Within minutes, Schultz had changed into his uniform and brought the car to the door of the barracks. Some of the prisoners had woken, and stood around nervously, worried about their friend.

Carter, LeBeau, and Kinch hovered around the bed, distressed to find that Newkirk had grown worse overnight instead of better.

"Do not worry, mon ami," LeBeau said, gently patting Newkirk's hair. "They will give you something for the pain and you will be fine!"

The Englishman didn't respond…he couldn't even open his eyes.

Carter was beside himself. He considered Newkirk to be his best friend, and he was very scared. "Can I come too, Colonel?" he asked.

Hogan pulled on his jacket and zipped it, with a sigh. "I was lucky enough to get Klink to let me go, Carter. If anyone else tries to come, he'll think the whole thing is a ruse so we can escape."

Carter sighed. "Yeah."

Kinch went over and put a comforting hand on the younger man's shoulder. "We'll hold down the fort, Colonel. Stay with Newkirk as long as you can."

Hogan nodded.

Schultz came in with a stretcher, and they carefully placed Newkirk on it, their hearts breaking with each gasp and groan that their friend couldn't stifle. Suddenly, the Englishman grabbed Carter's arm, and somehow managed to find enough strength to speak. "I'll…be okay…don't…worry…mate."

Carter had to swallow the lump in his throat before he could answer. "I'll try, but I don't think I'll succeed."

Newkirk let go, and they carried him out and placed him on the backseat. Hogan climbed in the other side and placed Newkirk's head on his lap, knowing that the ride would be rough for him.

Schultz drove off, driving fast but trying to avoid bumps at the same time.

Newkirk bit his lip to avoid groaning. He couldn't believe a 'mere' migraine was doing this to him.

Hogan kept a tight grip on the Englishman, ensuring that he wouldn't fall off the seat during one of Schultz's wild turns. The car suddenly went over a pothole that the German had been unable to miss, and Hogan felt the tension in Newkirk's body abruptly melt away, realizing with shock that the Englishman had passed out.

It took less than twenty minutes to reach the hospital, and Schultz ran inside to get help—never thinking that it could be a ruse and Hogan and Newkirk might be gone when he came out. Two orderlies rushed out the doors with a gurney, and Hogan and Schultz carefully pulled Newkirk out of the car and placed him on it, following as the men rolled it back inside.

"I know a good doctor," Schultz whispered to Hogan. "He tends to my children when they need it. He is not as…mean…as others here, regarding non-Germans. I called ahead before we left the Stalag, and requested him for Newkirk."

Hogan was immensely relieved to hear that, and some of his anxiety left. He'd been so afraid of German doctors abusing the 'English prisoner', that it had been a struggle to decide on having him taken to the hospital or not. "Thanks, Schultz. You have no idea how much I appreciate it…and Newkirk will too."

Schultz smiled.

The orderlies wheeled the patient into an examination room, transferring Newkirk to a table and removing his uniform, changing him into the hospital's pajamas. A man with graying hair and a mustache hurried into the room just as they finished. "I am Doctor Siegfried. Vhat happened to zis man?" he asked.

Hogan told him, as the doctor gathered supplies. The first thing he did was push up Newkirk's sleeve and insert an intravenous needle into the crook of his left elbow, taping it into place before grabbing a bag of solution.

"What's that?" Hogan asked, used to not trusting most Germans.

"Saline," Siegfried answered. He looked at Hogan for a minute, remembering that they were prisoners. He saw that Hogan was wearing an officer's hat, and realized that the American had the personal duty of protecting the sick man on the table. "Do not vorry, I vill explain everysing as I go."

Hogan smiled, telling himself to have LeBeau make Schultz the best strudel ever. "Thanks."

A sudden moan from the table had them look back to Newkirk, in time to see him wince and sluggishly lift his right hand to his head as his consciousness returned.

Hogan immediately reached over and held down the Englishman's left arm, ensuring that he didn't move it and dislodge the needle. "Don't move, Newkirk. A doctor is taking a look at you."

Newkirk said nothing, giving another groan and trying to curl up on his side, his right hand balling into a fist against his forehead.

The doctor frowned, reaching over and trying to move Newkirk's hand so he could see his patient's face. "It ees all right, young man, I vill help you."

Newkirk didn't move his hand, his body starting to shake again from the pain.

Siegfried went over to a counter and took out a syringe and a bottle, drawing the liquid into it before approaching Newkirk again. "Zis is morphine," he told Hogan, before he could ask. He injected it into the IV port, before putting down the syringe with a sigh. "I did not vant to give him zat yet, not knowing vhat exactly ees vrong vith him, but I cannot treat him otherwise if he ees unable to cooperate…"

Hogan saw his point; Newkirk had succeeded in curling up on his left side, his face hidden under his hand. He patted the Englishman's arm as they waited for the morphine to work.

"I only gave him a small amount," said the doctor. "Enough to take zee edge off, hopefully vithout interfering in discovering zee reason for his pain."

"Could it really be just a migraine?" Hogan asked, still patting Newkirk's arm.

The doctor nodded. "It ees possible. I have seen such debilitating ones before, though not very often. I vill do an x-ray, und probably a spinal tap to make sure it ees not meningitis."

Hogan winced at that.

For a couple more minutes, they watched Newkirk quietly, before they noticed that he wasn't shaking as badly. "Newkirk?" Hogan said. "Did it help?"

The Englishman sighed. "A…little…" he said, sounding weak.

Hogan and Schultz smiled at the sound of his voice. "Can you lie flat for the doctor, so he can examine you?"

Instead of answering, Newkirk started to move, with Hogan helping him. He removed his hand from covering his face, though his eyes remained squeezed tightly shut. He was terribly pale, and inhaled sharply, his head throbbing worse from the movement.

The doctor moved closer, and Hogan and Schultz quietly watched as he checked Newkirk's heartbeat and pulse, and looked at the pupils of his eyes…something that was not easy when the patient was in too much pain to open them.

"I vill do zee x-ray now," said the doctor, covering Newkirk with a sheet. "I am sorry to say zat you cannot come into zee room vith him for zat…zee radiation is too dangerous."

Hogan opened his mouth to protest, but Schultz spoke first. "That is fine, we will stand outside the door."

The doctor nodded, and started to roll the gurney out.

Hogan looked at Schultz with a frown as they followed.

"He is a good doctor, Colonel," Schultz said. "And a good man. He will not do anything that will hurt Newkirk. Please trust me?"

Hogan sighed.

"I know that it is not easy to trust the enemy," Schultz continued. "But I am not your enemy, not really…"

Hogan nodded and slapped him on the back. "No, Schultz, you're right. You're not our enemy...and we appreciate that very much."

The German guard smiled.

Approaching the room, Hogan and Schultz hung back as the doctor wheeled Newkirk inside. With a sigh, Hogan began to pace, and he didn't stop until the door opened again. Quietly, they followed the doctor back to the examination room, watching as he held the x-ray film to the light.

"I see nothzing amiss here," he said, placing it on the counter. He then opened another cabinet and took out a large syringe with a long needle.

Hogan gulped, despite himself. He stood with his hand on Newkirk's shoulder, and was slightly startled when the Englishman groaned. At first he wondered if he'd seen the needle, but the corporal's eyes were still closed.

The doctor approached. "He needs to be on his side," he told Hogan.

Newkirk started to move by himself, apparently wanting to curl up but having resisted all this time so the doctor could examine him.

He wouldn't be moving voluntarily if he knew what the doctor is about to do, Hogan thought, realizing that Newkirk had still been passed-out when Siegfried had mentioned the spinal tap. He helped his friend get settled on his left side, so as not to move the arm with the IV.

"Young man…" said Siegfried, before looking at Hogan. "Vhat ees his name?"

"Peter Newkirk."

"Peter," said the doctor, always using a patient's first name to make them feel more comfortable. "You vill feel a sting in your back, but you must not move, do you understand?"

Newkirk, mind fuzzy from his insane headache, didn't quite get it. "What?" he asked.

Hogan grabbed a chair and paced it next to the table, sitting down facing his friend. "The doctor's gonna give you a shot," he said, deliberately misleading Newkirk so they could get this over with as quickly as possible. "But you can't move until he says so, okay?"

Newkirk didn't answer, giving another gasp at the pain in his head.

"If you'd like, Newkirk," said Schultz, his fatherly instincts kicking in. "I will hold your hand." He stuck his fingers under Newkirk's right palm, and the Englishman gripped his hand tightly.

Hogan reached out and held down Newkirk's left arm, above the location of the IV needle, not wanting it to come out should Newkirk react violently to the 'sting'.

The doctor lifted Newkirk's pajama top, before slathering iodine in the proper place and sliding the needle in.

Newkirk gasped, his body growing even more rigid, if possible. He groaned and squeezed Schultz's hand impossibly tight, before taking a breath and holding it.

Hogan still kept the grip on his arm, and patted his shoulder with the other hand. "That's it, Newkirk, keep still," he said, wondering how long it would take.

"And breathe!" Schultz exclaimed.

Newkirk let out the breath he was holding, unable to hold in another moan. "Blimey!" he somehow managed to exclaim.

Hogan could feel the Englishman's arm trembling beneath his hand, and he patted it comfortingly. "Almost done," he said.

"Zat ees it," said the doctor, sliding the needle out.

Newkirk exhaled loudly, some of the tension leaving his body.

Schultz patted Newkirk's hand, not letting go of it. "Very good, Newkirk!" he said, as if talking to one of his own children. "You did very well."

Despite all the pain he was enduring, the Englishman smiled at that.

"I vill bring zis to zee lab," the doctor said, heading for the door. "Ve vill know zee results soon."

"What will you do with Newkirk in the meantime?" Hogan asked.

"I vill put him in a room, und ve vill vatch him carefully. If it ees truly just a migraine, I vill continue to give him morphine, due to zee severity of his pain."

"How long will he need to stay here?" Schultz asked.

Siegfried shrugged. "If migraine, then he vill stay until zee pain has gone und he is rested…ve do not vish it to return. If it is somezing else…ve shall see."

Hogan sighed. "Okay, doc. Thanks."

"I vill be right back," the doctor said, opening the door. "Do not let him move."

Hogan nodded and looked at Newkirk with another sigh, desperately hoping that the results would come back negative…

TBC