The lights were off in barracks all around the stalag. Almost every prisoner lounged on his bunk, fast asleep. The only one still awake lay staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep. It was not as though he were not tired. His eyes burned with exhaustion. The day had taken its toll on him both physically and mentally. He would have tried to drift off again, but every time he closed his eyes, he was accosted by the terrible events of the day. He could still see his colonel berating him for disobeying orders, getting into trouble in the first place, and nearly getting their whole operation blown. Even worse, visions of his friends looking at him with disappointed stares shook him to the core.

He moaned, rolling over to face the other men. He could hear the soft, even breathing of LeBeau, the quiet snoring of Kinch, and the incessant mumbling of Carter, along with various and sundry sounds of other people. Fulbright was sick, his snorting almost loud enough to be a nuisance. Holland tossed and turned frequently. What was left of the silence was broken by the occasion Stevens' coughing and the usual sounds in a prisoner of war camp, like footsteps, the soft rumbling of voices, and the occasional barking of a dog.

Slapping his thigh in frustration, Newkirk finally accepted that he wouldn't be sleeping anytime soon. He sat up, rubbing his eyes. Everything he had felt that day, all the pent-up emotions from earlier began to flood through him. As it stood now, he could no more contain them than that Carter could "borrow" Schultz's watch without getting caught.

He shuddered at the thought of all that had transpired throughout the day. It had been rather a trying time for him, for all involved. First, he had been worried and scared when he had been caught out of the stalag and at a woman's apartment, no less. Being informed that he was to be transferred to another stalag had left him stunned and dejected. His excitement at escaping back to camp was crushed at the betrayal when the lady had betrayed him for the Germans. Even his relief that all was over could not overcome the regret when he realized all that his actions would cost him. He truly was sorry for disobeying the colonel's orders and had finally begun to realize that Hogan had been right all along.

At the end, what had struck him the most and the hardest was fear, an emotions with which he was quite familiar. What if his actions—and his bleeding impulsiveness—would result in him never getting to be with his mates again? What use did the colonel have for a man like him, one who disobeyed orders because he felt like it, one who jeopardized the whole operation for the sake of a woman?

All the others were asleep, worries and fears forgotten for the moment. As it was, no one was watching him. No one could hear him. With that thought, Newkirk decided he had held back for too long. Tears came streaming down his cheeks in rivers. He was too emotionally drained to push his feelings to the dark recesses of his mind anymore.

~\•/~

Carter turned over in his bunk, half-awake. He had thought he heard crying, but that could not be right, could it? I wonder what it is, he mused. A choked sob broke through the fog, waking Carter up all the way. Hey! That's coming from Newkirk's bunk! I should see what's wrong with him!

Ever so quietly, he sat up. His movement couldn't have gone unnoticed, for the sound of the crying hushed somewhat but failed to cease completely. Carter stood up and looked at the figure sitting hunched over on the top bunk of the bed the two of them shared. He almost didn't recognize the Englishman, but, in the dim light, was just barely able to make out his face, wet with tears. "Newkirk? Are you all right?"

The figure looked away as though he were trying to control his weeping . . . or like he was embarrassed. Finally, though, he spoke, his voice deeper and huskier with emotion. "I'm fine, mate."

"Well, you don't look fine, boy." Carter couldn't help but worry. What had happened to leave Newkirk like this? Putting one foot on his bed for a leg up, he deftly scaled the top bunk and sat next to Newkirk. "What's wrong?" he couldn't help but ask. Seeing his friend so broken pained him.

Newkirk tried so desperately to put on a façade of being perfectly swell, but his voice betrayed him. It seemed whatever had affected Newkirk was too much for him to face alone, too strong for him to be able to pass off as a joke like it were nothing. Finally, he seemed to regain his composure somewhat and managed to croak in between great heaving breaths, "Well, Carter, today's been a rough one, that's all. What with leaving . . . and—" he sniffed— "coming back with her, a blooming Gestapo agent, and almost getting Hochstetter on our tails . . . and disappointing the lot of you . . ." He trailed off. "Well, let's just say that it hasn't been one of my better days." He sniffed again, much to his chagrin.

Oh, Andrew thought. Of course. "Peter, we were worried about you. Sure, we were mad at what you did," Carter paused, feeling Newkirk stiffen. After debating inwardly for a while, he decided he just to continue, so he said, "but that doesn't mean we hate you! Why would we do that? We were just so relieved everything turned out well . . . and, yes, kind of annoyed by your bringing her here, and, well . . . I guess we sort of, uh, took it out on you." He slinked an arm around the corporal and gently pulled him closer.

Strangely enough, Newkirk didn't protest but continued to sob softly. Carter could barely make out the muffled words. "I could've lost you, mate! I would've been away from here without you four! And for what? A silly bird?! I don't think I'd've been able to stand it, alone like that! You guys are my mates! What would I'd do without y—"

Carter cut him off by hugging him. He could tell that his friend was so exhausted by all that had happened that day that Newkirk was not fully aware of the words spilling out of his mouth. Newkirk's emotions were talking, not his usual self. Hushed, Carter whispered, "It's ok, Peter. It's ok." He could feel the tears soaking through his pajamas but couldn't have cared less. This was his friend here, bawling his eyes out over a dumb mistake he had done, wondering if he could ever make it right to those he had wronged. Carter rubbed small circles into Newkirk's back, making soothing noises and saying it was "all right."

~\*/~

At long last, Newkirk was able to steady his breathing just enough to stop his sobbing. He could feel his face flushing at the show of emotion he had displayed. Feeling sheepish, Newkirk slowly sat up and wiped his red-rimmed eyes. Gaze stubbornly fixed on his feet, he muttered softly, "Ta, Andrew." He was almost angry with himself for showing so much vulnerability in front of Carter.

"You're ok, buddy. It's all right to have feelings, too, you know." Carter's voice reassured him greatly.

Newkirk's light blue eyes brimmed with tears again, his vision fogging up. What had he done to deserve s great friend like Carter? Though he was not a praying man, he sent a small prayer of gratitude to God, anyway. Ta, Lord, for giving me mates like Andrew here. Now, I know he may seem like a bit of an idiot sometimes, but he's the best mate I could ever ask for. And with that, he relaxed.

He had messed up, sure, but he wasn't alone anymore. He had friends who wouldn't leave him, no matter what kind of stunts he pulled in the future. That was the best sort of reassurance he could imagine.

~\*/~

They sat there in silence. Carter focused on the sound of his friend's breathing. Steady, even, almost like all this never happened. He smiled. At least he didn't have to cry alone. That's no fun at all.

Hardly a minute had passed until Carter felt a weight on his shoulder. Looking over, he confirmed his suspicions. Newkirk's head lay on his shoulder, eyes were closed in sleep. His breathing had slowed. Carter sighed, looking at his friend's peaceful expression. He put an arm around Newkirk once more, noting the way the Englishman smiled in his sleep. His own mouth twisting into a grin, Carter tugged Newkirk's blanket on top of them both. "Sleep tight, buddy."

~\•/~

A few hours later, Hogan emerged from his quarters. He had heard a sound outside the barracks and knew he wouldn't be able to sleep again until he checked the area to ensure that his men were safe. When he got into the main room of the barracks, he noticed all the men were asleep, as they should be at this time of night. But something felt off. He scanned the room and paused. Wait just a cotton-pickin' minute. Why's Carter up there?

He approached Newkirk's bunk, surprised to see Newkirk and Carter both sitting side by side, deeply asleep. Newkirk's head had lolled onto Carter's shoulder and was propping up Carter's own head. Carter's arm had been slung around Newkirk, as though he had been comforting him. After observing more, Hogan decided that must've been the case. Newkirk's cheeks shone with dried tears, and Carter's shoulder was damp.

The blanket had once been wrapped loosely around them but had started to slip off their shoulders. Hogan smiled and bent down to get Carter's blanket to put around the two. After doing so, he thought, I should've expected Newkirk to be so shaken up by this whole fiasco. Thank God he's back. It just wouldn't be the same without him. With that, he turned and checked the area. No threats found, he strolled back to his quarters with a smile on his face.

~\•/~

If anyone noticed anything strange in the morning, nothing was said to either of the occupants of that top bunk. This made a certain Englishman quite happy. In addition to this, Newkirk also noticed that LeBeau cooked him a heartier, more edible breakfast and Kinch had left a handkerchief on his bunk that morning. In it, the following note was written: All for one, and one for all.

You know when you read your old writing and think, "Wow. Certain parts of that were terribly written! Could I even write back then?" but are also too sentimental to completely get rid of the work because you remember enjoying writing it and still like certain parts of it? Well, I decided to redo (rewording parts of) this one-shot to practice for writing these characters again (and to fix the grammatical errors I found upon reading it once more). Hope you enjoy! :3

Soli Deo gloria!

~LHDD