First, apology for the late update. I had a crazy busy week of stuff, including a lot of good things and no one reminded me or yelled at me about missing the update.

Second, the same thank to TinySprite for being my beta and my fellow writers who are such encouragement.

German will be in italics. I have provided a translation of a couple phrases where I actually used German in the fic. Any mistakes in the translation are mine.

Thank you all for reading!

By morning, the SS had all left, scattering to search for the escaped prisoners and missing guard. Burkhalter was in a truly foul mood, having missed most of his night's sleep. Newkirk was in a bit of a haze, having had no sleep at all. The SS had returned to question him with Friedrich translating and the lieutenant had been no more pleasant than when he'd first manhandled Newkirk.

Spending almost an hour cowering and shaking in mostly pretend terror was still exhausting. He hadn't been relaxed at any time, being quite aware that his life hung on Burkhalter remaining more annoyed with the SS than with the POW. He was now too exhausted to play the game properly and was choosing to stay as silent as possible. By playing the part of a traumatized prisoner, he was pulling it off in a passable fashion. His silence didn't annoy Burkhalter, and it gained him a small amount of sympathy from Friedrich. Even Dietrich kept Herman from treating Newkirk harshly.

It was mid-morning before Burkhalter was ready to leave. The manacles had only been removed long enough for him to put his uniform blouse on and then they were securely fastened again. This time, the Brit made no protest over it. Newkirk's usually hooded eyes were now closed to mere slits as he dozed on his feet. When Dietrich took his elbow to steer him out, he jumped and exclaimed. The guard shushed him and motioned for him to leave behind Friedrich. Burkhalter was already settled in the backseat of his car by the time they arrived with the last of his items and Newkirk.

Leaning back in the rear-facing seat, Newkirk tried to stay awake. At this point his fears were twofold. If he slept too deeply, he was afraid he'd begin forgetting the lines of information he kept rehearsing in his head. More importantly, he was afraid if he fell asleep, he'd smash his head on the car door when they hit one of the many potholes. If he started bleeding on Burkhalter's leather seats, he was fairly certain the general would stop the car, put him in the ditch and shoot him. This morning, Burkhalter was short tempered even with Friedrich. Herman and Dietrich kept their mouths shut and their eyes averted. Newkirk tried to keep his eyes on the floorboards.

The two hour drive was filled with tense silence with sporadic rants from Burkhalter on the state of the roads. Each time the rant would wind it's way through the same complaints until the topic landed on how all the fault lay at Newkirk's feet. As a member of England's Royal Air Force, his planes were dropping bombs on the roads. Newkirk had quietly apologized for all of his military's transgressions. Appeased momentarily, Burkhalter would turn back to brooding as they rode in silence.

When the car stopped, Newkirk jerked his head up in a slight panic that he'd been asleep. Looking around wildly, he found they'd stopped at a large Luftwaffe headquarters and Burkhalter was hauling himself out of the car. He looked to Friedrich who was ignoring him and then at Dietrich who motioned him out.

"Raus, Englander." Dietrich took a firm hold on one of his arms. "Come." Newkirk walked slowly, feigning more exhaustion than he was feeling as a wave of anxiety shot through him. Burkhalter and Friedrich were not even looking at their prisoner. Was he being taken for interrogation after all? Sent off to a labor camp? His eyes widened. If Dietrich started around back to the courtyard he could just barely see, Newkirk was making a break for it, promise or no promise. He'd rather be shot running than shot standing.

Luckily for his tired legs, Dietrich entered a door on the side of the building and took him to a small cold cell. Newkirk stepped in and looked at Dietrich mournfully. "What's going on? What did I do?"

Dietrich gave him a little push further in. "I will come get you when the general is ready to leave. Stay here and don't cause any trouble."

"Don't forget me." Newkirk listened to the door closing and turned a short circle in the bare room. Concrete. Nice and homey. He took a deep breath in and picked a corner to sit in. Maybe he could nap, just a little. He began reciting his lines in his head and worried that he was fuzzy on a few of them. If he slept, he'd forget all of the information. He yawned and leaned against the wall. If he didn't get some sleep, he'd definitely forget all of it. If he could just sleep a little, if Burkhalter didn't forget and leave him here, if things could just go back to the bizarre world that the Heroes all considered 'normal'... his eyes closed.

If only he were home...

Newkirk was only vaguely aware that someone was talking to him. His dream became more vague and the scene of struggling to serve a crowd of German officers who kept demanding more and more from him while accusing him of being English instead of believing his German civilian disguise slowly dissipated.

"Horst du mich?" The quiet voice spoke to him in German.

"Jawohl. Wie kann ich Ihnen dienen?" Newkirk struggled to drag himself out of the muddled place his brain was. He was so very tired. He had to keep his cover intact... remember to speak only German...

There was a pause and the voice spoke again quietly. "Was hast du gesagt?" Who was talking to him? Newkirk tried to remember and took a deeper breath in. The voice was familiar... where...

Newkirk suddenly froze. The voice was General Burkhalter's aide Friedrich. Newkirk wasn't undercover and wasn't supposed to even understand German.

'If he understood German, I'd shoot him myself.' sounded so clearly in his memory that it made his eyes fly open. Friedrich was only a foot away, crouching down low and looking at him with confusion. Newkirk shot upright and scrambled to get further away. He only moved a few inches since he was already against the wall. "Please don't hurt me!" he blurted desperately. His mind was still muzzy with the dream and sleep and he was trying to fall back into the persona he'd carefully built in the Germans' eyes.

Friedrich held up a hand and tried to soothe him. "Nein... Niemand wird dich verletzen."

Newkirk understood the German perfectly but put on a confused face. "What? No speak Duetch..."

Friedrich's expression went flat. "Nein, Englander, you understood me perfectly, you answered in perfect German a moment ago." His eyes were sharp. "Who are you? Are you really a spy?"

"No!" Newkirk let some of his inner panic show. Anyone accused of being a spy would panic some. "I don't even speak German!" He was trying to remember what he'd said in that half-awake state.

The face that had so often shared a little smirk or tolerant look was now hard and uncompromising. Friedrich had been willing to see that the prisoner of war was treated fairly. It was obvious from his lack of expression that he was much less willing for a spy. "Come, Englander. You spoke perfect German."

"What did I say?" Newkirk put on a confused face. Innocent, innocent, innocent... he was a perfect lamb of innocence... lie, lie to make Hogan proud of how many lies you told... he struggled. He reached up to rub at his eyes. "I know some words! 'Biddy' means 'please'. 'Kamarad' means 'don't shoot'." He blinked up at Friedrich. "I... I know... "

Friedrich shook his head but there was a crack in the harsh expression. "Nein. You said ' Wie kann ich Ihnen dienen' in perfect German."

Newkirk couldn't stop the blood from draining from his face. He'd been dreaming of serving as waitstaff... he looked up at that suspicious face and swallowed. 'LIE! LIE' ran through his head. "I know 'Möchten Sie für mehr Wein interessieren?' too. " He carefully accented the words perfectly. "T-the kommandant was... most particular about how I said it when I waited 'is table."

Friedrich paused and just a hint of confusion showed. "Kommandant Klink?"

"No..." Newkirk shook his head and drew his legs up to wrap both arms around them. Looking up at the looming German, he knew he looked vulnerable and helpless and was careful in exactly how he tilted his head to make his eyes wider. "T-the kommandant before Colonel Klink. H-he didn't want to 'ear English spoken at 'is dinner table."

Friedrich gave him a confused frown. "But, you had no English accent when you said it, you must..."

Hazarding the interruption, Newkirk threw in a little bit of trembling to sell it. "When you get whipped for mispronouncing it, you learn to say it right well." He swallowed nervously. Was he overselling it? Was Friedrich buying this line of bull puckey? He was using partial truths... he had served the former kommandant's table... Burkhalter knew he'd served table for Klink's dinner parties. Just a little truth to leaven the bread of lies.

Suddenly Friedrich's expression turned to pity. "It is not easy to be a prisoner." He backed up a little. "General Burkhalter does try to see that the Geneva Conventions are followed."

Newkirk eyed him. "Yeah, but only so 'e don't bring the Red Cross down on 'im."

"Nein, you misjudge him." Friedrich motioned for him to follow. "Come. We are leaving." He inhaled deeply. "Quickly now, herr general is in no mood to be kept waiting."

Newkirk scrambled to his feet, making it obvious the chains were still hampering him. He was hoping that he'd convinced Friedrich well enough that he wouldn't even bother mentioning the slip up to Burkhalter. The last thing any of them needed was Burkhalter having even the slightest suspicion. If he joined Hochstetter in suspecting Hogan and the rest of them of being saboteurs, the operation would be crippled if not shut down. He followed the aide quietly, reaching up awkwardly to rub at his face, wincing at the still sore bruises.

When they were back in the car, Newkirk looked around trying to judge the time. When his eyes landed on Burkhalter, he could tell that Friedrich had been right about the general's mood.

Burkhalter's voice was chill. "Are you checking for escape routes, Corporal Newkirk?"

Having just an instant, Newkirk tried to think of something respectful to reply with. "No, herr general. I'd never be so obvious if I were plotting an escape." Or, he could taunt the annoyed general. That was a great tactic too. Oh, look at the nice ditch. His body would look lovely laying in it. "And of course, herr general, I did give me word not to escape from you, herr general." Burkhalter didn't look any more pleased and he quickly added, "And of course, I wouldn't 'ave a chance escaping from such a brilliant and resourceful herr general as yourself, being all brilliant... and resourceful. And merciful. Did I mention the merciful part, herr general?" Was that a twitch of amusement? Amusement would be good. Amusement didn't lead to being shot in a ditch.

"Quiet." said Burkhalter mildly. "If you continue to babble, you will remind me of Klink and I do not wish to lose my breakfast."

"At least you got breakfast." muttered Newkirk. He straightened in his seat. "Sorry herr general." He cast his eyes to the floorboards.

"You should be sorry." Burkhalter sounded annoyed. "It is your fault that I was kept up to all hours by the SS."

Newkirk felt his temper flare. "It's 'ardly my fault that some SS guard turned out to be a spy and let them prisoners go free!" He had carefully thought out the fake scenario. "I didn't ask for no SS goon to come smacking me around accusing me of being a spy. I didn't ask to be dragged out of camp by some Kraut psychopath." Newkirk huffed angrily. "I didn't ask for there to be a war in the first place. That was all you guys. I could be back 'ome, 'aving a pint with me mates and flirting with a barmaid." His glare met Burkhalter's and he was abruptly reminded of how cozy that nearby ditch would be for his body. "Sorry, herr general. I spoke out of turn, herr general. Won't 'appen again, herr general."

After several long tense seconds, Burkhalter turned to his aide with a smirk. "See why I like Hogan and his men? They are entertaining enemies."

Newkirk let out the breath he'd been unconsciously holding. "Danke, herr general. I do try not to be boring."

Burkhalter let out a short laugh. "Yes. But you have been entertaining enough. The next outburst will see you in a labor camp. Understood?" There was a sharpness to his tone.

"Ja-wall, herr general."

"Please, Corporal Newkirk, either learn to pronounce the words or stop trying to use German." groaned Burkhalter tiredly.

"Yes, herr general. Sorry, herr general." Newkirk tried to look contrite over it.

Friedrich leaned forward. "Why do you think it was the guard?" When Newkirk gave him a confused look, he gestured impatiently. "You said it was the guard that let the prisoners go free."

"Oh." Newkirk made a show of thinking about it. "That SS goon was pretty clear that 'is guard was gone with the prisoners, right? Makes it clear, why else would 'e be gone?"

Burkhalter chuffed at him. "Perhaps the prisoners killed him. Or whoever freed them took him prisoner and forced him away with them. Or he was lured away."

Newkirk stared at him. "Oh." Looking at the floor, he swallowed carefully. "Well I guess I didn't think of that."

"Obviously." said Burkhalter.

"Well, I'm Royal Air Force, not the spy brigade." Newkirk waved a hand vaguely. "I'm not supposed to know this stuff." He put on a sulky face. "I'm not stupid. I was very good at my job."

"What job was that, Corporal Newkirk?" asked Friedrich casually.

"Newkirk, Peter, Corporal, Royal Air Force." replied Newkirk easily.

"So I've heard." Burkhalter's temper seemed to have passed. "We are going to a stalag and I expect for you to continue your good behavior. No speaking to other prisoners about escaping, no plotting behind my back."

Friedrich spoke up as well. "No talking back or disrespectful remarks."

Newkirk got a ghost of a smile. "No monkey business." At the confused looks, he tilted his head ruefully. "Our barracks guard says that when he tells us to behave."

"And do you obey it?" Friedrich's smirk was back.

"Not if I can bloody well 'elp it." Newkirk's smirk answered the aide's. "It 'asn't worked for me so far, but when you're a prisoner of war, you really 'ave nothing else to do."

"Understandable." Burkhalter chuckled. "If you find yourself bored at this stalag, try asking for a book."

Newkirk brightened immediately. "You 'ave books?'

Burkhalter smiled at him. "Yes, I always have extra copies of Mein Kampf."

Slumping back in the seat, Newkirk gave him a baleful stare. "That wasn't very funny."

Friedrich was laughing softly. "I disagree."

"You would."

End Chapter

The two German phrases...

Wie kann ich Ihnen dienen? (how may I serve?)

Möchten Sie für mehr Wein interessieren? (Would you care for more wine?)

Next week, the chapter that Kaitlin has been anticipating for weeks!