Several hours later, Hogan was standing next to Kinch in the tunnel as he finished radioing the Underground.

"Problem solved sir," Kinch said as he put down the receiver, "The Underground confirmed they would have a unit intercept the transport taking those two to Gestapo HQ and reroute them through the normal channels to England."

"Good," Hogan stated, "Safer that way, until we know what they know."

"Who are they Colonel?" Kinch asked, "I thought they were the Underground?"

"So did I Kinch. But as far as I know we're still on the same side as the Underground, I don't think they're going to be hiring assassins to come after me just yet."

"This was a close one, sir. We got lucky. I still don't understand how Newkirk knew."

"Neither do I," sighed Hogan, "But the night's not over yet, and I intend to find out."

Kinch nodded, and reached under the radio table for a covered plate that had been waiting there.

"LeBeau left this for him - he thought you might be paying him a visit and could deliver it?"

Hogan accepted the plate in silence. He had no idea what to expect from this conversation. What had Newkirk done that he would know these two imposters, and why had they called him Thomas? And how had he known about the poison? Kinch had told him there had been no messages from the Underground after Newkirk returned from his mission, so he must have learned of the plan while he was gone. But if that was the case, why not tell Hogan it was a trap right from the start rather than waiting to interrupt it at the last possible second? Unless… no. He would not believe that Newkirk for a second would have intentionally put Hogan's life in danger. Somehow, he must have learned of this plan after Hogan had left for the dinner. Somehow.

Hogan wished Kinch good night and headed towards the cooler. Klink had insisted on punishing Newkirk for being out of the barracks without permission, despite the fact that he had clearly saved their lives. It had been a panic response, Hogan thought, and he had wanted to talk him out of it, but Newkirk had not given him time to put up a fight. The Englishman had practically dragged Schultz to the cooler to lock him in. And Hogan wondered about that too - why did Newkirk want to be in the cooler? Nobody volunteered for that if they could help it.

He reached the secret entrance to the cooler, and tapped quietly on it. When he received the answering "all clear" tap back, he pushed it open and found Newkirk sitting on the cot looking at him. The expression on his face was difficult to read - he looked resigned, like he was dreading something, but he also looked extremely relieved to see Hogan at the same time.

"LeBeau sent dinner," Hogan said as he entered the room and handed over the plate.

Newkirk took it and set it on the cot next to him.

"Thanks sir," he said and then fell silent.

They looked at each other for a moment consideringly as Hogan stood looking down at the Corporal. Hogan noticed that the silvery shards he had noticed on Newkirk's shoulders before were mostly gone, and some of the blood had been wiped from his face. The cuts on his face appeared to have stopped bleeding, though there was still some congealed blood on them that made them stand out in stark contrast to Newkirk's pale face.

"So," Hogan started, "I think you can probably guess that I have some questions."

"I would imagine so sir," Newkirk answered with a wry half smile, "Be surprised if you didn't."

"What happened to your face?"

Newkirk looked a little surprised at that. He'd probably expected that Hogan would ask first about the "Underground agents", but Hogan knew his Corporal. He needed to get him a little off balance right at the start of a difficult conversation, so he didn't have time to put up all his usual walls. And in addition, Hogan wanted to know what had caused the injuries. Newkirk had already been in a bad way from his recent visit with the Gestapo, and certainly didn't need any more pain thrown his way.

"I, uhh, smashed a mirror," Newkirk said honestly, "With my face."

Hogan didn't know what to say to that.

"You did this to yourself?"

"I had my reasons at the time," Newkirk let out a short breath, "And it was worth it."

Hogan didn't respond for a moment - he was lost with this response. He certainly would not have guessed that Newkirk had been the cause of his own injuries, and could not imagine why that would be.

"Okay, well setting aside for the moment your sudden desire for seven year's bad luck and a faceful of a thousand tiny cuts…"

"You want to know how I knew. About the poison."

"Yes, that. And I want to know why you didn't tell me about it from the start."

Newkirk looked startled at that and stood up stiffly to face Hogan eye to eye.

"Please sir, you have to believe me. I'd never have let you walk in there if I could've stopped it. I tried to stop it! It just… took me some time to figure out how."

Hogan looked Newkirk in the eye and saw the Corporal's urgency and need for him to believe. And while he still did not understand this scenario in the slightest, it was not hard for him to nod his agreement. He knew Newkirk, had known him for a long time. He trusted him.

"I believe you. But I need to understand what happened tonight. All of it. Why don't you start by telling me how you knew about the poison? Why were they trying to poison us?"

Newkirk sighed and wearily sat back down upon the cot. Hogan took a seat at the other end and waited patiently.

"Not us, sir. You. I don't think Klink was ever in any danger. Just figured he'd be more likely to have them arrested if I implied they'd been out for him too."

"Alright," Hogan said slowly, still a little in shock from the idea that these strangers had been sent to kill him, "So who sent them to poison me? The Gestapo?"

"A man named Thomas Fletcher," Newkirk spat out the name as if he could not get it out of his mouth fast enough.

"Who is Thomas Fletcher?" Hogan asked, bewildered. He had never heard of this man. Why would he want him dead.

Newkirk gave another heavy sigh and closed his eyes.

"I am, sir."

Hogan simply stared. Just moments after he had fully convinced himself that there was an underlying explanation, that Newkirk would never put him in harm's way, he admits to having someone attempt to posion him? He could not understand this. Newkirk did not open his eyes, and even appeared to be screwing them together tighter as though holding himself together in anticipation of Hogan's reaction.

"I don't understand," Hogan said cautiously. He could not, would not, believe that Newkirk was capable of murdering anyone, let alone himself. This confession, if thats what it was, did nothing but create more questions.

When Hogan spoke, something inside Newkirk seemed to release. He opened his eyes, and a tension he seemed to not even know was there fell away from him. He turned himself slightly to look Hogan directly in the eye.

"Thomas is me… and also not me. At the same time. I don't know how to explain it really sir. But there are time where I'm myself and there are times where I'm… someone else."

Hogan simply looked back at him in silence, and Newkirk seemed to take that as permission to continue.

"It's been happening for a while. I'm not really sure how long. The first time I know for sure that Thomas was around was when I was 14. My old man… he made life…difficult. I never fully understood what happened, but one day he was coming at me swinging, and somehow he ended up falling off a fire escape. They told me I'd pushed him, but I couldn't remember anything about it. I got shipped off to live, well, somewhere not so nice as home let's say, because me mum didn't want to live with the son who'd pushed her husband off a building."

Hogan found his mouth hanging open slightly as he listened to the words rushing out of Newkirk. Was he saying he had killed his father?

"I couldn't understand it. One minute I'd been asleep in my room, next I was standing in the hall while my mother screamed at me. Nobody would listen to me that I hadn't done anything, that I would never do anything like that. My mother and sister said they saw me do it, and off I went."

"So you're saying," Hogan asked when Newkirk paused for breath, "That you didn't do it, that this Thomas somehow did it? Is he your brother?"

Newkirk frowned and bit his lip as he thought, clearly struggling with something.

"Its hard for me to explain, because I don't understand how it happens. But no, he's not my brother. He is some sort of, alternate version of me. I go under, and Thomas comes out. And then eventually I wake up and find out what he's done. And its usually… not pretty."

Newkirk looked a little haunted when he said that part.

"Something else happened," Hogan made it sound a statement, not a question, "After your father."

"Yes," Newkirk said in almost a whisper, "After I joined up, my first CO was…well. He wasn't a bad man exactly. But I could tell when he looked at me, he thought I didn't belong there. I don't know what all he knew about me, or if it was just from the way that I talk, but it was me who got all the worst assignments. And I don't mean KP duty or things like that, though I got that too. When we did training exercises, it was always me out front. I went in first, everytime. And I suppose after a while I got to realise it was because he thought I was expendable. Why risk and of the lads of actual value, when you could send Peter Newkirk out to take the first bullet."

He sounded bitter there, but only slightly, and it worried Hogan for what would come next.

"A couple of weeks before we were due to ship out, my CO had an accident. Someone mixed in live ammunition on a training exercise, and he took a bullet in his lower back. He lived, but he couldn't walk for months, and we got a new CO before we shipped off."

Another deep breath followed this.

"There was a lot of talk after about how it happened. How did the live rounds get mixed in. And eventually it got out that someone fitting my description, but going by the name Thomas Fletcher, had been seen talking to the supply officers in the ammunition areas the day before the accident. That was the first time I'd heard his name."

Newkirk looked down now, unable to bear having Hogan's gaze on him.

"I don't have to tell you want happened after that. There's a reason I ended up here, no one in my unit trusted me a minute after that. But I knew now, there was something… wrong with me. I knew I had to keep it under control, so I've been careful. I didn't get involved with anyone I wasn't sure I could trust. There was a pattern, see, to anytime Thomas made an appearance. Anytime sometime close to me threatened me… he'd find a way to get rid of them."

He stopped, still looking at the floor, and Hogan could tell from looking at him how much it had taken out of Newkirk to tell him this. Hogan was shocked to his core. He had never heard of anything like this happening, and he could only imagine how terrifying it would be to not be in control of your own body, to not know if you would wake up to find you'd hurt someone. And then Newkirk's last sentence hit him a little harder, and he realized something.

"Newkirk," he said softly, "What did I do?"