Chapter 12 coming right up.

just a heads up, this was the last chapter i had ready on my computer, now i´ll have to start writing a whole seven pages again so it might just take a while.

-hogan get´s really drunk in this one. i don´t think he would in canon, but i dont think he would have to deal with this kind of problem there. so i hope it isnt too disturbing.

anyways, enjoy. Please R&R

"Sir, I thought we could talk."

Hogan squinted his eyes, trying to block out the harsh light in his office.

He thought the frown on the radio man's face should tell him something, but he couldn't quite put a finger on it. All he wanted right now was to be alone, maybe go back to one of his more pleasant dreams.

"´Bout what?", he slurred, thereby deepening the lines on Kinch´s face.

"Are you drunk, sir?", he asked incredulously. It wasn't often that Hogan let his control slip like that.

"Is that what you want to talk about?", he asked irritated, slouching over to his bunk to throw his jacket and crush cap on it. He started going through his stuff trying to find a flask he knew he had. Something told him that he would want it sooner rather than later.

He found it and started pouring some of its content into a glass on the desk.

Whiskey. Perfect.

Maybe him passing out right there would convince Kinch to postpone talking business into the morning.

"No.", Kinch replied hesitantly. He took a deep breath, then he looked steady and sinister once more: "I want you to tell me I'm wrong."

Somewhere underneath Hogan´s general bad mood and grogginess, a darker, colder emotion stirred and reminded him that Richter's death threats weren't his only problem.

He didn't have to ask what this was about. Leave it to Kinch to be more perceptive than the rest of the men; it would explain the weird looks he had given him all week.

Hogan briefly closed his eyes.

He really didn't want to talk about that, now less than ever, no he wanted to bury it for as long as he could, and instead revel in the only success he´d had all week. Their mission.

But he had a hunch that Kinch would not simply leave now that he had gathered the courage to talk to his CO.

He didn't even ask what the tall sergeant meant by wrong.

"And lie to your face?", he asked detachedly, watching as Kinch flinched at the words.

They stared at each other for a moment, neither of them backing off. Hogan took a large gulp of liquor, savoring the way it burned in his throat. There was no going back now, but he hoped he could at least ease the way a bit.

Hogan knew that Kinch had hoped to have his fears eased, but he was done lying to his men.

Kinch bit his lip, apparently realizing that Hogan wasn't going to deny anything.

"You´ve done it all this time, haven't you?", he challenged, torn between desperation and bitterness: "Why stop now?"

Briefly, Hogan wondered if it would be appropriate for him to be as upset as Kinch looked. Then again, he was almost grateful for the numbness that enveloped him; it made this so much easier, even if it just postponed the inevitable grief until he sobered up in the morning.

For a moment he debated whether Kinch´s question really demanded an answer, then he responded just to be on the safe side.

"That was different. I was a different person then."

There´s nothing better than near death experiences to shift one´s priorities, he thought half amused. It was true but he didn't know if Kinch would understand that; he hadn't been there with them.

"I see.", Kinch said after a while, his face and eyes dark despite the light from the ceiling. The way he looked at his CO was different from before, like he was a stranger, not a confidant: "At first I hoped the others were right, that I had it wrong. I just couldn't believe it. But I´d have to be blind not to see the way you look at him. I…", he brought a hand to his face, clearly conflicted: "I…how could you, colonel? It´s not normal, not how God intended!"

Hogan thought he would burst out laughing maniacally at that, but he restrained himself knowing that once he started laughing it would end in tears.

God. In all this time, he hadn't once thought of that aspect.

After all, how much could he give on the opinion of a god who had led him down a path of death and destruction, who had given him love only to make him watch it being ripped away in front of him?

"Well, if God didn't intend it then why did he make me feel this way in the first place?", he asked quietly, voice calm, but hands shaking as the held on to his desk.

Kinch didn't answer at first, his expression wavering between confusion and resentment. He didn't seem to like having his beliefs questioned. Well, too bad, Hogan didn't like to have his morality questioned either.

He downed the rest of what his glass contained and refilled it instantly. Even dizzy and tired as he felt, he wasn't drunk enough yet. He should have thought of this sooner; it took the edge off nicely.

When the sergeant finally spoke again, his eyes were devoid of any empathy, his body standing at attention for the last time:

"I want to inform you that I request a transfer. I cannot serve under your command under these circumstances."

Not even the alcohol could buffer the blow those words gave him. He wasn't so much surprised as grieved that he had been right to fear this. He had to wait and make sure his voice was steady before could attempt to answer.

"I see.", Hogan nodded, desperately holding on to the numbness that was like a blanket in an icy night. It was slipping mercilessly, baring his skin to piercing stabs of ice.: "If that is your wish I will arrange for it in the morning."

Kinch nodded without looking at him and Hogan couldn't help but think ruefully of all the times Kinch had been a friend and confidant to him, were it the missions or personal matters. It seemed oddly fitting to see that pillar of his life shattered like glass, considering everything else around him was breaking away.

The office door opened just then, revealing Newkirk´s pale face.

"Colonel, are you…?", he started, but hesitated when he realized Hogan wasn´t alone. He slipped half inside, a frown growing on his face when he saw the other men´s expressions.

"What´s going on ´ere?", he asked suspiciously, worry thick in his tone.

Instead of answering, Kinch walked past him through the door.

"I´ll give you two some privacy.", he muttered in what could have passed for a joke if Hogan hadn't practically tasted the alienation and hostility behind the words on his tongue. And just like that the man he´d thought of as his best friend walked out on him.

Hogan sunk down on the chair behind his desk, sighing heavily. Every last ounce of optimism was gone by now. If he had thought this morning it couldn´t get worse, he had been so wrong. So now his team was breaking apart as well. Figured.

The feeling was beginning to return to his body at the worst possible moment. He took another sip of whiskey, only to have Newkirk stare at him incredulously this time.

He didn't care. Pain was licking up his limbs like flames, scorching him. God, he wished he could just go to sleep already. Go back to the dark.

Oh, he had known back in the cooler that he should have stayed there in the first place. But now it was too late.

As if all that weren't bad enough he was acutely aware of Newkirk´s lingering presence, his eyes on him.

Why was he here again? He hadn't asked.

But he couldn't, he wouldn't deal with him too, now, whatever it was.

He couldn't take another blow without shattering, too. Or shattering something within reach. He wasn't too sure.

"Gov´nor…?", he heard Newkirk´s almost hesitant voice, thought he recognized something along the lines of worry in his tone, but he didn't care. He didn´t want to be pitied and indulged only to be pushed away come morning.

"Go away.", he said without looking up, his forehead leaning heavily on his knuckles: "I´ve had enough for one night."

He couldn't deal with anyone else right now. Especially Newkirk.

Day after day he reigned himself in, fought for control, but now the lines became as blurry as his vision. There were no words to describe how much he wanted Newkirk to leave as soon as possible, partly because he was drunk and not completely in control and that made him want to curl up and drown in self pity.

And partly because he was drunk, not in control and that made him want for Newkirk to stay. One would think that with all he had going on, his infatuation would be the last thing to worry about. But, of course, his desire seemed to grow with his desperation.

He shook his head violently, trying to clear it of the images that were suddenly creeping up on him from behind. Sure, they helped taking his mind of Kinch´s words, but still…

Oh, it had been a stupid idea to hit the bottle like that; apart from not even numbing his emotional turmoil it had made him unstable. Made him notice and feel things that he usually pushed far away.

No, he could not have Newkirk standing there with that look in his eyes. Not at all.

The only trouble was to get him to understand that, preferably without making him understand why.

So he tried his best to appear dismissive while Newkirk stood by the door, somewhat nervously fumbling with the seams of his blue sweater.

"Did you hear me? That was an order."

After a moment the door fell shut and he almost hoped that the corporal had taken a hint for once, but when he looked up sure enough he was still standing in his office. There was an edge of determination to his features that told Hogan he wouldn't sleep unless he either physically threw the man out or told him what he wanted to know.

He sighed, rubbing his eyes: "Kinch wants to be transferred. He says he can´t work with me anymore because of…what I am."

He heard Newkirk gasp for air at that, clearly indignant, and almost chuckled again: Like Kinch´s behavior was so different from his own. He tried not to push him away but he did. And that hurt almost worse than being rejected altogether.

But he couldn't say that to Newkirk´s face. No. Not if he wanted to keep the last shred of pride he had left.

So instead he explained matter of factly:

"I would go myself, but I can't. Not until I have dealt with Richter. He will be out of the picture once we blow up that factory. Then I can ask London to be transferred."

As expected, that struck a nerve with Newkirk who protested immediately:

"Stop that! None of you has to go. We´re a team, we have always worked together. I will talk to Kinch, set him straight…"

Hogan silently gritted his teeth as he took another generous gulp of alcohol, desperately trying to will the man away. He knew there was no point to this anyway. Kinch had made up his mind. Now if Newkirk could just let it go he could move on and try to bury the pain.

But no, how could he even hope for that?

Once Newkirk had his teeth in something he didn't let go easily, especially when it concerned those he cared about. And while Hogan supposed he could count himself lucky that he was still on that list, he almost would have preferred the contrary if it meant Newkirk would give him some much needed space.

"No, you won´t.", he simply said: "It will be easier for all of you if I go. They will send someone new, someone you can feel comfortable having around."

Newkirk shifted uncomfortably, unconsciously proving his point.

"Gov´nor, we don't feel…"

"What?", Hogan asked, irritated by now. His patience was worn thin by incessant exposure. He didn't mean to be harsh, he just couldn't think of another way to end the conversation. So if he had to be rude, he would:

"Don't lie to my face. Can you tell me that you don't flinch every time I come close to you? That you think about what happened when you should just see me as your CO?"

"I…yes, but…", he fell silent, guilt showing on his face.

Hogan looked up at Newkirk, gathering his last shred of diplomacy. It wasn't his fault after all. It was his own.

"I´m not blaming you. I´m just asking you to stop trying to fix it.", he said softly, eyes dark: "You can´t. Now please leave me alone, I´ve had a long day."

He played with the glass in front of him, wondering where its content had suddenly gone. His mind was reeling with images of Richter's sneer, Newkirk´s eyes, Kinch´s resentment, all of them bleeding together, haunting him.

He needed it to stop. He needed to stop thinking about it or he would go mad, and what better way to clear his mind than sleep?

He looked over to the bunk longingly.

With a whiff of annoyance he realized Newkirk was still standing at the door. His eyes were softer than usual, showing a sadness that he hadn't seen in him before but his voice was as calm and steady as ever as he said: "I won´t let this happen. Not like that. You guys can act like ruddy children all you want, we will talk about this and I will fix it no matter what you say."

When Hogan didn't answer, he walked over to the desk, his face burning with determination: "You hear me, gov´nor? You can´t get rid of me that easily. You´re not givin´ up on me now!"

Hogan winced slightly, not because he was being yelled at, but because of the sudden proximity. Damn, that was the last thing he needed right now: Temptation.

From this distance he could almost smell him, soap and cigarette smoke mixed with a more personal note. It had mental images flashing across his mind of the last time he´d touched that skin and hair, smelled and tasted it.

Reluctantly he looked up into his corporal´s face, knowing he wouldn't be able to tear himself away anymore. Almost melancholically, he let his gaze wander over the man's features. More salt in his wounds.

It was no use. Rude wasn't going to cut it.

"I don't want to talk, Newkirk.", Hogan said, suddenly looking straight at him: "You still think you want to stay?"

He saw Newkirk flinch slightly, his eyes widening for the fraction of a second. That ought to do the trick, he thought grimly as regret washed over him and he turned back to his whiskey. No more motivational speeches for tonight.

He started when suddenly there were fingers, squeezing his forearm tightly. Newkirk glared at him, his breath washing over him when he asked: "Why are you doing this? Why won´t you let anyone help you, damnit!"

The touch sent a frenzying current through his entire body, chasing away his apathy and replacing it with something far more dangerous. Hastily he shook off Newkirk´s hand and got up in order to end the contact.

Unfortunately though, Newkirk didn't back up as expected and they somehow ended up nose to nose, standing merely a couple of inches apart. Hogan almost felt Newkirk´s breath catch in his throat by its absence on his skin.

There was a flicker of apprehension in his eyes, Hogan couldn't miss it. Still, he didn´t back up, but just kept glaring at him, trying not to let it show.

Hogan couldn't help but smile slightly even if it lacked all traces of actual mirth. As they stared at each other, Hogan wondered if his corporal was debating the same thing as him. He wasn't that much taller than him, but definitely broader and stronger; superior to him in more than one way. Definitely able to just shove him out the door…or…

He sighed distractedly.

He had already messed everything up so badly between them. What was one more drunken lapse of judgment? If Newkirk was smart he would be planning the quickest route through his office door by now, what with the expression on Hogan's face being unmistakable.

Yet he was still standing right here; close enough to grab him with one rash twitch of his muscles, to pull him towards him before he could even think to fight.

Before he could think better of it, Hogan reached up and absentmindedly traced the side of Newkirk´s face with his knuckles.

"Really, what are you thinking?", he smiled glumly: "Coming in here like it´s just any other night, like you could make me feel better with a few quick tips and reassuring words. It´s not some mission that´s got me drinking, you know?"

Newkirk swallowed nervously as he stared up at him. Why? Why the hell was he just standing there? Didn't he realize…?

"No.", Hogan whispered, shaking his head: "I´m not okay, I never will be. And nothing you say will help,… nothing you say…", he trailed off.

The problem was, he knew what exactly would make it okay. But he couldn't have that, could he now? Well, technically he could have it, but it would be worth nothing if he stole it just because he could.

Newkirk bit his lip then, clearly too caught up in his own thoughts to guess Hogan´s. Then he took one deep breath, moved to the side slightly, almost casually breaking their contact. He lightly grabbed Hogan´s elbow, supporting him:

"Sir, that's the whiskey talking… Come on, lie down for a bit and you´ll be right as rain come mornin´."

He pulled him gently, yet carefully avoiding eye contact. Hogan couldn't help but chuckle as he took a step forward and swayed slightly. He grabbed Newkirk´s shoulder, leaning on it heavily. His fingers dug into the other man´s collarbone as he nodded to himself: "It can´t get worse, right?", he murmured.

"I don't see how.", Newkirk replied, clearly relieved that Hogan finally seemed to concur.

Truth was though, it could get worse. He knew it - just as he knew he didn't have the willpower to fight it any more.

It was like his already whiskey-dazed brain had a blackout for a moment then. Before he could stop himself, before he could debate whether he even wanted to stop himself, he was pulling Newkirk around, kissing him fervently.

The other man gasped in surprise at the sudden attack and began to pull back, but Hogan grabbed the back of his neck and kept his head firmly in place. His lips moved their counterpart, trying to get them to respond.

He groaned in irritation when hands on his chest harshly pushed him away. Newkirk´s eyes were blazing as he took two large steps away from the desk, towards the bunk.

"Bloody ´ell, colonel, you´re drunk out of your mind!", he snapped, a little panicky under his anger.

"If only.", Hogan chuckled, still not feeling any actual amusement when faced with the irony of their situation. Newkirk wanted to help him, yes, but not in the only way he possibly could.

He followed, taking a step towards where Newkirk was standing while the corporal backed up further until the back of his legs unexpectedly hit the frame of Hogan´s lower bunk.

Newkirk jumped in surprise and looked down for a second before his eyes flicked from Hogan to the door.

"Easy now, mate…", he said quietly, instinctively raising his hands in a placating gesture. He grew pale when he didn't receive an answer. "Colonel Hogan?"

Maybe he was just startled by the entirely unfamiliar expression now crossing his superior´s face. Maybe he used his title in order to remind him of the proper nature of their relationship. Maybe.

It didn't matter. He wasn't an officer now. He was dead drunk and desperate.

With one swift movement, he shoved the Englishman backwards and pinned down his back on the thin mattress.

Newkirk gasped as the air was forced out of his lungs, then again as he realized Hogan was practically kneeling over him, his legs effectively restraining any real movement on his side.

His heart jumped in his chest as he stared into Hogan´s bloodshot eyes.

Bloody hell, that's what you get for trying to do the right thing…Calm down, Peter, he´s not in his right mind right now. He doesn't mean to do this…

Well, for not wanting it, Hogan sure put a lot of effort into it. Newkirk pushed against Hogan´s viselike grip on his wrists but found the man was a lot stronger than he should be in his condition.

"Colonel!", he snapped desperately, as loud as he could without risking someone waking up and walking in on the scene: "Snap out of it, would ya? This isn't…"

"There´s nothing to snap out of, Peter.", Hogan murmured, his mouth a mere inch from Newkirk´s: "This is how I feel."

With that, he kissed him again, with much more vigor than before, prying his mouth open in the process. Newkirk felt his head spin as his colonel plundered his mouth, heat radiating in waves from the other man´s body. No matter how much he tried to break free it was no use. Unless he wanted to risk seriously hurting the Colonel, he couldn't break free. And talking sense into the man seemed just as pointless at this point.

He could taste alcohol in his mouth and shuddered inwardly. When had it all gone out of hand…?

Hogan eventually let go of one of his wrists, and Newkirk was about to sigh in relief when the colonel´s hand wandered further down his body. An all too familiar sensation made him gasp and clamp a hand over his mouth.

Bloody hell, he thought, while Hogan´s hand deftly traced the outline of his chest and ribcage, he´s serious.

Hogan reached up to pull his hand from his mouth almost gingerly compared to the bruising grip on Newkirk´s other wrist. He let it go to caress his jaw and throat, his lips replacing the hand on his mouth.

It certainly didn't look like he had any intention of stopping anytime soon; in fact, after a while his hand began to wander even lower while he kept on kissing him senseless. With that notion, Newkirk´s embarrassment and perplexity turned into a sudden fear he hadn't felt before. It took hold of his intestines and clamped down on his limbs, entangling its icy vines with the fire caused by Hogan´s mouth and hands.

He had felt fear when Richter had assaulted him earlier, whether he liked to admit it or not.

But it wasn´t like what he felt now.

He didn't believe Hogan would hurt him, not even as far gone as he was right now.

No, the fear that slammed into him came from the simple notion that he had stopped struggling at some point and not even noticed. That instead of feeling revulsion as in Richter's case, he actually found himself leaning into the hands caressing him, his eyes rolling back in his head from the heat of the lips on his skin.

That he liked it. Wanted it.

"No.", he whispered horrified, his voice breaking as he felt tears gather in the corners of his eyes.

Where shouts and force hadn't been able to stop Hogan that little, barely audible syllable did. He stopped what he was doing and looked into Newkirk´s face, clearly alarmed by the tone.

Newkirk was aware that his eyes were wide and glassy with moisture, that his lips were shaking, but he could do nothing to contain or explain his behavior. The shock, the sudden revelation about himself sat too deep; it paralyzed him.

So he just lay there as Hogan suddenly sat up, still straddling him, an expression of utter terror dawning on his face.

"God…", he murmured, grabbing the side of his head and blinking rapidly: "I…I…"

Newkirk had never seen anyone sober up so quickly. He wanted to say something to console his CO, to let him know that the terror in his voice didn't stem from fear of Hogan, he wanted to keep him from spiraling into another episode of guilt, but he just couldn´t seem to find the words.

He barely realized it when Hogan climbed off of him, backing away from the bunk, one hand clamped over his own mouth. Barely heard his stammering over the pounding of his heart.

"Newkirk…", Hogan started, shaking his head, clearly horrified with himself: "I´m so…I would never have…I…"

Newkirk knew he should tell Hogan that he knew that he wouldn't have forced himself on him any further, but he couldn't, not without admitting that Hogan had only ever gotten this far because he´d let him.

He got up and ran for the door without looking back. It was wrong but he just couldn't help it. He didn't look back, headed straight for the tunnels to find a dark corner to hide in.

Then he just cowered there, his head on his knees, hoping that dawn would never come.

oh my poor babies, i almost feel bad for them. almost :-)

Pff, that was a long one. I just can´t make the slashy ones short and crisp it seems.

Well, I guess it fits with the rest of the story. I only took me 15 chapters to get Newkirk to realize he might have feelings for Hogan, now the real story can start. By chapter 64 we should see their first date.

I´m just kidding…

Hope you enjoyed the chapter,

And sorry to those who like Kinch. I do too, I just needed someone to be the bad guy for now and I figured since he is very close to Hogan in the series and he relies on him a lot, it would hit him hardest.

I suppose he might have reacted like that in "real life" if you wanna call it that, the notion that he is very religious is somehow stuck in my head (don't know if I just read that somewhere or if it's a fact), and i know sexuality and religion collide sometimes.

So yeah, Hogan is losing it, Newkirk is losing it, now we need to rely on Richter to move the plot along :-9

hope you liked it!