Work Text:
LeBeau was doing his usual grumbling as he prepared yet another meal for one of Klink’s big-brass guests. Newkirk and Carter, acting as the servitors for the night, were both savvy enough to give him a wide berth aside from the usual compliments as to the quality of the food.
“Wouldn’t go in there if I was you, Schultzie,” Newkirk warned, as the big sergeant headed to keep an eye on the Frenchman. “LeBeau’s in a right state—don’t think he’d appreciate someone looking over his shoulder.”
“And I do not appreciate being told what to do by a prisoner I am guarding!” Schultz snapped back.
Newkirk froze, taken aback, and he wasn’t the only one—Carter and Hogan, who had been at the table with Klink and his guest, also stared. Even Klink glanced over his shoulder, baffled.
Schultz quickly caught himself, and looked mortified.
“I am sorry, Newkirk—I didn’t mean it.”
He ducked into the kitchen, only to find LeBeau looking at him in confusion as well, having heard him through the door.
“Don’t let it worry you,” Schultz said, trying to laugh it off. “I just have a little… personal problem.”
“Whenever my mother says that, she is on the verge of flying into a rage,” LeBeau noted. “And the problem is very rarely ‘little.’”
“She would know,” Schultz sighed. “Do you have a sister, LeBeau?”
“Three of them,” LeBeau sighed. “My brother and I were always outnumbered.”
“For Gretchen and myself, it is the other way around—three boys and two… two girls,” Schultz stammered.
LeBeau blinked.
“…Has something happened to one of your daughters?”
He saw numerous emotions flash in the sergeant’s eyes; the look that finalized was despair as Schultz sunk into the chair.
“It is… not as bad as it could be,” he admitted. “In fact, I suppose I should be happy. My youngest, Lisel… she is getting married.”
LeBeau’s first instinct would have been to congratulate the father of the bride—but it was clear that Schultz was not happy about this arrangement.
“You do not seem pleased.”
Schultz was trying to compose himself, but it was clearly a struggle.
“She is eloping,” he said, and LeBeau gave a low whistle. “I do not even know the man she is marrying—some fellow named Gunther. I only just found out about his existence in her letter I received this morning. They are running off to Switzerland and onward from there—I don’t know where they will end up, or whether it will safe for them, or if the route will be safe…!” He shut his eyes. “She is my youngest child, and I do not know if I will ever see her again because I am stuck here, looking after all of you! Commandant Klink did not give me the three-day pass I asked for because of the visiting general, and I have not been able to reach home by phone!”
Newkirk now stuck his head through the doorway as LeBeau sighed.
“Je suis désolé, Schultz.”
“Blimey, I don’t blame you for being upset, Schultzie.”
Schultz gave a grateful nod.
“What am I to do?” he asked, despairingly.
LeBeau glanced at Newkirk, who could only give a helpless shrug. True, their specialty was solving the problems of war—but this was far unlike the problems they were used to facing.
“I don’t know,” Newkirk said, shaking his head. “If it was my sister, I’d just keep trying to reach ‘er and hope I would see ‘er again.”
“Oui—moi aussi. And ask for that three-day pass again after explaining to Klink the whole story.”
Schultz gave a resigned nod.
“Ja. I will try that.”
There was an awkward silence.
“Right-o, is the next course ready?” Newkirk asked.
“In just another minute,” LeBeau assured him. He glanced at Schultz again. “I don’t suppose it will help at all if I save some of the dessert for you?”
“Nein,” Schultz sighed. “…But it couldn’t hurt.”
LeBeau gave him a wan smile and nodded.
And perhaps, he hoped, Schultz would get to see his daughter one more time before she eloped.