Troy snuck a look over at the other bunk, just to convince himself that Moffitt was actually there, living and breathing.

Moffitt caught him. He glanced up from his book, an amused expression on his face. "Everything all right, Troy?"

"Yeah." Troy averted his eyes quickly, more than a little embarrassed.

"Glad to hear it." Moffitt went back to reading.

Troy told himself that he was going to have to break himself of that habit, and quick, before it got to be a source of embarrassment. Considering everything that he had gone through, Troy thought that Moffitt seemed amazingly close to okay.

He couldn't quite understand why he couldn't convince himself of that without constant reassurance.

Looking at Moffitt again, Troy noticed that he was reading the same book that he had been the night that they had gone to play poker. "I thought that you said that book was awful?"

Moffitt sighed. "It is. There's just not much else to do, is there?"

Troy couldn't disagree with that. Thanks to Moffitt's injuries, both the burns that he had sustained pulling John's guys out of the tank and the abuse that he had suffered at the hands of the Gestapo, he had been laid up for more than a week.

Troy could sympathize. As a result of beating the hell out of that sick Gestapo bastard, he had broken several bones in his hand and fractured his wrist. He looked at the cast that extended from his knuckles to his mid forearm. It was an improvement from the heavy plaster of the first one. At least now, he was able to go out and give the Germans hell. Troy flexed his fingers the best that he could and was gratified that the motion barely hurt him. Every punch had been worth it, he decided. But worth it or not, as a result he had sat out the end of Operation Sandstorm with Moffitt.

Troy supposed it was okay with him. Missing a battle was not going to entail missing the war. There were plenty more opportunities to take on the Germans before it was all said and done. According to Boggs, now that Sandstorm had run its course, the Allies would take a few weeks and to prepare for the final push that would get the Krauts out of Africa once and for all. Troy was pretty certain that Moffitt would be back in action for that, and for whatever would come afterwards.

Which was good, because Victor was still hell bent on trying to make the war more "exciting." Troy wasn't sure how much longer he was going to be able stop Victor from succeeding.

"Sergeants?" came a voice from outside of the tent. "May I come in?"

"Sure. Come on in, Lieutenant," Troy called to Marshall. He made a face at Moffitt.

Moffitt grinned.

Troy attempted as much of a salute as he could with his damaged hand. Moffitt nodded at the officer.

"Hi guys. How are you both doing?" Marshall inquired.

"I think that we're doing just fine, Lieutenant. Anything that we can do for you?" Troy asked, suspiciously. Over the past few weeks, he had come to associate Marshall's presence with bad news. It was going to take him a while to get over that.

"What? Oh, no. I just brought this over for Sergeant Moffitt. We just received it from his Army. Looked pretty important." Marshall handed an envelope to Moffitt. "I was out this way, so I thought that I would bring it by."

"Thank you, Lieutenant." Moffitt took the envelope and looked at it. He sighed. "Why do I get the feeling that this is likely not good news?" He opened it, scanned the contents and then closed his eyes in frustration. "Good lord. Apparently, the English Army doesn't have a policy on how to deal with this. I'm to wait until they draft one." Moffitt pulled a face. "Nec aspera terrent, you know."

"Difficulties be damned?" Marshall looked curious. "You having problems, Sergeant?"

"Well, let me just tell you, Lieutenant: Being a dead man is a pain in the arse. Particularly, if you're not actually dead."

Troy nodded. "Since we reported Moffitt as deceased, seems like his army doesn't think that they should have to pay him anymore."

"Huh," Marshall said, puzzled. "You're obviously still alive, Moffitt."

"Quite." Moffitt handed the envelope back to Marshall. "But even as such, it's proven rather difficult to get it sorted. Perhaps you could help me? The word of an officer from the US Army might carry more weight than my own in this matter."

Troy wondered if Moffitt realized how stupid that sounded. He figured that Moffitt probably did. Knowing the army, it was actually probably true.

"Sure. How hard could it be to straighten that out?" Marshall stuck the envelope into his shirt pocket. "I'll be happy to do anything that I can to help."

"Thank you, Lieutenant, that's really very decent of you," Moffitt said.

"Don't mention it. I'll let you know when it is all taken care of. You guys let me know if you need anything else." Marshall nodded at both Troy and Moffitt and then left.

Troy waited until Marshall would be safely out of earshot. "He's bitten off more than he can chew with that, hasn't he?"

"Most likely, yes. The English Army is not keen to admit that one of the men that they classified as dead is still very much alive. I suppose it is rather embarrassing for them. Not to mention a lot of paperwork that I'm sure no one has the desire, nor the time, to deal with. But, perhaps if Marshall will admit that it was actually a US Army mistake that caused all of the confusion and offer to help, we'll see some progress."

Troy thought about it. "I guess it was kind of our mistake. Sorry."

Moffitt gave Troy a look of mock indignation. "I would think that you should be."

"Despite burying your dead body, I guess I really should have known better, huh?" Troy grinned.

"Too right. At least you managed to figure it out before it was actually true." Moffitt returned the grin and settled back, attempting to get as comfortable as his still healing injuries would allow. "And you went to great pains to do so. I can't tell you enough, Troy, how eternally grateful I am to you, Tully, and Hitch for not giving up on me."

"I'm just thankful you aren't actually dead, Moffitt."

"You and me both. It was cut much closer this time than I would have liked. If you hadn't come along when you did," Moffitt trailed off, obviously not wanting to think about what kind of continued hell he would have endured at the hands of the Gestapo.

Troy didn't want to think about that, either. "I'm sorry that I didn't figure it out sooner."

"No one is ever going to say that you didn't do what you could, Troy. You know, when I think about you digging up the body and taking it to the dentist, I still can't help but to laugh, every time."

"He sure wasn't laughing when we did." And if the reprimand that Troy had received from Boggs had been any indication, Dr. Howard hadn't found it too funny in hindsight, either.

Troy recalled that Boggs had explained that there was a process to be followed in such matters and that digging up a dead body and dumping in the tent of an officer was not part of that process. Troy had pointed out that following procedure was hardly his thing, but it was to no avail. Considering that Boggs had never questioned if Troy was following procedure when he got things done for him, Troy could only assume that the dentist had pushed the whole matter. Regardless, Troy had taken the dressing down, and the punishment that had followed, gladly and with no hard feelings.

As Tully had wisely said, sometimes there was just no avoiding a little trouble to get someone out of a lot of it.

Troy looked heavenward. "The things we do for you, Moffitt."

Moffitt suddenly burst out laughing. Troy couldn't help but to join him.

When their laughter had receded, Moffitt looked thoughtful. "To think, though, that ultimately I have Bader to thank for saving my life. Never thought that I would be saying that."

"Bader owed us, didn't he? We've saved his life at least once," Troy said.

"True enough. And on occasion, Dietrich's life as well, after Bader put him in the soup. To that end, do you think that Dietrich misses Bader? It's hard to imagine the two of them apart."

Troy could sympathize only all too well with someone losing their second. Even if it was Bader. "At least he knows that Bader isn't dead." Troy tried not to sound bitter and failed. While he truly did believe that it hadn't been Dietrich's fault that they were misled, it still didn't stop Troy from being a little sore about the whole thing in general.

"I'm glad that you were able to get him Bader's message," Moffitt said. "I would think that it really meant something to Dietrich to hear it."

Troy thought back to that afternoon. Dietrich had looked more beaten than Troy had ever seen him look before, even though Troy had beaten him far worse on numerous occasions. Instinctually, he knew that he was probably the least of all the things against which Dietrich was fighting.

"I think that Dietrich has found himself in a pretty awful situation at this point in the war, with or without Bader," Troy said, finally. "Though, I actually saw his new second. Looked and acted like a smart kid. And he's at least six foot tall."

"Things are looking up then, aren't they? Literally." Moffitt grinned. "Good for Dietrich. I was beginning to think that the Captain couldn't draw a good second even if the deck was stacked in his favor."

"Yeah, first Bader, and then that moron lieutenant from the camp."

Moffitt shook his head. "I can't imagine the pool of German officers is going to be running any deeper in the future."

Troy thought back again to how he'd left Dietrich that afternoon. "It's too bad that the Captain wouldn't take me up on my offer."

"Come now!" Moffitt snorted. "You and I both know it, Troy. You would have died of shock if he had."

Troy could admit that he probably would have. Even with the outlook growing grimmer for Dietrich and the Wehrmacht by the day, the Captain's answer to his offer was the same as it always had been. However, it wouldn't stop Troy from offering again next time he had the chance. One day, Dietrich might just figure out that the easiest path wasn't necessarily the wrong one.

"Still a shame, though, isn't it? I'd rather think of Dietrich as alive at the end of it. After all, he is the best German we know," Moffitt said.

Troy agreed, but he found the idea of discussing of Dietrich's possible fate depressing and decided that it was time to change the subject. "I got word that John and his boys will be coming back into camp tonight to stay for a while. I'm sure that they'll want to see you."

Moffitt visibly perked up. "That will be very nice indeed! Actually, I've discovered that I have some gaps in my vocabulary that I need to fill. I'd like to ask Sergeant Twofish if he could oblige. Never know when the language might come in handy again."

Only Moffitt would be so interested in a language that was nearly dead, thought Troy. Though in this case, a dead language had saved a lot of lives. But then, that wasn't the first time that had happened where Moffitt had been involved. Troy still had no earthly idea what "Old Coptic" was, or had been.

"And, knowing John," Troy paused and lit a cigarette, "I'm sure that he'll want to get a card game going."

Moffitt noticeably blanched. "I think that I'll pass on that, if it's all the same to you."

"Want me to bankroll you? Until the next time that you get paid?" Troy asked innocently, even though he knew that wasn't the reason why Moffitt didn't want to play cards with them. "You do have to promise me that you won't go all in on two pair again, though."

"I appreciate your kind offer, Troy. But no thank you. Wouldn't want to put you out. And you know how I feel about borrowing things."

Troy did know exactly what was eating Moffitt, and it wasn't the idea of a loan from Troy. "Moffitt, the odds of you drawing that hand again would be astronomical."

"I'm aware." Moffitt nodded. "I've done the math."

Troy hardly surprised by that. "So, what is it?" he asked, curious.

"Well," Moffitt said, "I am beginning to believe that luck has everything to do with whether or not we survive the war."

Troy wasn't sure what to say to that. Luck definitely had something to do with all of it. Wrong place or wrong time would do a man in, even if he had done everything else right. When your number was up, it was up. Call it God, call it a higher power, or call it luck like Moffitt was, there was definitely an element to survival that was out of their hands. Skills and smarts were only part of what was needed to come home alive from a day at the war.

"I have come to the conclusion that one only has so much luck. And with the events of the past weeks, I think that I've done a good job of using up what must be my fair share. As a result, I've decided not spend the rest of what remains frivolously on games of chance." Moffitt picked his book up again. "That includes cards, I'm afraid."

"Okay. Suit yourself. They'll be a place at the table for you if you change your mind."

"Thank you. But I won't."

"You should at least come out tonight and have a drink if you feel up to it. There's reason to celebrate, you know." Troy looked at Moffitt. "Our guys liberated that POW camp a few days ago, the one that you and John's boys were in. Not sure if I told you that."

"You hadn't. Well, that is wonderful news. I could indeed drink to that. And would do so now," Moffitt gave Troy a look of disappointment, "if someone hadn't drank all of my whiskey. I was saving that for a special occasion, you know."

Troy ducked his head. "I thought that it was a pretty special occasion. It was your wake, after all."

"Don't remind me." Moffitt made a face. "At least everyone was nice enough to give everything else that they took back."

"Only seemed right." Troy shrugged. "Not much point in keeping a memento if you actually have the man, is there?"

Moffitt went silent for a moment. "That is extremely profound, Troy."

"Thanks, Moffitt." Troy thought that Moffitt looked sincere enough and decided to accept the compliment for what it was. "Maybe I'll get my yia yia to stitch that on a sampler for us? She's always asking me in her letters if there is anything that she can do for us."

"That sounds like a lot of work for your poor granny. Particularly since we have no real walls upon which to hang it." Moffitt grinned, but the expression quickly faded. "It is too bad about Adams."

Troy knew that Adams not being there with them would cast a shadow on John's whole group, especially after he had gotten all of his other boys back. "At least you were able to tell me what happened to him."

"Honestly, I almost wish to God that I didn't know. That poor boy."

As soon as he had been well enough, Moffitt had told Troy exactly what had happened to Adams. And in horrifying detail. Troy didn't feel bad about omitting most of what Moffitt had shared when he had told John about Adams' death. It wouldn't have done anyone any good. There was a fine line between knowing, and knowing too much.

"The pure evil of the Gestapo knows no bounds." Moffitt shook his head in disgust, his eyes suddenly ablaze with the cold fire of intense hatred. "I will take great pleasure in personally sending every single one of them that crosses my path straight to hell."

Troy had to agree. On both counts. Judging from what he had been able to piece together from hearing Moffitt's nightmares, it wasn't a surprise to Troy that Moffitt had killed Kauffmann. And good for him, too, Troy thought. At least by actually doing it, Moffitt had saved himself the trouble of endlessly dreaming about putting a bullet in the sick bastard's head.

Out of the habit that Troy had yet to break, a furtive glance at Moffitt confirmed that he had gone back to reading. Troy continued to smoke, his mind again turning to Adams' unfortunate end. Adams had been the unlucky one this time. But next time . . .

Troy couldn't help but to think about how any one of them might not make it back from the next mission. Normally, he wouldn't ever entertain a thought like that. He couldn't live thinking that every day could be his last. It would likely end up becoming a self-fulfilling prophecy. Not only for himself, but for those around him, too. While he agreed with Moffitt that luck was a factor, in Troy's opinion, having the faith that they could survive anything was what was going to get them all home from the war in one piece.

But, Troy could admit, there were some good things that could come out of at least appreciating the possible consequences of the risks that they took every day. Like not putting off things one day thinking you would be able to do them the next.

That included saying things that should be said. Troy cleared his throat. "Moffitt?"

Moffitt marked his place in his book with his finger and looked up. "Yes, Troy?"

"I just wanted to tell you . . ." Troy had to pause to gather his thoughts.

Moffitt continued to look at him expectantly.

Troy forced himself to start speaking again. It was harder than it should have been. "I just wanted to tell you, how much I appreciate you. You're the best second I've ever had. I owe you my life several times over. And so do Tully and Hitch."

Troy exhaled and fell back, the unaccustomed expression of sentiment having taken its toll.

Moffitt was uncharacteristically speechless for a moment. "Thank you, Troy," he said, finally. "That is very nice to hear. Though, I must say, not something I would have expected you to say. What brought that on?"

"I got some good advice. And I didn't take it when it was given to me. Then, I didn't think that I would ever have the chance to take it. And now that I do, I've been trying to take it, and so . . . I wanted to tell you." Troy concentrated on the seam that ran from top to bottom of their tent. "That's all."

"That's quite a lot." Moffitt gave Troy a wicked grin. "Perhaps I should be a dead man more often?"

"Don't you even think about it," Troy growled. He looked for something to throw at Moffitt. The only thing that he could find was his hat.

Moffitt picked the hat up and threw it back at Troy, but not before he put it on and attempted his best impression of Troy's glare.

Things escalated from there. By the time that Tully and Hitch had stopped by the tent to fetch them for dinner, Troy and Moffitt were both laughing like lunatics.

"What's so funny?" Hitch asked, staring at them. He looked to Tully.

Tully shrugged.

Troy tried to regain his composure and failed. "Some people just can't take a compliment."

Moffitt managed to stop laughing just long enough to throw in his two cents. "And some people just can't give one."

Hitch looked at Tully again. "Huh? What did we miss?"

"It's the same as it ever was, Hitch," Moffitt said, shaking his head. "You didn't miss a thing."

"I don't know about all of that," Tully said, picking up Troy's hat and handing it back to him, "but we sure as heck missed you, Moffitt."

At that, Troy and Moffitt both suddenly stopped laughing. Moffitt actually looked dangerously misty eyed. Troy hoped that he was doing a better job of hiding the lump that had formed in his throat.

Wasn't that just the thing, thought Troy? The one of them that said the least actually ended up saying the most. Despite everything that had happened, everything really was the same as it ever was. He couldn't have been happier about that.

Looking around at the others, Troy knew that he wasn't the only one.

Author's Note: Many thanks to Sandra! Without her kind words and encouragement, this story would never have been. With her insightful comments and feedback, it became the best story that it could be.