The noise from the gambling in the outside room drowned out Hogan's moans as Kinch gently tugged off the remains of the officer's uniform. "Sorry, Colonel. It's almost over."

"Ok…. don't need help..."

"Right, sir." Kinch tossed the stained slacks onto the floor and dipped a towel into a bucket of water. He ignored Hogan's protests as he cleaned the man up.

"….order you….leave alone…."

"Yes, sir." Kinch continued with his task, easily restraining the injured man as he tried to push him away.

"Kinch!" Hogan caught the man's arm, forced a level of command into his voice, "Get out …before …I have… you… court-martialed."

"Sorry, sir. I have my orders."

"Orders?" Hogan groaned as he tried futilely to sit up. "Whose orders?"

"Yours. You made me your adjutant and that means my chief duty is to secure the health and safety of my commanding officer." Kinch flashed a small smile as he gently pushed the officer back onto his bunk. "That would be you, sir."

"Kinch…" Hogan bit his lip to stifle a moan.

"Colonel…" Kinch silently cursed his commander's obstinacy. "I'm not Carter or LeBeau. I don't believe you can walk on water. You don't have to hide your pain from me. "

"Officers …perfect." Hogan laughed shakily. "Didn't they teach you…….boot camp?"

"Only God is perfect. The rest of us just have to do the best we can." Kinch tended his commander's wounds as quickly as he could, hoping to get Hogan settled for the night with as little distress as possible. There wasn't much he could do that the German doctors hadn't already done, but he wouldn't be satisfied until he saw for himself that Hogan's injuries had been treated.

"Kinch?"

"Almost done."

"Kinch." Hogan's voice was barely audible. "I don't remember…. I don't know if …I said anything…."

" I know. You didn't."

"What makes you… so sure?"

"We're all still alive." Kinch didn't mention that he'd sent Newkirk into the tunnel to monitor the interrogation. There was no point.

"Don't know…Can't remember."

"There's nothing to worry about. You didn't talk." Kinch tucked a blanket around the officer. "Go to sleep now. It's over. The Krauts will have to go through us to get to you."

"No trouble…..Order…"

"Yes, sir." Kinch rearranged a pillow to ease Hogan's labored breathing. "Sleep, Colonel. That's an order."

"…break you. ..to private…."

Kinch allowed himself a small smile as Hogan drifted to sleep. Or into unconsciousness. For the first time since Hochstetter had stormed into their barracks, Kinch felt a small measure of control. Hogan was alive and with them. Tomorrow might bring anything, but for the moment Hogan was safe.

"It's over. I won't let them touch you again. You're safe." Kinch knew the words were merely hollow assurances, but he felt the need to say them. If not for Hogan, then for himself.

He silently dragged a chair beside Hogan's bunk and smothered a cough as he settled in for the night's vigil. Intellectually he knew that he should be in bed himself, that he should appoint one of the other men to care for their commander. There would be no shortage of volunteers for the job, but Kinch had no intention of turning the watch over to anyone else.

He took as deep a breath as his beleaguered lungs would permit and tried to clear his head. Part of him wanted to rush out and shoot the first German he saw – Hochstetter, Schultz, it made no difference who. Another part of him wanted to shake the injured man beside him for endangering himself when they all depended on him. Still another part of him was haunted by guilt for benefiting from Hogan's sacrifice. But the greatest emotion -- the one that knotted his stomach and made his heart race – was fear. Fear that he wouldn't be able to keep his promise to protect his commander when he couldn't protect himself.

"Kinch!" Newkirk pushed open the door, whispered loudly. "Klink's on the way."

Kinch nodded, instinctively moved closer to Hogan. Newkirk took a protective stance at the foot of the bunk. LeBeau and Carter flanked Klink and Schultz as the Germans entered the room.

"Dismissed." Klink raised his voice as he was ignored. "I said dismissed."

"With respect, Kommandant." Kinch indicated his friends. "We can't allow you to be alone with him while he's unconscious."

"It's against the Geneva Convention." Carter piped up hopefully.

Schultz shook his head in warning, but Klink merely grumbled to himself.

"If I'd wanted him dead, I could easily have left him bleeding in his cell." Klink waved away LeBeau and Carter, took a seat on the bunk beside Hogan.

Kinch tensed as Klink uncovered the wounded man, but held the others back with a look. Klink might enjoy tossing Hogan into the cooler or exhibiting him as his prize Allied captive, but he had never harmed the American. Not yet, anyway. Still, it took every ounce of restraint he had to do nothing while an enemy officer touched his helpless commander.

"He'll be weak for some time, but the doctor assures me he'll recover. He'll need to be kept warm and his wounds kept clean."

Kinch cut off the mumbling from around the room. "We'll take care of him, Kommandant. Thank you for taking him to the hospital."

Klink nodded and for the first time Kinch noted the exhaustion on the Kommandant's face. And the blood on his uniform jacket. The same blood that stained Schultz' coat and the discarded slacks on the floor. Klink replaced Hogan's blanket and leaned over him for a moment. He spoke in whispered German, but Kinch caught enough to know that his fears about leaving Hogan alone with their captor were groundless.

"I'll post Cpl Langenscheidt outside your barracks tonight with orders to wake me if Hogan needs medical attention." Klink looked as though he would say more, but he trailed off.

"Thank you, Colonel. " Kinch gestured the others to attention as Klink bid them a hasty good night and slipped from the barracks with Schultz.

"Who does he think he is?" Newkirk caught himself before he slammed Hogan's door shut. "Telling us how to take care of the governor after the bloody bastards nearly kill him? I'd just like to see him try to come back here and …."

"That's enough, Newkirk. We need Klink on our side."

LeBeau cursed in French. "Mon Colonel does not need that stinking Bosch. I won't let the animal touch him again."

"Ok, guys." Kinch put a finger to his lips. "Let him sleep."

"Sleep?" Newkirk scoffed. "The man's bloody unconscious. Couldn't wake him with a flipping 21-gun-salute."

"Newkirk." Kinch shook his head, pointed at Carter. The young sergeant had taken a seat beside Hogan and was staring intently at the slow rise and fall of the Colonel's chest. "He's ok, Carter. He'll be up and yelling at you in no time."

Carter forced a grin, but Kinch knew nothing short of Hogan stomping through the barracks in an ill-tempered tirade would convince any of them that their Papa Bear was recovered.

"Oui. All will be well, Andre."

Kinch felt a pang of guilt at the lack of conviction in LeBeau's voice. Hogan had once told him that he'd chosen each man on the team for their temperaments as much as for their talents. He was Hogan's pragmatist, Newkirk was his pessimist. LeBeau was his idealist, but no one who saw the little Frenchman at this moment would believe that. The fiery little freedom fighter sat dejectedly by Hogan's head, whispering to the man in French. Kinch did his best not to overhear. Like Klink's mumbled apology for Hochstetter's treatment, LeBeau's hushed message was for Hogan alone.

Instead, Kinch turned his attention to Carter. Hogan had shrugged off his question regarding Carter's defining temperament, but Kinch thought he knew what it was. Carter was Hogan's innocent. The one who believed in his hero so completely that he would allow him to tape plans to his back, dump him in a freezing well, toss him to Klink to be interrogated or let him aim a loaded rifle at him in order to get Schultz' attention. Carter might whine and plead, but he never refused Hogan anything. Ever.

"Why don't you get some sleep, Andrew?" Kinch gently tugged the younger man away from Hogan. "You know he'll give you a rough time if he wakes up and finds you staring at him."

"Yeah, I guess." Carter took a hesitant step toward the door. "But…what did they do to him?"

"They…" Kinch cleared his voice. "They knocked him around. Broke his ribs and his wrist, banged his head against a wall….He's in a lot of pain right now, but we'll take care of him and he'll recover. The Kraut hasn't been born who can get the best of our Papa Bear, right?"

Carter nodded and grudgingly obeyed Kinch's order to go to bed.

"You too, Louie." Kinch turned away to cough. "You have to be up early to make his breakfast."

"Oui." LeBeau brushed a stray lock of hair from Hogan's face, turned dark eyes to Kinch. "There is more than you've told Andre."

Kinch exchanged glances with Newkirk, nodded reluctantly. "You know the Gestapo better than anyone, Louie. You know what they do to Resistance leaders."

LeBeau nodded, his hand protectively on Hogan's shoulder. "They didn't break mon Colonel. I don't care what that pig Hochstetter did to him."

Kinch nodded, though he wasn't so sure. From what Newkirk had heard, Hochstetter had done his best to humiliate and break Hogan. It was the Gestapo way – destroy the spirit and return the empty shell to his people as a warning. He refused to believe that they'd be successful this time. "Go to bed, Louie. I'll stay with him."

"Come on, mon ami." Newkirk tugged his friend to his feet. "Get some sleep. I'll mind the governor."

Kinch shook his head. "I'll stay. You get some sleep too."

" And let you spend the whole bloody night hacking all over the man? Are you crazy, mate? The governor can hardly breathe now what with his ribs all broken. He doesn't need pneumonia too."

"I…" Kinch's rebuttal was interrupted by a fit of coughing. He knew Newkirk was right, but that didn't make it any easier to surrender his post and find an isolated bunk in the other room. But if he was going to trust anyone with Hogan tonight, the Englander would be his first choice. Peter had spent hours in the confines of the tunnel, helplessly listening to Hochstetter's interrogation. Even pessimists had the right to see their heroes sleeping in safety.

* * * *

"Easy now, sir. You'll be making yourself sick."

Kinch leaned in the doorway, a slight smile on his lips. Newkirk was helping Hogan drink something and he doubted it was water. LeBeau was slumped across the small table nearby, a bottle of wine by his elbow. A deck of cards was scattered by the sleeping Frenchman's head. He wasn't particularly surprised to discover that LeBeau had joined Newkirk at his post, but Kinch was chagrined that he'd slept through what must have been a noisy vigil.

"Morning, Colonel." Kinch crossed to the bunk. "How are you feeling?"

"Like having the next person who babies me court-martialed."

Kinch laughed, exchanged a relieved glance with Newkirk. "How long has he been awake?"

"Too long, if you ask me." Newkirk ducked away from the bed. "Your turn, Kinch. I'm turning myself in to the Gestapo."

"Take Louie with you."

"And that one." Hogan pointed upwards.

Kinch glanced at the top bunk and chuckled. Carter was burrowed under a blanket, sound asleep. How many people had managed to roam in here while he had been sacked out next door? "Come on, Carter. Rise and shine."

"Go 'way."

"Up and at 'em, Sgt." Kinch shook the younger man. "Rausch!"

"Oh, alright." Carter clambered to the floor, nearly falling on Hogan as he did so. Kinch caught him and steadied him while he got his bearings. The events of the previous day suddenly hit him as he realized where he was. "Colonel Hogan! You're awake!"

"Brilliant, Carter." Newkirk smacked LeBeau's arm none-too-gently. "Get up, you lazy frog."

"Colonel." Carter ignored Kinch's terse warning, knelt beside Hogan. "Are you ok, sir?"

"I will be once you all clear out." Hogan swallowed a moan as he shifted positions. "Don't you fellows have a war to fight?"

"Mon Colonel!" LeBeau drew closer, despite Newkirk's best efforts. "You're awake!"

Kinch couldn't help laughing as Hogan fended off LeBeau's attempt to fuss over him. "Ok, guys. Everyone out while you still have your rank."

Newkirk propelled the protesting men towards the door. "All yours, Kinch. Good luck."

"Thanks." Kinch tried to wipe the smile from his face, but found he couldn't. A grumpy, surly officer he could deal with. The thought of a cringing, broken man wearing Hogan's face had terrified him. Had terrified them all.

"What are you grinning about? Don't you have a radio to monitor?"

"Baker is on the job." Kinch cautiously took a seat next to Hogan. "You should let me take a long at those wounds. You can't afford an infection."

Hogan shook his head, then winced. "Damn."

"Sir?"

"Nothing." Hogan closed his eyes for a moment, slowly opened them again. "What time is it?"

"It's about twenty minutes to roll call." Kinch caught Hogan's shoulders as he tried to rise. "Whoa. What are you doing?"

"Getting ready for roll call." Hogan pushed Kinch away. "Where's my uniform?"

"You don't have to get up. Not even Klink would expect you to be there this morning."

"That's exactly why I'm going to be there." Hogan clutched the side of the bunk as he dragged himself to his feet. "Where is my damn uniform?!"

"Colonel…." Kinch sighed and decided that humoring the man was the better part of valor. He grabbed Hogan's spare shirt and slacks, making a mental note to contact London about a replacement uniform. "Easy, sir. Let me help you."

"I'm perfectly capable of getting dressed by myself."

"Yes, sir." Kinch steadied the man as he fought with the slacks. Hogan grumbled a weak protest when it came to the shirt, but allowed the sergeant to help him. Kinch reached for Hogan's winter dress coat, but the man shook his head stubbornly.

"My bomber jacket."

Kinch sighed. He'd argued with Hogan before about image versus practicality. He'd never come close to winning.

"Where's my insignia?"

"I…." Kinch stumbled for an explanation.

"Never mind. I remember." Hogan closed his eyes and reached for the bunk.

Kinch moved quickly to support the trembling man. He felt his throat constrict as it dawned on him that Hogan was shaking in fear.

"I'm sorry. I…" Hogan struggled to compose himself. "Just dizzy for a moment."

"It's ok." Kinch tried to maneuver the man back to bed. "Why don't you rest this morning? You can make the evening roll call."

"No. I …" Hogan took a deep breath. "If I don't make it this morning, I don't think I'll ever make it."

"But…" Kinch couldn't face the fear in the officer's eyes. "No one will blame you for taking it easy for awhile. We all know what you've been through."

"That's why I have to be there."

"Colonel…" Kinch shifted to get a more secure grip on the other man. "You can hardly stand. How is passing out in the snow going to help morale?"

"I just have to keep on my feet for a few minutes." Hogan slowly pushed away from Kinch. "Nothing to it."

"Uh-huh." Kinch shook his head in frustration. He'd listened to too many of Hogan's lectures on the obligations of command to think he could talk the man into being sensible. Especially when he knew the Colonel was right – the morale of a 1000 prisoners depended on this one man's ability to take his place in line at roll call. "Ok, but if you're going for image, we're going to have to do something with your hair."

"What?"

"It's tangled and matted from… I tried to clean it up, but I think we're going to have to cut it."

Hogan laughed weakly. "That's the final straw. I'm killing that bastard."

"Don't worry, sir. I'll handle that little detail." Kinch didn't even pretend to be joking.

* * *

Kinch stood at attention, but his eyes were fixed on Hogan's back. The man was shivering, whether from cold, pain or fear he didn't know. Klink was hurrying through the roll call and Kinch dared to hope that he could get Hogan back in bed before he fell over.

"Dismissed!" Klink hastily returned the senior POW.'s weak salute. "Go back to bed, Colonel."

Kinch moved forward to steer Hogan inside, but the man followed Klink towards the next barracks.

"Just look at the sun coming over the barbed wire, Kommandant. Breath-taking, isn't it?" Hogan's voice was strained, but audible throughout the ranks.

"What is he doing?" Newkirk spoke between clenched teeth. "Has he finally gone balmy?"

"No." Kinch exhaled loudly. "Just doing his job."

"His job?" LeBeau rambled incoherently in French.

"I don't know what Louie said exactly, but I'm with him." Carter stared after Hogan as he made his way across the compound. "We should make the Colonel come inside."

Kinch snickered at the thought of Carter making Hogan do anything. "Leave him alone, Andrew. He knows what he's doing. "

"Yeah, well….." Carter stammered. "I don't."

"There's something new." Newkirk started across the compound. "Come on. We might as well be there when he keels over."

Kinch followed the others. They tried to look nonchalant as they trailed Hogan and Klink across the compound, but they probably weren't fooling anyone. He realized as the last barracks was dismissed that he'd been gnawing on his lip and had managed to draw blood.

"Now what?" Newkirk griped as Hogan followed Klink to his office. "Does he have to tour the whole bloody compound?"

"Probably just some camp business." Kinch coughed. "He shouldn't be long."

"You should be inside." LeBeau pushed him towards their barracks. "We'll wait for him."

Kinch started to argue, but a better idea came to mind. He hurried across the compound and slipped into Hogan's office. He knew better than to do what he was contemplating. He had standing orders from Hogan not to even consider it. And under normal circumstances the thought would be the farthest thing from his mind. But these were not normal circumstances, so he reached for the coffeepot.

Klink's voice came through loud and clear. "You're ill. Let me send for your Negro."

"His name is Sgt Kinchloe and I'll get back under my own steam. Eventually."

"Your stubbornness will be the death of you one day."

"Probably."

The room fell silent and Kinch considered his options. There must be some plausible reason for him to barge into the Kommandant's office. A burgeoning riot perhaps or…."

"Colonel." Klink's voice was unusually subdued. "You can't continue to antagonize Hochstetter. He will kill you."

"I'm painfully aware of that."

"Perhaps it would be best for you to be transferred to another camp. Or perhaps we could arrange a prisoner exchange to get you back to the Allies."

"What for? Just so I can get shot down again? "

"Listen to me, Hogan. General Burkhalter says you come from a military family, that you have high-ranking relatives…."

"Hogan, Robert E. Colonel…"

"This isn't a game." Kinch was surprised at the anger in Klink's voice. "Hochstetter has already been bragging in Berlin that he's abused an American Colonel. Do you honestly think he's through with you?"

"I'm no spy, Kommandant. You have to believe that."

"The Gestapo is not interested in facts. The moment you lied to Hochstetter, you signed your death warrant."

"What was I supposed to do? My boys were dying."

"Your boys!" There was the sound of footsteps. "Look at your boys, Colonel. The refuse of Europe. Are they worth dying for?"

"Be careful, Colonel. That refuse is going to take this camp one day."

"I see this conversation is pointless. Schultz!"

"Jawohl, Herr Kommandant."

"Help Hogan back to his barracks. He's not to step foot outside again without my permission."

"Jawohl."

"It's alright, Schultz. I can walk."

"Take him outside. His men are waiting for him."

"Ja…"

Kinch pulled the plug on the coffeepot, hastily stowed it in its hiding place. He was dozing in his bunk by the time the others returned.

* * *

Kinch sat at the small table in Hogan's room, ostensibly reading a radio repair manual. In actuality, he was eavesdropping on Sasha's Russian course. Papa Bear was a brilliant man, but the subtleties of foreign languages often escaped him.

"Nyet! You have told me to put my gun in my ear! Try again."

Kinch coughed to cover a laugh. Hogan wasn't fooled and sent him a scathing look. Kinch shrugged it off and pretended to return to his manual, though his mind couldn't be farther from radio repair. He hazarded a glance at Hogan to see if he wanted him to escort Sasha out, but the Colonel seemed genuinely interested in the lesson. He also looked drawn and pale, but that went without saying these days.

Kinch sighed. The last two days had been an exhausting roller coaster of emotions. Hogan was irritable one moment, distant the next. Fear, pain, anger and duty tugged at the man, keeping him from getting the rest he needed. Kinch did his best to shield the officer from the outside world, but it wasn't an easy task.

Kinch hadn't fully realized how important Hogan had become to the camp until the food started arriving. Borsch, vichyssoise, mulligan stew, chicken soup. Every comfort food from every land appeared at their doorstep, guaranteed to get the Colonel back on his feet in no time. Candy bars and cigarettes, blankets and gloves – men who had nothing were determined that Hogan get what few perks the camp had to offer.

Not all their visitors had been Allies. That Schultz brought fruit was no surprise. Neither was Langenscheidt's donation of his father's old sweaters. Even the bottles of schnapps that the Kommandant slid to Hogan when no one was watching weren't entirely unexpected. But the offerings that appeared outside the barracks in the dead of night – the blood tonics and the home remedies neatly labeled for the 'Oberst.' Those had been a surprise.

Kinch found himself wondering about the secret of Hogan's popularity. Unlike Carter, he could see their commander's faults. Hogan was short-tempered, rash, vain and arrogant. But he was also the man who walked into the Negro barracks on his first day at the camp and asked to meet with their spokesman. The concept had been completely alien to Kinch and the other colored prisoners. They had no spokesman because no one had ever been interested in anything they had to say. Kinch had taken on the role from curiosity, never expecting that this cocky white officer would listen to him. Never expecting that his duties would expand until he was responsible for keeping said cocky white officer alive.

Sasha segued into a lecture on the comparative military strategies of Roosevelt and Stalin. Kinch could almost see Hogan filing the information away in case he ever found himself on a Soviet battlefield. The fact that Sasha was a sergeant – and an insubordinate one, at that – didn't seem to bother the Colonel. He gave the Russian wide discretion in the running of the Soviet camp, requiring only a token amount of military protocol. But Kinch knew that if the situation called for it, Hogan would yank on Sasha's leash and demand obedience. And he'd get it, though Sasha would deny ever being one of his subordinates.

Perhaps, Kinch mused, that was the secret of Hogan's popularity. Their previous senior POW had been a good man and fair, but he'd hidden behind a wall of military correctness. His death on that stark February morning had brought a sense of loss, yet the camp had moved on. But when Hogan crossed the compound on the coldest day of the year in his bomber jacket and paused to share a joke in badly accented French or Russian he inspired not salutes, but loyalty.

To the youngsters, Hogan was the protector who never backed down from the Krauts. To the war-weary veterans, he was the con-artist who got them extra rations and warm blankets. To those who knew about the operation, he was a genuine hero playing a very dangerous game. For the majority of the camp, nothing was more reassuring then the sight of the arrogant Colonel stomping up the steps to Klink's office. There was a minority – those who resented Hogan as a collaborator, a Negro-lover or as a too-cocky American – who would prefer another commander. Kinch made it his job to know who they were and what there were up to.

"Colonel Hogan!" Carter rushed into the small office. "Trouble, sir!"

"Carter!" Kinch was on his feet. "You know better than to bother the Colonel."

"I'm sorry…"

"What's the problem, Carter?" Hogan allowed Sasha to help him from bed.

Carter pointed wordlessly behind him.

"What is…" Hogan broke off, swore softly.

Kinch saw the fear flicker across the Colonel's face, turned to find Major Hochstetter in the doorway.

"Well, Hogan. You look well." Hochstetter smiled at his victim.

"Major." Hogan forced himself to meet the Gestapo agent's eyes. "Is this a social visit?"

"Hogan…" Klink growled a warning.

"No, Klink. He's right." Hochstetter stepped closer to Hogan. "This is a social visit."

"It is?" Klink shook his head. "I mean… Of course, it is. You know that my stalag is …"

"Yes, Hogan. I came to apologize for the unpleasantness of the other day. I hope you'll accept my apology." Hochstetter trailed his fingers across the bruises on Hogan's face. "I'm afraid your little trick got me quite angry, but what's a few lies among friends, eh?"

Hogan collided with the wall as he backed away from the agent. Kinch tried to move to his commander's aid, but a circle of black-clad guards stood between him and Hogan.

"In fact, I'm so sorry for the way I treated you that I'd like you to join me at the guest quarters for dinner." Hochstetter slid his hand to the dark splotches on Hogan's throat. "Perhaps we'll open some of Klink's good French wine."

"That's a wonderful idea." Klink spoke nervously. "You and Hogan can come to my quarters and…"

"No, Klink. I think not." Hochstetter grinned wolfishly. " The Colonel and I would prefer a quiet night of conversation."

"I can cook for you." LeBeau struggled to sound excited. "Anything you want."

"Right, and I'll be your waiter." Newkirk bowed from the waist. "Welcome to Chez LeBeau's fine…"

"Thank you, but I think I have everything I need with me." Hochstetter gestured to his men, who aimed their weapons at Hogan. "Well, Robert? Shall we?"

"Major…" Klink trailed off helplessly.

"It's ok, fellas." Hogan dredged up a half-smile. "I'm sure the Major just wants some privacy to negotiate his surrender."

Kinch tried to think of something comforting to say, but words failed him. Hogan was the one who did his best to reassure them as he followed Hochstetter from the barracks. Klink slammed the door as he stalked from the building.

* * * *

Kinch shifted his feet as he waited for Schultz to conduct the evening roll call. His attention, like that of his friends, was focused on the guest quarters. It'd been two excruciating hours since Hogan had left with Hochstetter and not even Schultz was able to find out what was happening to the Colonel. Newkirk had traveled through the tunnel until he was beneath the guest quarters, but all he heard was muffled sounds drowned out by Wagner music. Not even Carter believed that all was well.

"Kinch!" Carter caught his arm, pointed across the compound. Hochstetter was striding from the building and calling for his car. The roll call halted as all eyes watched the hated man drive from the compound.

"Schultz." Klink gestured at the guest quarters. "See to Hogan."

"Jawohl…" Schultz broke off, as did everyone who'd been talking.

The door to the far building opened and Hogan appeared on the porch. He walked slowly – but steadily – towards the formation. Kinch fought the impulse to run to his side. He knew the stubborn officer would never accept help, especially not in front of the whole camp.

The prisoners drew to attention as Hogan came near and Kinch thought that the American was whistling something as he approached. He realized – as the French airmen broke into song – that it had been the Marseilles. The tune changed as he passed the varying barracks until God Save the King competed with O Canada and Advance Australia while the Song of Stalin threatened to eclipse the Star Spangled Banner. Kinch couldn't help smiling at the cacophony around him as their international group joined in the rebellious display. He shook his head in awe as Hogan managed to raise morale in a matter of moments.

His smile quickly disappeared as Klink started towards Hogan. Kinch broke ranks and followed the Kommandant.

"Colonel." Klink halted awkwardly a few feet from the American. "Do you need a doctor?"

Hogan shook his head, but Kinch saw the pain the simple gesture caused.

"If I can do anything for you…."

"I just want…." Hogan swayed. "Kinch…"

"It's ok, Colonel. Lean on me." Kinch was amazed when the officer did as he was told and allowed Kinch to support nearly all of his weight. Newkirk was suddenly beside them, parting the way through the gathering crowd to get Hogan inside as quickly as possible. LeBeau and Carter mumbled assurances to the worried and shooed away the curious.

"Are you ok, Colonel?" Carter hovered about as Kinch and Newkirk settled Hogan onto his bunk.

"Out, Carter." Kinch's tone invited no discussion. "All of you, out."

The three men grumbled, but the door finally closed behind them. Kinch gingerly unzipped Hogan's jacket.

"No!" Hogan pushed the man away. "Leave me alone."

"Colonel…" Kinch fell silent as Hogan rolled onto his stomach and buried his head in his pillow. He thought he heard a muffled sob, but that wasn't possible. He gently covered Hogan, deciding that he'd wait for the man to calm down or fall asleep before he checked him for injuries. He also decided that it was time to contact London and arrange for Papa Bear to escape while he was still alive. He didn't care if that meant the end of the operation. He wouldn't sit idly by and watch Hochstetter smirk while Hogan was systematically destroyed.

The door opened slowly and Kinch barked an order for the intruder to leave. Klink entered regardless. He stared at the sergeant for an uncomfortable moment, then took a seat beside Hogan. "Colonel?"

Kinch hurried to fill the silence. "He's exhausted."

Klink produced a small box from his overcoat pocket, revealed a hypodermic needle.

"Kommandant, I can't allow you…"

"It's for the pain." Klink nodded towards the door. "There are three guards in the outer room. Shall I call them?"

Kinch bit back his retort. He gnawed on his lip while Klink injected the man. Hogan roused himself enough to protest, but Klink pushed him back on the bed. "Lie still. You're not in any danger."

"What….?" Hogan reached for the needle, but Klink easily evaded him.

"Hochstetter is a bastard. He's not interested in interrogating you. He only wants to see you in pain. Once he proves you're a spy, you'll be dead and I'll be at the Russian front. "

"I'm not…"

"It doesn't matter. Don't you see that? The Gestapo is never wrong. Hochstetter has gone too far to stop now. The only solution is to….." Klink paused as Hogan rubbed his eyes and attempted to sit up.

"What…did you do….?….Kinch…."

"Rest. It's just a sedative. It won't harm you."

Guilt assaulted Kinch as he watched Hogan struggling to remain conscious. Why had he trusted Klink?

"Listen, Hogan. Schultz is taking you to another camp. It'd be suicidal to escape in this weather and with your injuries, but I assume you'll try. The drug will see that you don't succeed."

"…please…." Hogan caught the German's arm. "…have to stay…"

"Colonel!" Kinch pushed past Klink as Hogan's eyes closed. "If you've poisoned him…"

"He's fine, sergeant." Klink sighed wearily.

"Sir, there's no need to transfer him. We can take care of him and…"

"And what will you do when Hochstetter returns? Do you enjoy seeing him tortured?"

"Of course not, but…" Kinch considered the sedated man. "At least let him stay until he's recovered from his injuries."

"At the rate Hochstetter is inflicting them, that will be a very long time. "Klink raised his voice. "Schultz!"

"Sir…" Kinch shook his head in defeat. The one time Hogan had truly needed him and he'd failed. All he could do now was beg for enough time to treat his commander's injuries before turning him over to the enemy.

* * * *