An odd chattering sound filtered into Newkirk's consciousness that his half-asleep brain instantly recognized. He opened his eyes and looked towards the chair that permanently stood near his bed, knowing who he would find sitting in it. The sight he found was exactly what he expected, and he watched for a minute before speaking.

"What's ya mouse doin' in 'ere, Andrew?" he asked.

Carter looked up, glad to see him awake again. "Oh, hey Newkirk! How you doing?"

Newkirk coughed a little. "I'm okay."

Carter smiled, and the chattering sound filled the air again. "Felix makes me feel better, so I thought he might make you feel better too," he explained, holding him out.

Newkirk looked into the American's cupped hands, where the little mouse sat eating a piece of cheese. Newkirk really didn't feel like playing with a rodent at the moment, but he knew that it meant a lot to Carter, so he reached over and scratched the mouse's head with one finger.

Carter smiled. "I'm glad I found Felix here…he breaks up the monotony."

Newkirk laughed at that, which made him cough again. "As if we can call our lives monotonous!"

Carter shrugged. "Sometimes it is!" He shifted his position in the chair. "Did you ever have a pet?"

Newkirk nodded. "I 'ad cats growin' up."

"Cats! Uh oh!" said Carter. "Felix doesn't like the sound of that, do you, Felix!"

Newkirk smiled despite himself, re-closing his eyes. He suddenly became aware of voices outside the barracks, sounding like a crowd of men were playing games. But…wasn't it winter?

Newkirk reopened his eyes, utterly confused. "What's goin' on outside?" he asked.

Carter realized what he was referring to. "Oh! It's real warm out there! What my mother would call a 'January thaw', back home. Of course, it's not January yet, but…"

Laughing voices suddenly got louder as the door to the barracks opened. LeBeau poked his head in the door. "It's time for lunch, Cart—oh, you're awake, Newkirk!" His voice had begun as a whisper, until he saw the Englishman's eyes open.

"Yeah, I am, an' if what Andrew 'ere says is true, I think I'd rather be outside right now."

Colonel Hogan came into the room. "I'm not surprised. You've been lying there for days…it would probably be good for you to get some fresh air."

Carter looked worried. "But he hasn't been up yet! Don't you think he's still too weak?"

Hogan shrugged. "We can carry him."

Newkirk smiled, until he realized that Hogan wasn't joking. "Now, no one needs ta do that—"

Hogan poked his head out the door. "Kinch!" he exclaimed.

Newkirk knew what that meant, and he was right. The tall radioman came into the room, and Hogan simply said. "Take Newkirk outside."

"Now wait a minute—!"

He had no time to voice much of a protest before Kinch bent down and picked him up like he hardly weighed anything.

"Kinch!"

"Oh stop it, Newkirk," he answered. "The whole camp knows what happened to you. There's no need to be embarrassed."

Before Newkirk could say anything else, they were out the door, and Kinch was laying him across the bench that sat against the barracks. Carter came out behind them and sat on one side of the bench to prop his friend up.

Carter hadn't been exaggerating about the weather. It had to be sixty degrees Fahrenheit, on a day that shouldn't be higher than forty. The snow that had fallen the previous week had melted, and most of the prisoners were kicking a ball around and enjoying the day.

Hogan came out the barracks door with a blanket, which he draped across the Englishman, as much to hide his broken arm as to keep him warm.

Newkirk shifted a little, getting Carter's attention. "Comfortable?" the American sergeant asked.

Newkirk nodded. "Yeah." He looked up at Kinch. "Thanks."

The radioman smiled and went back inside, probably to get food.

With a sigh, Newkirk closed his eyes, enjoying the sunlight. He dozed until LeBeau came out the door and patted his good arm, showing him a plate before handing it to Carter. Realizing that he was expected to eat whatever was on the dish, Newkirk pulled his arm out from under the blanket, just in time for Carter to stick something into his hand.

It was half of a sandwich. He took a bite, before his eyebrows shot up. Where on earth did LeBeau get salami?

The Frenchman must've seen the surprised look on his face. "The last time I had to play cook at the Hoffbrau, I filched it. I mean, it was hanging right there, begging to come with me, and I figured the krauts owe us at least that much! I've kept it hidden in the tunnel all this time…thought I'd save it for a special occasion."

Newkirk smiled and shook his head, not missing the 'special occasion' part. "I didn't even see ya do it. You're learnin', mate."

LeBeau chuckled.

"Colonel Hogan!" they suddenly heard. It was Schultz, and he had a shocked look on his face as he hurried over.

"What is it, Schultz?" Hogan asked.

"What is Newkirk doing outside?" he said, looking concerned. He absent-mindedly handed his rifle to Hogan.

Newkirk frowned. "Why not, Schultzie?"

"I have five children," Schultz told them. "And I know what it is like when they get sick. Newkirk should still be in bed!"

Newkirk was touched by his concern. "Aw, Schultzie. I'm feelin' much better now."

"I have heard that before from my own kids," Schultz said. "I let them have their way too soon and they get sick again." He reached over and felt Newkirk's forehead. "He still has a fever! Back into the barracks! Raus, raus!"

"Schultz," said Hogan, setting the rifle on the ground and casually leaning on it. "Is Newkirk playing ball right now?"

"No…"

"Is he downstairs in our tunnel?"

Schultz's mouth dropped open and he looked around to make sure no other Germans heard that. "Nooooo," he whispered, in a tiny voice.

"What's he doing?"

"Sitting on the bench."

"Right," said Hogan. "He's fine right there. How is the bench different than a bunk?"

"It's softer," Newkirk said to Carter, who chuckled.

Schultz thought about it. "True. Okay then, he can stay."

Newkirk blinked his bright green eyes up at him. "Thanks, papa."

"You're welc—papa? Hahaha, jolly joker!"

Carter smiled. "We're all just kids at heart, Schultz. It's nice to have a father figure around."

Schultz was obviously touched at that. "A father figure," he repeated, puffing out his chest—as if it wasn't 'puffed' enough. He took his rifle back from Hogan and strutted away, head held high.

TBC