Chapter Text
Joe and Booker started their walk in Paris, where Booker's journey had begun all those years ago.
Joe looked to his right at a group of youngster skateboarding.
"I need to know," Joe said. "Why are we standing on a street next to a skateboard park?"
"Because here once laid a jail," Booker replied. "It was there an officer gave me a choice: march to Russia and fight for Napoleon or be hung by dawn."
Joe looked at Booker.
"I need you to start somewhere else," Joe said. "You were from Marseille, so what were you doing in Paris? And why did you get arrested?"
"Collecting an old debt. A bastard owed me over 200 francs after losing them to me in a card game. Little did I know that the bastard used money he had stolen from someone else to pay me off. That what was landed me in jail because no one believed an old convict," Booker replied. "When I returned to Paris fifteen years later, I killed the bastard before robbing him for everything he owed, and I still don't feel sorry for it."
Unlike Andy and Booker, Joe, Nicky and Nile never liked the idea of killing people if someone cheated them. They prefer to use other methods before killing people. It was one of the things they still argued about.
"Are you saying?" Joe asked. "You blame the man for your faith?"
Booker looked at Joe.
"Old me would say yes, but now I know I really only have myself to blame for my life choices," Booker replied. "I chose to become a criminal the moment I was kicked out of school. It was the first wrong choice I made in my life, and it became the catalyst for everything that happened later on. And my life as a criminal ended up hurting those I loved the most - my wife and sons. They had to live with the shame of me going in and out of jail, and I hate myself so much for it."
Booker closed his eyes for a moment.
"And my drinking back then didn't help either because I used the few coins we had on booze instead of food for my family. How many times did they go to bed hungry because of that? Then there were all the times my family was evicted from the house and had to live on the streets because I couldn't pay the bills because I was in jail or had used the money on alcohol," Booker said. "It's some of the thoughts that are still eating me up from the inside and is killing me even slower than the alcohol ever did."
In all the time Joe had known Booker, Joe had never seen Booker crying.
"Please don't say anything," Booker said. Joe nodded. Booker took a moment before he spoke again. "Okay, back to the officer and his choice. I said yes to marching to Russia because I thought I could desert along the way, but the officer ensured that no convicts could run away before reaching Russia by breaking our big toes every two weeks. I still can hear the screaming coming from some of the other convicts in my sleep every time a soldier broke their toes."
Booker looked down at his feet. He still remembered the pain of walking on broken toes.
"And if anyone did try to run, the soldiers got orders to shoot us, while some died from the infections caused by the broken toes or the shackles around our ankles," Booker said. "When we left Paris, we were forty-eight convicts, but by the time we reached Moscow, we were twenty-three."
Booker made a sign that he would leave, so Joe followed him.
"I sometimes forget that you were forced into a war you didn't want to be a part of," Joe said. "And the things you went through."
Joe looked sorry at Booker.
"I was never big on sharing my past until Nile came along," Booker admitted. "It's thanks to all of her hard work that I'm still here."
They turned a corner.
"In a way," Booker said. "Nile did for me what Andy and Nicky did for you back when you were struggling with your heroin addiction."
"I have never thought of it like that," Joe admitted. "I guess you're right."
They walked a bit in silence.
"Joe?" Booker asked. "I need to know something. Where was Quynh when you were dealing with your heroin problems because you only mentioned Andy and Nicky?"
Joe looked guilty.
"I did something I still can forgive myself for," Joe replied. "I didn't help her when she needed me because I was so high on heroin. It was another reason why Andy decided to help Nicky because Andy wanted me sober when she yelled at me for breaking one of her most important rules: never leave a comrade behind, no matter what."
Joe rubbed his face.
"Quynh simply refused to have anything to do with me because I had broken her trust," Joe said. "It took me ages to repair our relationship."
Booker and Joe looked at each other.
"And yes, I know in a way we're in the same situation," Joe said. "It has taken me ages to realize that."
It was the last time they spoke together before they reached Germany.