The morning dawned bright and sunny, which didn't match the moods of Hogan and the others. They were all exhausted, having not slept much the night before, and as soon as roll call was done, Hogan followed Klink into his office.

"Yes, yes, Hogan, I will call the hospital right away," Klink said, anticipating what he was going to say.

Hogan stood in front of the desk, watching as Klink dialed the number.

"Hello," said Klink. "This is Colonel Klink from Stalag Thirteen. I am calling to inquire on the condition of one of my prisoners…yes…Peter Newkirk. Yes, I'll hold."

The door opened, and Hogan turned to see Schultz walk in.

Klink drummed his fingers on the desk. "Yes…good. Do you know if he'll be released today? Oh. All right. Thank you." He hung up and looked at Hogan. "His condition is stable, but they aren't sure yet when he'll be released. I'm to call again this afternoon."

Hogan nodded. "Can Schultz take me to see him?" He tried his best to look pleading…it wasn't hard at all.

Klink didn't answer immediately…Hogan knew it was simply to show him who was in charge here. "All right…but only for one hour!"

"Not including the time spent driving there and back, right?"

Klink flicked his hand at him. "Just go!"

Hogan smiled. "Thanks, Kommandant." He gave a salute, and shoved Schultz out the door.

Carter, LeBeau, and Kinch were waiting outside. "What'd he say?" Carter asked, impatiently.

"Newkirk's stable, nothing happened."

Everyone breathed a sigh of relief, following as Hogan and Schultz headed for the motor pool. As they climbed into the vehicle, Carter said, "Tell Newkirk that we miss him."

Hogan nodded. "Okay. Behave while I'm gone," he joked.

They were quiet for a few minutes as Schultz drove, before Hogan spoke. "Is Dr. Siegfried married?"

Schultz nodded. "Yes, and he has four children."

"Young?"

Schultz shrugged. "The youngest is seven."

Hogan nodded and filed the information away in his memory. If the Germans ever found out that Siegfried was part of the Underground, he planned to personally ensure that he and his family escaped safely.

Soon, they arrived at the hospital and headed to Newkirk's room, but when they walked in, they found an unexpected sight.

The room was empty.

Hogan ran out and dashed over to the information desk, with Schultz hurrying to keep up. "Where is the patient who was in room 150?" he urgently asked.

The woman, unfazed, stared at him. "And who are you, sir?"

Schultz came forward. "It is all right, fraulein, the patient is a POW from Stalag Thirteen, where I am a guard."

She nodded and looked through paperwork. "He was moved to the second floor, room 225."

"Where's the stairs?" Hogan asked.

The woman pointed, and he ran off down the hall.

"Colonel Hoooooogannnnn!" Schultz whined, rushing to keep up.

Hogan found the stairs and bounded up them, trying not to think of what some German doctors had done in the recent past to allied patients. He found the room and threw the door open.

Dr. Siegfried looked up, from where he was bent over the bed, and watched as Hogan quickly came over.

Hogan sighed with relief as he looked down at Newkirk, who appeared to be asleep. "Why was he moved?"

Siegfried straightened and removed his stethoscope. He appeared to think for a minute before replying. "A nurse accidentally tripped over zee IV pole, und knocked it into zee vindow, vhich broke it, so I thought it best to move him out of zere."

Hogan knew immediately that the story was a lie…for Schultz's benefit.

"Oh no!" Schultz exclaimed. "Newkirk was not hurt by the glass, was he?"

Siegfried shook his head.

Hogan sat on the side of the bed and studied the Englishman. "How is he today?" he asked, concerned to see that he was still wearing the oxygen mask.

"His vital signs are fine. He has not voken yet though, so I haven't been able to ask him any questions. He has no fever, so zee headache does not appear to be a result of a serious illness."

Hogan nodded, relieved. "Any idea when he can leave?"

Siegfried shrugged. "I cannot say yet. By zee severity of his migraine, I do not think zat he vill already be recovered enough to discontinue taking zee morphine just yet. The drug doesn't cure zee migraine, it simply masks zee pain until zee reason for it finally abates." He sighed. "Also, vith zee morphine having depressed his lung function, it makes me vant to monitor him until all of zee morphine is completely out of his system."

Hogan nodded, with a sigh. Suddenly he looked at the doctor and stood, heading for the door.

"Where are you going?" Schultz exclaimed, following.

Hogan gestured with his thumb towards the door. "To find some coffee. They usually sell it in hospitals for five cents!"

Schultz rolled his eyes. "Heh, prisoners do not have money!"

Hogan made a face. "Oh yeah, that's right." He sighed as if disappointed.

Schultz fell for it, as expected. "I will go get it for you, Colonel Hogan. Stay with Newkirk."

Hogan patted him on the back as he opened the door. "Thanks, Schultz."

The minute the door was closed, Hogan spun towards the doctor. "Okay…why was he really moved?"

Siegfried sighed. "I tried to find out who those two men vere," he said. "But could not. In case they returned to zis hospital, I vanted to make sure zat Peter vas not in zee same place."

Hogan nodded. "Smart thinking. It's a good thing to have you on our side, doc."

Siegfried smiled.

A few minutes later, the door opened, and Schultz walked in juggling three cups of coffee. "Here we are! One for you, one for the doctor, and one for me!"

"Don't I get some too?"

Everyone looked down at the bed, to see Newkirk looking up at them blearily.

"Hey!" Hogan said. "How do you feel?"

"Floaty," Newkirk replied, closing his eyes. He reopened them a minute later. "Did I say that already?"

"No, that was last night," Hogan replied.

"Last night?" Schultz repeated. "We were not here last night."

Hogan caught his breath at the realization that he'd just made a serious mistake. He looked at Schultz and whispered, "We gotta go along with him, Schultz, the morphine is making him loopy."

The German guard nodded. "Aha, right!"

Hogan inwardly rolled his eyes before sitting on the side of the bed. "I don't think the doctor would want you to drink coffee, Newkirk, sorry," he said, changing the subject.

Newkirk closed his eyes again. "Not faiiir," he whined.

Yes, definitely loopy, Hogan thought. He reached out and patted Newkirk's arm. "Be a good patient, and maybe Schultz will stop by a pub when we spring you out of here."

"A pub! The Kommandant would have my head!" Schultz exclaimed.

Hogan shrugged. "It was worth a try." He frowned when Newkirk's eyes closed again. The Englishman really didn't look well. "Are you hungry, Newkirk?"

The corporal started to nod his head, before shaking it instead.

"Which one?" Schultz asked.

"Which…what?" Newkirk replied, sounding half-asleep.

Schultz shrugged. "Nevermind."

"Breakfast vill be served soon," said the doctor. "I have to make my rounds. If he does not vish to eat, try to make him."

They nodded at him, and he left the room.

Suddenly, Newkirk reopened his eyes. "Where did they go?"

"Who?" Hogan asked.

"Carter…LeBeau…they were just 'ere." He suddenly blinked, and his eyes roamed around the room. "Oh. It's daytime, now."

Schultz frowned. "Newkirk, are you saying that Carter and LeBeau were here in the night?"

"An' Kinch," Newkirk sleepily answered.

Schultz looked at Hogan. "Colonel, please tell me that he was dreaming…please tell me that Newkirk was dreaming!"

"Newkirk was dreaming."

Schultz wasn't fooled. He closed his eyes. "I am leaving this room right now, so that I will not hear anything else that I do not wish to know!" With that, he opened the door; just as a nurse holding a tray was about to come in. Schultz moved aside and watched as she set it on the nightstand, before wiggling his eyebrows at Hogan as he followed her out the door.

Hogan chuckled and took the bowl off the tray. "He's gone, Newkirk…now would be the time to say things that he shouldn't hear."

Newkirk reopened his eyes. "Oh…'ey, Colonel," he said, as if he hadn't known that Hogan was there.

"Hey," Hogan said, before taking the cover off the bowl and finding porridge inside.

Newkirk blinked a few times. "Carter is worried."

Hogan nodded. "I don't blame him."

"Tell 'im there's no reason. I'm fine."

Hogan didn't bother to contradict him. "I will. Do you feel like eating?"

Newkirk blinked. "This thing is annoyin'," he said.

Hogan frowned, confused, before he realized that Newkirk was referring to the oxygen mask. He reached forward to adjust it, before changing his mind and removing it instead. "You can't eat with that in the way," he said.

Newkirk took a few breaths that seemed too shallow for Hogan's liking. "I thought the problem was me 'ead…not me lungs."

Hogan nodded. "It's the morphine, Newkirk. Sometimes it can make the lungs not work well enough. Here, let's sit you up," he said, standing and moving closer.

Newkirk was still too loopy to cooperate, and remained limp as Hogan pulled him upright and fixed the pillows behind him.

"Bon appetit," Hogan said, handing over the bowl.

Newkirk looked at it, before taking the spoon and scooping some up, seeming uncoordinated. "Ugh…'e didn't put enough sugar."

"Who didn't?" Hogan asked, hoping he wouldn't get the answer that he suspected.

"LeBeau, who else?"

Hogan said nothing, watching as Newkirk took a few more bites before he stopped, closed his eyes, and gave a small, breathless cough.

Alarmed, Hogan picked up the oxygen mask and held it over his face. "You all right?"

The Englishman's eyes stayed closed. "Not...enough…air."

Hogan shook his head, thinking it unfair how a drug that worked such wonders for pain could cause life-threatening effects at the same time.

A minute passed, before Newkirk suddenly spoke. "When can I go 'ome?"

Hogan hesitated, not sure if he meant back to the Stalag, or back to England. "I don't know if you'll be released today," he said, looping the mask's cord around his friend's head to keep it in place. "If not, then we'll try to come visit you again tonight."

"Okay." With that, Newkirk dozed off.

Hogan took the bowl away and gently laid the Englishman down again.

A few minutes later, Schultz poked his head back in the door. When he saw that they were no longer talking about things that he knew 'nothing' about, he came into the room and sat back on his chair.

Time passed in silence, and soon, the hour that Klink had allotted them was up…plus twenty minutes.

Hogan and Schultz were quiet as they walked out the hospital door…the American wishing that he didn't have to leave Newkirk there for another day, and the German trying to think up a believable reason for being gone longer than they should have.

Neither of them noticed the two strange men staring at Colonel Hogan as they left…

TBC
Just so everyone knows, all the stuff about morphine in this story is totally true; it can be a pretty risky/dangerous drug, especially in the old days.