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Eight months. Eight months in captivity and Roger Bartlett had already made two escape attempts. During the last, he'd successfully gotten through the wire but didn't know enough of the local terrain. The Nazis caught him again the next day.
Still, that didn't mean that Roger was going to stop trying. It was his duty as an officer to escape, causing the Germans a lot of time and trouble to find him. Plus, he wanted to get home. He wanted to see his friends and family again, hear his mother pester him to settle down and get married, and he would hug her and tell her that he just hadn't found the right girl.
There would never be the right girl. Roger knew that. He just wasn't interested in the opposite sex. At an early age, he discovered his true nature and the value of keeping that knowledge a secret. When he joined the RAF, the need for secrecy doubled and he wouldn't even allow himself to think about the softer passions.
Roger threw all of his energy into work and duty. He became a top notch pilot. After he was shot down and captured, he was determined to become a top notch escape artist and mayhem maker. He would do everything in his power to make the Germans regret that they ever caught him.
Then, one day a new batch of prisoners were sent to the camp. They walked through the main gate into the compound. Sandy MacDonald was among them; a tall, lean Scotsman with reddish blonde hair and a quick smile. He carried himself with confidence and had keen and mischievous blue eyes.
Before he consciously made the decision to, Roger introduced himself to Mac. He held out his hand. "Roger Bartlett."
Mac shook the offered hand. "Sandy MacDonald, but everyone calls me Mac."
Roger held onto Mac's warm hand a split second longer than necessary. "Welcome to our little piece of Germany."
Mac chuckled and pointed to the barbwire fences. "The Germans are quite the hosts. They give us this little plot of land and don't want us to leave."
Roger smiled. "Stern hospitality."
"The sterner, the better."
Roger could already tell that he was going to get along with this Scotsman with a buoyant personality. "Come on, let's find you a bunk."
Mac nodded. "Lead the way."
They happened to find a spare bunk in Roger's cabin. It was in the same room as Roger's, against the opposite wall. They stood at one of the small windows with a pleasant view of one of the guard towers.
"When were you captured?" Roger asked quietly.
"About four months back. I was lucky that I wasn't injured in the crash." Mac regarded Roger intently. "How about you?"
Roger sighed. "Eight months ago and I've tried to escape twice."
Mac was silent for a moment and then said, "Third time's the charm."
Roger liked Mac's attitude. "Let's hope so."
Roger started bringing Mac with him to the escape planning meetings. He discovered that, despite a friendly nature, Mac didn't say much but absorbed everything. Mac really listened and had a sharp mind.
Soon, Mac had his own network of information through the entire camp and nothing went on without his knowledge. He had as much to offer during the strategy sessions as Roger and Roger was happy to have a colleague that he really connected with. The two of them could talk about work or pleasure and seemed to be joined at the hip.
Roger didn't analyze what was happening. In his mind, he'd found a good friend. He didn't attach any significance to the fact that he developed a habit of watching Mac sleep, that he absolutely loved to see the smile that lit up Mac's face, that the sound of Mac's accented voice calmed him, or that he went out of his way to set up situations where he got to touch Mac's shoulder or Mac had to touch him.
Roger lived in complete denial until he and Mac were alone together five months after Mac's arrival. It was the night before the next escape attempt was to take place and the meeting to hash out the last minute details just ended. Everyone filed out of the room except for those two.
Roger closed the door and looked at his friend. It dawned on him that they'd be separating tomorrow. "Nervous?"
Mac smiled ruefully. "A little," he admitted.
Roger took the chair next to Mac's. "Everything will go fine. Third time's the charm, remember?"
"Aye, I remember."
Roger put his hand on Mac's shoulder. "Good luck."
Mac covered Roger's hand with his own. "To you too."
Roger didn't move. He fixated on Mac's mouth. He blinked and his throat went dry when Mac licked his lips. "Maybe we'll meet again back home," he stammered.
Mac removed Roger's hand and squeezed Roger's fingers before letting go. "I'd like that."
Roger leaned closer, his longing overriding his caution. Mac met him halfway. The kiss was tentative at first, a mere brushing of the lips.
Suddenly, the kiss caught fire. They opened their mouths, giving their tongues an opportunity to wrestle and play. Roger gripped Mac's shoulders while Mac held Roger's face in his hands.
They finally broke apart when the need for air became too great. Roger's chest was heaving and he felt a heaviness between his legs that he hadn't experienced for some time. But he knew that this wasn't the time or place. He rested his forehead against Mac's. "I--" he started.
"I know," Mac interrupted. "If you're still game, we can pick up this discussion back home."
"If?" Roger quickly kissed Mac's lips again before sitting back. He gave his most charming smile. "I think that discussion will take at least an entire weekend."
Mac laughed and his eyes twinkled. "Something to look forward to."
Roger stood and held out his hand. "Something to look forward to," he said solemnly.
Mac got to his feet and shook the offered hand, sealing their deal. "It's a date."
The next day, Roger and Mac didn't speak of the previous night's events and went about their normal business. They escaped through the tunnel at the scheduled time. Roger was one of the first out and Mac one of the last. "Something to look forward to," Roger whispered just before they parted.