Fritz spent the day in the barracks, as expected, but he never left Newkirk's side, spending the entire day and evening talking with him…about his life, and his brother.

"I saw when Hans…changed," Fritz told him. "After our father died. He just started acting so different. Mean." He sighed. "Not to me," he quickly said, when Newkirk showed concern. "It's just that he was always so angry!"

Newkirk sighed from where he lay reclined on Carter's bunk. "People are like that, Fritz. When terrible things 'appen, some of 'em just don't bounce back. They get bitter an' 'ateful."

Fritz blinked. "Bitter what?"

"Bitter and hateful," Newkirk replied, purposely pronouncing the 'd' and 'h'.

"Oh! Yeah, that's what he did." Fritz sighed. "I wonder if I'll ever see him again…" he said, sadly. "And if he'll still be the same way."

Newkirk gave him an encouraging smile. "Time 'eals, mate," he said.

The German boy nodded, before blinking. "Do you think I'll like Switzerland?"

Newkirk nodded. "I'm sure ya will, it's not too different from Germany."

Fritz nodded again, before giving a wistful smile. "I wish I could stay here," he said, waving his hand to indicate the barracks.

Newkirk's eyebrows shot up. "What? Ya wanna stay 'ere?" he said, shocked. "Why?"

"Well, I mean, I wish I could stay with you," Fritz said, shyly. "I wish you were my brother instead of Hans."

Newkirk was touched, and didn't know how to respond.

Hogan was standing inside the door, and witnessed the last part of the conversation. Seeing that Newkirk was having trouble replying, he decided to save his friend from having to try. He pretended that he'd just walked in, and closed the door. "Hi, Fritz," he said.

"Hi Colonel!" the German boy exclaimed.

"I don't mean to interrupt, but I need to change Newkirk's bandages before we go tonight."

Fritz's face changed when he realized what time it was. "Oh." He stood and let Hogan take his place on the bunk.

The colonel helped Newkirk sit up, and pulled the Englishman's sweater off before Newkirk had a chance to try doing it himself. Hogan reached under the bunk and pulled out the first aid kit, opening it and sitting it on top of Carter's footlocker before taking the bandage off Newkirk's shoulder. He was glad to see that the stitches were holding nicely and there was no sign of infection, but the skin was still deeply bruised, and the joint still swollen.

Fritz took a deep breath at the sight, especially when he saw the bruises that still encircled Newkirk's throat. He still couldn't get over the shock that his brother could to do such terrible things to a total stranger.

Newkirk didn't notice how his injuries were affecting the young man, too occupied with the pain that Hogan had no choice but to inflict. Within minutes, the colonel had replaced the bandages on the Englishman's shoulder and leg and given him some aspirin, knowing that the corporal was too stubborn to ask for some. He helped Newkirk lay down again and was about to say something, but the tunnel opened at that moment and Kinch came up.

"I've just been in contact with the Underground, Colonel," he said. "A group of agents will be waiting at the rock at twenty-two-hundred hours."

Fritz frowned. "The 'rock'?"

Carter suddenly climbed out of the tunnel, in time to hear Fritz. "That's right, a half mile from camp there's a huge rock, bigger than all of us put together! It makes for a great landmark!"

Fritz smiled, but inside, he wished that the rest of the night would go by slowly…

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

'Lights out' came sooner than Fritz hoped, and a short time later, everyone went down into the tunnel. He was quiet as they all climbed up the tunnel stump, watching as Carter gave Newkirk a hand, who had difficulty climbing with only one arm. Hogan had wanted Newkirk to stay behind, as the Englishman wasn't fit for an excursion, but Newkirk insisted that he had to come.

Finally, they were outside, and quietly crept away from the Stalag. It was a slow walk, with Newkirk limping along, but time still seemed to go by too fast by the time they reached 'the rock'. Fritz was surprised to see that it truly was as large as they'd said.

Carter helped Newkirk sit down on a fallen log, and they waited. Fritz sat beside him and nervously tried to think of something to say. Nothing came to his mind, especially with everyone standing around them.

Suddenly, they heard the call of an owl, and three people appeared in the dark. Fritz watched as Hogan shook the hand of the man in the lead and gestured to the log that he and Newkirk were sitting on.

"This is Fritz," Hogan said. "He saved Newkirk's life."

The agent smiled and walked over. "I've heard of your brave heroics, young man. Good job."

Fritz blushed. Brave heroics? He stood and shook the hand that the man held out.

Newkirk stood too. "Well, this is it, mate. Thanks for savin' me life." Before the Englishman could hold out his own hand to be shaken, Fritz propelled himself forward and hugged him tight.

Newkirk gasped and stumbled back a step, painfully aware that Fritz had obviously forgotten about his bruised ribs. Hogan and Carter both threw out hands to steady him, and Newkirk patted the young man's back with the hand on his good arm.

"I'm going to miss you," Fritz said, his voice muffled in the front of Newkirk's jacket.

Newkirk smiled, feeling touched yet again. "I'll miss ya too, Fritz. Don't worry, mate, I'll look ya up after the war."

Fritz let go and looked up at him. "How will you find me? I don't even know where I'll be!"

Newkirk's smile widened. "Don't worry, we 'ave ways of findin' people!"

Fritz smiled back. He shook everyone else's hands, and, with a sigh, turned around. He took two steps after the agents, before suddenly exclaiming, "Oh!" and turning back.

Newkirk watched, puzzled, as the young man returned and took something out of his pocket.

"I almost forgot to give you this!" Fritz said, holding something out.

Newkirk's mouth nearly dropped open when he saw that it was his lockpick.

"I don't even remember finding it," Fritz told him. "I discovered it in my pocket last night, and planned to give it back to you here."

Newkirk smiled and took it, looking at it for a second before putting it into his pocket. "Thanks," he said, holding out his hand.

Fritz smiled back and shook it, before turning and following after the Underground agents. They watched him go until he disappeared into the dark, before turning and heading back to the Stalag.

Everyone walked quietly, minds filled with their own thoughts on the recent events.

By the time they reached the stump again, Newkirk was relying on Carter's support, as his leg wasn't up to that much walking yet. He felt exhausted, and was relieved when he felt the bunk mattress underneath him again.

Hogan covered Newkirk with a blanket after Carter removed the Englishman's boots.

"Thanks," Newkirk mumbled, half asleep, before suddenly opening his eyes, looking troubled.

Hogan frowned. "You okay?"

Newkirk tiredly blinked. "Yeah."

"Fritz will be fine, don't worry," Hogan said, easily figuring out what Newkirk was thinking. "Maybe he'll even join the Underground."

Newkirk smiled. "Yeah, maybe 'e will." He closed his eyes, the smile remaining.

"Goodnight," Hogan said.

"Night, gov." He listened as Hogan tiptoed away to his quarters, and seconds later, was falling into a doze…

"Night, Newkirk!" Carter's voice suddenly said, making him jump.

"Carter!" he whisper-shouted.

"Yeah?"

Newkirk sighed and shook his head. "G'night, mate." He suddenly chuckled.

"What's so funny?" came Carter's whisper again, this time sounding puzzled.

"Go ta sleep, ya silly git," Newkirk replied. An' life once more returns ta normal again at Stalag Thirteen…

THE END
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