LeBeau watched Kinch return to the radio. Carter stood silently beside him. "It did not go well," LeBeau said.

Kinch glanced at him. "What? It wasn't bad, Louis. I just hope Newkirk comes back to his senses soon."

"In what way?"

Kinch sighed. "Look, LeBeau, I don't have the connection you do. No one I know is like Newkirk. It's simply--wrong. Morally. Ethically."

"Why?'

Kinch stared as if he had grown a second head. "Two men, together."

"Why is it wrong?' LeBeau cocked his head. "Kinch, if you can not answer that..."

Kinch frowned. "Ah, biblically..."

"Pierre does not believe in God."

Kinch stared again. "What?'

LeBeau shrugged. "I do not so much either. Face it, mon amis, it is not your country being attacked and bombed. I lost faith in any God when the Boche brought their tanks into Paris. And I do not think Pierre ever believed."

"Really?' Carter finally spoke up. "But of course there's a God."

"So you say. I do not see any."

Kinch blinked and Carter simply looked baffled, both slack jawed. "The things you learn," Kinch muttered. He put on his headset. "Any messages?"

"Just one to stand by." LeBeau poured a cup of coffee. "Did you and Newkirk fight badly?'

"No. I just said my piece and left."

Carter winced. "Ouch."

"No matter what, he needs to move on," Kinch said.

"How?" Carter asked.

"I don't know," Kinch admitted.

"I am going to check outside," LeBeau murmured. "To make sure he isn't there."

"Just be careful," Kinch said. "Avoid Cole."

"Oui." LeBeau hurried upstair and slipped outside. Indeed, Newkirk stood by Hogan's grave, silently brushing snow from the cross. LeBeau watched for a moment as Newkirk stood. Newkirk didn't cry, didn't talk. He just stood there in the cold, wind tugging his clothes and hair. LeBeau sank back into the shadows as Mueller, on night duty, stopped. "Corporal Newkirk, you need to stop this. Who let you out this time?"

"Schultz. Am I hurting anyone?" Newkirk didn't turn around.

"Just yourself. He is gone. You have mourned far longer than I would for Kommandant Klink."

"Colonel Hogan wasn't Klink."

The German corporal walked to Newkirk, handing him a scarf. Then he left as Newkirk wrapped his head and neck. Newkirk returned to staring at the grave. LeBeau shivered. After waiting for what seemed like hours, LeBeau approached. Newkirk looked at LeBeau as he neared but said nothing. LeBeau touched Newkirk's arm awkwardly. "We need to go inside," he breathed.

"Go away, LeBeau."

"Newkirk, please. This does not help."

"You don't understand anything, mate. Let me alone." Newkirk moodily touched the cross again, flicked snow away. "I need to make a better monument. This is all right for temporary use but he deserved better."

"After the war, he will be sent home."

"His body will. He's gone, LeBeau."

"Come inside," LeBeau coaxed. "You will freeze."

Newkirk shook his head. "Let me go."

"Pierre, please," LeBeau pleaded. Newkirk looked at him, ran his fingers over the cross. "What if the Germans see you? Other than Mueller, I mean."

"Ol' Schultzie is guarding me tonight, LeBeau. He's snoozing by my cell as we speak."

"How can we help you?"

"Bring him back." Newkirk's voice faded into the falling snow.

"What?"

"Nothing, LeBeau. There's nothing anyone can do."

LeBeau firmly grabbed Newkirk's arm and pulled him to the barracks. No one batted an eye as Newkirk entered, well used to cooler inmates freely leaving their cell, especially after dark. Major Cole frowned. "Just picking up a blanket," Newkirk said. "Bleeding cold." He grabbed a blanket and followed LeBeau in to the tunnels. "Isn't he a ruddy charmer?" Newkirk muttered.

"Officers," LeBeau explained.

Carter grinned as they came in. "Hey," he greeted. "We have a guest coming. A Group Captain from London."

"Carter, take that to Major Cole," Kinch said. "Bored again, Newkirk?"

"Mending clothes," Newkirk replied. The air seemed to chill slightly as Kinch and Newkirk eyed each other.

"Why is London coming?' LeBeau demanded, hoping to break the tension. Newkirk and Kinch both looked at him and Kinch shrugged.

"They say to observe."

"When?" LeBeau demanded.

"Next week. Carter, go," Kinch said.

"Someone who can actually understand you." Carter teasingly nudged Newkirk. Newkirk looked at him quickly, with a twisted smile.

"Not much chance of that, mate. Not anymore." He left quickly.

They watched him leave. Kinch looked weary yet Carter looked agonzied and LeBeau clasped his shoulder, thinking of a friend standing in the cold staring at a crudely made cross.

Carter laid awake for hours that night, listening to the snores and breathing all around him. Finally he slipped off into the tunnels, nodding to Kinch who manned the radio. Carter quickly headed for the cooler, crawling quickly into the cell.

"Blimey, Carter, why are you still awake?"

"How did it happen?" Carter stood up, dusting off his clothes. Newkirk sighed and sat up.

"Define it, mate."

"You and the Colonel." Newkirk looked baffled. "I've talked to people. I mean, you and Colonel Hogan aren't anything like what they say. I'm trying to understand."

Newkirk rolled his eyes. "It was, Carter. That's all I can say."

"So give me a hint. I'm not stupid, Newkirk!"

Newkirk blew through his nose in frustration. "The first night he and I got together, it was cold and wet, raining down in sheets. We'd just blown a bridge."

"That night you two were so late?"

Newkirk nodded. "When the Krauts started shooting, we split into two groups so the gov and I could play fox."

"The Colonel wanted to do it alone," Carter reminded.

"Do you want to hear this or not?"

"Go ahead."

"Anyway, I ended up with the gov. Don't know why the Krauts were shooting. No one could see. Hogan and I ran through the rain until the gov ran into a tree limb. He was rattled, almost bleedin' unconcious. I half carried him to a cave, him blathering on about leaving him. We were soaked and he was shaking like a leaf. So I laid him down, stripped off his clothes. He felt like ice. I began rubbing him as dry as I could. I didn't have any dry clothes or towels but my shirt was pretty dry due to my overcoat. So I used that. Anyway, things went on from there and that's how it started."

"Started?"

"I thought about him for a long while before that night. I--took a chance." Newkirk smiled slightly. "It worked." He shrugged suddenly. "Doesn't matter."

"I found your box."

Newkirk jerked his head sharply. "What?"

"The wooden box. I found it. I wanted a book."

"Did you look in it?" Anger underlaid every word.

Carter squirmed. "Not really. I mean, I just opened the lid and saw the sketch."

Newkirk trembled visibly. "I made it for him. The box, I mean. Everything inside was Rob's."

"Rob?!"

Newkirk sighed in exasperation. "I told you we were lovers, Andrew. Think I didn't get some privileges? Yes, when we were together, I could call him Rob. Didn't happen much." Newkirk stood, paced slightly. "Almost everything in that box were things I gave him. He always said I could have it." Carter shook his head bemusedly. "Still bugs you?"

"It's just all so weird and new. I mean, boxes and pictures and his first name. I feel like I barely know you. And you're one of my best friends!"

"You, LeBeau and Kinch know me better than anyone," Newkirk said. "You knew me pretty well before. I just kept a few things to myself."

"Like Colonel Hogan."

Newkirk cocked his head. "I shared him with everyone." Carter shrugged and then yawned. "Get some sleep, Carter."

"Newkirk, I'm really sorry," Carter said awkwardly.

Newkirk looked at him with the same fractured expression that had chilled Carter's insides before. "So am I," Newkirk whispered. He laid down on the bunk, back to Carter. Carter looked at his feet, then back at Newkirk, comprehension filling him. Carter frowned. Working at the pharamacy, he knew people pretty well, he thought. He knew what was expected when people passed away--visitations, funerals, constant checking on the remaining family. But this wasn't his specialty. "Peter," he said, realizing he was using Newkirk's first name more than he ever had before.

"What?"

"I want to help."

"Wish you could." A pause. "I'm fine, Andrew."

"I know you really loved him."

Newkirk shrugged, not looking at him. "And see 'ow bleeding well that turned out."

To that, Carter could say nothing.