"Why'd he have to go and do that?" said Carter.

Exhaustion, shock and mental confusion had reduced his voice to a husky murmur, but Hogan had no trouble hearing him. Unfortunately, he had no answer to that question.

"I thought I had him figured out," Carter went on. He hadn't moved any closer to the wounded Staller, but he hadn't taken his eyes off the man who, a few days ago, had almost killed him, and who just now had taken a bullet for him. "Now I don't know what I'm supposed to think. I got no idea."

"It makes sense, Carter," said Hogan. "But only if we assume that he was telling the truth when he said he didn't know about Weber, and that he never meant for you to get hurt." He looked down at Staller, who had drifted off into an uneasy stupor. His breathing was shallow and rapid, and his skin glistened with a sick pallor.

Perhaps the subdued exchange somehow reached his consciousness. He gasped, and his eyes opened. For a few seconds he stared at Hogan.

"Sorry. I was...don't know where I was," he mumbled, and stretched out one hand, very weakly, as if he was trying to find something to hold on to in case he slipped away.

"Easy, major," said Hogan. "Don't exert yourself."

"I...oh, I remember." Staller's voice got stronger. "I have to...where's Carter?"

"He's here."

"Where?" Staller turned his head slightly, screwing up his eyes and peering into the dimness. Hogan gestured to Carter, who with obvious reluctance came closer.

"What d'you want?" he said curtly.

Staller gazed at him, blinking as he tried to focus. "You okay?"

"Fine." It was pretty clear, Carter wasn't yet prepared to give an inch, but the brusqueness of his tone was belied by the uncertainty in his eyes, and the twitching of his lips.

With a soft, almost inaudible sigh, Staller closed his eyes again, and for several minutes, the only sound was his breathing, which was gradually slowing and thickening. Hogan, watching the signs of internal debate which flickered across Carter's face, was in two minds about pulling the pin on the whole business. Carter had already had about as much as he could cope with tonight.

Presently, Staller roused up again, uttering a confused jumble of disconnected syllables which trailed off as he realized where he was. "Is it time to go?" he asked, after a few seconds.

"Not yet," said Hogan. "Don't worry about it. Just take it easy."

"Can't. I have to..." Staller's head turned restlessly until he found Carter. "I..uh...those things I said...they weren't true."

"I know that," said Carter. He wasn't looking at Staller now, and even avoided meeting Hogan's regard. "It doesn't matter now, anyway."

"It matters. You didn't get a fair hearing." Staller fell silent. He didn't seem to be in a lot of pain, and his mental disorientation had apparently cleared, although he was very weak. He kept his eyes on Carter, and there was a humble, almost pleading expression on his face which moved Hogan in spite of himself.

Carter seemed unaware of it. He shrugged, and brushed the words aside. "Well, it can't be changed now."

Staller hesitated. "Maybe I can fix it. Maybe when I get back to London...if I talk to the brass...tell them it wasn't your fault..."

"No!" Carter rounded on him at once. "Don't you even think about telling anyone. If you do..."

For a moment, he forgot just how serious Staller's wound was, and that London was no longer a possibility. In the face of his sudden anger, Staller fell back, and his breath shortened again. Hogan intervened quickly. "Steady, Carter. I don't think that's what he meant."

Carter flushed, and drew back again, and for another minute there was silence. Then Staller, with an effort, spoke again, to Hogan this time. "I don't want to make more trouble...enough of that already."

"I know, Staller," replied Hogan.

"Just want to make things right," Staller went on, just above a whisper. "His service record...loss of rank...shouldn't have done it. He didn't deserve that, on top of..."

Hogan cut him off. "Okay, major, I get it. But it's done. You know, and I know, and Carter knows that the court martial finding was a gross miscarriage of justice, and I'm glad you understand enough to feel bad about your part in it, but any attempt to correct the record now is only going to make things worse."

A faint laugh escaped Staller's lips, and for a few seconds he seemed to recapture some faint, fleeting essence of the easy confidence which he'd demonstrated when Hogan first met him. "I'll think of something...come up with a story...it's what I'm good at, right?"

"Yeah, you're the man for that," said Hogan. He paused for a moment, wondering whether he should break it to Staller that he wasn't going home. Carter's eyes, wide and serious, held the same question. But Staller was apparently oblivious.

"It's just...I made a mistake...caused a lot of trouble," the major went on. "Can't fix most of it. Don't know what they'll do with me - court martial, dishonorable discharge, jail time...guess I can't get out of it, and I won't try. Got it coming, right? But if I can put one thing right - get Carter his lieutenancy back - get his record cleared..."

"Like anyone cares about that," Carter broke out suddenly. "If that's on your mind, well, you can just forget about it, 'cause that's not down to you. That was probably a done deal, way before you got involved."

"Carter's right, Staller," said Hogan. "Whether you took a hand or not, chances are Carter was going to take the fall for what happened, one way or another. So stop beating yourself up over it. I can't say I approve of what you did, but the court martial was a foregone conclusion. I don't think it'll benefit Carter any to rock the boat now."

There was a look of puzzled bewilderment on Staller's face as he took that in. "Yeah...I guess..." he muttered. "All the same..." His voice trailed off again. This time the break in conversation lasted several minutes.

The erratic gleam of a flashlight came into sight from down the road, indicating the return of Newkirk and LeBeau. But Hogan's first movement, as he started to his feet, brought Staller back round again. "What...oh, it's you," he whispered. "I must have been dreaming...thought I was somewhere else. There was this nurse, at the hospital...Carter, you remember? Blonde, with the bluest eyes. Funny the things you dream about, right?"

Carter's bewilderment was obvious. But after a quick glance at Hogan for reassurance, he nodded. "Yeah. I remember."

"If I'd stayed talking to her, instead of coming up to talk to you..." Staller's breathing was getting ever harsher, and he had to stop for a moment. "Maybe some things wouldn't have been said. And I'm sorry about that...always been sorry."

"Uh-huh."

"I..uh...it's a lot to ask..." Staller swallowed hard. There was almost no color in his face now, and he seemed to have to search for every word. "But if...one day, maybe...if you ever think...you can forgive me for that...let me know, huh?"

"Okay," said Carter. "Yeah, I'll do that, if it ever happens."

Staller smiled faintly, and his eyes closed, but the rise and fall of his chest continued, as Hogan stood up, and went to meet the others.

"Not over yet, then?" said Newkirk. His tone was dour, and his expression uncompromising, but Hogan wasn't fooled. Nobody was happy about this.

"Not yet," he replied. "He hasn't got long, though."

"How will we deal with it, mon colonel?" asked LeBeau.

For a few moments, Hogan didn't answer. He was looking at Carter again, watching the shifting expressions which betrayed his inner turmoil. Then Carter's face cleared, as he came to a decision. He edged a little closer to Staller, bent over him, and murmured a couple of words. Hogan couldn't hear them, but he was prepared to make a guess. Even if it was just lip service, somehow Carter had found it in him to tell Staller what he so desperately wanted to hear, before it was too late.

Hogan drew a deep breath. "We'll deal with it the same way we deal with any man who falls in the line of duty," he replied. "Whatever else Staller did, let's not forget he saved Carter's life tonight. So we'll take him back to Stalag 13, and arrange a decent burial."

To his relief, he sensed no opposition from his men. Whether they'd discussed the matter while disposing of the staff car, or whether each had come independently to the same conclusion, they were in agreement.

Staller might not have earned complete forgiveness, but that one moment of reparation was enough for now.