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impala_chickTitle: Bright Red Petals
Fandom: Masters of the Air
Characters/Pairings: Gale Cleven/John Egan
Rating: Teen
Word Count: 3,836
Warnings: Mentions of the SS doing truth serum experiments.
A/N: Written for the Hanahaki for Hanami event on tumblr.
Summary: After the SS question him, Buck gets a mysterious cough that he won't talk about. John is determined to save Buck, even if he doesn't want to be saved.
Fic on AO3
After a bunch of the Brits make a run for it, the SS show up at the Stalag. They’d been used as a threat for so long that John isn’t really surprised. The three SS officers march through the gates with matching blank expressions on their faces. John’s gut is churning from the dread that’s settled there, but he keeps his head up and stands tall when they pass him.
He glances over to his right, and Buck looks unflappable. He might have lost a few pounds since Thorpe Abbotts, but his steely gaze hasn’t changed at all. John knows Buck has always led by example, and so John vows to do the same. He just needs to keep the rest of the guys calm, and make sure they all act as inconspicuous as possible. With any luck, the SS won’t stay for long.
He taps Crank and Hambone on the shoulder, and tilts his head towards their hut. They take the hint and slowly make their way up the steps with Murph in tow. He nods at Jefferson, who quietly walks over to round up his friends. Glenn and DeMarco are close behind. John makes eye contact with Buck, who gives a barely perceptible nod. John is confident that for once in this hellish place, they are on the same page.
He follows up the steps behind him, and they quietly shut their door.
---
The next morning, John goes through his normal routine of waiting to use the sink, and then waiting in the chow line, but the hairs on the back of his neck keep standing up. He doesn’t get a chance to bring it up to Buck, but John can’t shake the feeling that they’re being watched.
He’s proved right when he and Buck are walking back from chow. A Nazi officer comes right towards them. He doesn’t recognize him, which means he’s not one of the SS officers that came in the day before, but looks like he’s on a mission. John tries very hard not to panic.
“Stop,” the German officer says in English. “Major Cleven?”
John’s heart drops out of his chest. He puts out his arm and steps in front of Buck.
“Who is asking?” John hopes he sounds menacing.
“Bucky,” Buck says under his breath before he steps around John and looks the guard in the eye.
“That’s me.”
“Where are you taking him?” John demands, his hands balled into fists at his sides. This can’t be happening.
The officer eyes John and squares his shoulders like he’s ready for a fight.
“This will only take a few minutes,” the officer says calmly.
Buck is already walking towards him, and John's feels like he’s going to burst right out of his skin. He’s got to do something, before the SS get their dirty hands on Buck. The air is thick with tension, and John can see people coming towards him out of the corner of his eye.
“Don’t go with them,” John pleads to Buck, his voice dangerously low.
Buck pauses and looks back at him.
“Don’t do anything stupid.”
His tone is gentle but firm, and John wants to scream. He’s got no control over anything anymore, and he feels like being restrained and cautious has gotten him exactly nowhere. He starts forward without a real plan in mind, and two guards rush him. He doesn’t even scream when his head connects with the ground.
“He hasn’t done anything!” He hears Buck yell. He sounds far away.
Someone is on top of him, holding him down. John struggles but it’s no use. Buck is already leaving. Maybe if he was stronger, or smarter, or a better pilot, they would have taken him instead of Buck. Buck was always the best of them all, and clearly the SS could tell.
The fight drains out of him as he lies there in the mud. He has no idea how long he’s down, but eventually Crank helps him up. John can’t hear anything he’s saying to him, though. There’s a ringing in his ears that drowns out all other sounds.
---
John hasn’t been able to eat or sleep since they took Buck. He’s just been laying on his back in Buck’s bunk, staring up at the ceiling. He’s desperately trying not to think about what could be happening to Buck at this very moment.
He knows his still form freaks out the other guys, because they keep coming in and asking if he’s alright. But John doesn’t know what to say to make any of this alright. He knows that if he opens his mouth, the anger will pour out. Mostly he’s angry at himself; he feels like a coward. He should have come up with a better plan at the time, but it’s entirely too late now. All he can do is wait and hope Buck isn’t getting tortured.
He’s giving them until the sun goes down, and then he’s storming in. He’s going to pull Buck out or he’s going to get shot trying. He doesn’t see any other option.
He’s chewing on this half-baked vow when Buck comes back to him. The door creaks open, and John turns his head. When Buck meets his gaze, he scrambles out of the bunk. He stumbles in his haste, and falls to his knees at Buck’s feet.
“What did they do to you?” John asks.
Buck reaches down to take John’s hand and pull him to his feet.
“I just gave them my rank and serial number. That’s it.”
His eyes look heavy, like he needs to sleep.
John grabs Buck’s chin with his free hand and turns his head side to side, squinting at him.
“But they didn’t put their hands on you?”
“No, Bucky. I’m fine.” Buck pulls his face away from Bucky’s grasp. “Quit looking at me like that.”
John wants to believe him. So he does.
He pulls him into a hug and wraps his arms around Buck’s shoulders. He presses his nose into Buck’s collar and breathes him in.
“Okay,” he whispers.
Buck only gives him a moment before he pushes him away. Buck is always the one to draw the line when it comes to physical affection, but John will take what he is allowed.
---
John keeps side-eying Buck in order to keep from getting caught staring. But the next day, it sure seems like Buck is moving slower than he usually does. His skin seems a little paler than usual, too. His eyes have a sunken quality that John hadn’t noticed before. He makes it to the library to teach the math class he started up, but he doesn’t drone on about his lesson plan before, like he usually does.
It’s reasonable for Buck to feel tired after being interrogated. Surely that’s all that’s going on.
---
That night, Buck coughs so loud that he wakes up the whole bunk.
John gets up immediately. He hadn’t been sleeping anyway. He doesn’t want to turn on the lights, because that would bring the guards down on them. He scrounges around in the dark for the pitcher of water on the table, and carefully pours Gale a cup.
John can barely see his face in the pale light of the moon coming in through the window, but he can hear the way he’s struggling to breath. Buck takes the cup as he swings his legs down from the bunk, and holds it to his lips, but he still can’t seem to catch his breath.
Buck makes for the door with his face in the crook of his elbow, still coughing. John tries to put a hand on his shoulder, but he shrugs him off.
“You can’t go outside,” John hisses.
“I know,” Buck sputters. He pushes open the door anyway, just a crack, and then sticks his head outside.
John stands there tensely, waiting. If Buck so much as takes a step outside, John is ready to grab his arm. But Buck doesn’t move. When his coughing finally stops, John breathes a sigh of relief.
Buck quietly pulls the door closed, and then turns towards John with an apologetic look on his face.
“You okay?” John asks as he takes the cup back from him.
“The cold air helped,” he whispers as he steps past John to climb into his bunk.
John hesitates for a moment, unsure of what else to say or do. That didn't seem like an ordinary cough. As he gets back into his own bunk, he rolls onto his stomach so that he can reach through the wooden slats that divide their beds. With Buck right across from him, it’s easy to stick his hand through and squeeze Buck’s shoulder reassuringly.
“Please tell me you’ll go to sick quarters tomorrow,” John whispers.
He hears Buck sigh. “Fine.”
John doesn’t dare touch Buck any more than he already has. He can’t be sure what Buck’s reaction will be, and besides, the other guys might be able to see. So pulls his hand out of the slats and lays down on his back. His hands are still warm where he’d touched Buck.
John struggles to keep himself awake, wanting to keep watch in case Buck’s condition gets worse. He does eventually pass out, but as far as he knows, Buck doesn’t cough like that again for the rest of the night.
---
After that night, John gets the sense that Buck is avoiding him. Buck dashes off to the sinks to wash up before John is even awake. And he waits in the chow line with DeMarco and Hambone, and doesn’t even call out to him or invite John to cut the line when he walks by them. John ignores him right back, even though it's petty as hell. It’s the most awkward he’s ever felt around Buck, and that includes the times he’s seen him shirtless.
John can’t let that awkwardness stand, though. If Buck is mad at him about trying to help him out, then John wants to tell him he’s being ridiculous right to his face. Someone should be able to take care of Buck, after the way he's been like a mother hen towards everyone else. John’s as good as anyone for the job. And it’s not like John doesn’t know how to respect boundaries. He’s been respecting Buck’s boundaries for years.
When John finally finds him later on, he’s leaning against the side of one of the huts talking to Crank. John slows down his walk, not exactly keen on interrupting them. He would never berate Buck in front of the other guys, so he figures he’ll wait until Crank leaves.
Before John gets to them, Buck starts coughing. It’s a loud, hacking sound that is even worse than the night he’d woken them all up. Buck leans over to put his hands on his knees.
John jogs up to him and tries to take his elbow, but Buck waves him off.
“I’m alright,” he gasps. And then he starts coughing again, and it sounds like there’s something stuck in his throat. John grits his teeth and his fingers are twitching, aching to reach out and gather Buck into his arms and hold him close.
“Let me help,” he says, but Crank already has an arm around Buck’s back and is ushering him around the back of the hut. John feels stupid trailing after them, but he doesn’t know what else to do.
Buck stops walking and looks over his shoulder.
“Water?” He manages to sputter in between coughs.
“On it,” John says as he turns on his heel and sprints over to their hut.
By the time he gets back, Buck is standing on his own and looking mostly normal. He takes the water with a smile, and when their hands brush on the small metal cup, Buck bites his lip.
“It’s time for my class,” Buck says as he hands John the cup back with a nod of thanks.
And then he’s off again before John can even get a word in edgewise. John runs a hand through his hair in frustration. Buck is definitely avoiding him. As John scuffs his boot in the dirt by the hut and tries to tamp down his annoyance, something bright red catches his eye.
He walks over and squats down. There’s a single delicate-looking flower petal on the ground, near where Buck had been standing. He picks it up. It’s soft and a little wet, and the top of it is round like a tulip.
He gets a sinking feeling in his stomach. He’s pretty sure the guards aren’t just handing out flowers, and there aren’t any red tulips available at the Stalag store. The flower petal is out of place, and it can’t be a coincidence that it was near Buck.
He quickly stands back up and shoves the red petal into his pocket.
---
He doesn’t want to cause a scene, so he walks into Buck’s class and sits in the very back. He crosses his arms, and his knee won’t stop bouncing as he waits impatiently for Buck to finish.
Once the class is over, Buck starts stacking his books and his notepad but at least he doesn’t rush out the door. John gets up to stand near him, but he doesn’t speak until the room is empty.
“What is this?” John asks as he pulls the petal out of his pocket. It had gotten a little smushed, but it’s still obvious that it’s a petal from a flower.
Buck’s eyes widen a brief moment before he schools his facial expression, but that look is telling enough.
“I don’t know. You got a secret admirer?” Buck goes for the joke, but it falls flat when John doesn’t laugh.
“Does this have something to do with your cough?”
Buck narrows his eyes at John but doesn’t say anything.
“Did you at least go to sick quarters?” John presses, his voice going a little high-pitched at the end.
Buck blows out a breath and looks at the ground. “It’s not contagious, okay. Don’t worry about it.”
Now he knows that Buck’s sunken-eyed expression and pale skin and terrible cough must be symptoms of something else. John’s anger claws its way up his throat, stoked by his fear for Buck’s health. His words burst out of him, loud and accusatory.
“I can’t help you if you won’t talk to me.”
“You can’t help me,” Buck says softly, his eyes pleading. “Not with this.”
And then he walks out, and John storms out the opposite door, on a mission. He’ll have to get answers some other way.
---
He corners Crank behind their hut.
“What’s wrong?” Crank asks.
“You tell me,” John says. And then he opens his palm to reveal the crushed red petal. When he holds it up, he sees the way Crank bites his lip and crosses his arms.
He starts to open his mouth, but John cuts him off.
“Don’t play stupid with me,” John says, angry.
Crank throws up his hands.
“Buck won’t tell me either. They’ve just been… coming out of him.”
“When he coughs?”
“Yeah,” Crank nods. He looks worried, and John immediately dials back his attitude. He never wanted to be the kind of guy who took out his anger on his crew. And John’s sure that Crank must have had a helluva time keeping this to himself.
“He’ll be okay,” John says with conviction. “I’ll figure this out.”
“Good.” Crank pats John on the shoulder. “But maybe you should check Buck’s bunk?”
John heads to their hut with his heart in his throat. Once he gets there, he grabs at the corner of Buck’s scratchy blue blanket. As he peels it back with one hand, bright red flower petals flutter to the floor.
To his horror, more petals are revealed as he pulls the blanket all the way off. Smashed against the white fabric of the sheet underneath, they look like some kind of sick joke. Like a romantic rendezvous gone wrong.
Clearly this is where Buck had been hiding them after he’d coughed them up.
He lets the crushed petal he’d been carrying around drop from his hand. For a moment John thinks he’s going to be sick. He pinches his nose and forces the bile down. There’s no time for that. He scoops up two handful of petals off of Buck’s bed, and bolts for sick quarters.
Just as he’d hoped, Henry is there cleaning up his aid station. The American medic was the one who fixed up John when he’d first arrived at the Stalag. He’s always straightforward with bad news, instead of wasting time on niceties. John appreciates that about him.
John opens up his palms in front of Henry. He’d been carrying so many petals that a bunch of them rain down onto the wooden floor.
“Do you know what these are?”
Henry crosses his arms and looks steadily at John through his round-framed glasses. He doesn’t look surprised in the least.
“The S.S. have been known to experiment,” he starts to explain.
John feels his knees buckling as pressure builds up behind his eyes. The SS did something to Buck. This is happening to Buck because John didn’t stop them. Those fuckers. His chest tightens up on him, and can’t get past the word experiment. He doesn’t even hear whatever else Henry is saying because he’s finding it very hard to breathe all of a sudden.
“Hey. Hey!” Henry shouts at him. He grabs him by the arm and pushes him down into a chair. As he does so, John drops the rest of the petals that he’d been holding and they seem to flutter around him. John can’t look away from them.
Henry procures a cup of water and shoves it into John’s empty hand. He tips John’s elbow up, and John obediently brings the cup to his lips. The act of swallowing the water forces him back to himself.
“I’m fine,” he mumbles, embarrassed.
Henry squats down so that he’s eye level with him. He squints his eyes and studies John’s face.
“I will tell you what I know, but I don’t need you passing out on me.”
John nods, and takes another sip of water. He keeps his eyes on Henry as he stands up, pointedly ignoring all of the red petals that now litter the ground.
“It’s happening to a few of the guys that got questioned by the SS. Best I can tell, it’s supposed to be some kind of truth serum. Something grows in your lungs until you answer their questions. The trouble is, whatever is growing takes too long and it’s not working the way they want it to.”
John crosses his arms over his stomach, trying to stop his gut from rolling.
“Is there a cure?”
Henry pushes his glasses farther up his nose.
“I don’t know for sure. But the guys that spill their deep dark secrets feel better afterwards, and they stop coughing up petals.”
Hope blooms in John’s chest.
“So you’re telling me Buck just needs to open up and he’ll be fine?”
Henry cocks his head and looks down at John with an eyebrow raised, clearly taken aback.
“Wait, these petals didn’t come out of you?”
John gets up from the chair and hands Henry his cup back. He doesn’t bother answering. He’s gotta get to Buck before things get worse.
He scoops up a petal from the ground as he leaves.
---
John storms through the camp until he finds Buck. He’s sitting on the front step of their hut, alone. He pulls Buck up by the collar and practically drags him through the doorway and into the hallway, to afford them both some privacy.
Buck pulls away from John’s grasp and glares at him.
“What’s this all about?” Buck says as he crosses his arms.
“You’re being so fuckin’ stubborn,” John spits out.
He watches Buck’s eyes widen in surprise. His face looks gaunt and his skin looks deathly pale. He’s obviously getting sicker.
John reaches into his pocket and pulls out a slightly crushed up red petal. Buck shakes his head and turns away from him.
“Some things are better left alone,” Buck says to the wall.
John’s so angry that his body is shaking.
He bites out, “This thing is going to destroy you, Buck.”
“Maybe I don’t care.” Buck is quick to respond.
“Fuck you.” John’s words are sharp, meant to sting. He steps closer and grabs Buck’s shoulder to turn him around. “You should care, because if this thing takes you, it will destroy me too.”
Buck sways for a moment, like his legs are about to give out. John instinctually reaches out with both hands to steady him. Then Buck starts to cough and he slumps down to the ground. John follows him down until his knees hit the wooden floor. Buck’s whole body convulses, and John holds onto him as he coughs right onto John’s chest.
“Please Buck,” John begs, his voice gentler. “It’ll be alright. Whatever you need to say.”
He’s running his hand over Buck’s cheek, through his hair, down his arm. He’s completely violating their unwritten rule, and getting way too close, but consequences be damned. He’s trying to be soothing.
Buck is finally able to catch his breath, and when John looks down, his own jacket is covered in red petals.
“I love you,” Buck gasps.
“What?” John doesn’t think he heard him right.
Buck looks up, his eyes determined. “I’m in love with you.”
John’s entire body feels lighter all of a sudden, like a huge weight has been lifted from his shoulders. And he hasn’t even said anything yet.
“Jesus, Gale. That’s your secret?”
He can’t help the hysterical laugh that bubbles out of him. They’d both been stupid to shy away from what had already taken root between them.
“How is this funny?” Buck is smiling, even though he looks thoroughly confused.
“Well, because that’s my secret too.”
And then John takes Buck’s face in his hands, and kisses him exactly the way he’d wanted to for longer than he’d care to admit. Buck’s lips are warm and soft against his. A lovely floral scent permeates the air around them, and Buck’s mouth tastes as sweet as honey.
“You should have led with that,” Buck says when he pulls back slightly. There’s an amused twinkle in his eye that John hasn’t seen there in weeks.
John dusts petals off of his chest and then rubs his thumb over Buck’s bottom lip.
“Next time you want flowers, I’ll buy them for you the old-fashioned way.”
Buck rolls his eyes, but then he dissolves into laughter. His smile is dazzling, and brighter than the sun. A lovely glow comes back to his cheeks right before John's eyes. Buck looks healthy being in love. It's so obvious that John can't believe he didn't notice before. It would have saved them both a lot of trouble.
Fandom: Masters of the Air
Characters/Pairings: Gale Cleven/John Egan
Rating: Teen
Word Count: 3,836
Warnings: Mentions of the SS doing truth serum experiments.
A/N: Written for the Hanahaki for Hanami event on tumblr.
Summary: After the SS question him, Buck gets a mysterious cough that he won't talk about. John is determined to save Buck, even if he doesn't want to be saved.
Fic on AO3
After a bunch of the Brits make a run for it, the SS show up at the Stalag. They’d been used as a threat for so long that John isn’t really surprised. The three SS officers march through the gates with matching blank expressions on their faces. John’s gut is churning from the dread that’s settled there, but he keeps his head up and stands tall when they pass him.
He glances over to his right, and Buck looks unflappable. He might have lost a few pounds since Thorpe Abbotts, but his steely gaze hasn’t changed at all. John knows Buck has always led by example, and so John vows to do the same. He just needs to keep the rest of the guys calm, and make sure they all act as inconspicuous as possible. With any luck, the SS won’t stay for long.
He taps Crank and Hambone on the shoulder, and tilts his head towards their hut. They take the hint and slowly make their way up the steps with Murph in tow. He nods at Jefferson, who quietly walks over to round up his friends. Glenn and DeMarco are close behind. John makes eye contact with Buck, who gives a barely perceptible nod. John is confident that for once in this hellish place, they are on the same page.
He follows up the steps behind him, and they quietly shut their door.
The next morning, John goes through his normal routine of waiting to use the sink, and then waiting in the chow line, but the hairs on the back of his neck keep standing up. He doesn’t get a chance to bring it up to Buck, but John can’t shake the feeling that they’re being watched.
He’s proved right when he and Buck are walking back from chow. A Nazi officer comes right towards them. He doesn’t recognize him, which means he’s not one of the SS officers that came in the day before, but looks like he’s on a mission. John tries very hard not to panic.
“Stop,” the German officer says in English. “Major Cleven?”
John’s heart drops out of his chest. He puts out his arm and steps in front of Buck.
“Who is asking?” John hopes he sounds menacing.
“Bucky,” Buck says under his breath before he steps around John and looks the guard in the eye.
“That’s me.”
“Where are you taking him?” John demands, his hands balled into fists at his sides. This can’t be happening.
The officer eyes John and squares his shoulders like he’s ready for a fight.
“This will only take a few minutes,” the officer says calmly.
Buck is already walking towards him, and John's feels like he’s going to burst right out of his skin. He’s got to do something, before the SS get their dirty hands on Buck. The air is thick with tension, and John can see people coming towards him out of the corner of his eye.
“Don’t go with them,” John pleads to Buck, his voice dangerously low.
Buck pauses and looks back at him.
“Don’t do anything stupid.”
His tone is gentle but firm, and John wants to scream. He’s got no control over anything anymore, and he feels like being restrained and cautious has gotten him exactly nowhere. He starts forward without a real plan in mind, and two guards rush him. He doesn’t even scream when his head connects with the ground.
“He hasn’t done anything!” He hears Buck yell. He sounds far away.
Someone is on top of him, holding him down. John struggles but it’s no use. Buck is already leaving. Maybe if he was stronger, or smarter, or a better pilot, they would have taken him instead of Buck. Buck was always the best of them all, and clearly the SS could tell.
The fight drains out of him as he lies there in the mud. He has no idea how long he’s down, but eventually Crank helps him up. John can’t hear anything he’s saying to him, though. There’s a ringing in his ears that drowns out all other sounds.
John hasn’t been able to eat or sleep since they took Buck. He’s just been laying on his back in Buck’s bunk, staring up at the ceiling. He’s desperately trying not to think about what could be happening to Buck at this very moment.
He knows his still form freaks out the other guys, because they keep coming in and asking if he’s alright. But John doesn’t know what to say to make any of this alright. He knows that if he opens his mouth, the anger will pour out. Mostly he’s angry at himself; he feels like a coward. He should have come up with a better plan at the time, but it’s entirely too late now. All he can do is wait and hope Buck isn’t getting tortured.
He’s giving them until the sun goes down, and then he’s storming in. He’s going to pull Buck out or he’s going to get shot trying. He doesn’t see any other option.
He’s chewing on this half-baked vow when Buck comes back to him. The door creaks open, and John turns his head. When Buck meets his gaze, he scrambles out of the bunk. He stumbles in his haste, and falls to his knees at Buck’s feet.
“What did they do to you?” John asks.
Buck reaches down to take John’s hand and pull him to his feet.
“I just gave them my rank and serial number. That’s it.”
His eyes look heavy, like he needs to sleep.
John grabs Buck’s chin with his free hand and turns his head side to side, squinting at him.
“But they didn’t put their hands on you?”
“No, Bucky. I’m fine.” Buck pulls his face away from Bucky’s grasp. “Quit looking at me like that.”
John wants to believe him. So he does.
He pulls him into a hug and wraps his arms around Buck’s shoulders. He presses his nose into Buck’s collar and breathes him in.
“Okay,” he whispers.
Buck only gives him a moment before he pushes him away. Buck is always the one to draw the line when it comes to physical affection, but John will take what he is allowed.
John keeps side-eying Buck in order to keep from getting caught staring. But the next day, it sure seems like Buck is moving slower than he usually does. His skin seems a little paler than usual, too. His eyes have a sunken quality that John hadn’t noticed before. He makes it to the library to teach the math class he started up, but he doesn’t drone on about his lesson plan before, like he usually does.
It’s reasonable for Buck to feel tired after being interrogated. Surely that’s all that’s going on.
That night, Buck coughs so loud that he wakes up the whole bunk.
John gets up immediately. He hadn’t been sleeping anyway. He doesn’t want to turn on the lights, because that would bring the guards down on them. He scrounges around in the dark for the pitcher of water on the table, and carefully pours Gale a cup.
John can barely see his face in the pale light of the moon coming in through the window, but he can hear the way he’s struggling to breath. Buck takes the cup as he swings his legs down from the bunk, and holds it to his lips, but he still can’t seem to catch his breath.
Buck makes for the door with his face in the crook of his elbow, still coughing. John tries to put a hand on his shoulder, but he shrugs him off.
“You can’t go outside,” John hisses.
“I know,” Buck sputters. He pushes open the door anyway, just a crack, and then sticks his head outside.
John stands there tensely, waiting. If Buck so much as takes a step outside, John is ready to grab his arm. But Buck doesn’t move. When his coughing finally stops, John breathes a sigh of relief.
Buck quietly pulls the door closed, and then turns towards John with an apologetic look on his face.
“You okay?” John asks as he takes the cup back from him.
“The cold air helped,” he whispers as he steps past John to climb into his bunk.
John hesitates for a moment, unsure of what else to say or do. That didn't seem like an ordinary cough. As he gets back into his own bunk, he rolls onto his stomach so that he can reach through the wooden slats that divide their beds. With Buck right across from him, it’s easy to stick his hand through and squeeze Buck’s shoulder reassuringly.
“Please tell me you’ll go to sick quarters tomorrow,” John whispers.
He hears Buck sigh. “Fine.”
John doesn’t dare touch Buck any more than he already has. He can’t be sure what Buck’s reaction will be, and besides, the other guys might be able to see. So pulls his hand out of the slats and lays down on his back. His hands are still warm where he’d touched Buck.
John struggles to keep himself awake, wanting to keep watch in case Buck’s condition gets worse. He does eventually pass out, but as far as he knows, Buck doesn’t cough like that again for the rest of the night.
After that night, John gets the sense that Buck is avoiding him. Buck dashes off to the sinks to wash up before John is even awake. And he waits in the chow line with DeMarco and Hambone, and doesn’t even call out to him or invite John to cut the line when he walks by them. John ignores him right back, even though it's petty as hell. It’s the most awkward he’s ever felt around Buck, and that includes the times he’s seen him shirtless.
John can’t let that awkwardness stand, though. If Buck is mad at him about trying to help him out, then John wants to tell him he’s being ridiculous right to his face. Someone should be able to take care of Buck, after the way he's been like a mother hen towards everyone else. John’s as good as anyone for the job. And it’s not like John doesn’t know how to respect boundaries. He’s been respecting Buck’s boundaries for years.
When John finally finds him later on, he’s leaning against the side of one of the huts talking to Crank. John slows down his walk, not exactly keen on interrupting them. He would never berate Buck in front of the other guys, so he figures he’ll wait until Crank leaves.
Before John gets to them, Buck starts coughing. It’s a loud, hacking sound that is even worse than the night he’d woken them all up. Buck leans over to put his hands on his knees.
John jogs up to him and tries to take his elbow, but Buck waves him off.
“I’m alright,” he gasps. And then he starts coughing again, and it sounds like there’s something stuck in his throat. John grits his teeth and his fingers are twitching, aching to reach out and gather Buck into his arms and hold him close.
“Let me help,” he says, but Crank already has an arm around Buck’s back and is ushering him around the back of the hut. John feels stupid trailing after them, but he doesn’t know what else to do.
Buck stops walking and looks over his shoulder.
“Water?” He manages to sputter in between coughs.
“On it,” John says as he turns on his heel and sprints over to their hut.
By the time he gets back, Buck is standing on his own and looking mostly normal. He takes the water with a smile, and when their hands brush on the small metal cup, Buck bites his lip.
“It’s time for my class,” Buck says as he hands John the cup back with a nod of thanks.
And then he’s off again before John can even get a word in edgewise. John runs a hand through his hair in frustration. Buck is definitely avoiding him. As John scuffs his boot in the dirt by the hut and tries to tamp down his annoyance, something bright red catches his eye.
He walks over and squats down. There’s a single delicate-looking flower petal on the ground, near where Buck had been standing. He picks it up. It’s soft and a little wet, and the top of it is round like a tulip.
He gets a sinking feeling in his stomach. He’s pretty sure the guards aren’t just handing out flowers, and there aren’t any red tulips available at the Stalag store. The flower petal is out of place, and it can’t be a coincidence that it was near Buck.
He quickly stands back up and shoves the red petal into his pocket.
He doesn’t want to cause a scene, so he walks into Buck’s class and sits in the very back. He crosses his arms, and his knee won’t stop bouncing as he waits impatiently for Buck to finish.
Once the class is over, Buck starts stacking his books and his notepad but at least he doesn’t rush out the door. John gets up to stand near him, but he doesn’t speak until the room is empty.
“What is this?” John asks as he pulls the petal out of his pocket. It had gotten a little smushed, but it’s still obvious that it’s a petal from a flower.
Buck’s eyes widen a brief moment before he schools his facial expression, but that look is telling enough.
“I don’t know. You got a secret admirer?” Buck goes for the joke, but it falls flat when John doesn’t laugh.
“Does this have something to do with your cough?”
Buck narrows his eyes at John but doesn’t say anything.
“Did you at least go to sick quarters?” John presses, his voice going a little high-pitched at the end.
Buck blows out a breath and looks at the ground. “It’s not contagious, okay. Don’t worry about it.”
Now he knows that Buck’s sunken-eyed expression and pale skin and terrible cough must be symptoms of something else. John’s anger claws its way up his throat, stoked by his fear for Buck’s health. His words burst out of him, loud and accusatory.
“I can’t help you if you won’t talk to me.”
“You can’t help me,” Buck says softly, his eyes pleading. “Not with this.”
And then he walks out, and John storms out the opposite door, on a mission. He’ll have to get answers some other way.
He corners Crank behind their hut.
“What’s wrong?” Crank asks.
“You tell me,” John says. And then he opens his palm to reveal the crushed red petal. When he holds it up, he sees the way Crank bites his lip and crosses his arms.
He starts to open his mouth, but John cuts him off.
“Don’t play stupid with me,” John says, angry.
Crank throws up his hands.
“Buck won’t tell me either. They’ve just been… coming out of him.”
“When he coughs?”
“Yeah,” Crank nods. He looks worried, and John immediately dials back his attitude. He never wanted to be the kind of guy who took out his anger on his crew. And John’s sure that Crank must have had a helluva time keeping this to himself.
“He’ll be okay,” John says with conviction. “I’ll figure this out.”
“Good.” Crank pats John on the shoulder. “But maybe you should check Buck’s bunk?”
John heads to their hut with his heart in his throat. Once he gets there, he grabs at the corner of Buck’s scratchy blue blanket. As he peels it back with one hand, bright red flower petals flutter to the floor.
To his horror, more petals are revealed as he pulls the blanket all the way off. Smashed against the white fabric of the sheet underneath, they look like some kind of sick joke. Like a romantic rendezvous gone wrong.
Clearly this is where Buck had been hiding them after he’d coughed them up.
He lets the crushed petal he’d been carrying around drop from his hand. For a moment John thinks he’s going to be sick. He pinches his nose and forces the bile down. There’s no time for that. He scoops up two handful of petals off of Buck’s bed, and bolts for sick quarters.
Just as he’d hoped, Henry is there cleaning up his aid station. The American medic was the one who fixed up John when he’d first arrived at the Stalag. He’s always straightforward with bad news, instead of wasting time on niceties. John appreciates that about him.
John opens up his palms in front of Henry. He’d been carrying so many petals that a bunch of them rain down onto the wooden floor.
“Do you know what these are?”
Henry crosses his arms and looks steadily at John through his round-framed glasses. He doesn’t look surprised in the least.
“The S.S. have been known to experiment,” he starts to explain.
John feels his knees buckling as pressure builds up behind his eyes. The SS did something to Buck. This is happening to Buck because John didn’t stop them. Those fuckers. His chest tightens up on him, and can’t get past the word experiment. He doesn’t even hear whatever else Henry is saying because he’s finding it very hard to breathe all of a sudden.
“Hey. Hey!” Henry shouts at him. He grabs him by the arm and pushes him down into a chair. As he does so, John drops the rest of the petals that he’d been holding and they seem to flutter around him. John can’t look away from them.
Henry procures a cup of water and shoves it into John’s empty hand. He tips John’s elbow up, and John obediently brings the cup to his lips. The act of swallowing the water forces him back to himself.
“I’m fine,” he mumbles, embarrassed.
Henry squats down so that he’s eye level with him. He squints his eyes and studies John’s face.
“I will tell you what I know, but I don’t need you passing out on me.”
John nods, and takes another sip of water. He keeps his eyes on Henry as he stands up, pointedly ignoring all of the red petals that now litter the ground.
“It’s happening to a few of the guys that got questioned by the SS. Best I can tell, it’s supposed to be some kind of truth serum. Something grows in your lungs until you answer their questions. The trouble is, whatever is growing takes too long and it’s not working the way they want it to.”
John crosses his arms over his stomach, trying to stop his gut from rolling.
“Is there a cure?”
Henry pushes his glasses farther up his nose.
“I don’t know for sure. But the guys that spill their deep dark secrets feel better afterwards, and they stop coughing up petals.”
Hope blooms in John’s chest.
“So you’re telling me Buck just needs to open up and he’ll be fine?”
Henry cocks his head and looks down at John with an eyebrow raised, clearly taken aback.
“Wait, these petals didn’t come out of you?”
John gets up from the chair and hands Henry his cup back. He doesn’t bother answering. He’s gotta get to Buck before things get worse.
He scoops up a petal from the ground as he leaves.
John storms through the camp until he finds Buck. He’s sitting on the front step of their hut, alone. He pulls Buck up by the collar and practically drags him through the doorway and into the hallway, to afford them both some privacy.
Buck pulls away from John’s grasp and glares at him.
“What’s this all about?” Buck says as he crosses his arms.
“You’re being so fuckin’ stubborn,” John spits out.
He watches Buck’s eyes widen in surprise. His face looks gaunt and his skin looks deathly pale. He’s obviously getting sicker.
John reaches into his pocket and pulls out a slightly crushed up red petal. Buck shakes his head and turns away from him.
“Some things are better left alone,” Buck says to the wall.
John’s so angry that his body is shaking.
He bites out, “This thing is going to destroy you, Buck.”
“Maybe I don’t care.” Buck is quick to respond.
“Fuck you.” John’s words are sharp, meant to sting. He steps closer and grabs Buck’s shoulder to turn him around. “You should care, because if this thing takes you, it will destroy me too.”
Buck sways for a moment, like his legs are about to give out. John instinctually reaches out with both hands to steady him. Then Buck starts to cough and he slumps down to the ground. John follows him down until his knees hit the wooden floor. Buck’s whole body convulses, and John holds onto him as he coughs right onto John’s chest.
“Please Buck,” John begs, his voice gentler. “It’ll be alright. Whatever you need to say.”
He’s running his hand over Buck’s cheek, through his hair, down his arm. He’s completely violating their unwritten rule, and getting way too close, but consequences be damned. He’s trying to be soothing.
Buck is finally able to catch his breath, and when John looks down, his own jacket is covered in red petals.
“I love you,” Buck gasps.
“What?” John doesn’t think he heard him right.
Buck looks up, his eyes determined. “I’m in love with you.”
John’s entire body feels lighter all of a sudden, like a huge weight has been lifted from his shoulders. And he hasn’t even said anything yet.
“Jesus, Gale. That’s your secret?”
He can’t help the hysterical laugh that bubbles out of him. They’d both been stupid to shy away from what had already taken root between them.
“How is this funny?” Buck is smiling, even though he looks thoroughly confused.
“Well, because that’s my secret too.”
And then John takes Buck’s face in his hands, and kisses him exactly the way he’d wanted to for longer than he’d care to admit. Buck’s lips are warm and soft against his. A lovely floral scent permeates the air around them, and Buck’s mouth tastes as sweet as honey.
“You should have led with that,” Buck says when he pulls back slightly. There’s an amused twinkle in his eye that John hasn’t seen there in weeks.
John dusts petals off of his chest and then rubs his thumb over Buck’s bottom lip.
“Next time you want flowers, I’ll buy them for you the old-fashioned way.”
Buck rolls his eyes, but then he dissolves into laughter. His smile is dazzling, and brighter than the sun. A lovely glow comes back to his cheeks right before John's eyes. Buck looks healthy being in love. It's so obvious that John can't believe he didn't notice before. It would have saved them both a lot of trouble.