The idea for this came from a fanfic I read called "Men and Mice," by Monker, which in turn is inspired by the episode "Operation Briefcase." I don't know if I have to ask Monker's permission before writing this, because I don't actually base it on that story, just got a little inspiration from it and did my own take. Again, sorry if any of it is rushed, feels incomplete, etc.

"Let me go!"

Carter struggled to run into the part of the tunnel he had just been forced to vacate, his progress hampered by the fact that Newkirk had him practically in a headlock in his desire to hold him back, out of concern for his safety.

One of the occupational hazards of being the team member in charge of demolition and explosives was that sometimes your experiments would backfire on you.

Newkirk didn't know what explanation Colonel Hogan would make up for Klink when he tried to figure out what had caused the explosion that occurred fifteen seconds ago, and right now he didn't care. All that mattered at the moment was that after running out of the small bend in the tunnel everyone thought of as his lab to escape the billows of ominous, thick yellow smoke now emanating from it, Carter had suddenly gasped and turned to run back into that inferno of death. Hence the situation they were in now.

Newkirk tried to push him further back from the lab.

"Whatever it is, it can wait until it's no longer a ruddy death trap in there!"

"No it can't!" Carter almost squirmed past that time, until the Englander was able to replant his footing. "Please, this is important!"

"Andrew, stop! Get ahold o' yourself!"

Then, abruptly, Carter stopped struggling. He stood up straight, glared into his friend's eyes, and snapped, "Get your hands off me, Corporal, and stand aside! That's an order!"

Newkirk blinked, and his mouth dropped for a second, before he asked, "Did you just pull rank on me?"

"Do I have to say it again?" Carter demanded, still in this sharp tone that was very unCarterlike. "Move. Now."

Of course Newkirk had no intention of moving, orders or not (Carter's safety was far more important, not that he would be sentimental enough to admit it aloud unless he was sure none of his mates would hear), but his surprise at his friend actually remembering for once that he was the sergeant there caused him to loosen his grip on him, and stop trying to force him out of danger for a second. That was all Carter needed to shove him out of the way and run back into the lab.

"Carter!"

Newkirk barely had time to yell his name and start to go after the ruddy fool before he was back, clutching a shoebox in his arms and shouting, "Run! I think it's gonna blow again!"

The Englander decided not to waste time asking what in the name of all that was holy he'd gone back in and risked his life for, choosing instead to run with him back to the ladder, and the comparative safety of the barracks.

The next explosion caused Carter to slip on the ladder, and nearly fall because he was still holding the shoebox. But he somehow managed to regain his balance and make it upstairs (so to speak), in time to be surrounded by his fellow POWs and be peppered with questions. He explained apologetically to Hogan about some kind of chemical imbalance that had occurred with his latest experiment, before slumping over to his bunk and sitting down with a thump.

Hogan started worrying about how this would affect their latest mission, and explaining to the team what he had told Klink, etc. Newkirk barely paid attention. Lebeau could give him the details later or something; he needed to know what was in that shoebox, and he needed to know now.

Speak of the devil, Carter had opened the shoebox, which the Englander noticed had a few holes in the lid, and given a sigh of relief. He was just closing it up again, when Newkirk stormed over and jerked the lid off. He couldn't believe his eyes.

"A MOUSE?!" he roared, thoroughly interrupting Colonel Hogan's plan and causing everyone to whip their heads over to them in surprise. "You risked your life for a bloody MOUSE?!"

Inside the box, along with a coating of dust that was probably a result of the explosion, there was a layer of dirt, which had been pushed up into a burrow on one side and probably had tunnels running underneath. There was a pile of biscuit crumbs and even a few sunflower seeds in a corner, and a spilled dish that used to contain water. And in the center, curled up in a ball, was the aforesaid mouse.

Carter set the box aside, and jumped to his feet.

"Don't you talk about Felix like that!" he yelled back, flushing slightly around his cheeks and ears. "You would have gone back in if it had been any one of us!"

Newkirk scoffed in amazement, taking a small step back. "A name. 'E's given the rodent a name. I don't believe this. A mouse's not the same as a human, you block'ead! Of all the cock-eyed, ridiculous-"

"I told you not to talk about him like that!" Carter shouted, sounding angrier than they'd ever heard him. "You wouldn't understand, you closed-minded...jerk! He's a person just as much as you are, and-" his voice actually started to crack- "if he's hurt from inhaling that stuff because you wouldn't let me get him sooner, I will never forgive you!"

With that he grabbed the box back up again, and stormed out of the barracks.

Hogan, who had by now gotten over at least some of his shock, called out, "Carter! Come back!"

Too late; the door slammed behind him, leaving behind a deafening silence and a group of very astonished POWs.

Wiping his eyes on his sleeve, Carter made his way to the area behind the Kommandant's quarters, where there was at least some comparative privacy.

"I'm sorry you had to hear all that," he told Felix softly.

The little gray mouse finally uncurled from the ball he'd been in, apparently frightened by all the noise that had been going on. He twitched his whiskers rapidly, before dashing his paws across his head a few times.

"I don't think you were in there long enough to be hurt, but it's hard to tell. Some of those chemicals were pretty dangerous. And there's a chance some of it got in your fur. Think it's time you had a bath," Carter said. He reached into the box and pulled Felix out. "And while we're at it, we should probably change your dirt and get you some fresh food. Sorry, because it'll disrupt your system, but I don't want you getting sick. Let's go find you some clean, warm water."

When Newkirk finally came looking for Carter, he found him sitting by a corner of the fence, scooping up spoonfuls of dirt and grass and pouring them into the box. The mouse was in his front coat pocket, judging by the occasionally-moving lump up by his heart.

Hearing his approach, Carter glanced at him with a small turn of his head, before shifting so that his back was to him.

It stung far more than it should have, but as I said, Carter was not known for getting angry with anyone; he was one of the most good-natured people in the camp. Insults and jibes usually were like water off a duck's back to him, and if they did go too far, he was more likely to be hurt than angered. This behavior over a mouse...it confused Newkirk. But Carter was his friend, and if there was something wrong between them, he wanted to fix it.

"...You're right," he finally said, after a moment of racking his brains trying to figure out what to say.

Carter looked at him again, before continuing to shovel dirt into the box.

"I don't understand," Newkirk went on. "But maybe if you explained to me, I could try to. You know, like with the stars."

"You don't think he's important," Carter whispered, setting down the spoon and reaching into his pocket to draw out the now-clean mouse. "You said his life doesn't matter just because he's not a human."

Newkirk winced slightly, before sitting down on his haunches next to him. "I didn't understand what was so great about a meteor shower either. Please. I-I'm sorry for assuming 'e wasn't-shouldn't be important to you."

He couldn't quite bring himself to agree that the rodent's life was important. Call him a heartless b_, but he couldn't. He didn't particularly dislike mice, not as much as his sister Mavis did anyway, but they were vermin. Pure and simple. But he could see that it was important to Carter, and right now what counted was that he'd hurt his friend's feelings by insulting it-him, he should probably get used to thinking of it as a him.

Rather than setting Felix back into his box right away, Carter let him run back and forth across his gloved hand for a moment. Then he said softly, "He was the first friend I made here."

While Newkirk was still digesting that, he went on, "Before the colonel let me in on the operation, and I got to know all you fellas. I was lonely, and scared, and didn't know how long I was going to be stuck here. Then I found Felix's hole over Tunnel Five. I started leaving him crumbs every once in a while, and he got used to me, and eventually it reached the point where he let me hold him. And I just found him easy to talk to. So he became my only friend, until I started helping out." With a small smile, Carter ran a finger of his other hand-for once without a glove on it-across Felix's tiny ears.

Newkirk was amazed. "I've never 'eard of anyone taming a mouse so easily before."

Carter gave an innocent shrug. "I'm good with animals." His eyes suddenly brightened. "I found out he's ticklish. Wanna see?"

Without letting Newkirk have a chance to say yes or no, he flipped the mouse onto his back and started gently vibrating his fingers up and down on his belly. The mouse squirmed and kicked his tiny feet, and Newkirk could barely make out tiny squeaking noises issuing from his mouth.

"That's how he laughs," Carter explained with a smile. "I think he likes it. He always follows my hands around afterwards, and the more I've done it, the more he's trusted me."

This little 'eart-to-'eart is going to make this next part a lot 'arder.

Newkirk cleared his throat. "Colonel's worried about 'ow close you are to this mouse. 'E's not sure if it's…safe, for you to keep 'im, if you're gonna risk your life for 'im and mean we might lose our tech sergeant over 'im."

That angry flash of defiance came back into Carter's eyes.

"I'm not getting rid of him. I don't care if it means risking court martial."

The awkward puppy that Newkirk often imagined Carter as was, at this moment, a wolf protecting his cub. It was shocking...but somewhat impressive.

"'E's not necessarily demanding that, yet. But 'e worries about 'im being a liability in the future."

"I'll make sure he's not put in that kind of danger again," Carter promised, putting the mouse back in his box. "I was careless this time and forgot to take him with me when I first ran away from the explosion. Most of the time he just lives in his burrow under my bunk, but I thought he'd like to see my new experiment. That's all."

…Ruddy Carter. More concerned about 'is life than yours. The thing is, I know you'd act the same if it'd been a human who'd been in danger.

For some odd reason, Newkirk had to swallow again, harder.

Carter looked at him solemnly.

"I'm sorry I yelled at you earlier. You didn't know about Felix."

The Englander shrugged.

"It's okay, Andrew. I should've known it'd be something important to make you go back in." He reached out and pretended to pull a small peppermint from behind Carter's ear. "'Ere, you can 'ave a treat."

The younger man smiled in delight, popping it into his mouth. "Thanks."

By the way, they've discovered that rats will laugh and become more affectionate if you tickle them (there's a fun Youtube video about it, in fact), so I figured why not a mouse?