A little warning: British cockney and British vampire encounter, some British cursing expected :)

14. Now I'm cabined, cribbed, confined...

Drusilla sat down at the small table they had put in her cell. She smiled at an imaginary chair on her right. "More tea, Herr Kohler?" She pretended to pour tea in an invisible cup. She turned to a real chair in front of her. "Fraulein Lisle, help yourself to some biscuits, s'il-vous plaît."

The lifeless body of Agatha Lisle stared at her with a permanent expression of surprise. The woman had been sent to clean the cell but instead, she found the insatiable vampire. When she wanted to scream, it was too late to ask for help...

Drusilla giggled. "You, Agatha, naughty girl. Herr Kohler is a respectable gentleman... What did you say? Oh, do you want me to continue my fairy tale? Well... Let's see." She shuffled the tarot cards and spread seven on the table. "The Enchanter of Delusion met the Squire of Eternity, but their encounter was too brief for the Enchanter to understand what his mission was... Then, he went to the woods where the Evil Witch of Bones put a spell on him... He lost one of his most precious possessions in order to protect the Ace of Swords, and his friends... Now, he struggles to make them understand that he is under a spell... He has lost more than his hearing, the poor boy... and his chances to carry on with his mission are diminishing little by little..."

()o()o()

Newkirk went outside and sat on a bench far from Barrack 2. He needed to lean his back against the wall to prevent someone from surprising him from behind. He was in pain; not physical but mental. He missed the voices of his friends; Carter's cheerful tones and LeBeau's accent... Kinch's serene words and Hogan's sarcastic remarks. He missed Schultz's and Klink's too. All the soundscape at the Stalag was gone. Newkirk could not feel any lower.

"He's getting worse, isn't he?" Hogan said, staring at him from his window. Although he was not aware of the latest developments, he had been watching his man closely enough to see that something was not right.

"He's just had an accident. His heart stopped, just a couple of seconds, but it must have been really traumatic for him. It was for me," Wilson said with a shrug. "I'm still shaking. It was too close."

"Yeah, me too. I had nightmares about that last night. For a moment I thought... well... none of my men has died on me yet. I don't think I'd like that at all."

Wilson sat and lit a cigarette. He took his time to inhale and exhale. He chuckled and shook his head. "How do you manage?"

"Excuse me?"

"You run all these operations with four men. They might crack but you're still the Rock of Ages."

Hogan laughed and sat beside him. "I'd wish. These men are unbelievable. They bend over backwards to get the job done. If they fell, I would fall with them, Wilson."

"Don't be so dramatic, Colonel. I'm almost sure that Newkirk will overcome whatever it's bugging him as unexpectedly as it began." He shrugged. "See? I think we've been taking the problem from the wrong angle. I mean, Newkirk has been confined to the barracks for almost two months now. In the meantime, we've all been hovering around like mother hens, watching over him."

"He was really sick, he needed us to-"

"My point is that we haven't given him the chance to get back on his own feet yet." Wilson put down his cigarette. "Maybe, contrary to what it seems, Newkirk feels more comfortable being the center of attention, not having to do much to get back on his own."

"Are you saying that he made this all up to get our attention?"

"Not deliberately, but after weeks of us looking after him, Newkirk may be a little apprehensive about getting back to his normal routine. The accidents and clumsiness must be all in his head, although he doesn't have real control of it."

"So, we do what? Leave him alone to break his neck on the tunnel ladder or up on the roof?"

"I just think that we need to take his antics as something normal. Let's not give them any more importance than they actually need. Just act naturally, Newkirk will respond in no time."

"In other words, you don't have an idea what's wrong with him." Hogan smiled.

"Not a single clue," Wilson chuckled.

Mr. Jones knocked on the door and entered without waiting for an invitation. He was expressionless as he saluted Hogan and nodded to Wilson.

"Mr. Jones, I don't have time now-"

"Colonel Hogan, I'm just here to inform you that I'm ready to go back to London."

Hogan could not be happier. "I see, did you find everything you were looking for?"

"Actually, yes. The charges against Sergeant Carter will be dismissed without prejudice. The rest, I'm afraid, it's not good, sir."

Hogan did not like his tone. "What do you mean by that?"

"Well, sir. It concerns Corporal Newkirk directly. I'm afraid that my report won't be as favorable as you expected. I'm recommending his discharge under Section Two, six-fifteen, three-sixty." He took out his notebook to check his notes. "Corporal Newkirk is unfit for service due to mental illness probably caused by stressful situations after being wounded in combat." He adjusted his glasses to look at Hogan. "Look, Colonel. This is not my first case of shell shock. In fact, I've been doing my own research on it." He turned to Wilson and smiled proudly. "I got my degree on Advanced Psychology."

"So?" Hogan did not like the turn of the conversation.

"I think that Corporal Newkirk is suffering the aftermath of a very unpleasant experience. His symptoms are alarming but nothing new. I've had the opportunity to observe several cases at the mental ward of the University Hospital, most of them, veterans." He shook his head in pity. "I'll write an article on the subject when my service is over. I'm even proposing a name for the disease: Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, PTSD. Sounds good, doesn't it?"

"Catchy," Wilson smirked and Hogan glared at him. He cleared his throat, trying to sound as professional as Jones. "But, Mr. Jones, are you sure you can diagnose Newkirk just like that?"

"That shall be done in a Hospital with the facilities for it. Certainly, Corporal Newkirk can't stay here, according to testimonies of several prisoners, his condition has been deteriorating very fast. His responses to my questionnaire were vague and evasive, as though he wasn't listening to a word I said. I'd like to take him with me, but I suppose we need to arrange his transfer through the appropriate channels."

Hogan seemed distracted for a while. His brain was working at high speed just to come up with a clever solution. He did not have anything.

"Without further ado, I think I'm going to pack. You may do the arrangements to get me out of here, Colonel. It's been a pleasure, all things considered."

He turned to the door when Hogan sprung up. "Mr. Jones!" He called out of desperation. "You can't leave now."

"Can't I? Why?"

"Well..." Hogan struggled to come up with a reason and suddenly, his eyes glowed. "Because... you haven't seen us in action." He smiled triumphantly as he turned to Wilson. The medic just shook his head and hid his face in one hand.

"Sorry, what?" Mr. Jones could not believe his ears. He tried not to show too much expectation.

"Sure, we're just preparing a new operation and I'd like you to come as an observer."

"Oh, boy... I mean, sir! This is so unexpected. I thought it could be but... I didn't dare to ask." Mr. Jones smiled widely for the first time since his arrival. "When? Where? How?"

"Soon," Hogan kept a frozen smile. "Just go and get ready... We travel light." He managed to remain on his two feet until the door closed behind the man. "Oh, boy." He sank on his chair and pressed his hand on his forehead. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"Like what? I think you put the noose around your neck beautifully all by yourself." Wilson offered him a cigarette and lit it for him. "May I come too? This trip promises to be a blast."

"I just kept talking..." Hogan stared at Wilson. "I couldn't let him discharge Newkirk on mental health grounds, that would ruin all his opportunities for a normal life after the war."

"Not objections here, Colonel. That's exactly what would happen." Wilson nodded. "It's going to be all right. Providing nothing funny happens in Nuremberg."

"Got any aspirin? I'm going to put my brain to work extra hours to figure out how to justify the absentees on roll call... and transportation... and Newkirk... Oh,God... What am I going to do with Newkirk?"

"If you don't take him with you, Mr. Jones is going to believe that you don't trust him anymore. Besides, it might be a great opportunity to start treating him normal again. "

"I'll find the way to make Newkirk understand how important this operation is, right?" Hogan nodded. "And Klink? He's been on his toes since the incident. He almost called Hitler about the blast in the tunnel. It was good that I stopped him on time." Hogan grinned.

"What did you tell him?"

"Well, that with the changes in the weather, we should expect little earthquakes here and there." He caught Wilson's skeptical stare and shrugged. "He bought it. Although I don't know what I'm gonna do with him and this trip to Nuremberg."

"Why don't you invite him too? I mean, since you've been so generous so far." Wilson expected Hogan to get mad at him, but instead, the colonel grinned.

"I might, why not? Wilson, you're a genius!"

()o()o()

"Why are you so quiet?" Carter asked Newkirk but did not get any answer. He frowned. "Newkirk?"

Newkirk stared at his cards and looked up at Carter. The sergeant kept his hand over his mouth, making it impossible to read his lips. "Blimey, Carter, it's your turn." He said.

"What's with you? You look distracted."

"Nothing, I'm trying to concentrate here." Newkirk felt more uncomfortable by the minute. Along with his hearing he had also lost his sense of humor. He just wanted to finish the game and run away. "Gin!"

"What? I thought we were playing poker." Carter grabbed his friend's arm. "What's wrong, Newkirk? You can trust me, you know that."

Sure. Let's talk about vampires and witches. That'll make me feel better, knowing that me friends think I'm ready for the loony bin. Newkirk stood up and put the cards on the table. "I need to be alone for a while, all right?"

Carter watched him walk away. This was not good. He would stay closer just in case Newkirk needed a shoulder to lean on.

()o()o()

"Our man in Nuremberg says that they'll have everything ready for the day after tomorrow. They'll provide the accommodations at the Schloss von Krauser in the outskirts of Nuremberg. His codename is Beowulf."

"Really? I didn't know that our man in Nuremberg was so well connected?" Hogan smiled when Kinch read the message. "At least, something is working all right. Now we need transportation, credentials and a formal invitation for Klink."

"Letterhead paper and everything?" Kinch asked.

"From the Department of Public Relations of Tactics and Logistics, site at Nuremberg," Hogan said. "Get Newkirk to make up some signatures from Generals and Brigadiers and make it official."

"Yeah, maybe that'll cheer him up."

Hogan did not like the sound of that. But it painted their situation as it was. "We still have to deal with Mr. Jones, the transportation and a good excuse for me skipping roll calls. Weird as it sounds, Newkirk's being spared for a week due to the accident made things easier on that matter."

Kinch took another incoming message. "Colonel, the submarine is still waiting for a change in the weather."

"Oh, yeah, the submarine." Hogan read the piece of paper and rubbed his neck. "What do they want from us, a prayer? If the weather doesn't want to cooperate, we can't make it, can we?" He felt bad for getting angry. Bad luck kept coming their way to stay. He sighed. "Contact the submarine and beg them to wait till the last minute."

()o()o()

Hogan caught Newkirk wandering in the tunnels. He called him several times before the corporal turned around.

"Everything okay, Newkirk?"

"As always," Newkirk whispered.

"We're on the logistics part, the trip must be ready in a couple of days." Hogan pretended not to notice the corporal's shallow breathing and paleness. "Are you prepared?"

Newkirk sighed. "Does it have to be me, sir? I'd rather stay-"

"Are you bailing out?"

"Calling sick more likely. I don't feel well at all," Newkirk said.

Hogan's first impulse was to comply. He had seen him at the worst state of his illness and he still feared a relapse. But then, he remembered Wilson's words. He shook his head. "I'm sorry, Newkirk, this operation requires opening a vault and you're the expert. No bailing out this time." He turned, hoping he was doing the right thing. At least, if something went wrong, he would be there for Newkirk. There was nothing to worry about.

()o()o()

Newkirk avoided the radio room and the storeroom. He turned and found a little corner in the section that they were just opening. He sat on the ground and lit a cigarette. There was always a relaxing effect in that nasty habit. He closed his eyes. Suddenly, he heard the click of another lighter. He opened his eyes again.

"Do you know that these things might kill you?" Spike was in front of him, dressed like a German Corporal. He smirked at him and looked around. "Nice work you've got here. Solid. Better than the bat caves I've lived in..." He saw Newkirk frown and he chuckled. "Kidding! I always travel first class." He sat next to Newkirk. "Why are you so quiet? Did the witch eat your tongue?" Spike laughed. "Bloody hell, she did, didn't she?"

Newkirk glared. "No, my ears." He frowned. "How come I can hear you?"

"These tricks only work on living creatures... Long story short. " He sighed. "I'm not a living creature."

Newkirk stared at him warily.

"All right, some spells work on the world of the living only. You can't hear anyone who's alive, not even their voices or any noise they make. I don't breathe, which makes everything easier for you." He knocked on the wall. "Heard that, right? Your undead friend truly." He smiled. "What did she give you in exchange?"

Newkirk thought about it for a moment. "It was me ears or me friends. She made it very clear that any way I won't be able to get the relic, egg or whatever you want to call it."

"Poor creature. No wonder you're so broody." Spike chuckled. "You remind me of a friend... Always brooding, not fun at all." Spike inhaled the smoke and grinned to see Newkirk staring at him. "You're dying to ask me some questions, aren't you? Ask away."

"That uniform, where did you-?" Newkirk did not want to know the answer all of a sudden.

"The wanker got stuck in my teeth... So to speak." He got up and stretched.

"Why are you after me?"

"I took your name out of a hat." The vampire snorted. "Sort of. So, how do you face adversity?"

"What question is that?" Newkirk felt suddenly annoyed.

"True." Spike nodded. "I mean, look at you, deaf, threatened by forces of evil and still looking fresh as a daisy."

"Fresh as a-?" He sprung up. "What the bloody hell are you talking about? I'm hanging on a thread! Who's given you and those other freaks the ruddy right to come and torture me?"

"Hey, messenger here," Spike stepped back. "We need a resilient soul to take on the task of tracking and finding a valuable gem. There were several who tried but they were not strong enough. You should feel proud you were chosen among so many candidates."

"You said We? Who?" Newkirk narrowed his eyes. "Who's behind you, Spike?"

"Ah- no one," Spike said. "I'm a lone wolf, or vampire for all that matter. I learned about that little bugger in a... all right," he shrugged, "I'm working for an eccentric collector. I'm here to recruit you and that's it."

Newkirk felt his legs weakening and had to sit down again. "What makes you think that I'm going to help you so willingly?"

"Because," said Spike, crouching in front of him. He smiled all the time. "You've seen what I'm capable of. Now, if you're half as smart as I think you are, you must be looking for the way to keep me away from your beloved friends. Am I wrong, Peter?"

Newkirk stared at him, trying to read the truth in the vampire's eyes. Nothing harder. He gave up. "Before I agree to anything, I need to know something."

"Now what?" he sighed.

"What is it we're looking for? I know that the witch doesn't want it to be found but the Allies and you are after the same thing, aren't you?"

Spike tilted his head and grinned. "Can't tell you."

"But, what is it? Animal, vegetable or mineral? Is it alive or an inanimate object? A weapon or a treasure. Is it money?"

"Stop," laughed the vampire. "What's this, Twenty questions? You talk too much. All of the above, Peter. All the answers are yes."

"Blimey! I'm fed up with riddles. If I'm the only one who can retrieve that rubbish, I should have a say on all of this, shouldn't I?"

"Well, I suppose, but I'm a pawn in this game, just like you. The difference is that if you don't do what I say, you're gonna be really sorry for the rest of your life."

Newkirk clenched his teeth. "If I go with you that witch is gonna kill me friends. If I don't go, you will kill them. Anyway, I lose!" He stepped forward to meet Spike face to face. "Didn't it occur to you that you might ask me first?"

"Well," Spike pushed him gently to make distance between them. He chuckled and shrugged. "Would you like to help me?"

Newkirk glared at him. "Damn it, Spike! You've just told me that me friends' lives are in your bloody hands if I don't help you! It's a bit late to ask, don't you think?"

"I like your attitude. You would make a jolly awful vampire, you know that?" He shook his head. "When are we leaving?"

"We?

"Yeah, you and I."

"Oh, this is going to be so much fun indeed." Newkirk shook his head. "There are still several things that we need."

"Such as?"

"Me boss, Colonel Hogan. He's been told about a ruddy egg in Nuremberg. He getting ready for the trip."

"The more, the merrier," Spike said with a shrug. "What else?"

"Transportation. Klink's staff car is not big enough to hide three people."

"That'll be fun to watch, though," Spike nodded.

Newkirk rolled his eyes. Arguing with Spike would not get him anywhere. "Got to go," Newkirk took a deep breath and headed for the exit. "Maybe I shouldn't say this, but it was actually nice to hear you, Spike."

Spike followed him with his eyes and nodded. That young mortal would serve him well.

tbc

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