that he was still standing there.

"I meant what I said before. You deserve better, and you'll find it."

"So this is just another bump on the road to vrai amour?" LeBeau asked, joining him at the foot of the ladder.

"Something like that. Hey, sometimes the road to true love's pretty long, and you owe it to yourself to take a lot of scenic side trips along the way." Hogan grinned wickedly, and LeBeau laughed as they started up the ladder with their supplies.

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