"Newkirk, you and Carter take Flight Lieuetenant Danvers to the rendezvous tonight."

"You got it, gov." Newkirk lit a cigarette.

"Be careful." Hogan looked at Newkirk closely. "You'll be okay with this?"

"'Course. Why wouldn't I?"

"You've been brooding."

Newkirk looked surprised. "Not brooding," he protested. "Thinking."

"Anything I should know about?"

"No, nothing." Newkirk hastily straightened up. "I'll let Carter know."

"All right." Colonel Hogan looked compassionately at his Englishman. "Peter, are you sure there's nothing bugging you?"

Newkirk took a step forward then stopped. Nothing you--or anyone--can help with. "I'll think about it, gov. Thanks." He avoided Hogan's gaze, left quickly. Good work, Peter. That'll work. Tell a ruddy officer your secrets. What the hell are you thinking?!

The dropoff went easily. Danvers whispered "Thanks again, chaps. Be careful." He shook Carter's hand, did the same for Newkirk. Then he darted off with the Underground. Newkirk and Carter headed back to camp. Newkirk didn't realize how quiet Carter was until they were back in the tunnel and Carter cleared his throat. He jerked at the sound.

"You okay, Newkirk?"

"Course." Newkirk glanced at his friend. Carter shifted weight from foot to foot. "Why?"

"You've been kinda down for awhile. Well, not really down but thoughtful. I mean, like you've been mulling something over. Like my uncle. He'd been quiet for a couple weeks and here all this time he'd just think and think...."

"Carter, I'm fine. Thanks for worrying." Newkirk smiled.

"OK."

In his bunk, Newkirk opened the note Danvers had given him.

Newkirk,

Here are the names and addresses of people I know. When you're home again, look them up . Tell them you were my friend. All of them have been where you are. They can help. I wish you the best. Good luck.

Wesley

Newkirk glanced at the names and addresses. Carefully he folded the note and placed it securely with his letters from Mavis and Elizabeth. It could be useful. Could I be a homosexual? I can't be this way. I mean, those circus days are long gone. But the way I'm feeling... So now what do I do? I don't dare tell. What if I slip up? I wish I never met Danvers! It's his fault, showing me that people can live with this. I guess I could always return to the circus, join the other oddities.

-----------

"Colonel?" Colonel Hogan lifted his head. LeBeau stood in the doorway, looking nervous. "Can I speak to you privately?"

"Sure, LeBeau. Come in and close the door." Hogan closed his book. LeBeau carefully closed the door and walked to the table. "Have a seat."

"Merci." LeBeau picked at the table. Hogan patiently waited. "Mon Colonel, I am worried about Newkirk."

Hogan raised an eyebrow. "Go on."

"It is hard to explain. He is--" LeBeau frowned. "He is behaving--odd. He" LeBeau waved a hand back and forth. "He is twitchy? Is that the word? He seems fine and then he gets angry then morose. It's like there is always something here." He tapped his head. "Always thinking on something. I would not be so concerned but he has been doing this for over six weeks. He spent part of yesterday staring at the trees. I have asked if something is bothering him but he just says no."

Hogan frowned. "He has been a bit broody at that." He tapped his pencil on the table. "Thanks, LeBeau. I'll see what I can find out."

"Merci, mon Colonel. And please, do not tell him I have talked to you."

"I won't."

LeBeau left and Hogan pushed his hands through his hair. LeBeau made number four. Carter, Kinch, and Mills had all come forward, worried about Newkirk. Frankly, Hogan was at a loss. Newkirk fluctuated between being perfectly Newkirk to being silent for days at a time. Hogan also wasn't so busy he missed Newkirk's hit and miss sleeping habits. Having similar problems himself, he wondered what Newkirk wrestled with so many nights. When London kept them busy, Newkirk was himself, complaining but giving everything he had. When a lull came, like now, Newkirk pulled into his shell. He did his chores, attended the intensive training classes, and otherwise stuck to himself. Everyone had quickly learned to leave him alone. Hogan sighed. He wasn't an Agony Aunt but he wanted his men to come to him with problems, especially his command crew. And that's what bugs you. He doesn't trust you enough to tell you what's obviously upsetting him. Then again, he doesn't trust anyone else either. And that's the main point. We trust each other with our lives. What can be so important that Newkirk won't tell anyone?

A nagging part of Hogan wondered if someone had gotten to Newkirk, if he wasn't being pressured. The pencil snapped in Hogan's fingers. He wouldn't believe Newkirk or any of his men would betray them. Yet he had to find out what was wrong. He wondered if the next day's Red Cross delivery would cheer up his Brit.

The smell of coffee, cookies, and chocolate filled the barracks. Hogan breathed in the rich scents and grinned at his men. LeBeau smiled at Hogan. "Did you have a good day mon Colonel?"

"Three letters, I did great." Hogan looked around. "Where's Newkirk?"

"Playing poker with the guards," Kinch said absently, deep in a letter.

"That was quick."

"Payday," Olsen said.

Hogan nodded. Newkirk returned later in the afternoon, eating a chocolate bar. "Good game?" Carter asked.

"Not bad," Newkirk shrugged. He hopped on his bunk and pulled a paperback novel from his pocket.

"What are you reading?" Kinch asked.

"Mystery novel."

"I did not know you liked mysteries," LeBeau said.

"Well, you don't know everything about me." Newkirk pulled the book close. LeBeau and Carter exchanged baffled looks. Hogan cocked his head thoughtfully. LeBeau shot him a See? look.

"It's in German," Olson said.

"And?"

"You can't read German, Newkirk," Olson said with exaggerated patience. Newkirk squinted at him.

"I can do more than you bleeding think, Olson. I can speak it, I can read it."

Olson frowned. "I just meant..."

"The coffee is ready, mon Colonel," LeBeau interrupted.

"Thanks, LeBeau." Hogan poured a cup of coffee and sipped it slowly, savoring the full-bodied flavor and aroma. "Kinch, radio London tonight, see when our other supplies are coming."

"Sure, sir."

The men all chattered and exchanged stories. Hogan caught more than a few glances at the normally garroulous Newkirk who appeared deep in his book. When night came, Kinch headed down into the tunnels. "Newkirk, how is the uniform situation?"

Newkirk didn't look up. "All fine and up to date, gov. All clean."

"Are you sure?"

Newkirk looked up, lips tightening. "Yes, sir, I'm sure. But I'll check."

He jumped off the bunk and went down into the tunnels. Hogan sighed and followed. Kinch met him at the radio room. "Supplies will here in three nights," Kinch said. "Tomorrow night there is a bombing run scheduled for 0100 hours."

"All right, we'll go out. Newkirk, LeBeau, and I. Carter and you hold the fort here."

Kinch nodded.

Newkirk walked over. "All fine, sir." He glanced at Kinch. "Do we finally have something to do?"

"Bombing run," Kinch said.

"You, LeBeau, and myself," Hogan said. Newkirk grinned, eyes lighting.

"'Bout ruddy time. Been going daft locked up in here."

Hogan smiled. Maybe he just needs to get out.