LeBeau threw down his pot and stormed off, huffing. He could be heard the whole way down the tunnel, cursing in his native language.

Hogan sighed, "I've considered all the options. I wish we could keep him here . . . Either we have him stay in the hopes that his memory returns—but that means his bunk is full, and we can't use it to send another person to freedom—or we have him 'transferred' to another stalag, send him back to London, and he can serve his country in another way, maybe even a safer way. We'll wait it out and see. If his memory came back sometime later, maybe we could still use him. But as it stands now—"

Kinch's shoulders slumped. He looked resigned to the truth.

Carter gulped, trying to hold back hot tears. "But he's our friend!" he insisted weakly. We're a team!

"And I don't want it to happen. And it may not happen at all. It's not like I'm kicking him out at this very moment. But if time passes, and he doesn't recover his memories, there will be no other option. I wanted the three of you to know. We won't tell Newkirk until it gets to that point, and there's no other way. He still has time."

Someone pounded on the door. With a sigh, Colonel Hogan straightened his back and went to answer it. "Schultz, what brings you here?"

While Hogan was busy talking to the German, Carter tugged on Kinch's arm. "What if he works on sewing and other things like that instead of being sent on missions? That way, he's still helping the mission and then the colonel doesn't have to worry about whether or not the Gestapo finds him! And it buys him some more time, so he can work on regaining his memories! I know they're still in his head somewhere! All we have to do is try to find a way to get them out so he ca—"

Kinch held up a hand. "You heard the colonel. It's not up to me. You can mention it to him, but I'd wait a bit. Maybe the situation will resolve on its own."

Carter visibly wilted. "Y-yeah. Maybe. . ." Or what if I teach Newkirk all he needs to know! There has to be a way for him to fake it until he really remembers everything! Eyes bright, he chewed on the corner of his lip thoughtfully. He's a good enough actor to fool the colonel! It'll work. I know it will. It has to. . .

Shaking his head rapidly as if to erase that thought from his brain, Carter forced himself to grin. He needed to pay a visit to Newkirk, but how to bring up the topic of his memory? Oh! I've got it!

~\*/~

LeBeau paced back and forth. What is le colonel thinking?! Have Newkirk sent back to London? "Non, I will not allow it! But what is to be done? There must be some way to repair his mémoire. But how?What can be done to fix him?"

LeBeau could still remember when he and Colonel Hogan had stumbled across their broken pair of comrades, Carter holding a barely conscious Newkirk in his arms. . . If LeBeau had been in Newkirk's place, he would've been terrified to realize his memories had vanished.

Perhaps the bump on the head (and subsequent concussion) was the reason for the memory loss. Which meant that there must be some way for his body to heal and regain what it had lost. But what could be done for a brain? Wilson had told them time alone could heal an injury like that. . . But what if there were another way?

"I must try to heal his body first so that it can focus on healing the rest of him." Which recipe to try? Heartened by the idea, LeBeau set about planning. Hope began to bloom in his chest, warming him from the inside.

~\*/~

"—ondering if the rock was what did it. I mean, if a bump to the head made you lose 'em, maybe a bump to the head would make you get 'em back?" Andrew shrugged.

Peter's eyes widened, and he wondered for the first time if he might've been a bit wrong to trust a lad like Andrew. "Let me get this straight, mate. You want to knock me in the noggin and expect me to let you have a go at it? You're barmy!"

Andrew's eyes glinted. "Well, I'd say you've done plenty of things a lot crazier than that before." He winked, saying, "But don't worry, buddy. I'd never do a thing like that! But it got me thinking. What if I tell you stories of things that we've done here? Maybe hearing about what you know will trigger your memories somehow?"

Averting his eyes, Peter could only think of what he'd heard the colonel say. They were going to get rid of him, send him off to who knew where because he couldn't be useful to their operation. What even was the point of hearing stories of what they'd accomplished as a team if he was going to be the one to ruin it for them? Shaking his head slightly, Peter grimaced and said, "I'm not quite sure at all that the stories would help. . ."

Upon hearing those words, Andrew's bright smile began to fade. Disappointment and a hint of desperation shone in his eyes. "B-but what if it helps?"

Peter noticed that the man looked to be struggling to keep his smile. I wonder if that's his plan. If he can ply me with enough information, we just might be able to pull the wool over the guv's eyes. He grinned. "Well, I suppose it can't hurt. Go on and tell me, then."

Andrew's eyes lit up with excitement. "Where should I start? Oh, I know! What about the time you blew up a tank with a bow and arrow, or when you got drafted into the German military? Then there was that time you brought a lady into the tunnels, and she ratted you out—or what about when Colonel Hogan had you steal a tank right out from the Germans' noses? And we also needed you to be an old lady with ties to Keiser Wilhelm—"

Peter could feel his head spinning at all the information, all the stories that no doubt had details beyond what he could imagine. "Wait a minute, mate. Stop going north and south. We did what?!"

Andrew winced. "Sorry. I went too fast, didn't I? Oh! I have the perfect story for you. Y'see, there was this rabbit trap that I was making, and I wanted to try to use it to catch a rabbit—"

"That would be what one does with a rabbit trap," Peter added dryly.

One corner of Andrew's mouth quirked up into a half-smile. "Yep. But then, right after I showed you all how it worked, Schultz came in to check on us. And the colonel. . . Well, he wanted to play a prank of Schultz just 'cause, I think, so he had us all act really suspicious and pretend it was really a special kind of . . . oh, equipment, I guess, called a Gonculator! Now, Schultz went back and blabbed all about it to Klink, which is what the colonel wanted! And then Klink called General Burkhalter, wh—"

~\*/~

Kinch sat down in his usual seat at the radio. Although his eyes may have been on the equipment in front of him, his mind was on something very different.

"What if Carter's right? We might be able to find some way to jog his memory by telling him what he was like before and the kind of missions we went on together." He scowled, "But I can't sneak around and go against the colonel's orders. . . There has to be another way."

For what seemed like ages, the five of them had been a team. They had worked together in the worst of situations against the vilest of enemies. Despite all odds, none of them had ever been permanently lost, none of them had deserted, and none of them had grown to hate the others, despite living in such close quarters with them for such an extended period of time. Rather, their bond had grown through the adversity. What if . . . what if this was truly the end for the rag-tag group of heroes? Even if Colonel Hogan were able to find someone with Newkirk's skill set, would he get along with the others as well as his predecessor?

No. Newkirk was more than just a thief, a conman with sticky fingers. He had a heart of gold. He examined every plan the colonel gave them and poked holes in it to see where the weak points were. He—well, he was a valuable member of this team, and the Hogan knew it.

Maybe Carter really was right. Kinch would come in to check on Newkirk and who could blame him if he wanted to reminisce about the good times they had together? Newkirk had always loved a good story. Kinch would be sure to oblige him. Who knew but that those memories pouring from the lips of another might just be what was needed to spark some kind of memory within the injured brain of their teammate?

Was it really going behind the colonel's back if they were only telling him things he should already know? And even if his plan didn't quite work, Kinch assured himself that it would be better in the long run to help the team get closure. He ignored the niggling in the back of his mind that said he was the selfish one, the only one who would get closure from such an action. After all, his plan would work, no? It had to, for all their sakes.

~\*/~

With a sigh, Colonel Hogan ran a hand through his hair. As expected, his news about Newkirk's potential future had not been accepted well by his other men. "But there's no other choice."

If it were up to him, if it didn't risk the lives and safety of others, if he could do it in good conscience, there no doubt he would keep Newkirk in their barracks as part of their operation—He would do it in a heartbeat—but he couldn't promise that. Newkirk was an integral part of their operation, invaluable as both a team member and a friend.

"Why? Why can't he just rememb—Why do I have to do this?" But he knew the answer, and he couldn't risk losing all that they'd worked for up until this point, not when it could help to end the war quickly, to finally stop the evil reign of a terrible madman.

He sighed once more. They would simply have to see how much Newkirk's memory improved within the next few weeks.

Hi, there! I hope you enjoy this next chapter! :3 And a special thanks to FutureAuthorHopefully for the lovely reviews! This chapter was almost finished when I saw your reviews, and they gave me the motivation I needed to finish the chapter! :D

(The cover art was just something I scribbled for fun while watching Hogan's Heroes to get back into the groove of writing the characters.)

Soli Deo gloria!

~LHDD