A/N: Hi everyone, Thanks for all the awesome reviews! I'm so glad everyone is enjoying the story! I'm back from London and ready to post again so here's another chapter. I hope you like it. Tons of thanks to my beta reader, Jennaya, the remaining mistakes are mine. I don't own them and probably never will.
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Business upstairs was slow. As Wilson had observed when he'd first arrived, the prisoners seemed to be in relatively good shape, only minor injuries and the typical camp diseases. He was surprised to find that half his patients he tended from the compound were suffering from faked illness. Prisoners would appear with bogus injuries and sicknesses, either for some scheme Hogan and his cohorts had thought up or the supplies that would have been used were then moved down into the tunnels for transit escapees and new supplies were requested. It was a brilliant plan, actually, and Wilson figured if he had any difficulty making a living after the war he'd have plenty of practice in insurance fraud.
The downstairs business, on the other hand, was booming. Already, Wilson had treated several patients, two broken ankles from downed fliers, one set of broken ribs on and escaped prisoner, and one gunshot wound on a local resistance member which, luckily, was relatively simple. The only concern he had was performing many more similar or more complicated surgeries inside the dark and damp tunnels. The underground passages might be ideal for hiding the fugitives of the Third Reich, but they left much to be desired as an operating room. They reeked with infection from the moisture and constant contaminations; still there was little choice.
Perhaps if Wilson talked to Colonel Hogan he'd be able to convince the colonel they needed a tunnel room lined with wood. That could at least be an attempt at sterile conditions and help toward removing the constant fall of dirt and dust when he had to dig around in the next man's leg for an errant bullet. Of course, that would require that he actually be able to speak with the colonel. Lately, it seemed Hogan had been deliberately avoiding him, but every time that thought struck Wilson he quickly dismissed it, telling himself that the colonel was busy and it was a large camp.
Even without the patients, Wilson found ways to help in the tunnels. He had a separate inventory of medical supplies to keep track of from the official supplies provided by the Red Cross. Baker, one of the men from Hogan's barracks was helping him review their stock down to the last eye dropper. Wilson wanted to know exactly how much he had to work with in case a serious injury occurred. They carefully disassembled the storage room, pulling out and opening each box to verify the contents since some of them were mislabeled for some reason that Baker wouldn't go into depth about.
"What is this?" Wilson asked as he found one box without any labeling printed on it. It was filled with bottles marked B-247 and filled with small white pills. He didn't recognize the marking on the bottles and there was no other identification on the medication.
Baker came and peered over Wilson's shoulder, reading the label on the bottles. "Oh, those are the knock-out pills London sent."
"Knock-out pills?" Wilson asked as he began to tally up the bottles on his count list.
"Yeah," Baker said, turning back to his box of pressure bandages. "London and Colonel Hogan have this idea that eventually we'll move more into the espionage racket. I mean, we've done a little of that already, but we could get some valuable intel with a little more preparation. And I mean, who ever heard of a spy that didn't have a good supply of knock out pills?" Baker added with a grin and a shrug.
Wilson glanced over his shoulder half impressed and half exasperated by the man's casual attitude toward the entire operation. "You know your professional attitude toward this business is astounding, like something out of a dime novel," he said with flat sarcasm. At least he was getting more comfortable with the other prisoners in camp. "Are they safe?" Wilson held one of the bottles up to the lit lantern and rattled it for a moment.
Baker shrugged again and closed up his box. "London's tested it. They said it works fine. And the colonel tested a couple on one of the guards just to be sure. Nothing bad happened then; a couple of those pills put him to sleep for hours."
"Really? Too bad the colonel won't take any." Wilson said and closed up the box. "Secret tunnels, knock-out pills, next thing you'll be telling me you've got ex-ray glasses in the back behind the radio."
"Nah," Baker laughed, "We're still waiting for the requisition to go through on those." He picked up a couple of the boxes and moved them out into the passage. "We can probably stack these here for now, so we don't recount anything. It supposed to be a quiet night, not even any raids or underground work scheduled so they won't be getting in the way."
"If that's so then Colonel Hogan will have some free time for his physical," Wilson said as he moved out the boxes he had looked over to add to the finished pile.
Baker just shook his head and flicked one of the lamps as it sputtered, throwing the shadows into crazed motion. "Good luck with that. Colonel Hogan's awfully stubborn about those things. I'll lay money down that you never get that physical done."
"Make it a chocolate bar and you're on," Wilson said, surprising even himself. This place must be getting to him already. "I'm just as stubborn as he is."
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"Colonel!"
Hogan cringed at the voice of his new chief medic. He didn't like to admit that he'd been avoiding Wilson, but he had and probably would still be if the medic hadn't caught him out in the open compound. A quick glance around confirmed there was nowhere to duck, and nothing to detour or distract him. A part of Hogan berated himself for doing it. After all, Stalag 13 was basically under his control, he really shouldn't have to hide from anybody unless the situation warranted it, especially from one of his own men. Still, he could help but hope for a building to jump behind if only to avoid another conversation about his general health.
With nowhere to go, Hogan fixed a pleasant look on his face and turned to meet the approaching medic. "Something I can do for you, Sergeant?"
Wilson strode up to him quickly, like he was afraid Hogan would disappear before he got there, "Yes, sir. I was wondering when you were going to finish you medical checkup. I know you've been busy, but it would really only take a moment."
Hogan had to consciously stop the exasperation from showing on his face. Obviously, Wilson had decided to cut to the chase unlike the last few times when he'd broached the subject with more tact, beginning with other matters that required attention. He must be getting frustrated, Hogan thought before replying, "Yes Sergeant, I have been very busy, besides-"
"But not tonight," Wilson interrupted, making Hogan stop.
"Excuse me?" Hogan said, keeping hold of his patience with a death grip for fear they'd leave all together.
"You're not busy tonight," Wilson repeated, with a quick look around to make sure no one else was near, "From what I understand nothing is happening tonight, for anyone. There's not even a scheduled radio broadcast."
"And who told you that?" Hogan asked. Now he was tempted to just let his well developed temper out just a little, but there really wasn't a cause for it. Wilson was a part of the organization, sent over specifically from London for Pete's sake. Of course, no one would worry about telling him something like that. "It doesn't matter," he said, "I'll have other work to do in my office so I'm sure I won't have time for it. Besides, as I said before, I'm fine. This exam can wait until next week when the activity dies down some more." Maybe if he just put it off enough Wilson would forget it.
Wilson stared back him as though he knew exactly what was happening. "That's alright, sir. You're blood pressure reading was high earlier so I would prefer to do it sooner, but if it has to wait until next week it'll probably be fine. I'll stop by anyway in case you do get a free moment." Wilson gave a quick salute, a habit he still hadn't broken, and turned back the way he'd come.
Hogan didn't like the way Wilson seemed to give in so easily, but for the moment he'd take it. More than likely, he'd get nagged again tonight but he felt confident he'd be able to delay that as well. If there was one the thing Hogan could do it was delay.
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One thing that surprised and worried Wilson the most after the initial shock of Hogan's operation had worn off was the amount of plans he ran across that didn't come from Hogan. True, none of them were as large scale, resourceful, or entirely as insane as the colonel's typical operation, if the stories were to be believed, but it was not from a lack of trying. Almost from the instant a new prisoner was brought into the operation it seemed Hogan started to corrupt them. The younger prisoners idolized him and followed his example with trying to get away with as much as possible with the guards. More than once he heard some private or corporal saying "and the guards were so confused. Do you think Colonel Hogan would be impressed?"
Wilson honestly didn't know whether to be more worried by the antics that he saw from his fellow prisoners, by the fact that he was getting used to it, or by the fact that he, too, now had a plan. Perhaps the fact that he couldn't decide which of those three things he should be worried about was the most troubling evidence that he'd already been in camp too long. Or it could be that Hogan was obviously just as corrupting an influence on him as it was on his compatriots almost ten years younger than himself.
To say Wilson had doubts about his plan would be an understatement, probably the biggest understatement of the past year. Every minute that passed he thought of a new way in which the entire thing could turn horribly wrong. It was like a game of worst-case-scenario gone out of control. What if something happened and they needed the colonel's particular touch? There was a good reason why Hogan was on call virtually 24/7 in camp. The many emergency situations that he knew of that could spring up without warning was probably only outnumbered by the many emergency situations that didn't know of and each could cost someone their life. However, if they kept on that same thinking and constantly ran on high alert Hogan would probably burn out within the year, if not less. The man needed a rest and Wilson would be damned if he didn't get it. After all, now Wilson's own neck relied on the colonel staying as healthy and sane as possible.
Having once again talked himself into it, Wilson picked up his pace across the compound to Barracks 2. It was after evening roll call but only just before lights out so technically he wasn't breaking any rules by still being out on the grounds. At least, that's what he told himself. Still, the near silent and deserted compound brought goose pimples up across his neck and arms and he stayed in as much shadow as possible. Until, he finally found himself knocking on barracks two.
Carter cracked the door open, already changed for bed. "We still have fifteen minutes before lights out Shultz!" he complained before recognizing the medic. "Oh hi Wilson, what are you doing here?"
Wilson stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. "I'm just here to see the colonel." The lights were a little brighter in this barracks than his own and he could see Baker on his bunk in the corner with a smug smile on his face.
Carter nodded his head toward the colonel's door. "He's in his office, but I don't know if he'll have time. He was looking over some maps last I saw, and he asked for more coffee and you know when people drink coffee late at night like this-"
Wilson chuckled as he cut Carter off, "College and medical school, trust I know what that means. Here I'll bring it in to him."
Wilson took the steaming mug LeBeau handed him and headed for the colonel's door. He knocked and went into the room when Hogan responded, suddenly feeling very nervous. Hogan was at his desk, back to the door comparing two maps with a magnifying glass. The desk light gave added illumination to the area maps as the over head lamp swayed slightly back and forth.
"Evening, sir," Wilson said, not bothering to salute with a medical bag in one hand and the coffee mug in the other. "Do you have a minute?"
"Evening, Wilson," Hogan said, not bothering to look up from the maps, in fact he seemed to be studying them more intensely than before. "Not at the moment, the need to get back to the underground in a couple days. I want to make sure they're ready with plenty of time to spare."
"Doesn't seem too pressing," Wilson said, stepping closer almost tempted to look over Hogan's shoulder. "I have everything I need for your check up. It'd only take a minute."
"You never know what may come up," Hogan said casually, "better to get it done early."
Wilson made a frustrated face at Hogan's back before rolling his eyes and his setting the bag down. "Well, at least tell me you're going to get a good night's sleep tonight."
"I have every intention to," Hogan said noncommittally.
The fact that Hogan was still completely dress did not escape Wilson's notice. "Did you ever hear the term workaholic, sir?"
"Looks who's making house calls fifteen minutes before lights out," Hogan shot back with only a touch of annoyance in his voice to match Wilson's tone.
Wilson rolled his eyes one more time, something he'd found himself doing more and more. A psychologist would have a field day in camp. The harmless chatter managed to calm his nerves a little, but they shot up again as he decided to act. Talking was getting him nowhere so he pulled two of the sleeping pills he'd found with Baker from his pocket and dropped them into the coffee mug. They dissolved instantly in the hot liquid.
"Well, at least have your coffee so you're not starting at those with closed eyelids." He set the coffee mug down next to Hogan who took and immediate gulp.
"Thanks," Hogan said, shooting a pang of guilt through Wilson, "can you believe this stuff actually tastes good right now?"
"That I can believe," Wilson said, trying to push back the sudden feeling that he was betraying his commanding officer. That notion hadn't really struck him until there was no turning back. "What I can't believe is that it's starting to taste good to me."
Hogan started to laugh, but ended in a large yawn and taking another gulp of coffee to wake himself up some more. It only made the colonel's eyes droop all the more. Wilson stepped up closer to the colonel's chair incase Hogan suddenly fell over. The officer was half out already with only a few gulps of coffee. Either that drug was very strong, or Hogan was already dead tired. Probably a little of both, Wilson thought.
"You're looking pretty tired, sir," Wilson said, "Maybe we should get you to bed."
Hogan didn't really respond, only let out another yawn as Wilson helped him to his feet and over to the bottom bunk. The medic pulled back the blanket and helped his CO into bed, taking the pillow from the top bunk and putting it under Hogan's head. He took off Hogan's shoes and grabbed his medical bag. The exam didn't take long, it was only the barest of medical check up to make sure there was nothing obviously wrong. The fact that it was done on a patient who was under the influence of an unknown drug added itself to the number of thing tugging on Wilson's conscience, but desperate times called for desperate measures. At least, that was what Wilson told himself. When he was done he pulled the blanket over the sleeping man and packed up his instruments.
Wilson folded the maps up on the desk and placed them in one of the secret compartments he'd seen Hogan use the week before, clearing the desk of anything suspicious. Taking the half empty coffee mug, he sniffed the contents carefully, smelling nothing out of the ordinary with the contents. Then, muttering to himself about spy knock-out pills, dumped the rest of the contents out the window. A quick scan of the room and he turned out both lights before closing the door behind him. It was already past lights out and he crept through the quiet and dark barracks in deference to the other sleeping men.
"Night, Wilson," Carter muttered, half asleep as Wilson left barracks two.
"Night," the medic whispered back and closed the door.
When Wilson finally got back to his own bed the rest of his barracks was in bed as well. Someone asked where he'd been before taking his answer to see the colonel and rolling over to fall asleep. Wilson got ready for bed in the dark as quietly as possible and climbed under his own blanket. If Baker and London were right the actual dose would only keep Hogan asleep for an hour or so, but the officer would just naturally sleep until roll call.
Wilson couldn't help the sense of satisfaction that pulled his mouth up in a small smile, warring with his guilty conscience. There'd be hell to pay in the morning when Hogan woke up and figured out what had happened. He might even end up in the cooler for a few days; it wouldn't be hard for Hogan to arrange. Wilson tried not to think of the idea that he might get sent home over this. The word "court-martial" kept ringing through the back of his head, but he hoped that would be too much trouble for the colonel to bother arranging.
Hopefully, he'd be able to explain his way out of the worst punishments. He did have a good reason for what he'd done, and it had been completely thought through. That was, if the colonel decided he would listen to reason, something that was not completely guaranteed in this case. The phrase, "London told me I could," didn't sound like a good defense either since technically they hadn't said that at all, though they had said they needed someone who would be a match for Hogan's stubbornness. Still, this probably wasn't what they were thinking of at the time.
Whatever would happen would happen in the morning; he told himself and tried to find sleep which wouldn't come.
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Well, there it is. Please review and let me know what you think.
