Leaving Newkirk in his office, Hogan escorted Dr. Maywood to the tunnel guest quarters. The tiny alcove was set off behind a heavy drape. It was simply but adequately furnished with a narrow bed, a side table with a pitcher and bowl and a small glass for drinking water, a stiff ladder-back chair, and a floor lamp with a dim bulb.

Hogan waved her to sit on the bed and pulled up the chair. "What do you think?" he asked. "What are your impressions?"

"He's embarrassed and he's physically tired and emotionally spent," Dr. Maywood replied. "He is deeply conflicted about his brothers and father. There is no question they abused him relentlessly, and yet…"

"He hates … hated… his father," Hogan replied.

"Did he tell you that?" Dr. Maywood inquired.

"No, but he has told LeBeau, maybe not in so many words…"

Dr. Maywood was shaking her head. "Well, at some level I am sure that's true. But it's clear to me he wanted his father's and brothers' approval almost as much as he wanted their protection."

"It doesn't make sense," Hogan said. "Why would he care?"

"Because good or bad, they are his family. If he couldn't measure up, he saw that as a problem with himself, not them. He's the youngest boy—he remembers being the small, defenseless one—and deep inside he counts on them and believes what they say," Dr. Maywood said.

She sighed heavily. "We see these problems in poor communities where there is too little work, too little food, too much drink, and too many children. By Mavis's account, their father was not an easy man to begin with, but after he lost his wife he become more violent and aggressive than he had ever been. She said he'd long mistreated the older boys—hitting them, berating them—but it was later that the unkindness festered into very serious abuse. I think the only reason Peter didn't become violent and abusive himself was that he had his mother's memory and his sisters' love to cling to, especially Mavis. It had nothing to do with his brothers protecting him, not matter what he thinks. He has simply needed to believe they were protecting him."

Hogan put his head in his hand and sighed. "I can't begin to understand how anyone could have mistreated him for so long."

"The remarkable thing is how resilient he truly is. He survived a childhood that would have destroyed many of us. And he came through it with a sense of humor and a sharp mind despite the odds," Dr. Maywood said. "That's all him, Colonel. He has a great deal of strength within him, despite what we are seeing right now."

"We really need him on the team, Dr. Maywood. His skills are unique and very valuable to us," Hogan said.

"Yes, he has skills of which he is alternately proud and ashamed. He knows he's a talented thief and he gets a great deal of satisfaction from being able to evade and trick others. That's the boy in him—he's likes making mischief," Dr. Maywood said with a chuckle. "But of course he knows the very skills that make him so valuable to you and your team were acquired out of desperation and dishonesty."

She stopped and looked up at Hogan. "He really is very, very complicated, and that's without even considering his stammer and his other problem of the moment."

"Well, what can we do for him? Can he get overcome this… this little problem he's having?"

Dr. Maywood smiled sadly. "If you mean the bedwetting, I am confident that little problem will eventually take care of itself, Sir. But in the meantime, it is corrosive. It's eroding his self-confidence and causing him overwhelming embarrassment. Generally it would be best if we could take him away for some intensive emotional support and psychiatric treatment…"

Hogan's shoulders drooped. He was afraid of this. He wanted the best for Newkirk, and feared that he couldn't provide it. "So he has to go," he said.

"No. I truly think it's best that he stay here. He has a sense of purpose and a sense of belonging. If you and your team are able to give him the support he needs…"

"We can. I think you've seen that," Hogan interjected.

"… yes, I have. Well, then I think he should stay. But Colonel, you are going to have to devote some time to his well-being and keep everyone clear as to what is and isn't all right."

"What do you mean?"

"You can support and encourage him, but you must let him stand on his own two feet, Sir."

"Of course," Hogan said. "All my men do."

A smile crinkled at the edge of Dr. Maywood's mouth again. "Yes, but Newkirk is special to you."

"All four of my core team members are special to me, Dr. Maywood. Each in his own way, I suppose," Hogan added with a light air in his voice. "Going through everything we've been through together, well… we're brothers."

Hogan's words slowly petered out. Dr. Maywood said nothing to break the silence, but simply scrutinized him expectantly until eventually Hogan spoke again.

"Newkirk is different, true," Hogan said with a laugh. "He's one of our younger men here, yet he's also an old-timer in camp. He's obviously sad inside, yet he makes us all laugh like nobody else can." His words stalled out again until he added quietly, "And I can't overlook his stutter. It makes us all a little more protective of him, I guess."

"He's vulnerable," Dr. Maywood agreed. "It's that vulnerability that worries me. Not with respect to doing the work you expect of him—I think he will always rise to the occasion because he needs to be needed. But the other thing he needs is clear, fatherly guidance in order to be the best man he can be. You're the one to give it, but it's going to take discipline from you and your men to let him work through his own grief and pain. You can't coddle him, and you can't let the others do so either."