When dawn arrived, it had occurred to Moffitt that he should perhaps go look for MJ.

There was a less than charitable part of Moffitt that thought that MJ deserved her current predicament. She would, he assumed, be back soon enough. Thinking about the imminent return of MJ, Moffitt tried to imagine what reason that she would give about why she had run off in the middle of the night.

Even after an hour, he had failed to think of one that would have made him less irritated than he currently felt.

Standing at the edge of the camp, Moffitt looked around. He could see no sign of MJ or the stolen jeep. Binoculars, thought Moffitt, would have been helpful. It was rotten luck that both pairs were in the respective jeeps, one set with Tully and Hitch, and the other pair was in the jeep with MJ.

Where ever she was.

Concern finally close to winning out over irritation, Moffitt had nearly convinced himself that he should go and look for her. After all, he told himself, if she had gotten six kilometers, she would have been lucky. It would take little more than an hour at a brisk pace to cover the ground in one direction to find her and to bring her back.

On the other hand, Moffitt knew, she could have gone in any direction and Moffitt did not relish the idea of tramping around in the sand in a circle to look for her. Tully and Hitch, with any luck, would return at any time and Moffitt knew that he needed to be there when they arrived.

Still squinting out at the horizon, Moffitt decided that the two boys could go and look for MJ. Having a jeep would make things infinitely easier and MJ could likely wait.

Just as they all had on her while she had searched unproductively for a cure.

''Hey, Moffitt!'' Hitch called. "Where are you?''

Moffitt looked up from the mirror, but didn't turn. "In here, Hitch.'' There was a momentary silence. Moffitt took advantage of it to finish shaving his chin.

'"We got what you sent us to town for.''

"Excellent! Come in, then.'' Picking up a towel, Moffitt wiped the rest of the soap from his face.

"Come in?'' There was hesitation in Hitch's voice at being directed into an area that, like the infirmary, had been off limits for so long.

Moffitt thought about how MJ had mostly cleaned the place out of anything that he would consider dangerous. "Don't worry, there's nothing much left in here that could harm you.''

The tent flap of MJ's former lab opened. A slice of light and a breath of heat entered with Hitch. Tully followed with another man in front of him.

Moffitt smiled at all of them. He walked over to the group and held out his hand to the man. The man hesitated.

''You must be Dr. Somme,'' said Moffitt, ''Sergeant Jack Moffitt. How do you do?''

''We have met before, if you recall, Sergeant Moffitt.'' Dr. Somme narrowed his eyes.

"Yes, of course. Lot going on that day, you know, and no time for formal introductions.'' Moffitt dropped his hand and wondered how upset Somme was with them.

Moffitt looked at Hitch and Tully. They weren't carrying any weapons other than their ever present side arms and they looked relaxed. Both were good signs that indicated that Dr. Somme had come with them willingly.

"Any trouble getting things done?'' Moffitt asked them, just to be sure.

"Nah,'' said Hitch, ''We found Dr. Somme no problem. He met us just where Captain Boggs said that he would. The doctor has been real cooperative."

"Piece of cake,'' confirmed Tully.

Grinning faintly at Tully quoting him, Moffitt turned his attention back to Somme. ''I am sure that you were told why we wished to see you, Dr. Somme.''

Somme nodded. "I received the initial information from the French Underground and then additional details from your men. I understand that some members of your group are ill because of exposure to the virus that you helped Dr. Knight take from the lab.'' His eyes went around MJ's former lab, lingering on the equipment that she had been using up until the time when she had bolted. "Where is Dr. Knight?''

"Oh, she's around.'' Moffitt decided to tell a bit more of the truth. "But I'm not honestly sure that I know where.''

Tully and Hitch looked at one another.

Finally, Somme showed some expression. He smiled. "That sounds very much like Dr. Knight, Sergeant. At least from what I have heard from Dr. LeFeurve.''

"Yes, I don't think that he was necessarily a member of her appreciation society.''

"No, but I think membership to that is large enough.'' Dr. Somme was still smiling.

"Numbers might be getting shorter by the day,'' Moffitt murmured. He crossed his arms against his chest as if trying to keep his irritation at MJ from spilling out.

"I see that you have gotten to know Dr. Knight quite well then, Sergeant.'' Still, the man smiled.

"At any rate, you know that we have sick men here. Is there something that can be done to counteract the effects of the virus? Is there a cure that you can give them?''

The smile left Dr. Somme's face. "There is no magic potion that we have found that will cure a virus. That much holds true throughout the history of medicine, though many will continue to try.''

Moffitt blinked, trying hard to comprehend Dr. Somme's words. "What?'' he asked as all the hope that he had been holding slipped away. "But, Dr. LeFeurve told Dr. Knight that there was a cure for the virus. An antibiotic?''

"This is a virus, not a bacteria, antibiotics would be of no help. I am not sure why Dr. LeFeurve would have mentioned that. Perhaps he meant antibodies? His English is not always strong.''

Moffitt shrugged. He had no way of knowing what the man had meant. It had seemed at the time that it had made sense to MJ, so Moffitt hadn't questioned it.

''There was a vaccine, Sergeant. That much is true. Or, at least there was, before you,'' Dr. Somme paused to looked pointedly at Hitch, ''blew it up.''

Hitch had the good grace to take a moment to study his boots.

"You destroyed all of our research, including the vaccine that we had produced. I had attempted save some samples of it and my notes, but I seem to remember being dissuaded from doing so. I believe that I was told that stupidity would get me killed.''

"I believe that was indeed what you were told.''

"How many people may you have killed by stupidly destroying a vaccine that would prevent an out beak of a deadly disease?"

Not in the mood to discuss the circumstances that had led to what he felt was by this point a rhetorical question and a moot point, Moffitt ignored Somme's lament. "The vaccine would prevent the sickness.'' Moffitt, while not an expert in the field of medicine, at least felt that he knew how that worked.

"That is correct. A vaccine is only a prevention. In some cases, a vaccine may also shorten effects of a virus, but not so in this case. So, rest assured, you did not destroy any cure.'' Somme looked again to Hitch. ''If that makes your sleep easier, gentlemen.''

Moffitt thought that it might, as it was one less thing that they all had to regret. "So, there's no medicine that will cure or treat the virus?''

"No, nothing of the sort.''

Moffitt sat down heavily on the lab bench, his last hope now slipping away with every other one that he had ever held. "But Dr. LeFeurve told Dr. Knight that he had found a cure, that you yourself had been ill and that he had cured you. As he had most of the men that worked with you.''

"It is true that I was infected and lived, as did most of the others. However, Dr. LeFeurve never discovered what I would call a cure.''

Moffitt did not know whether to become hysterical or to faint. Hysteria seemed to be winning by the smallest of margins. "Dr. Somme, are you telling me that there is nothing that can be done?''

"No, that is not what I am saying.'' Dr. Somme's face softened. "There is something that can be done, Sergeant, to increase the odds of survival.''

In a mere moment, Moffitt found that his hands were gripping the lapels of Somme's jacket. "Well, what is it, man? What can you do? Anything!'' Giving the man a shake, Moffitt growled. "Tell me!''

It was easy for Moffitt to see the fright in the man's pale eyes. He found that he did not care. If anything, he had a strong desire to make the man feel anything that would get him to assist them.

Tully was behind Moffitt in an instant. A large hand settled between Moffitt's shoulders. "Sarge, maybe you ought to let the fellow talk first before you get so upset?''

Letting his hands drop, Moffitt stepped back. He took a deep and shaky breath and ran his hands through his hair. "Quite right. I seem to be a bit overwrought. My apologies, Dr. Somme."

"It is never easy watching anyone die, especially when it is someone for whom that you care. I understand that all too well.'' Dr. Somme walked over and looked at the equipment that MJ had left behind. "I will need to do some tests first, to ensure that what we are going to do will not cause more damage. If done incorrectly, then the treatment would become just as fatal as the disease.''

"What is that you are going to do?" Moffitt did not like the sound of what the doctor was saying. Replacing one threat of death with another one was not his idea of an ideal solution.

Looking up from his inspection of MJ's abandoned microscope, Dr. Somme smiled at Moffitt. "I am sure that you are familiar with the practice of blood transfusion, Sergeant?''

Moffitt stood outside of the tent with Tully and Hitch while Somme worked where MJ had been working merely hours before.

Moffitt hoped that Somme would have greater success. Moffitt thought about the explanation of the treatment that Somme had given him. It hardly sounded like the magnificent cure that MJ had promised them all. It was simple and as Dr. Somme had explained it to Moffitt, it had made perfect sense.

Moffitt's eyes travelled over to the small group of men that stood by the truck that had carried them and Dr. Somme's equipment into the camp. Those men, according to Somme, were the key to the only hope that Troy, Dietrich, and Bader had for survival.

Ordinary looking Frenchmen made extraordinary by the fact that they had beaten a deadly enemy and that they could potentially help others to do the same.

"I wonder,'' Moffitt murmured out loud as he thought it, "What MJ would say about all of this?''

"Um, Sarge,'' asked Tully. "Where exactly is Dr. Knight?''

"Well, you'll notice that one of the jeeps is missing. I'm afraid that she went missing with it.''

Hitch's mouth dropped open. "Are you saying that she stole our jeep and ran off?''

Moffitt nodded. "Yes, that is indeed what it appears has happened.''

"Where the heck would she go?''

Tully chuckled. "Well, if she took that jeep, not too far. Wasn't much left but fumes left in the tank.''

"Exactly. I don't suppose that you gentlemen wouldn't like to go and see if you could find her, would you?''

Moffitt had expected, honestly, for MJ to have come crawling back to the camp with a charming smile on her face and some fantastic explanation as to where and why she had gone falling easily from her lips. It had not happened as predicted and Moffitt found it worrying.

"Sure,'' Hitch said. ''We can do that. Shouldn't take too long.''

Moffitt nodded. "Yes, that was my thought. I'll stay here and observe Dr. Somme just to make sure that we don't have any accidents.''

"Accidents?''

"Yes.'' Moffitt hoped that Dr. Somme, while also a member of the Free French, was not quite as extreme in his views. While the end that he would meet may not be as dramatic as Dr. LeFeurve's, it would be an end just the same.

Tully and Hitch looked at one another, fully aware that there was something that they were missing.

Finally, Tully shrugged. "All right, Hitch. Let's go find Dr. Knight before she gets herself well done out there.'' Tully put a matchstick in his mouth and then turned to go.

''Make sure that when you find her that you are wearing your masks,'' Moffitt called after them.

"Why? Dr. Knight's not sick,'' Hitch said, turning to face Moffitt.

"Better safe than sorry. On your way, then.''

Without anything but another look exchanged between them that made it obvious that they knew that there were several things Moffitt was not telling them, Tully and Hitch left.

Moffitt heard the engine of the jeep gun and then watched as it drove away, carrying Hitch and Tully on their mission to find the errant Dr. Knight.

Alone, Moffitt's eyes went back to the men that Somme had brought with him. There were four of them, lounging around the truck, seemingly without a concern in the world. According to Somme, the men had all recovered from the virus, some not more than two weeks prior.

They all looked healthy enough, Moffitt thought.

He hoped that in two weeks time, he was thinking the same about Troy.

"Your men knew the blood group of Sergeant Troy, so it was not difficult to determine what donor to bring with me for his treatment," Somme said. He finished taking Troy's vitals and made a few notes on a chart. Finally satisfied, he nodded. "Please begin, Henri.''

Moffitt watched as both the donor, one of the men that Somme had brought with him, and the recipient, Troy, as they were joined together by tubing and rather wicked looking needles. The flow of bright red blood began between them, hopefully carrying a substance that would give Troy's body the ability to fight off the virus.

"And what of the other men?'' asked Moffitt. "Did you bring suitable donors for them? You said that you did not know their blood types.''

"From the recovered men in our group, I was able to locate two with the universal O type.'' Somme nodded to his orderly. "If you would, Henri, the youngest man first.''

Henri called out something to one of the other men. They both went to Bader's bedside and Henri began his work. It was not lost on Moffitt that they were commenting in French on the boy's state of health and his relative closeness to death. The exchange led to further predictions of the possible ineffectiveness of the procedure.

Moffitt closed his eyes and wished that he could pray to any god. When he found that he could not, he opened his eyes and found Somme looking at him.

"I recall that you speak at least some French, Sergeant. Obviously, it is enough that their comments were not lost on you."

"No, I understood quite well what they said, though I wish that I hadn't. I could use a little more blissful ignorance in my life. I find that I quite miss it, actually.''

Somme put his hand on Moffitt's arm. "Despite what they said, all hope is not gone. We did have success with this course of treatment for men who were in the final stages of the illness. Though, I feel the need to share with you that the rate of success is lower.''

"I see.'' Moffitt sighed and then looked at Dietrich who was sleeping through all of the activity around him. "And the other man?''

"After examining him, I would say that he has the best chance of all to beat the virus. He may have quite possibly recovered on his own, given time.''

Moffitt nodded, not surprised by the diagnosis. He would expect no less from Dietrich. After all, the man had made a career of getting knocked and getting back up for more. That sheer force of will had allowed him to survive things that his comrades had not.

"Come then, let us start his treatment, as well. Even if not entirely necessary, it will do nothing but to improve his odds of survival.'' Somme moved over to Dietrich's bed and Moffitt followed.

Somme gestured to the last man standing. Obediently, the man came to lay down on the gurney that was placed next to Dietrich's bed. Somme began the same preparations that Moffitt had now observed twice before.

When the catheter went into Dietrich's arm, his eyes flew open. He began to struggle to set up in bed. "Was ist das?'' Dietrich asked, a note of panic in his voice. "Was machen Sie mit mir?''

Moffitt put his hand on Dietrich's shoulder and gently pushed him back on the bed. "Bitte sind sie sich Beruhigen, Dietrich.''

At Moffitt's touch and at the sound of his voice, Dietrich frowned but laid back. "Sehr gut, dann.''

Dr. Somme was looking at Moffitt. The man who was to be Dietrich's donor had sat up on his cot.

"This man is a German, Sergeant,'' Somme said, quietly stating the obvious.

"Yes, he's German. Is that going to be a problem for you, Dr. Somme?'' Moffitt asked, thinking once again of how and why Dr. LeFeurve had met his end.

"I had understood that these were Allied soldiers.'' Somme frowned. "This man is our enemy.''

"On a normal day, he's also mine. This is not a normal day. I'm very much invested in keeping him alive. I hope that you feel the same way?'' Hoping to send a not so subtle message, Moffitt's hand went to his side arm. "Think very carefully about your answer and how you are going to proceed next, Doctor.''

"We will continue as planned with his treatment.'' Dr. Somme told his man to lie back down and then turned back to Moffitt. "You are lucky that it was me whom you managed to locate, Sergeant Moffitt. There are some who are hell bent on destroying the Bosche at any cost."

"Yes, I've run into at least one of them lately. I hope that you honestly don't feel the same way, Dr. Somme?''

Dr. Somme inclined his head. "I support the cause of a Free France. I am also a doctor. As a doctor, I will do what is needed to save a man, regardless of his allegiance or his nationality. And my men will follow my lead.'' Somme went back to what he had been doing.

Nodding, Moffitt did not move his hand away from his gun. "I am glad to see that you are more reasonable that Dr. LeFeurve was.''

"Was,'' Dr. Somme repeated, not looking up. "When I did not see him here, I had assumed that Dr. LeFeurve was dead. I am right, no?''

"You are correct in you assumption.''

Somme gave a long sigh and shook his head. "May God have mercy on his soul.'' Momentarily, he stopped what he was doing and crossed himself. "And I am also assuming that his extreme views resulted in the end of his life?''

"That would also be correct.'' Moffitt remembered that Somme had been LeFeurve's long time partner in his research. The news of LeFeurve's death must mean more to him than it had to Moffitt. "I am sorry to have to tell you that he is dead.''

"And I am sorry to hear it. Dr. LeFeurve was a brilliant scientist. However, his fervor to end the German occupation of France was beginning to make him . . . unstable.''

Unstable was a bit of what Moffitt would consider a weak word when used to describe LeFeurve. He snorted. "The man was insane.''

"Perhaps. But Pierre LeFeurve was not always such a radical, Sergeant. It happened after the Bosche killed his wife and child very brutally. The treatment that his wife received at their hands was particularly hideous." Somme removed his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "That type of grief does strange things to some men.''

Moffitt nodded with some understanding, but found that he was hardly able to empathize. Wanting to kill every German that one saw just to avenge a personal loss seemed extreme. Moffitt felt lucky that he had not experienced any actual close personal losses during the war. Fate willing, it would stay that way. If not, he hoped that he would bear it better than LeFeurve had.

Dr. Somme, his work finished, stood. "Engineering the virus to make it a weapon was not anything that I had a part in, Sergeant. I also wanted to be sure that you knew that. I worked on the vaccine, not the virus itself.'' His pale eyes looked earnestly into Moffitt's.

"I had heard that from Dr. Knight.''

"I did not approve of Dr. LeFeurve's efforts to create a plague that would be used as a weapon. However, if you do not know about something, it is difficult to stop it. You can only hope to mitigate the potential damages.''

Moffitt thought that truer words had never been spoken. Somme stepped away from Dietrich's bed and Moffitt moved with him. Silently, they surveyed the scene before them.

Finally, Somme spoke again. "None of the men that you see before you volunteered to be infected with the virus, Sergeant. Much like your friends, they were unwilling victims.''

Moffitt was hardly surprised to hear that. "And what about you, Dr. Somme? You were infected. Was that by choice?''

Somme smiled faintly. "I infected myself while testing the vaccine.''

"Well, that was unfortunate.''

"Yes, but I was aware of the chance that I was taking and the probable consequences. I made the gamble in hopes of advancing my research.''

"That's more than a bit reckless, even in the name of science.''

Somme shrugged. "It is not an uncommon thing in my field.''

"Risky,'' Moffitt said, finally.

"More risky than four men taking on entire German Panzer columns with only two jeeps? I think not.'' Somme looked more than a bit amused. "Private Hitchcock shared with me stories about what your team does to fight the war. When you are not blowing up research facilities at the direction of Dr. Knight, of course.''

"Point taken. But, risky or not, we all seem to manage to get through it, though, week after week.''

"We have all lived to tell our tales,'' Somme agreed.

Moffitt nodded, hoping that very shortly, Troy, Bader, and Dietrich would be able to continue to say the same.