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He couldn't find Carter anywhere. Usually that wouldn't worry Peter too much, since the North Dakotan was a lot sturdier than they usually gave him credit for. But it didn't sit in his gut right.
Peter had been in Stalag 13 for most of the war (a statement getting more and more depressing with each passing year), and he could now say that almost half of that time had also contained Carter. He'd known Carter a considerable time, and the way he'd disappeared didn't feel Carter-esc.
It felt like Hochstetter.
So, instead of just waiting for Carter to appear while Colonel Hogan did the dirty work they'd come to the Gestapo base to do, Peter formed a plan. Kinch was on the radio back at 13, so he was Peter's first contact.
"Kinch," Peter whispered, hiding in one of the shadowy areas of the already dark night. "Are you there?"
'I'm here, Newkirk. What's wrong?'
"Carter's gone. LeBeau and Carter were supposed to be plantin' bombs on each side of the base. I see LeBeau every so often, but never Carter."
'What's your plan?'
"Well, the Colonel's in there distracting the Gestapo Officers, so I'm hopin' to look for Carter before he finishes. LeBeau should be done in a couple minutes."
'You need me to tell the Colonel in case he suddenly wonders where you went?'
"Kinch, you catch on bloody fast," Peter said, then turned off the microphone on his radio.
Now for the hard part: where the hell would he be? Carter was a bit of a dolt sometimes, but he almost never did something stupid on a mission. Which left, of course, the most worrying option Peter had.
Carter was probably being held somewhere.
Peter started by circling the building. He didn't find anything, so he moved to go inside. That was when he bumped into LeBeau.
"Mon Dieu!" LeBeau whispered when Peter accidentally bumped into him and almost knocked him off his feet. "What are you trying to do, Pierre, kill me?"
"Sorry, LeBeau. I'm looking for Carter."
"Oh, you have not seen André either? I am beginning to worry," LeBeau said, looking past Peter to the door of the Gestapo base.
Peter nodded. "My next stop is looking for him inside. I'm hoping the Colonel can stall them long enough for us to find him."
"Does the Colonel know you are looking for Carter?"
"No, but if he radios, Kinch will tell him. You coming with me?"
"Of course," LeBeau said, following Peter into the base.
They were doing fine until they passed a Gestapo Officer who didn't let them escape his notice. "Halt," the officer said. "Ein moment, bitte."
LeBeau and Peter looked at each other, sharing a glance before running off in another direction. It worked well until the slammed right into someone.
Peter was very grateful to look up and realize he'd just bodyslammed Colonel Hogan's abdomen. The Colonel said something in German to the officer, and then grabbed both of them by their collars and dragged them into a room.
"Are you two insane?" he hissed.
Peter jerked himself away from the Colonel. "I can't find Carter. I think they nabbed 'im."
The Colonel's demeanor changed instantly. "Where did you last see him?"
"That's the thing, Guv. We haven't seen him since we split up," Peter said nervously.
Colonel Hogan cursed under his breath - an interesting combination of German, French, Cockney, and American swears that'd he'd picked up in the last few years. "Louis, you go back outside and look. Peter, you look on the East side. I'll look on the West. If we don't find him there, you'll look North and I'll look South. Got it?"
"Yessir," Peter said, and then practically sprinted to the right.
-------
Peter was going to search room by room when he heard a low whimper. It made the hairs on his neck stand up, because he knew that voice. "Andrew," he whispered, inching towards the door and opening it slowly in case any Germans were in the room with Carter.
When he stepped inside the room he wished there were Germans, if only so he could beat them to a bloody pulp. Carter's arms were tied above his head to a metal pole that hung from the ceiling. His body was limp, and it took Peter a good minute to be able to see the rise and fall of Carter's chest.
He'd only been missing an hour - at most - but the Gestapo had been using their time. There were red gashes on Carter's body, and upon closer inspection the only thing he was wearing was his uniform trousers.
His shirt and jacket had been thrown to the floor, which Peter quickly realized was so they could flog him. Every time Carter moved, even a millimeter, he whimpered in pain.
"Carter, it's me," Peter said. "Andrew, it's-"
His voice broke. Carter, his pyromaniac best friend who was just a kid and didn't belong in a hell like this, was hanging from the ceiling, whimpering in pain. Peter untied the ropes binding Carter to the metal pole with shaking hands, both from rage and from fear.
"Newkirk?" Carter said softly, as though he was in a daze. Peter held Andrew, slowly lowering him to the floor and searching in the darkness for Andrew's shirt.
"Here," Peter said. "If it doesn't hurt too much to put on, this is your shirt."
Carter tried to pull it over his head, but he winced and began shaking as the shirt caught on his open wounds. "It hurts," he murmured.
"It's okay. Are you alright?"
Instead of speaking, Carter just began to cry. Peter wasn't good with crying.
Sure, he had lots of siblings. He used to rock them to sleep when they were babies, and he used to stroke Mavis's back as she ranted to him about the people at her school. But they were his relatives. He didn't know what boundaries Carter had.
Besides, he was so freaked out already it was all Peter could do to gently pat Carter's back, avoiding the raw places. There was the creak of a door being opened, and Peter turned quickly to look at the newcomer, relaxing when it was just the Colonel.
"He needs help," Peter said with fear coating his voice.
-------
Robert heard whimpering, so he opened the door and peered inside. He was met at first with Peter's RAF uniform, which he quickly saw was concealing a shirtless Andrew with more wounds on his body than Robert even wanted to count.
The door creaked, and Peter whipped around. There was hellfire in his eyes, an unbridled rage that would strike any Gestapo Officer that made the fatal mistake of walking in front of him. The rage flooded out of Peter's eyes instantly when he recognized it was Robert.
"He needs help," Peter said fearfully.
"He'll get it, don't worry. LeBeau's waiting outside, and I'll radio Kinch. Can Carter walk?"
There was a groaned - and slightly muffled - 'please, no', so Peter said, "I'll carry him."
Touched by Newkirk's loyalty to his friend, Robert turned on his radio. "Kinch, this is Colonel Hogan. Send Wilson and Foster to pick up Carter, please."
'Roger, Colonel. Hang in there, Andrew.'
Andrew acknowledged this with a faint laugh, followed by a sharp intake of breath. Hogan took a ragged breath, already dreaming up how he'd explain this off to Klink.
-------
As it turned out, he didn't have to. Klink took one look at Carter and said in a whisper, "I don't care how he got those wounds, even though I know it was probably something they'd hang me for if they found out you were allowed to do."
Occasionally Robert found it in himself to respect the man, and this was one of those times. "Thank you, Colonel. But why the sudden care?"
Klink smiled. "I want the 'good guys' to win, Hogan. You certainly seem better than the Luftwaffe."
Robert was a bit surprised by Klink's sudden confession, but in a way it made sense. There was no way someone could be as stupid as Klink only on certain subjects without acting that way.
"You're a respectable man sometimes, you know that?"
A mischievous grin touched Klink's face. "I know, Hogan. That's what makes me so hatable."