No ownership of the Hogan's Heroes characters is implied or inferred. Copyright belongs to others and no infringement is intended.

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Group Captain Townsend turned away from observing the RAF men with Brinkfried when he heard footsteps behind him. "Good luck, Colonel," he said, watching as Hogan tiredly and with difficulty make his way toward him. Stubborn Yank. Shouldn't be walking so much. "Nice ending, to have your man Newkirk alive and well."

Hogan raised an eyebrow and leaned heavily against the lightning-scorched tree that had given his plans away to Newkirk. "Alive, yes. Well, no," he countered. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. It's turning cold, he thought. So much for an early spring. "We're gonna have to get him some medical attention, but I don't want him brought back into camp in the usual way, not yet. He needs a chance to recover a little, and if the 'Gestapo' brings us back, there might be some very embarrassing questions asked that we can't come up with answers to. Plus we've got to get you, Bramer and Hawkins in." Hogan rubbed his forehead, studiously avoiding the tender cuts and bruises that covered half his face. "I'll have to come up with a plan."

"I quite understand, old man. However, his condition, and yours, are easily explained. We both know what the Gestapo is capable of, and as for the Corporal's wound," Townsend shrugged slightly, "use the oldest line in the book: shot while trying to escape."

Hogan bristled. "No, thanks," he said abruptly. "Newkirk needs to get back now; I wasted enough time leaving him for dead, without delaying any longer by playing Nazi Dress-Ups. He goes in through the tunnel, and we take Bramer and Hawkins in with him. When he's had a day or two to recover, we'll let our pretend Gestapo officers bring the two of us back in. He'll be better able to handle it then."

"Steady on there, Hogan. I only meant that as an easy way of explaining your condition. I certainly didn't mean to belittle what the two of you have been through, nor did I mean to imply that your man doesn't need medical care as quickly as possible." The mark of a good commander; thinks of his men first. Still, he seems fixated on the Corporal's condition to the detriment of his own. Townsend gave the American's face a critical study. "For that matter, you could use the down time as well. You're exhausted, man, and I know you're injured. Frankly, I don't see how it is that you're still on your feet."

"Invisible strings," Hogan answered with an ironic smile. "They don't get cut till the war is over." He pulled himself away from the tree. "Speaking of which, if we don't get this truck back to Stalag 13 soon, Klink's going to think someone's actually using it for camp business. Tell Hawkins and Bramer to bring our friend back to the truck. We'll get Brinkfried out tonight."

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Sergeant Wilson leaned over the cot, checking on his latest patient. The Englishman was still unconscious from when he'd passed out while being brought in through the tree stump entrance of the emergency tunnel. Lousy Nazis. Someone beat him half to death, then tried to finish the job by shooting him in the back and clubbing him so hard over the head they damn near broke his skull. Wilson sighed as he gently pried Newkirk's eyes open to check his pupils. Well, at least that looks good. It's a good thing you're so hard-headed; it may have saved your life instead of getting you into trouble for a change. Okay, Newkirk, I've done what I can—cleaned everything up and put in a lot of stitches. The rest is up to you.

The medic straightened up and turned around. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Hogan hovering near the base of the ladder, straining to watch or hear but not approaching. In your own time, Colonel. He shook his head. You look so tired. When will you just let go and leave it to me to look after your men? He laughed softly to himself, already knowing the answer: Never. Because then you wouldn't be Colonel Hogan. And somehow that's just what we all need.

Wilson then addressed Le Beau, who was waiting nearby for Wilson to finish his examination, and trying hard not to watch. "There are two things to watch for, Louis. He's already got a fever, but it's not too bad right now considering what he's been through. Keep checking his temperature, and if it feels like he's getting hotter, send someone to get me." Le Beau nodded. "The other is that I'd be a lot happier if he'd wake up before long. If he does, try to get him to drink some water if he can, and give him the aspirin I've left over there on the table. I've got to go make my rounds, but I'll be back to check on him as soon as I can. But if he doesn't wake up within the hour, I want to know about it."

As Wilson left, Le Beau settled onto a chair he placed by Newkirk's cot. Ah, mon ami, this is not the first time I have kept watch over you like this. You earned many beatings before you learned not to fight with the guards after trying—and failing—to escape so often. At least when Kinch came to camp, we were finally able to make you see the sense of digging a tunnel instead of cutting the wire all the time. The Frenchman looked around the central hub of the ever-growing tunnel system and smiled. Who would have thought that the single tunnel we dug would have ever grown into something so complex? Or that he and I would become close friends? A soft moan brought Le Beau's full attention back to his English friend as Newkirk opened his eyes and looked around. "Oh, good, Pierre. You are awake."

"I am?" The Englishman blinked a few times, then frowned when he still couldn't see clearly. "It's so dark, Louis. Where are we, in the cooler again?"

Le Beau couldn't help laughing softly at that. "No, we're in the tunnel under the barracks. Colonel Hogan wanted you brought down here so Sergeant Wilson could take care of you right away. He wants you to rest for a day or so before you 'officially' return."

"Hang on," Newkirk said, thinking; "how did you fellows cover for me and the Colonel when we didn't come back? I seem to remember the gov'nor saying something about making Klink think the Gestapo had come for us."

The Frenchman grinned. "You should have seen Carter. He was magnificent! Two minutes after walking into the office, he had Klink shaking so badly I thought he was going to drop his monocle. We took out Olsen and Townsend, dressed as you and the Colonel."

"Our shy, quiet Andrew, done up as a Gestapo officer? I'd bloody well pay to see that!" Newkirk started laughing, then suddenly stopped as his head felt like it was going to explode. "Louis, do you mind if I just rest a while?"

"Of course not, Pierre." Le Beau went to the table and got the aspirin and a cup of water. "Wilson wanted you to take some aspirin and drink water when you woke up." He gave them to Newkirk, who swallowed both the pills and the water without complaint.

As Le Beau set the cup aside, Newkirk closed his eyes. The Frenchman was surprised when he quietly asked a question. "How's Colonel Hogan doing, Louis? Is he all right? I'm worried about him, mate. He did so much to get us out of there..." The Englishman's voice faded as he fell into an uneasy sleep.

It would seem that you both did, judging from how much the two of you have been hurt. Le Beau sighed as he settled back on his chair. I wonder if we will ever know the whole story of what happened to them.

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Wilson prowled the tunnel system looking for his other patient. Figures. It's just like Colonel Hogan to be there one minute, then vanish when I'm ready to deal with him. I swear the man's got a sixth sense about these things. Finally, there was only one place left to check, and when he pulled aside the flag that covered the dark room door, he found Hogan slumped on a chair, head in his hands as if he was simply too tired to go on. I hate to disturb him like this. "Colonel?" he said quietly. "You know, I don't usually have to chase my patients down, but I want to give you a once-over again before you go lie down. I know you're probably not going to listen, but that last is a medical order, sir."

Hogan didn't move and for a minute didn't speak. Finally, his hollow voice said, "I have no intention of lying down, Joe. What do you want?"

"Like I said, I want to check you out," Wilson said as he stepped inside the dark room. "And I'll give you the rest of the story on Newkirk."

Hogan raised his head from his hands immediately and ran his hand once through his hair. "The rest of the story?" he asked urgently. "What's wrong?"

The medic hooked a stool with his foot and pulled it away from the workbench to sit beside the Colonel. He leaned forward and took Hogan's head gently in his hands, tilting it so he could get a close look at the cut on the man's face. "Let me do my job, sir," he said as Hogan tried to pull away. "If I can look and talk at the same time, the least you can do is sit still and listen."

Hogan stopped struggling, resisting the urge to jerk his head back when lightly moving fingers probed a tender swelling. "I'm here," he said through tightly clenched teeth. "What about Newkirk?"

"He lost a lot of blood, sir, which isn't helping the fever he's developed because of that gunshot wound in his back. I'm more worried about his head, but it's a good sign that he was awake and talking before he passed out. Colonel, the only things I've got for pain are aspirin and a little morphine, but I can't give him the morphine because of the head injury." The medic released Hogan's head and sat back with a long sigh. "That means he's gonna have to tough it out with nothing more than aspirin around the clock. The aspirin will actually help with the fever, but he's going to be in a lot of pain, which means he won't be getting much rest."

Hogan shook his head, distressed. "So what you're saying is…?"

"What I'm saying, Colonel, is that you can be of some help here. Newkirk's got something on his mind; when he was fading in and out of consciousness while I was working on him, he kept asking about you. A lot of it didn't make any sense to me, but one bit I did get was something about having to look after you and make sure you were all right." Wilson paused and gave Hogan a long look. "Frankly, sir, right now you do need someone to look after you. You're exhausted and about ready to pass out yourself." Raising a hand to stop any comments from his commanding officer, the medic went on. "You're whiter than a sheet, and to be honest, you look like hell. Newkirk's still passed out right now, so there's nothing to be gained by you staying awake. In fact, based on what he was going on about, the last thing he needs is to wake up and see you looking the way you do right now."

Hogan knew Wilson was right. And he really did feel like taking another step would be almost impossible. But he had Townsend to think of now, and Bramer, and Hawkins. And Brinkfried. He would never forget Brinkfried. There was too much to do, and too many people to be responsible for…. "I won't let him see me, Joe," Hogan said in almost a whisper. "I'll look after things from another part of the tunnel. Newkirk doesn't need to look after me. I need to look after him." Hogan felt a wave of dizzy exhaustion sweep over him, and he nearly swayed in his seat. "I owe him, Joe. I left him behind. He was alive, and I left him behind."

"Stop that train of thought right there, Colonel. You told me you saw him get hit and go down. You also said that when the Krauts hauled him away, he didn't move, didn't fight or anything. As far as you could tell, Newkirk was dead. You were outnumbered and outgunned, there was absolutely nothing you could have done except what you did: make sure that at least one of you escaped and made it back here." The medic took a breath, and continued. "Think about it: if he had been dead, would Newkirk have wanted you to go back and get captured trying to rescue his corpse?" I hate this, Wilson thought. But someone's got to be blunt with him about it or he'll never be able to square things with himself.

"As for looking after things, it's all under control. Things are fine topside, and down here? Le Beau's keeping an eye on Newkirk for me; your Kraut is under heavy guard down at the end of that new tunnel extension, so he's not going anywhere until you ship him out tonight; and our three British guests are sacked out on the other side of the printing press. In short, Colonel, you've done your job. Now go do the rest of it and get some sleep so you'll be able to handle things later on."

Hogan had lowered his head back down to his hands as Wilson spoke. Truth be told, he was exhausted. He did want to just lie down and forget it all. But he had resisted. Even now, he had to express one thought to the medic, even if it made no sense to the Sergeant: "I had to go back," he said breathlessly. His hand went back through his hair again; God, he missed his crush cap! "I promised him I would go back."

Finally, as he accepted Newkirk's safe return, Hogan felt his own strength ebbing away. "You win, Joe," he said weakly. "I'm too tired to fight you." A long pause. Hogan realized he could not move, so drained was he of energy. "But I doubt there are any beds left down here. I'll have to wait my turn."

Wilson smiled and gently laid his hand on Hogan's shoulder as he stood. "Give me five minutes, and I'll bring a cot in here so you can have some privacy." It didn't remotely surprise him when he returned to find Hogan asleep in the chair. The medic carefully guided the semi-conscious Colonel into the cot, then wrapped him in a blanket and tenderly moved a pillow in under his head, before heading upstairs to complete his rounds.

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Kinch took a peek into the dark room several hours later, nodding to himself when he saw Hogan still sound asleep. Man, I don't want to wake him, but if I don't, he's gonna be mad. The Sergeant moved over to the cot and shook the Colonel's shoulder. "Time to wake up, sir."

Kinch was surprised to find it took more than one nudge to wake Hogan, who was normally an extremely light sleeper. One more jostle and the officer drew in a deep breath and sat up drunkenly. "Whudzamadder?" he slurred, blinking hard and trying to bring himself out of his dreamless stupor.

"Take it easy there, Colonel; everything's all right." Kinch held out a steaming mug and smiled. "See? There's even time for a cup of coffee before you have to go back on duty."

Hogan tried to stretch, feeling the stress of the last few days in his shoulders and his neck and longing to get back in his lumpy bunk upstairs. Extending his legs aggravated his knee, stiff from lack of movement after overuse in its abused state. He rubbed his eyes and then reached out for the cup. "How's Newkirk?"

"Still asleep, if you can believe that. He even slept through the um, conversation, that Olsen and Scotty had with that Kraut Major about exchanging his uniform for civilian attire." Kinch shook his head and grinned. "But don't worry, he saw the error of his ways real fast after those two fellas from Stalag 2 threatened to 'assist' him."

Hogan lifted one side of his lips in a lopsided grin. "I knew I could count on them." Hogan stood up, but his balance was uncertain and he nearly spilled his coffee. Kinch helped steady him. "Not awake yet," Hogan explained awkwardly, pulling away and taking another sip. "I'd better go say farewell to our friend."

Kinch nodded and led the way out, holding back the flag so Hogan could follow. The central hub of the tunnel was full of the usual pre-departure bustle, but almost everyone present tried to keep the noise to a minimum in consideration of the injured man sleeping on a cot set against the far wall.

Major Brinkfried, however, proved to be the exception. Even in handcuffs, physically restrained by Bramer and Hawkins, and being covered by the pistol in Scotty's hand, the German continued to struggle against Olsen as the American tried unsuccessfully to put a proper knot in Brinkfried's tie. Hogan put his coffee on the desk nearby and came up so he was nearly nose-to-nose with the German. He took the tie from Olsen, wrapped but untied as it was around the officer's neck, and pulled it tightly to him. Brinkfried momentarily stopped wriggling. "I have a wounded man sleeping here," he growled, "and I don't want you disturbing his rest." Pulling in even closer, Hogan added, "Now, you're going back to England, and you're going to go back nicely. And my two friends here from Stalag 2 are going to make sure that you do it."

Hogan shoved the German back into the RAF men's grasp. "If you decide to present yourself sloppily, that's your choice. Olsen, forget the tie. Let him go as a peasant. Get him another shirt. This one's too good for him." The Colonel turned away from Brinkfried, then with a smile full of irony and clear dislike, he turned back. "Oh, and thanks for the nice insignias. They'll look great when the 'Gestapo' brings me and Newkirk back into camp."

"How you expect anyone to get any sleep with all this row is beyond me." Newkirk's weak voice came from across the room as he pushed back the covers and propped himself up on an elbow. The Englishman looked around at the business at hand and frowned. "Here now, who said you could start the party without me?"

"Just doing a bit of cleaning up. Seems the Major here doesn't share my passion for loud ties." Hogan glanced almost mockingly at Brinkfried, who was being changed against his will into other clothing. Hogan took note as the German's handcuffs were removed and his wrists held tightly by two men, then replaced after a scuffle gave him a less than refined shirt on his back. "So he'll be going out Economy. Only three times as classy as he deserves."

"Take him out in a ruddy pine box for all I care, mate." Newkirk didn't bother to hide his amusement as he watched the fracas with Brinkfried. Once the German had been placed back into restraints, the Englishman turned his attention to his two countrymen. "Blimey, who picked out your tie, Hawkins? Colonel Hogan, by any chance? He's not a bad sort as officers go, but he's got no idea how to dress unless it's in a uniform." Newkirk tried to sit up without success, then turned to Le Beau who was standing nearby. "Help me up here, Louis. I've got to go find something else for him to wear, else he's gonna stand out a mile."

"He'll be just fine as he is, thank you," Hogan replied. "Louis, keep Newkirk in bed." He turned to the Englishman. "Well, it sounds like you're well enough to be brought back into camp tomorrow. Think we can let Louis do up the uniforms for the friendly Gestapo men to bring us back in through the main gate? I think I have just the decorations to go on them now."

Newkirk laughed softly at that, then turned to look at the German. "Herr Major Brinkfried." The Englishman's voice was laden with sarcasm and the hatred he felt toward the man he was addressing. "I'm given to understand that you got that eye patch of yours after some lucky Air Gunner in a Bristol Blenheim put a few shots through your canopy during the Battle of Britain. As it happens, Herr Kommandant, sir, I was in charge of the guns in one of those nice little planes during that time." He smiled coldly as Brinkfried stared at him. "You know, I just thought of something... it might have been me that did that to you. If it was, my only regret would be that I didn't manage to put a few more rounds into you and finish the ruddy job right then and there."

Hogan watched from between Le Beau and Kinch, nodding slightly and understanding the Englishman's anger. It was a rather civilized telling-off, really, Hogan thought, considering what Brinkfried deserved. Given all possible outcomes, chances were that Newkirk would never have to set eyes on the Major again. But it wouldn't erase their memories of the man, and of the atrocities he had committed against them and all the other prisoners he had come across at Stalag 2. Hogan had considered allowing himself to let off a few choice words himself, but in the end, it was the Englishmen who had the biggest issues with Brinkfried, and it was the Englishmen who should be allowed to put the German in his place.

Now, Hogan stepped forward and nodded toward Bramer and Hawkins, who were still holding the German's cuffed arms securely. "Looks like it's going to be a long trip for you with these two fine gentlemen at your side, Brinkfried." The Englishmen grinned as Brinkfried jerked once against them. Hogan shook his head. "Don't think it hasn't been a real pleasure—getting you the hell out of my sight." Hogan turned away before he said something he would regret saying in front of his men, and nodded for Newkirk to relax.

"Colonel Hogan? I'd like to thank you for getting us out of Stalag 2. I also want to apologize for the things I said to you back there. We should have known better." Flight Sergeant Bramer checked the grip he had on the German's arm as he spoke. "And don't you worry about this chap, sir; we'll be keeping a right close eye on him all the way to London, where he can spend the rest of the war in a nice English prison camp, eating English food and drinking good old English tea."

Hawkins grinned at Bramer's words. "I might even bring him round a plate of kippers once in a while, just so he knows he's not forgotten." The Corporal turned to Hogan and nodded respectfully. "Newkirk there's spot on. You are a fine china to 'ave about, sir. Know what I mean?"

Hogan smiled softly, as some of his weariness seemed to leave him. "Yes, Corporal," he answered with a nod. "Yes, I think I finally do." He took in the two men before him, flanking the German with pride in themselves and their mission ahead. "You have no reason to apologize; I would have come as quite a surprised to you dressed as I was. You look after each other. And don't let this guy get out of hand." Then he added quietly, "We'll get word to Stalag 2 somehow that you're all right. They won't worry about you having left with the Abwehr. And who knows—maybe they'll keep standing together, now that Brinkfried's gone." He paused and looked sharply at the German. "Because that's when men survive best—when they support each other."

Bramer nodded and looked over at Newkirk. "Take care of yourself, Corporal. It's been an honor serving with you."

"Same here, Flight Sergeant. When you get back in the air, would you mind addressing a few five hundred-pound postcards to Adolf, and sign them 'Peter Newkirk, Esquire'?"

The Englishmen all laughed, and Hawkins added, "I'll make sure of it. And you know, Kirkland, you and Dane did a bit of all right with pullin' out those nuns and helping us scarper."

"Glad to have done it, mate. After we both get back to town, we'll go down the jack and rabbit on a bit about it all then, right?" Newkirk smiled, glad these two men were going home.

Carter came in from one of the tunnel extensions. "All set, Colonel. The Underground is ready to take Brinkfried."

Hogan nodded. "Okay, this is it. Le Beau, Kinch—you two go with Carter to bring these men to meet our contacts. I want Brinkfried watched every minute."

"Oui, Colonel."

Hogan shook the hands of Bramer and Hawkins. "Thanks for everything you did for Newkirk. Safe trip home."

"It was our pleasure, sir, but I'd be willing to wager that he doesn't need much doing for when he's in top form." Bramer glanced at Newkirk and smiled. "Best of luck to you chaps here." The Flight Sergeant offered Hogan respectful salute, which the Colonel returned with a nod, and turned to follow the others into the tunnel.

Newkirk lay back on the cot as the area emptied of men. Two more taking the trip I wish I was going on myself. But I can't leave now; those lads are living proof of just how much more work there is to be done here. He rubbed his eyes and sighed, trying not to think of what it would be like to go home.

Hogan turned away from the retreating figures and loitered by the radio, absentmindedly playing with buttons and switches, all the while knowing Kinch would call him on it later. "So, are you following Wilson's orders?" he directed at Newkirk. "Been taking the pills he's giving you? No palming off as usual, right?"

"You know Kinch is gonna have a go at you for that later on, gov'nor," Newkirk replied, wanting to avoid the issue of being under medical orders. "I'm a trained wireless operator, and he doesn't like me fooling around with the gear either."

"R H I P, Newkirk," Hogan replied: "Rank has its privileges." Nevertheless, Hogan sighed and moved away from the desk. He pulled the chair away from the radio area and sat heavily in it. "Are you up for coming back into camp tomorrow?"

"I think so, sir. I'm already tired of staring at the dirt walls down here. Question is, though, are you ready for it? You know old Klink's gonna be all over you about everything." Newkirk gave Hogan an ironic smile. "Rank's also got its price, Colonel. I'm just a Corporal, and no one cares about the other ranks. They seem to pay a lot of attention to the officers, though. Wonder why that is?"

"They want to make sure we're earning our pay." Hogan shrugged. "Klink can say whatever he likes. All I have to say is I can't remember anything because the Krauts bashed me in the head too many times. I've got the proof, after all," he said, knowing his face would still be nothing to be proud of when he next looked in the mirror. "Carter and Le Beau escorted us out as Gestapo. They'll just have to bring us back in tomorrow, then everything will be back to its normal state of chaos. And then…" Hogan was about to say they would all get back to work, when he suddenly remembered Townsend, who was still holed up down here in the tunnel system, waiting for his chance to talk with Hogan, and, Hogan believed, to tell the Colonel how he was to be reprimanded or replaced.

"You all right there, Colonel?" The change from casual conversation back to "command presence" made Newkirk frown as Hogan's whole demeanor suddenly shifted without warning. The Englishman took a deep breath and finally managed to sit up on his cot, though the way the room spun around made him think he shouldn't try to go any further at the moment.

"Lie back down; I'm fine," Hogan ordered, his light mood gone. "I've just… still got a headache. You should go back to sleep; we have a lot lined up for tomorrow and I want you as strong as you can manage to be."

"Are you following Wilson's orders then? I'll bet he's told you to get some sleep as well." Newkirk raked his sweat-soaked hair back and shook his head. "Near as I can figure it, I've been sleeping since you brought me home, gov'nor, and I'd take odds that you haven't."

"I caught a few hours earlier," Hogan answered vaguely.

Newkirk smiled knowingly. "Meaning Wilson badgered you until you gave in just to get him to go away."

"Meaning I fell asleep before he could nag me into submission," Hogan corrected. "You need the sleep; there are still a few hours before morning."

"Oh, of course, Colonel." Newkirk really didn't believe Hogan in this case, as he'd seen it go the other way far too often, and he grinned to take the sting off the sarcasm in his tone.

"Excuse me, gentlemen," came a cultured British voice from across the tunnel. "Could I have a word with you, Hogan? That is, unless you're busy at the moment."

Hogan turned to see Townsend approaching them from his sleeping area further down the tunnel, and even in the dim light, Newkirk could see Hogan's eyes take on a sadness that could not be hidden with bravado or irreverence. The Colonel nodded and glanced fleetingly back at the Corporal. "I've got time," he said. "Newkirk's going back to sleep." He let out a long breath. "I've been rather the absent host until today," Hogan admitted, "and I guess it's time to find out exactly why you're here."