Chapter Twelve

The clipboard flew across the radio room, struck the tunnel brace, and with a flutter and crackle of paper, landed upside down in the dirt. Immediately ashamed at losing control, Baker left the stool and went to retrieve the board. He picked it up, slowly brushed dirt from the smudged papers. With a sigh that felt like it had come from the depths of his soul, he shuffled back to the radio set.

The radio's silence had been broken by only a single contact in the last few hours. Tiger's demeanor had been tightly controlled, completely professional. But Baker had been unsurprised to hear the underlying fear in her voice. The beautiful woman's feelings for his CO were obvious to anyone who paid attention. Whether Tiger's feelings were reciprocated, however, was anyone's guess. Hogan was a master at hiding his true feelings regarding affairs of the heart.

Baker had confirmed for the French Resistance fighter that Papa Bear and one cub were missing in the wild. A lengthy radio silence had followed. Just as he had decided that the connection had been lost, Tiger keyed her microphone and in a somber voice, asked to be kept apprised of further developments. He had readily agreed, of course, and without another word, she had cut the connection.

Baker shook his head at the memory, his fingertips idly rolling the chewed nub of his pencil back and forth on the small desk. He would be more than happy to make the call telling her that Hogan and Newkirk had been found. It was the call telling her that they had not been found, or that they had been found dead that he dreaded.

Shortly after his conversation with Tiger, Kinch had appeared in the radio room. His visit lasted only long enough for him to check for news and to put their radio through a series of unnecessary checks. Baker had watched without comment, easily recognizing the pressing need to do something. His own thorough inspection of the equipment had been concluded just minutes before Kinch's arrival.

The sound of pounding feet in the tunnel interrupted Baker's revelry. He stood, taking a tense position beside the desk and gazed expectantly at the doorway. Olsen and Jones burst into the room.

"Did --" Olsen gasped for air, one hand going to his ribs. "Have --" Jones frowned at him in concern.

"What he wants to know," Jones told Baker, looking away from Olsen's continuing struggle to catch his breath. "Is if Rumplestilskin's guys found Fear –" he cleared his throat, his expression briefly turning sheepish. "the Colonel and Newkirk?"

Olsen squinted up at Baker, took several gulping breaths, pointed at Jones and weakly nodded, as if saying, 'Yeah. What he said.'

"No," Baker answered shortly. "And since you asked, that must mean that you didn't find them either." He took a quick breath, steeling himself as another thought occurred to him. "Where's the rest of the squad?"

"They're fine," Jones assured him quickly. "Or at least they were when we left. Nothing was wrong. I mean, other than the obvious, of course. They were --"

Olsen suddenly pitched forward, one hand grabbing for the desk's edge.

"Whoa, there!" Jones yelled, pivoting to catch him. Baker gestured to the stool and Jones helped Olsen to sit. Baker stood by, hands tucked behind his back, mentally kicking himself for allowing Olsen out before he was fully recovered. Olsen noticed his tight expression and sighed.

"I just got a little winded, Baker. I'm fine and dandy now. See?" He stood up, throwing his arms wide, and promptly collapsed. Jones was there to catch him again and with a single shake of his head, lowered him onto the chair.

"Yup," Jones said, directing a smirk at Olsen. "Just dandy."

"Fill me in, and then Jones will help you back to bed." Baker withstood Olsen's glare without the slightest trouble.

Olsen looked up at Jones, who made a 'be my guest' motion with his hand.

"One of you start talking," Baker snapped, worry and lack of sleep bringing him to the end of his emotional tether. He waited impatiently while Olsen gathered his thoughts.

"Well, you already know we found LeBeau. After that, we went on searching. Then a patrol came along, which livened things up a little. Maddux is tailing them, just in case they find the colonel and Newkirk before we do. Then Benson decided Jonesie should bring me back and here we are." His voice softened with chagrin. "We would have made it back sooner if I hadn't slowed us down so much."He frowned suddenly, fingers tightening upon his knees. "How's LeBeau?"

"Sick," Baker answered succinctly.

Jones shifted his weight to stand at parade rest. "The others are probably still searching."

"Or they've found the colonel and Newkirk and they're on their way back." Olsen's expression was painfully hopeful.

"Or the colonel and Newkirk have been captured or they're dead," Baker countered with a bitter twist of his mouth. "Or maybe the squad's been captured, or—"

"Dang," Jones snapped, eyebrows raised. "You're just a big ol' ray of sunshine, aren't you, Baker?"

Baker's retort died on his lips. He sighed, rubbed his jaw. "Sorry. You're right."

"Huh," Jones grunted. "Don't hear that very often." At Baker's arched look, he added, shrugging, "That I'm right."

Baker gave him a level stare, then gestured to Olsen, who looked in danger of toppling off the stool. "Make sure he gets back to bed." Hetook a step forward, clapped a hand upon Jones' shoulder. "I'm glad you both made it back okay."

Jones, clearly stunned by Baker's words and friendly gesture, openly gaped at him. Olsen took inJones' expression, chuckled, and tapped him on theforearm with a loosely curled fist.

"Watch it, Jonesie. There are spiders down here that can spin a web faster than you can say 'spit'."

Jones' eyes rolled toward the ceiling and his mouth snapped shut.

Using the desk and Jones' arm as support, Olsen levered himself off the stool. He turned to Baker, his tone completely serious now.

"Don't give up on them, Baker. Not any of them."

"I won't," Baker returned gruffly. He indicated the doorway with a lift of his chin. "Report to Kinch, then get to bed before you fall on your face."

"Probably wouldn't do any harm if he did," Jones rumbled, nonchalantly reaching out with one hand to brace Olsen's listing body. "All the beauty sleep in the world wouldn't help that kisser." He met Olsen's expression of outrage with a serene smile, twirled him around and gave him a push toward the door.

"Jealous!" Olsen hissed over his shoulder at Jones, then faced forward again, but not in time to avoid running into the door jamb. He bounced off it, directly into Jones' waiting arms. The big man responded with an exaggerated sigh, patiently righted Olsen again, and guided him safely out of the room. Baker started to turn away, only to pause as Olsen popped his head back around the door jamb.

"Baker?"

Baker gave him a tight grin. "Believe me, Olsen. The whole camp will know the second after I do."

Jones' hand appeared from beyond the doorway, latched onto Olsen's collar and yanked him out of sight. Baker listened to their quiet bickering fade as they moved up the tunnel.

Bemused, he sat down again and regarded the silent radio. Moments later, he was deep into another inspection of the equipment.

HH HH HH HH HH

"They should have been here by now."

Newkirk limped to the center of the small glade and glanced overhead. Soft, early morning sunlight dappled the trees and all through the woods birds merrily greeted the new day. The air was slightly warmer, but not enough to make a difference.

Hogan had made it through the night, but was still unconscious and pasty white, his breathing slow and shallow. He lay on his good side in a pool of sunlight, on a thick bed of evergreen boughs that Newkirk had gathered. The sharp fragrance of crushed needles filled the glade.

Keeping Hogan within his peripheral vision, Newkirk slowly eased his arms over his head, trying to loosen muscles that had stiffened from the cold and prolonged inactivity. Carefully, he flexed his shoulders and neck, his face twisting in pain as strained muscles pulled and burned. After a few minutes of self-torture, he gave up with a sigh. He was as limber as he was going to get. He turned back to Hogan, still hardly able to believe that his CO had beaten the odds and lived.

"God bless that stubborn spirit," Newkirk murmured, coming to rest before his CO. He went to one knee, biting his lip to stifle a moan. Despite his stretching, some movements were still painful. He coughed, driving away a tickle at the back of his throat, then lightly laid his hand upon the cool skin of Hogan's face. There was no response to the touch, not even a twitch of an eyelash.

"Got to leave you for just a bit, Colonel Hogan. Promise me –" he paused, lowering his head as his voice cracked. "Promise me you'll keep on fighting. I'll be back quicker than quick. You won't even know I'm gone, sir."

Forcing himself not to look back, Newkirk got to his feet and took off as fast as his injuries allowed.

HH HH HH HH HH

"Hardest thing I've ever done in my life, leaving him lying there all alone and vulnerable like that."

"I did it because I had to, Katie. Sometimes hard choices have to be made no matter how much you don't want to make them."

"Ah, but I didn't know that at the time, Teddy. By that point, Ibelieved that something had happenedto keep our mates from coming. All I knew for sure was that my colonel needed help. So I got off my ar—my rear end and went to get it."

To be continued. Thank you for reading!