A/N: Thank you all for your kind reviews! This is the first multi-chapter story I've written in a few years, and I hope you have enjoyed reading it as much as I've enjoyed writing it.

Hogan eased the barracks door closed and turned around. "It's Hochstetter," he said, glancing between Newkirk and LeBeau.

"Hochstetter?" LeBeau spat, "What's he doing here?"

"Only one way to find out," Hogan replied as he headed for his office, LeBeau and Newkirk following close behind.

The false-bottom bunk banged open and Kinch climbed out. Hogan saw him and waved him over before stepping into his office. Kinch caught up to the others and followed them inside the tiny room, closing the door behind him.

"What's up, Colonel?" Kinch asked.

"Major Hochstetter just arrived in camp," Hogan told him as he pulled out the coffee pot they used for a receiver and set it up on his desk.

"Blimey, you think he's here about that ruddy plant getting blown up?"

"That's exactly what I think, Newkirk," Hogan answered, sitting down on the chair in front of the desk. He turned on the receiver just in time to hear Klink's flustered greeting as Hochstetter entered his office.

"Ah, Major Hochstetter! To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?"

"Klink! This is not a social call! I am here because of the bombing raid earlier this morning."

"There was a bombing raid this morning?"

"Ja, there was a bombing raid this morning! A very important research facility was destroyed…"

"It was? Oh, that's terrible!"

"…Not far from here. Tell me, Klink, has Colonel Hogan been here all night?"

"The man's a ruddy broken record, he is," Newkirk shook his head.

"Of course, where else would he be?"

"Are you sure, Klink?"

"Yes, Major… Although we did have a prisoner missing for the last three days, but Schultz found him just this morning."

"What missing prisoner?"

"Oh, uh, Sergeant Carter, sir. He escaped three days ago, but Schultz found him and brought him back to camp. Like I always say, Major, there's never been a successful escape from Stalag Thirteen!"

"Andrew! Blimey, Colonel, Hochstetter's going to suspect –"

"I'm on it," Hogan said, getting up from the chair and grabbing his jacket and crush cap. He hurried out of the barracks and across the compound, donning the jacket and cap en route, and burst into Klink's office.

"Kommandant, I wanted to ask you…" Hogan began, feigning surprise when he caught sight of the other man in the room, "Oh, Major Hochstetter! What a pleasant surprise!"

"Hogan, what are you doing here?" Klink asked irritably.

"Well, I was going to ask you for a favor, sir, but I see you have company," Hogan glanced sideways at Hochstetter.

"No, go ahead, Hogan," Hochstetter's smooth response barely masking the hostility underneath, "Ask your question."

"All right," Hogan said, still facing Klink, "I just wanted to ask if we could put up the volleyball net today, sir. The men want to practice for the upcoming tournament."

"Tournament?" Klink's eyebrow rose, "Why wasn't I notified of this?"

"Well, sir, we just came up with the idea about a half hour ago…"

"And will your man, Sergeant Carter, be participating?" Hochstetter cut in; the volume of his voice increasing slightly.

Hogan finally turned to look at him, "How can he, Major? He has a broken leg."

"And how did he break his leg?" Hochstetter's eyes twinkled, like a cat playing with a mouse.

"Well, if you must know, he tried to escape –"

"Aha!" Hochstetter exclaimed, raising his hand and pointing a finger at the American colonel, "Klink told me he was missing for three days! How do you explain that, Hogan?"

"Well if Klink already told you, Major, why are you asking me?"

Schultz appeared at the door just then. "You wanted to see me, Herr Kommandant?"

"No, Sergeant, I wanted to see you," Hochstetter stepped forward.

Schultz swallowed hard.

"Tell me, Schultz," Hochstetter said, "Where did you find Sergeant Carter this morning?"

"I… I found him in a ravine, Herr Major," Schultz stammered.

"Yeah, it was about a kilometer south of here, isn't that what you told me, Schultz?" Hogan suggested.

"Ja, that's where I found him," Schultz nodded.

Hochstetter scowled, "Are you sure you didn't find him west of town, say, about six kilometers from here?"

"Now how would Carter get all the way out there with a broken leg?" Hogan scoffed.

"Bah!" Hochstetter stomped over to the door, "I'll speak with him myself." He paused, turning his head in Klink's direction, "I trust he's in the cooler?"

"Uh, no, Major, he's in the infirmary. You see –"

"The infirmary?" Hochstetter bellowed, "Klink, this isn't a country club! Dangerous prisoners are supposed to be kept in the cooler."

"Oh, c'mon, Major, Carter's not dangerous," Hogan said, "Besides, I keep telling you, he's got a broken leg."

"We'll see about that," Hochstetter replied menacingly as he stormed out of the office.

"Now wait a minute, Major," Hogan followed him out, "If you're going to interrogate him, you have to allow me to be present…"

As Hogan's voice faded, Klink looked at Schultz and frowned. "Well, don't just stand there, Schultz, let's go," he said, walking quickly towards the door.

Hochstetter marched across the compound, Hogan keeping stride directly behind him, while Klink and Schultz were a good distance back. The Gestapo major reached the infirmary, flung open the door and stepped inside.

Carter was sitting on the cot, propped up with pillows taken from the other empty cots in the room. He was holding a bowl in his left hand, and in his right was a spoon that he was in the process of bringing up to his mouth. When he saw Hochstetter barge into the room, his eyes popped wide and his hand froze, the spoon hovering between the bowl and his mouth.

"Aha!" Hochstetter yelled, pointing at him. Carter dropped the spoon, and it fell back into the bowl with a clatter.

Wilson, who had been taking inventory of his supplies that were stocked along the back wall, whirled around at the disruption. "What's going on?" he asked; irritation in his voice.

"Who is this man?" Hochstetter growled, now pointing at Wilson.

"That's Sergeant Wilson, our medic," Hogan answered as he walked over to the cot that Carter was occupying.

Klink and Schultz entered the infirmary, Klink taking a few steps into the room, while Schultz hovered near the door.

"Yes, Major Hochstetter, that's the camp medic," Klink reiterated.

"I don't care who he is, as long as he stays out of my way," Hochstetter walked over and stood next to the cot, on the opposite side of Hogan. He looked down at Carter and frowned. "So, you're Sergeant Carter, the prisoner who tried to escape, Ja?"

"Yes, sir," Carter answered meekly, staring warily up at Hochstetter.

"Tell, me, Sergeant, where did Schultz find you this morning?" Hochstetter saw Hogan open his mouth, and held up his hand. "I want Sergeant Carter to answer the question."

Carter's eyes darted to Hogan and back again. "Uh, in a ravine, not far from camp, sir. See, Major, I didn't get very far when I escaped, on account of it was dark and I lost my footing and rolled down a big hill, and when I landed at the bottom I noticed my leg was broken –"

"Enough!" Hochstetter shouted. He looked at the cast on Carter's leg. "How do I know your leg is really broken? This could all be a trick to cover up the real reason you were out of camp."

"The real reason, sir?"

"Ja, you were spying on a, a factory west of town!"

Carter's eyebrows shot up, "I was?"

"Major," Klink interrupted, "I thought you said it was a research facility –"

"Klink! I don't need your help!" Hochstetter yelled at him.

"Major, I can vouch for Carter's leg being broken," Hogan said, "I saw it when Schultz brought him in; it was pretty bad." He looked over at the German guard, "Wasn't it, Schultz?"

Schultz clucked his tongue, "It was terrible!"

Hogan turned to Klink, "You saw it, Kommandant, what did you think?"

"Oh yes, Hogan," Klink agreed, not actually remembering if he'd seen it or not, "It looked very bad."

"Bah! You're all just saying that!" Hochstetter eyed the cast, "Sergeant Wilson, you will remove this; I want to see for myself."

"Now hold on, Major," Wilson walked over and stood next to Hogan, "I just put that cast on, and I'm not cutting it off for you, or anyone else."

Hogan flashed Wilson a warning glance.

"You will cut it off, Sergeant, or I'll see to it Klink puts you in the cooler for the remainder of the war," Hochstetter threatened.

Wilson folded his arms and stood his ground. "Do you know how much work it is to put those things on, Major?" he replied calmly, "Besides, I can already tell you what you'll see – a swollen, bruised area of tissue over the spot where the tibia broke; because, for three days, the ends of that bone were either stabbing into the soft flesh on the inside of Carter's leg, or they were grinding and scraping against each other every time he tried to move, making my job even harder when I had to pull the bone apart so I could snap the ends back together…"

There was a sudden loud crash and Hochstetter jumped. All eyes turned toward Carter, who was slumped on the cot with his eyes closed, his left arm stretched out over the side. The bowl he'd been holding had slipped from his hand and shattered on the floor below.

"Wilson, I think Carter fainted," Hogan said, looking at the unconscious man with concern.

Wilson leaned over Carter and checked his vitals. "He'll be all right, sir," he replied after a moment, "He's still pretty weak from spending three days outside in the elements with a broken leg." He glanced over at Hochstetter, as if daring the Major to try to refute him again.

Hogan looked at Hochstetter as well. "There, Major, do you still think he looks like a dangerous prisoner?" He gestured to Carter with his outstretched hand.

"Bah!" Hochstetter spat, glaring at the American colonel. "Very well, Hogan, you've made your point," he raised his hand and shook his finger at him, "But I still think you had something to do with the destruction of that research facility, and I won't rest until I can prove it!" He turned on his heel and stomped toward the door, pausing only to glance in the Kommandant's direction. "Klink!" he shouted, "This investigation is not over!"

"Yes, Major," Klink replied in a quivering voice as he followed Hochstetter out of the infirmary. Schultz shrugged his shoulders and followed Klink, leaving the American POWs alone at last.

Hogan turned his attention back to Carter, just as the sergeant was coming around. "What…happened?" Carter asked in a groggy voice, bringing a hand up to his head. He looked up at Hogan and his eyes quickly widened, "Is Major Hochstetter still here?"

"No, he's gone," Hogan replied, "How are you feeling?"

"Okay, I guess," Carter said, lowering his hand, "I take it I fainted again."

"Yes, and you have Wilson to thank for that." Hogan looked at the medic and frowned, "That description of Carter's injury; you knew it would make him pass out, didn't you?"

Wilson shrugged. "I was hoping it would, sir."

"You made me faint on purpose?" Carter's voice drifted up from the cot.

Hogan eyed Wilson angrily, "That's a big risk you took, you know."

"Maybe, Colonel, but it got rid of Major Hochstetter, didn't it?"

Hogan brought his hand up and pinched the bridge of his nose. He squeezed his eyes shut and let out a sigh before dropping his hand. "Wilson, don't ever do that again."

"I won't, sir," Wilson replied, sounding very much like a man who would do it again in a heartbeat if he thought it was necessary. "Now, if you'll excuse me, Colonel, I'll go get a broom to clean up the broken pieces from that bowl."

Hogan watched the medic walk away and shook his head. "I think Wilson's been taking lessons from Newkirk," he muttered.

"How's that, sir?" Carter eyed him curiously.

"Neither one of them seems to like obeying orders," Hogan groused. He sighed again and looked at Carter, "But, if Newkirk hadn't disobeyed me and run off to look for you, you wouldn't be here. He's the one who found you."

"Well, begging the Colonel's pardon, then, but I'm glad he disobeyed you."

Hogan smiled and laid a hand on his shoulder, "Me too, Carter."

Wilson returned with a broom and dustpan. "Sorry about the mess," Carter apologized as the medic began sweeping.

"It's all right," Wilson grinned, "Do you want me to get you some more of that stuff from the mess hall?"

"Uh, no thanks, I'm okay for now."

"Well, I see you have everything under control," Hogan said, "I better get back to the barracks."

"Oh, Colonel, is Newkirk coming back soon to visit me?" Carter asked.

"I'm sure he'll be around before too long," Hogan replied, "I was going to tell him to get some rest, but if I know him, he'd probably rather come back here to see how you're doing."

Carter smiled; then a thought occurred to him and his brow furrowed, "Colonel, why would Newkirk come looking for me when he wasn't supposed to, anyway?"

Hogan stared thoughtfully at him for a moment. "Because he blamed himself for leaving you out there, and for what happened to you," he answered truthfully.

Carter's frown deepened, "Well, geez, Colonel, I don't know why he would blame himself; it's not his fault."

Hogan nodded. "Try telling him that," he mumbled; then he turned and headed out of the infirmary.

Two days later Carter found himself sitting outside Barracks Two on one of the benches aligning the side of the building. He'd been discharged from the infirmary, and was enjoying the heat from the unusually warm, sunny day so late in the season. A group of men were playing volleyball and Carter watched wistfully, wishing he could join in. He was already tired of wearing a cast, and the thought of putting up with it for another six weeks or so made him cringe.

He caught movement out of the corner of his eye and noticed Newkirk walk up and sit down next to him. "Here you go, mate," the Englander said, passing a bowl over to him with a spoon sticking out of it.

"Thanks, Newkirk," Carter replied as he took the bowl.

"I still don't know how you can eat that ruddy swill," Newkirk remarked, crinkling his nose in disgust.

"I know, it's kinda funny," Carter said before shoving a big spoonful of the mush from the mess hall into his mouth. After he swallowed it, he continued, "I guess I just developed a taste for it when I was stuck in that hole."

Newkirk shook his head. They sat in silence until Carter was finished, then the sergeant set the bowl down next to him on the bench and sighed. He raised his hand, gesturing to the volleyball game currently going on and said, "Will you look at that? This is probably the last nice day we're gonna have before it starts getting cold, and I can't even play."

Newkirk looked at him, a smirk forming on his face, "Oh I don't know, Andrew, you can always try hopping on one foot."

"Very funny," Carter replied, trying to look serious before a grin overtook his face.

The pair watched the game for a few more minutes; then Carter turned his head to look at the Englander. "Newkirk?"

"Yeah, mate?"

"I never thanked you for saving my life."

Newkirk swallowed hard and tossed him a sideways glance. "Blimey, Andrew, why are you thanking me? It wasn't just me out there draggin' you out of that ruddy hole, was it? Have you forgotten the gov'nor was there, too? Along with LeBeau and Kinch…"

"But you're the one who found me," Carter cut in, "The Colonel told me you went against orders to look for me."

"The Colonel needs to mind his own bloody business," Newkirk mumbled irritably.

Carter smiled, "Well, I just wanted to say thanks."

Newkirk shifted uncomfortably. "You're welcome," he muttered quietly; then, in a louder voice, "Mind you don't go gettin' yourself lost like that again, Andrew."

"Don't worry, I won't!" Carter promised.

The door to the barracks opened and LeBeau stepped outside. When he saw the bowl sitting on the bench next to Carter, he frowned. "Andre, how can you eat that horrible stuff? Why don't you come inside, I just made some stew that will taste so much better."

"Okay," Carter's eyes lit up, "Believe it or not, I'm still hungry."

"Oh, I believe it," Newkirk said, standing up and grabbing the crutches that were leaning against the building next to Carter. He helped the sergeant up and handed him the crutches; then walked behind him into the barracks, ready to assist him if needed.

LeBeau had already pulled the bench out from the table so Carter could sit with his injured leg stretched out. As he took his seat, he handed his crutches to Newkirk, who leaned them up against the double bunk he shared with Carter.

Hogan came out of his office just then, smiling when he saw Carter sitting at the table. "How's your leg feeling today?"

"Sore," Carter replied, "And it itches, sir."

"That means it's healing," LeBeau said as he set a plate of stew down on the table in front of him.

"LeBeau, I could use some of that, myself, it smells delicious," Hogan walked over to the stove and spooned some of the stew onto a plate. He took a seat at the table opposite Carter.

LeBeau filled another plate for Newkirk, and then for himself. They went to join the other two men already at the table.

"You're right, Louis," Carter said between mouthfuls, "This is a lot better."

"Of course, mon ami," LeBeau grinned as he sat down next to him.

Carter ate a few more bites, then put his fork down and frowned at the Englishman across the table. "One thing I don't understand, Newkirk, is how on Earth you found me in the dark, in the woods, in the middle of the night?"

"You had your flashlight on, mate," Newkirk replied, "It was shinin' straight up into the air above that hole."

"It was?" Carter cocked his head to the side, a confused expression on his face, "Funny, I don't even remember turning it on."

The false bottom bunk opened and Kinch stepped out. He was holding something in his hand and, as he walked up to the table, they could see it was a flashlight.

"Hey, fellas, I was checking the batteries in the flashlights to see if any need replacing, and I came across this one," Kinch held it up. "Newkirk, it was lying where you left yours when we came back from rescuing Carter. Tell me this isn't the one you were using when we got him out of that hole."

Newkirk shook his head, "No mate, it's Andrew's flashlight, I just nabbed it before I climbed out; no sense leaving it down there."

"Hey, that is my flashlight!" Carter exclaimed.

Kinch frowned, "Well, that doesn't make any sense…"

"What doesn't?" Hogan asked.

"That this is Carter's flashlight, sir," Kinch answered. "Newkirk, you said Carter had his flashlight on, and that's how you found him, right?" he asked the Englishman.

"That's right," Newkirk nodded, "In fact; we were just talkin' about that."

Kinch looked perplexed. He unscrewed the top of the flashlight and turned the handle over. "Well, I don't know how he could have done that," he said, letting the small cylindrical objects inside slide halfway out onto his hand, "When the batteries in here are upside down."

There was silence as the men all glanced at each other with wide eyes; none of them having a clue what to say.