Colonel Hogan walked the short distance from the barracks to Klink's office. He trotted up the steps and opened the door to find Helga sitting at her desk. "Hey, doll," he said, walking over to her and pecking her on the forehead. "What does Klink want with me?"

Helga shrugged and hummed softly. "I don't know. He got a call earlier, but what else is new?" Hogan grunted and pushed off from her small desk. Without knocking, he opened the Commandant's door and sauntered in.

"Hello, Colonel Klink, what can I do for you?" he asked, folding his hands in front of him.

"Did I say you could enter?" Klink spat, standing up from his desk.

"No, but I didn't think I had to since Schultz said you wanted me," he said.

Klink's grip on his riding crop tightened and he grunted. "Oh never mind. I did call you in here for a reason. You see, I got a call from two prison camp officers. Apparently one of their prisoners escaped," the German officer explained.

Hogan's eyebrows shot up in mock surprise. He had a suspicion that this escapee was their current guest. "Really? Was it Stalag 5 again? They really should keep as close an eye on those guys as you do," Hogan replied, eying the other's cigar box.

"It wasn't a prisoner of war. It was just a prisoner. They think he may have gone to one of the Stalags to seek refuge. I wanted to know if you have seen him," Klink said.

"Well, Klink, I need a little more to go off of. I mean surely he must be a great man with a barrel chest and beard to escape the German army," the American teased. The smirk that formed reached his eyes.

"Flattery will get you nowhere, Colonel Hogan. And you would know him because they said he wears a pink triangle. He is…how would you Americans put it…diseased?"

The man's smirk fell. "Diseased? What kind of disease?"

A twisted smile formed on Klink's lips now. "Oh I am sure you know what disease I am talking about. And they told me it can spread when in close quarters, so if you find this man, I hope you report him at once. Dismissed!" The Commandant gave the Colonel a salute which the man returned.

Hogan marched out of Klink's office, even ignoring Helga. She peered around her desk as he went, his footsteps echoing in the office as he reached the barracks. The door hit the wall, alerting Newkirk who sat at the table sewing the new outfit.

"What's the matter, guvnor?" the Brit asked, setting down his needle and thread.

"Where's James?" Hogan asked.

"Down in the tunnels with LeBeau. What's wrong?" Newkirk pressed, rising from his seat.

"I think our guest may be hiding something from us. I need to question him."

Newkirk jumped in front of the fake bunk to block Hogan. "Now wait just a minute there, sir. What did the old crank say to you that has your knickers in a bunch?"

"The longer we wait the worse it'll get. Now move, Corporal, and that's an order."

Newkirk deflated and shambled aside. Colonel Hogan only pulled rank under dire situations.

The American knocked on the side of the bed, and the bottom rose to the top revealing a ladder. He took the rungs two at a time. Once he reached the bottom, the faint sound of French singing alerted him to the two men's location. He followed the sound to find James and LeBeau seated next to an old phonograph. They were both singing the French classic with smiles on their face. Hogan walked up behind them and pulled the needle from the player, announcing his presences with silence.

"Bonjour to you too, Colonel. Monsieur Foster and I were reminiscing about our times Paris," LeBeau said with his child-like smile. James didn't have such a nonchalant look, however. Before he was stretched closer to the phonograph with a smile. Now he reeled back in his chair, eyes darting all across Hogan's face.

"Cut the pleasantries. We need to have a chat with our friend over here." The Colonel nodded to James and yanked them both up by the shoulders. James still struggled to walk, so he stumbled as he stood. LeBeau went to steady the man as a human crutch, but Hogan pulled the short man away. "Go get Kinch and meet me in my office," he ordered as he dragged James to the stairs.

"What's going on Colonel Hogan?" the young man asked, struggling to keep pace with the soldier. "Did I do something wrong?"

The other didn't answer and continued pushing the boy to the stairs. Colonel by nature was not a violent man, but when someone threatened the safety of his men, he became a real mean papa bear.

James climbed, slipping once or twice which earned him a rough shove. The two emerged from the bunk where Newkirk and Carter waited for them. The Colonel nodded to his office as LeBeau and Kinch also emerged from the bunk. James locked eyes with Newkirk, yet the Brit quickly turned away. He'd told the Colonel not a word, but how could he communicate that to the poor sod? Especially with the man dragging the kid around like a half-dead rabbit.

Soon all the men were crammed like sardines into Colonel Hogan's officers' quarters. Every man looked stoic except for James who was pale as a sheet and struggling to stay upright. The long coat he wore looked even bigger, and years of his life washed away from his face to produce a child standing amongst the men.

"Commandant Klink was informed today of an escaped prisoner from a regular prison camp. He told me this prisoner wore a pink triangle because he is 'diseased'," Hogan emphasized diseased with air quotes. Three of the four men looked at James with side eyes, and Carter shifted away. Newkirk only looked confused. That's not what the triangle meant, did it? "Now, I see on that coat there is no pink triangle. Why don't you take it off?"

James gripped the folds of his coat and backed away. He was about to say something when Newkirk interjected, "Now wait just a minute Colonel. What do you mean by disease? Klink could have just meant some old stomach bug."

"He didn't say, but he said it spread quickly in barracks. And even if it is a stomach bug, I can't have half my men in bed with a tummy ache. Our work is too important for that."

"Do I look sick to you?" James asked, his voice an octave higher than before. A silence hung in the room as a unanimous answer. "I'm only this skinny because those damned Germans didn't feed us…"

"And how do we know that? Clearly you haven't been telling us the whole story," Hogan retorted. "Now take off that coat." The officer had to bite back pulling rank. Kinch gave the Colonel the side eye and joined in on the chaos as a mediator.

"Breathe a little, Colonel. The boy's clearly been through some stuff," the Sergeant said softly. The man took a step towards the frightened brunette and held out his hand. "Just take off the coat and this can all be over with."

James shook his head. "If I do, you'll kick me out. Or turn me into the Commandant," he protested.

"If you don't take it off, I'll personally throw you over the fence," the Colonel said.

James shrunk back and started to dissolve into his coat. Kinch snapped a look at the Colonel before signaling to Carter to get ready to grab the kid. The other Sergeant gave the slightest of nods as he took a position closer to the boy. "Please try to understand from our side. Just take off your coat. If there's no pink triangle, then no harm done. But if there is, we need to know what you're carrying," Kinch told him. Carter looked at the boy then to Kinch who did not acknowledge him.

The young man sniffled and shook his head. "I-I can't. Pl-Please, just get me out of here. Get me out of Germany," he begged. Kinch let out a disappointed sigh before nodding to Carter. James had no time to react before the American grabbed him from behind and yanked down his coat. James' elbow caught it from falling to the floor thus preventing it from showing his brand, but the pink triangle was on clear display for all to see. Once Carter looked down and caught sight of it, he let go of the boy. James fell backwards and landed on his rear. Everyone in the small room stood a good radius from him.

Tears collected and pooled over the young man's eyes. They ran down his dirty cheeks, picking up specs of dirty with them as they went. Hot salt burned his eyes as the tears mimicked the blood boiling in his veins.

Hogan scoffed and marched over to the boy. He grabbed him by his shirt collar and pulled him to his feet. James couldn't make eye contact. "You endanger my men and don't even have the guts to admit it when caught red handed. Crying won't get you anywhere, so the least you can do is tell us what you're carrying so we can radio London and get some medicine."

James sniffled and coughed as he tried to respond. Colonel Hogan gripped the boy's collar tighter and shook the poor lad. The soldiers could only look on in a mix of horror and sympathy. No man wanted to see another being slapped around, not even Hogan himself, but a sickness in these conditions could easily turn into an epidemic. The First World War taught them that.

"What do you have?" the Colonel asked again, staring down to try and connect with crystal blue eyes.

James sniffled again and finally looked up at Colonel Hogan. Without saying a word, he brought his hands up to hold the sides of the American's face and kissed him on the lips.