Written for various Gatherings over the past three or four years , this is a collection of missing scenes/reflections/moments from the first half of Exile. Some of them have probably appeared on Gathering websites; most of them have appeared in my LJ. This is the first time they've appeared on the CBB and as I've just completed the set, it seemed right to share them here.

This one was originally written for the July 2005 Gather.

Anschluss

Jem looked at the letter that Robin had so innocently given to him only moments before. It bore the postmark for Wiesbaden and he recognised Hans Gruber's handwriting. It could easily be a query regarding Herr Schmitt, who was in the final stages of treatment for tuberculosis at the San, but Jem couldn't help but recall the conversation he and Hans had held two months earlier.

"I fear," Hans had begun, "that peace is not to last much longer."

"Oh?" The bald statement had surprised Jem. "What do you mean?"

"Just so," Hans had answered. "The moves being made by elements within government are not---positive." Hans had looked Jem in the eye and continued softly, "Hitler has his eye on a dramatic and victorious homecoming."

Hans hadn't needed to say any more. Jem had been able to work the rest out for himself. Anschluss. He already knew that the Gestapo had agents within Austria – within all German speaking areas, truth told – but were Austria to become annexed to Germany that would give them the power to act. And he was under no illusions as to how interesting the Gestapo would find the Sonnalpe community and the Chalet School.

Jem shuddered at the bare thought of the Gestapo becoming interested in the school. As capable as the school staff were – and as helpful as Herr Braun at the Kron Prinz Karl was – they would be little match for Himmler's secret police. There was a lot to be said for moving the school up to the Sonnalpe. It was safety in numbers. It would mean there was less chance of the girls seeing or hearing anything untoward. More to the point, it would mean that when the time came to leave, there would be little time wasted by repeated journeys down to the valley.

And there was space for them up here, Jem noted. There was The Annex, of course, but there was also the hotel that he'd bought from its owner's widow. (And if he were a betting man, Jem would put good money on Frau Eisen's political viewpoint being 'Eine Volk, Eine Reich.) That was comfortably big enough on its own. The only question was whether the move could be accomplished with minimal input from the pupils and with the minimum of fuss.

For the first time, Jem blessed a disease. With the school having been heavily quarantined for mumps, half term had been delayed. It was due to begin in a day or two's time and with all the pupils away, that would solve that problem.

If it was needed.

If this letter contained what he thought.

Jem slit the envelope open and abstracted the single sheet of paper. To his horror, he discovered the letter was dated a week ago. It had been held up somewhere (with the censors, perhaps?). That meant if it did contain bad news it was even more imperative they acted quickly.

He scanned the letter. Hans had promised to use two specific words, if he got wind of official moves towards Austria. To the censor, the words would mean nothing – or, if the censor got particularly curious, he would learn they referred to a particular, but rare, facet of lung congestion caused by tuberculosis. To Jem, they would mean the Anschluss was near.

And there they were. At the bottom of the page, ostensibly part of a query regarding Gerhard Schmitt's treatment.

Jem closed his eyes for a moment, half hoping he had mis-read. He opened them again and checked. No mistake.

Anschluss was coming, and with it would be trouble.

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The Ramblings of a Diseased Mind
The Diseased Mind Strikes Back
The trials and triumphs of an amateur photographer

Have I really left cookery class?

An interesting insight into Jem's feelings and anxieties.

Nice to see this scene, and Jem's worries. It's always good to see Chalet men as more rounded personalities.

Thanks Ray.

Thank you Ray. Interesting to see Jem's feelings at this critical moment.

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Windscreen broken. Cause unknown. Probably voodoo.
He sat musing with the dead chicken in his hand.....

Thank you very much!

This was the story that started the series off. Written (originally) for the second ever big Gather, it's since been expanded and tweaked.

Fear No Evil

Jack wondered if it would ever be possible to convince them it had all been a mistake.

Looking around at the unrelieved, bare plaster of the four walls surrounding him, the answer was obvious. They would never believe him.

"Tell me, Herr Doktor Maynard," one of the officers had said, "what were you doing on the Sonnalpe last Saturday?"

"It was a picnic," Jack had replied. "It was a group of old friends out to enjoy the sunshine."

"Oh, really?"

The disbelief had been cutting. The backhand across the face had been painful.

"Now again, Herr Doktor Maynard," the officer had said, "what were you doing on the Sonnalpe last Saturday?"

"I told you – it was a picnic."

This time the blow was so hard that Jack had seen stars.

"It is pointless to continue this fiction, Herr Doktor," the officer had said. "What were you doing?"

"It was a picnic. A group of friends…"

"You are friends with many children?" the officer had cut in derisively.

"Through my fiancée, yes," Jack had replied. "And many of the party have lived on the Sonnalpe for years. I know them all well."

Jack had expected the third blow and he wasn't disappointed, either. It was a sharp, harsh backhand that had rocked his head back so fast it had sent a shooting pain straight down his spine.

"Lies," the officer had asserted. "All lies. I will have the truth, Herr Doktor – of that make no mistake."

"I've given you the truth," Jack had replied.

This time, instead of a backhand, the blow had been to the point of Jack's jaw, snapping his teeth together and causing him to bite his tongue hard enough to draw blood.

"What were you doing?" the officer had demanded.

"We were having a picnic," Jack had answered thickly. "Just an end of term, school girls' picnic."

The other officer who had been present in the room had laughed. It was the first sound he'd made in the whole interview and it had sent a chill straight down Jack's spine.

A moment later and Jack had found himself flat on his back, staring up at both officers as the one who'd laughed had simply reached out and pulled his chair over.

"Now," the officer who'd conducted the interview to this point began, "perhaps you believe that your government will free you from this; perhaps you believe you can truly convince us of this fiction. I must tell you that any such freedom will not come easily and I believe we have already demonstrated that we do not believe you."

And then the beating had begun.

Jack felt a surge of anger at what had been done to him. They had beaten him into unconsciousness, over a game of hide and seek and a picnic! When he'd come to, he'd found himself stuffed into this tiny, featureless room, presumably, their intention was to have him think over his position and reconsider his story. They were trying to break him.

They wouldn't.

He was not going to be bullied.

He would get out of this.

But then the circumstances of his incarceration returned to him and the reality sank in. He was one life, and though he didn't doubt that Jem and Hanson had pull, he found himself doubting they truly had the pull needed to get him out of this mess.

Was this awful little room to be his last sight on Earth?

For a moment or two, fear overtook anger as the principal feeling in his mind as the reality of his situation finally sank in. The Gestapo were convinced there had been more too that trip than a simple picnic, and that conviction could just kill him. And not just him, either. Were they to wring the details of the Peace League out of him, the lives of every single person who had signed the document would be at risk. And heading that list would be those Austrians and Germans, for whom signing such a thing would be considered treason.

Unbidden, the words of Psalm Twenty Three entered Jack's mind, and he found himself murmuring, "Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil."

The words felt right. Fear no evil. Jack nodded to himself. If this was to be his fate, he would not fear it. Nor would he shirk it. The Gestapo would learn nothing of the Peace League and those who had signed the declaration would be safe. He would make sure of it.

The sound of footsteps intruded on the silence of Jack's cell and disturbed his train of thought. Was it the guards come to collect him for another interrogation?

With a rattle of keys and a grinding of the lock, the door of his cell was unlocked and swung open. Standing in the doorway was the officer who had conducted the interview, a sneer of disgust writ large across his face.

"You may go."

Jack stared at the officer in total disbelief. After all that, he was being told he could go? It made no sense.

"It seems," the officer continued, disgust and contempt dripping from his words, "that you are a very fortunate man, Herr Doktor, with just enough friends in the correct places. So you may go. For now."

The threat was unsaid but palpable and inwardly, at least, Jack worried for the future. Outwardly, he put his energies into standing up, a task made difficult by stiffness and soreness. It didn't surprise him that, though curling his lip in an impatient sneer, the Gestapo officer didn't so much as twitch to offer him a hand up.

"This way," the officer snapped as Jack regained his feet.

He was marched through corridors that were just as faceless as his cell had been and passed other officers, all of whom stared at Jack and made him feel keenly aware that he was the one still under suspicion. At last, they reached the building's lobby and waiting there was Hanson. Jack opened his mouth to say something, but a quick shake of the head from Hanson silenced him until they were both outside the building.

"Jack, I'm sorry it's taken so long," Hanson said as he hustled them both in the direction of the Europe hotel. "They're quite convinced there was something more with that picnic and even allowing for your being a British Citizen, I had a tough time of it getting you released." That, more than anything, made Jack pause. "I'm quite afraid you will have to leave here, and sooner, rather than later."

Jack nodded. There was no arguing with that statement. As much as he loved Austria, there was no way he could remain here. He followed Hanson into the hotel.

"We've taken a room here," Hanson explained as he led Jack up to the residential floors. "So that you can clean up before you return to the Sonnalpe."

"Who's we?" Jack asked, suddenly fearing that Joey might have made the journey to Innsbruck.

"Jem Russell and me," Hanson answered. "Originally, I was going to come on my own, but your fiancée wanted to come. Jem, Madge and I put our collective foot down." Jack breathed a sigh of relief. "So the next best thing was for Jem to come." Hanson smiled a little. "I don't think your fiancée trusts me to accurately report your condition."

Jack managed a faint grin at that. "I'm sure Joey meant no offence."

"I'm sure she didn't, either," Hanson agreed. "She's been worried about you, Jack. So have we all."

They reached the top of the flight of the first flight of stairs and Hanson ushered Jack along the landing. Coming the other way was one of the hotel's maids. She took one look at Jack, gasped and hastily looked down at her feet. Jack winced.

"Do I look as bad as all that?" he murmured once he was sure the maid was out of earshot.

"As it goes, no, it's not so much that," Hanson replied. "It's that she can probably guess what happened to you."

Jack shuddered. The implication that Hanson had been expecting him to look worse was clear but unsaid.

"In here," Hanson added, gesturing to a close at hand room.

Jack obeyed and found himself coming face to face with Jem, who had previously been seated in one of the room's arm chairs reading the newspaper, to judge by the flutter of pages as they landed on the floor where he'd dropped them on springing to his feet.

"Jack, so very good to see you…" But Jem's words trailed off, and Jack guessed the older man had finally noted the bruising around his face. "What did they do?"

Jack didn't think he'd ever seen Jem sound quite so angry.

"Hanson," Jem snapped, not even giving Jack a chance to answer, "did you know about this?"

For a moment, Jack thought Jem was going to sock the diplomat.

"Yes," Hanson admitted. "I know about their, ah, methods of interrogation and, I'm sorry, but there wasn't anything I, or you, or anyone, could have done to avoid it." Jem opened his mouth to object further. "Russell, listen to me. Firstly, you can thank your stars that it wasn't young Gottfried Mensch or Bruno von Ahlen who went on this damn picnic, because I can assure you neither of them would be free now. Secondly, Jack has, believe it or not, got off quite lightly."

That left Jem staring, open mouthed.

"Now, here is what we are going to do," Hanson continued. "Jack, you need to wash up. Your things are in the bathroom and there's a change of clothes waiting for you." Jack nodded. "Then, you are both going to go back to the Sonnalpe and start planning your departure from Austria. There is no way you're going to be able to remain here."

"What about you?" Jack asked as he turned towards the bathroom.

"I stay," said Hanson. "Until the government decides otherwise, I'm required here."

Jack nodded. There were unspoken feelings in Hanson's words, but it would do little good pressing on them; they were all required to do things that they found distasteful. Instead, he made his way into the bathroom and proceeded to wash away the grime from his incarceration.

A shave and a change of clothes completed what the washing had begun, and by the time he left the bathroom again, he felt more like a human being and less like an animal. Waiting outside, Jem was once more seated in the armchair, newspaper held up almost like a shield. Of Hanson, there was no sign.

"You're ready?" Jem asked, even as Jack noted Hanson's absence.

Jack nodded. "More than ready."

"If you want my advice," said Jem, folding his newspaper, "you'll marry Jo out of hand, and take her and Robin out of the country. Margot's leaving in a fortnight's time and taking the small fry with her; you could go with them, then honeymoon in France and be ready to welcome us to Guernsey."

Jack could imagine what Joey would have to say about the prospect of marrying quite so soon, but considering the circumstances, it was the only plan that made sense. He nodded. "I'll talk to Jo when we get back."

"And for God's sake don't breathe a word to her of what's been done," Jem warned. "She doesn't need to know. She's imaginative at the best of times."

Jack nodded once more. Joey might guess at some of the Nazi tactics, but he would never confirm them.

There was no more time for conversation between them as Hanson returned at that moment. The diplomat handed over two rail tickets to Spärtz. "I've put a call through to the Sonnalpe, and a car will meet you there."

"What about you?" Jack asked, repeating his earlier question.

"I have to return to Vienna." Hanson hesitated. " I have a report to file with London." He sighed. "I don't imagine that London will act on my report, but it has to be filed." He held out a hand. "Good luck, gentlemen."

Jack shook the proffered hand. "Thank you."

"Don't take this the wrong way," Hanson said as Jem followed suit, "but I rather hope I don't see either of you again here in Austria." And with that, Hanson left once more.

There was nothing more to be said. Jack packed his soiled clothes into the bag that had held his clean ones and then he followed Jem out of the room and down to the hotel's reception area. Jem settled the bill with the minimum of fuss and from there, they set off for the Bahnhof and their return to the Sonnalpe, both men mourning the death of freedom in the country that both had called home for so long.
[/i]

_________________

The Ramblings of a Diseased Mind
The Diseased Mind Strikes Back
The trials and triumphs of an amateur photographer

Have I really left cookery class?

Oh poor Jack.

Strangely it had never occured to me that he would have been tortured when he was arrested, I suppose because I was 9 or 10 when I first read Exile.

I suppose now Jack going on a picnic with all those girls would be seen as very suspicious

Thanks Ray

Very chilling, and very realistic. Really looking forward to reading the rest of these. Thank you, Ray, for filling in some important gaps.

A little 'encouragement' to him....

Very realistic, and scary. Thank you Ray.

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Windscreen broken. Cause unknown. Probably voodoo.
He sat musing with the dead chicken in his hand.....

Very realistic, and scary, indeed - but might have been so much worse, too. No wonder Mr Hanson was so emphatic about the need for Jack, Jem and all the others to plan to leave Austria with the minumum delay.

Thanks, Ray.

That was chilling. Thanks Ray.

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When the going gets tough, the tough eat chocolate.

Thanks, Ray, I think.

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Carpe diem, carpe noctem, carpe pecuniam et exe, celerrime.
A certain edge when she spoke of Mrs Maynard, certainly, but, after all, not everyone could love Joey.
'Life,' said Marvin, 'don't talk to me about life!'

I hadn't seen this before. I'm looking forward to more 'snippets'.

Thank you

Thanks Ray. I just found this. It's really good, but it is rather chilling.

Very well-written indeed, Ray - so chilling. Thank you.

Scary stuff ray! So glad Jack remembered the psalm - it's my favourite, too!

Chilling, Scary stuff.

Thank you Ray.

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Emma ~ http://www.wheelchairprincess.com/blog

Thank you very much. Fear No Evil was probably both the hardest and the easiest of the series to write - I was just a little sorry when it proved to be the final bed time drabble read at that particular gather...

This is the third in the series and probably slightly less intense than Fear No Evil. It was written for the September Gather in 2006 - and written barely half an hour before I left for Milton Keynes...

Memento Mori

Vater Johann was dead.

The thought echoed through Joey's head as she took each step further and further along the dank, dark passage the kindly priest had shown them.

Vater Johann was dead.

Joey knew that as well as if she'd seen him fall. The mob he'd saved them from would ultimately find a way into the church, and they would kill him. She shivered. He would die because he had helped them, just as they would have died had he not helped them.

Vater Johann was---

Don't think about that, she chided. Think of anything but that.

She tried directing her thoughts elsewhere. What she wouldn't give for a good cup of hot, milky coffee just now; maybe some of Marie's warming soup; perhaps a couple of bread twists; black cherry jam---

Joey stumbled; her wandering thoughts had failed to take into account the unevenness off the ground.

"You all right, Jo?" Cornelia asked.

"I'm fine," Joey answered. "Fit as an Irishman's flea."

Cornelia gave a funny little giggle. "I'll just bet you're not," she murmured. "This sure isn't what I expected to happen."

"No," Joey agreed. In the younger girl's voice she caught a hint of strain and fear. "But here's something to think about," she said, trying to redirect Cornelia's thoughts, "where do you suppose we're going to come out?"

"Gee, I don't know," Cornelia admitted. "Maybe somewhere on the mountain slope above Spartz? We seem to have been going up hill forever!"

Joey grinned to herself. She rather suspected that they had long since covered the distance to the slopes above Spartz.

"Maybe, Jo, this could be part of your next book?" suggested Jeanne.

"It could, at that," Joey agreed. "It would certainly be a thrill. Then again, perhaps my editor would tell me it couldn't possibly happen."

"They do say," said Miss Wilson, "that truth is stranger than fiction."

Joey jumped; she hadn't realised the mistress was listening to the conversation.

"Say," called Evadne, "I can see light up ahead. I think we're nearly done."

"At least!" exclaimed Hilary. "We should get home sometime, then."

Others took up that cry, but not Joey.

Vater Johann was dead.

And so would they be if they remained here.

_________________

The Ramblings of a Diseased Mind
The Diseased Mind Strikes Back
The trials and triumphs of an amateur photographer

Have I really left cookery class?

Thanks, Ray. This is very dark, and ominous.

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Carpe diem, carpe noctem, carpe pecuniam et exe, celerrime.
A certain edge when she spoke of Mrs Maynard, certainly, but, after all, not everyone could love Joey.
'Life,' said Marvin, 'don't talk to me about life!'

Making that journey in the dark with the thoughts of what must have happened in that church . . .

Thank you Ray.

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Windscreen broken. Cause unknown. Probably voodoo.
He sat musing with the dead chicken in his hand.....

Thanks Ray. It must have been difficult to leave the church knowing that Vater Johan was probably going to die for helping them.