Ha! Suprise! Didn't think you'd get an update so soon, huh? Just thought I'd keep you all on your toes. Enjoy! (Hopefully, Chapter 6 will follow along shortly .... )

Under the Weather

Chapter 5: This is What We Do

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LeBeau unplugged the coffee-pot while turning to his companions. "Colonel Hogan is not well. Not well at all."

"No, he's not." Kinch answered back quietly.

Calling from his lookout spot at the barracks door, Carter shouted, "Here he comes!"

Carter opened the door wide and slowly Colonel Hogan entered the barracks and headed straight for his room, ignoring the concerned looks and questions of his men. He made a feeble attempt to close the door behind him, but Newkirk quickly stopped the door with his hand, opening it up in time for them to see Hogan gingerly lower himself onto his bed again, face down. As before, he still had his jacket and shoes on, and his feet hung over the side of the bed. Kinch, LeBeau, Newkirk and Carter slipped in quietly and looked at their leader closely, realizing that he had fallen asleep within seconds.

"Carter, go get Wilson." Kinch ordered.

Without a second thought, Carter quickly left for Barracks 5 in search of the camp's medic.

Newkirk knelt down beside the colonel's head and placed a hand on his shoulder. There was no response. "Blimey, he's out cold!"

Kinch joined Newkirk on the ground and gently shook the colonel's shoulder. "Colonel Hogan? Colonel Hogan? Can you hear me, Sir?"

Only a small moan escaped his mouth in response.

"What do you think is wrong with him, Kinch?" Newkirk whispered, even though at that moment, Hogan could probably sleep through a parade of tanks.

"I don't know, Peter. But he probably shouldn't have gone out last night. I should have stopped him."

"Qui, we all should have stopped him." LeBeau stated from the end of the bed where he was gently removing the colonel's shoes.

Deep down they knew that there was no way they could have stopped a determined Colonel Hogan, no matter how hard they tried. Yet, overwhelming guilt plagued them all.

Between the three of them, they succeeded in removing the colonel's coat, turning him over and settling him gently into bed. Amazingly, Colonel Hogan remained quiet the whole time. As they covered him with the thin blanket, he began to curl up on himself, suddenly taking on a chill. LeBeau felt his forehead then pouted worriedly. "Mon colonel has a fever."

Just then, the door to his office opened, letting in an angry looking Sergeant Wilson. "Damn. What did you guys do now? "

"Wilson. Thank God you're here." Kinch began, explaining the events that led up to the moment.

After examining Colonel Hogan for possible unknown injuries and asking specific questions, Wilson finally stood up from where he sat next to Colonel Hogan's bed to address the men who were still standing around. He had tried to make them leave the office earlier, but gave up after the fifth or sixth try.

"Well, I really can't tell without the proper equipment and tests, but it looks to me like the colonel is suffering from some kind of virus. From the sound of his lungs and by his symptoms, I'd say it's some form of pneumonia."

"But he got sick so fast? He seemed fine last night? Other than being tired ..." Carter asked.

"I don't know." Wilson shook his head, looking over at his patient. "It
might be a particularly viral strain, one that acts quickly. Or he may have been having symptom for a while without any of you knowing it. We all know how well the colonel is in hiding things when it comes to his health. "

Everyone nodded in agreement.

"In any case, I think we should start him on some antibiotics right away. We really need to get this virus under control as soon as possible."

"Okay." Kinch said taking control. "Louis, how much penicillin do we have in stock?"

Before LeBeau could answer, a weak, but authoritative voice came from the lower bunk. "No. No drugs."

"Colonel!"

In blink of an eye, Wilson jumped into action, taking hold of Colonel Hogan's wrist, and began to take his pulse. "Sir, how do you feel?"

Covering his eyes with his free hand against the blinding light, Hogan said quietly, "Fine. I'm fine."

"Begging your pardon, Sir, but you are NOT fine. But if LeBeau can get me that penicillin now, we'll start getting you fixed up right away. "

"No!" Hogan said again, but much more forcefully, squinting into Wilson's eyes. "I said no drugs." Slowing down, he once again covered his eyes. "If you give me anything, it'll mess everything up. They said it has to run its course for it to work. So, just leave me be."

Completely confused, the men looked at one another with concerned expressions, confident their leader was delirious from his illness, crazy from exhaustion or both.

Slowly rising, despite the protest of his men, Hogan sat on the edge of his bunk, struggling to contain a cough. Dizzy, he kept his eyes closed for a few seconds more until finally looking up -- the best that he could against the blinding headache at least -- towards each man present, with a face that defied disagreement.

"Sir, you're very sick right now. "Wilson spoke as if to a slow child. "We're just going to give you a little shot and ..."

"DAMMIT, WILSON!" Hogan yelled, triggering a violent coughing spree. Immediately, he felt several sets of hands on him. Patting his back, rubbing his arms, trying to get him to lay back down. Yet, even before he could get it under control and catch his breath, he impatiently continued. "You ... will not ... give me any ... ANYTHING ... is that ... clear!" And to his surprise, his coughing became even worse.

Suddenly, Hogan found a glass of water shoved into his shaking hands. With some help, he lifted it to his mouth to drink and, to his and everyone's relief, he finally got his coughing under control.

Unsure of what was going on, everyone waited silently, with only the sound of Hogan's heavy breathing filling the air.

It was Kinch who finally spoke. "Sir, is there a reason you don't want us to treat you?" He asked trying not to sound as worried as he felt.

Sighing slightly, careful not to trigger any more coughing bouts, Hogan spent the next two hours explaining everything that had conspired the night before and placating the occasional outbursts with rational reasoning.

"I don't like it, Sir." Newkirk said at the end of Hogan's narrative. "Using you as a bloody guinea pig ... London's really gone off the deep end this time!"

"Yeah Boy, uh, I mean Sir. It's just not right. They're asking for way too much." Carter added.

Tiredly, Hogan responded. "No, Carter, it is right. Remember, this is what we do. And if we don't complete this mission – which is perhaps one of, if not THE most important mission we will have in this damn war – hundred, thousands, millions of innocent people will die." Hogan paused as he drove the point home. "Let's not forget, it's already been used ... and will continue to be used, specifically to wipe out an entire culture and race. And with all that at stake, I just wish we had more to offer than a few days of me feeling like crap."

No one said anything. Again, what do you say to atrocity?

As he did just hours before, in an abandoned farmhouse a few miles outside of camp, his men finally understood the full importance of what he was being asked to do, and somberly relented to the task.