Welcome to the third and final chapter. Sorry it's taken me so long but I hope you enjoy it. I'd like to send out a special thanks and recognition to UnderHisWings for offering to Beta for me, thank you for your input and hard work. It was most appreciated. Thank you to everyone for reading. Until next time.

Chapter 3:

Friends and Enemies

Newkirk had no doubt of Colonel Hogan's abilities to talk Klink into just about anything. And he was proven correct when his friends were allowed to visit one at a time. Newkirk was grateful for the distraction. He had to put up with a lot of comments from his roommate, his visitors, and even some of the staff, so it was good to see the friendly faces during his stay at the hospital.

After a week, he was able to try standing. The first time putting weight on his injured side went a little worse than he expected. When he slid out of bed his right leg gave out from under him. Luckily LeBeau was visiting and was at his side when he did so. The little Frenchman was nearly crushed when he caught Newkirk's full weight. But LeBeau held firm and helped his friend stand.

"How does it feel?" The doctor asked.

"Feels great." Newkirk answered through clenched teeth. LeBeau rolled his eyes and slightly released his hold. The stubborn Englishman winced and gasped at the pain. "Fine! Fine, hurts, it hurts." He stuttered, grasping at LeBeau for help.

The doctor shook his head and clicked his tongue. "I am sorry, but you can't leave yet."

"But you said I could leave if I could stand." Newkirk whined. "I'm standing, aren't I?"

"Not of your own accord, young man. I am sorry, but I insist on a few more nights. Now back to bed." The doctor helped LeBeau tuck Newkirk back in. "I'm not sure why you're so anxious to get back to a POW camp anyway. This hospital can't be all that bad."

"It's not." Newkirk laughed. "But, you know, I miss my home away from home."

The doctor raised an eyebrow. "You'd have to be there to understand." LeBeau added.

"I'll take your word for it." The doctor smiled and left the room shaking his head.

Schultz waddled into the room shortly after. "LeBeau, the guard is here to take you back to camp."

"Already?" The Frenchman whined. "But I just got here."

"One hour," Schultz said. "That is the amount of time agreed upon by Kommandant Klink."

LeBeau rolled his eyes and sighed. "Alright, Schultz, I get it. I need to get back anyway." He turned to Newkirk and winked. "We're supposed to meet with someone tonight."

Newkirk smiled, but inside it hurt. He hated missing out on the missions and was growing anxious to feel useful again.

LeBeau said his goodbyes and left with the other guard while Schultz took his seat next to Newkirk's bed. The guard was looking tired. He had kept to his promise vigilantly and stayed by the hospital bed at all times. Newkirk was grateful. His roommate had many visitors, with nearly every one of them being soldiers from the German army. It seemed that word had spread of the enemy prisoner taking up the German hospital bed. Each time they visited, they tried to rouse Newkirk into a fight, but each time Schultz intervened, either calming the soldiers down or simply putting Newkirk into a wheel chair and removing him from the room until the soldiers had gone. Schultz had been a blessing wrapped up in a large German bow. If Newkirk had to be shot by any of the Germans, it was a good thing it had been Schultz.

Newkirk adjusted himself comfortably into the pillows and let out a contented sigh. "You've been doing good, Schultzie." He said with a grin.

Schultz jerked awake; he'd almost dozed off before Newkirk had spoken. "Thank you Newkirk. Is there anything you need?"

"No, I'm okay." He reached out and patted the dutiful guard's shoulder. "Get some rest, big guy."

"Well… if you insist." Schultz was out within seconds. Most of his sleeping over the past week had been done right in that chair. The only breaks he'd gotten were when one of the guys was visiting and a guard could stand in the room while Schultz was away cleaning up or grabbing a bite to eat. When Schultz started to snore, Newkirk smiled and drifted off, feeling safe.

Newkirk woke a few hours later. The curtains were drawn closed, leaving the room dark. He thought it strange; they'd never been closed before.

It took Newkirk a moment to realize what had woken him. Hushed voices moved about the room. "I'm not so sure about this." One of them said. Newkirk recognized it as one of the soldier's young friends.

"Shut up!" This was the voice of the first soldier to visit his injured comrade, the one that had called Newkirk trash; he'd come to learn the burly, loudmouthed soldier's name was Corporal Baumann. "Quit whining, we don't have time for it. That stupid, fat guard will be back any minute."

Newkirk's head lulled to the side, and he noticed the empty chair. He was alone in the room with the Germans.

"He's awake!" The injured soldier snapped.

Newkirk opened his mouth to shout for Schultz, but a hand was slapped over it before he could utter a word. He looked up into the eyes of the angry German soldier. "You be quiet, Ally trash." Baumann hissed.

Newkirk fought against him, trying to push him off, but strong arms held him down on each side, pinning him to the bed. Newkirk counted five men in all, including his injured roommate. He fought back with all the strength he had.

"Stop that now!" Baumann shoved a fist into his wounded side and Newkirk let out a muffled scream; tears forming at the corners of his eyes at the fresh rush of pain. Newkirk stopped his struggles and went limp against the bed. "That's better." Baumann held out his hand. "Give me the drugs."

Newkirk's eyes went wide as a syringe of clear liquid passed over him. One of the others took over clamping a hand down tight over his mouth while Baumann fiddled with Newkirk's IV. "This will make you a little more compliant." He said with a wicked smirk. The trapped Englishman fought hard but couldn't stop the injection.

It only took a minute before Newkirk felt the drug rush through his system. His body relaxed on its own accord, his head swam, and he had trouble focusing… but he didn't lose consciousness. Whatever they were going to do to him, they wanted him awake.

Feeling him relax under their hold, the men released their grasp. One of them nudged Newkirk in the side and laughed. "He's out like a light."

"No." Baumann smirked and grabbed Newkirk's face, turning the prisoner's weak gaze to meet his. "No, he's awake. Aren't you?" Newkirk's unfocused eyes stared into his. A hand was shoved into his side again. His eyes clenched shut in pain, and the soldier got the answer he was looking for. He gave him a shove and turned to bark more orders. "Get the stretcher. Quick, quick! The guard will be back!"

A stretcher was rolled next to his bed, and the men unceremoniously dumped him onto it. "I want to come too." The injured soldier whined from his bed. He was lifted much more gently into a wheel chair, and they all made their way out into the hall. The hospital was strangely quiet; it must have been late. Schultz must have gone for a bite to eat or to use the bathroom thinking no one would bother them so late. Newkirk had never wished so badly to see the German guard's face than in that moment.

He summoned every ounce of energy he could muster and choked out a single word: "Where?"

Baumann looked down at him. "We're freeing up that bed you've been using for someone who actually deserves it. And taking you where you belong… with the rest of the trash."

Newkirk wasn't exactly sure what that meant, but it wasn't good. They were just about to reach the doors leading out to the back of the building when a voice hit his ears. For Newkirk, it was like a cry from the angels themselves.

"Wait!" Schultz yelled from the end of the hall. "Stop… Stop right there!" His huffing and puffing made his words almost unintelligible. He was clearly exerting his large body to its extremes. "Stop." Wheeze. "Stop I say." Huff. Wheeze.

"The guard." One of the men cursed, stopping the stretcher.

"Do not stop!" Baumann cried. "We don't have to listen to him."

"But he is a Sergeant." The youngest German squeaked.

"He is nothing. Keep moving!"

"Nein! Nein! Stop!" Schultz shouted. "That is… an order."

Miraculously, Schultz caught up to them, thanks to a few of the men dragging their feet in fear. He raised his rifle and pointed it at them. One solider responded in kind by raising his own weapon. Baumann held out a handgun. Newkirk wished he could help but right now he wasn't even sure which directions the ceiling and the floor where. Schultz moved cautiously forward. "What are you doing?" He snapped.

"Just taking your buddy here out for a late night walk." The injured soldier lied with a smirk.

Schultz swallowed, his eyes falling to Newkirk. "What is wrong with him? He looks… drunk."

Baumann shrugged. "We were trying to do a nice thing, but he threw a tantrum, so we gave him a little something to calm him down. He is stubborn like that, no?"

Schultz hesitated. Please don't fall for that Schultz. Newkirk begged. They had often relied on Schultz's gullibility but he needed him to be smarter than that now.

"I… I do not believe you."

Thank you Schultzie!

"You intend to harm him." Schultz continued.

"And what if we are!" Baumann sneered. "He is nothing but British scum- the enemy. You should be helping us." He gave the guard a slimy grin. "Come on big guy, why don't you give us a hand in ridding Germany of one more tiny flea."

Schultz straightened. "No! He is a prisoner under my care. I cannot let you take him." He moved forward and laid a hand on the stretcher, pulling Newkirk towards himself.

Two of the men grabbed the other end and pulled back. "Come on buddy." One of them said slyly. "You don't see anything here, do you?"

"Nein, I do see something! And I know what you are doing." Schultz lowered his gun so he could get a better grip on the stretcher. "I am a German officer and you will do as I…" He faded off when the tip of a gun was shoved in his face.

It was over. Newkirk knew Schultz couldn't help but run away now. It was only his natural instinct.

"Y-y-you cannot take him." Schultz's voice cracked and stuttered with fear but, surprisingly, he held his ground. "I-I am responsible for him. If you want him, y-you will have to go through m-me."

Baumann moved the gun closer. "That might be a trick, there's a lot there to go through, but I think we can manage it. We'll get rid of two fleas tonight instead of just one." Schultz's eyes clenched shut in fear but his grip never let up on the stretcher. He wasn't letting Newkirk go.

"Achtung!" A voice echoed down the hall in such a commanding tone that every soldier snapped to attention, including Schultz. "What is the meaning of this?" The voice was tipped with a German accent, but Newkirk would recognize that voice anywhere. He forced his groggy head to move towards the sound of Colonel Hogan's voice. Hogan waltzed down the hallway, dressed in full German General's uniform, complete with a riding crop and fake mustache.

LeBeau and Carter flanked his sides wearing similar disguises of lesser ranks. Schultz blanched at the sight of them. "Colonel Ho-"

"Achtung!" Hogan interrupted. Schultz snapped back to attention. "I am General Weiler. I have come here to visit an injured comrade and I find a standoff in the middle of the hospital. And between two German soldiers, no less." His gaze shifted discerningly between them. "What is the meaning of this?"

"Disgraceful, sir." Carter chimed in.

"An absolute dishonor to the German army." LeBeau added.

Hogan nodded sharply. "Well! Do any of you have anything to say for yourselves?"

Baumann cleared his throat. "Sir, we were just… just…" He searched desperately for an explanation.

"Just… just…" Hogan mocked. "Just what?" He moved closer and stood over Newkirk, worry crossing his face for a single second as he took in his condition. "What is wrong with this man?"

"Sir," one of the men said. "He is a prisoner from a nearby camp, he is the enemy."

"Is that so?" Hogan rubbed his fake mustache. "And what were you doing with him?"

"We were going to throw him out with the trash where he belongs!" Baumann snapped. LeBeau nearly broke character as anger caught hold of him. "We were doing the German Army a favor."

"A favor?!" Hogan roared. "A favor?" The soldiers fidgeted nervously, except the injured man, who was studying the three of them curiously. Hogan took notice and knew his time was almost up. "You were doing no such favor to anyone!" He continued. "We are human beings, not barbarians. You are the very example of what is wrong with this war." Hogan's real character was showing through his disguise.

"Wrong… sir?" Baumann sputtered. "But we were just-"

"Achtung! I was not finished." Hogan turned to Schultz. "But this man here, he stood strong; one man against five armed men. Fighting the odds. Good job, soldier."

A sincere smile crossed Schultz's face. "Danke, Col- I mean, General." They all knew how much the compliment meant to the guard; it was the first time Hogan had done anything but yell at him in over a week.

While Hogan kept them distracted, Carter and LeBeau moved to either side of Newkirk's stretcher. They rolled him out of harm's way and signaled for Schultz to follow. "Now." Hogan continued. "All of you will turn yourselves in to your commanding officers, or I will be reporting you for this disorderly and embarrassing conduct myself!"

"Yes sir!" They all cried, except the injured soldier. He had been seeing the three of them come and go for the past week; their disguises were enough to fool him but he was catching on. "Do I know you?" He finally asked.

"Do you want me to report you?" Hogan snapped, keeping him distracted. "Now!" He roared. "Back to your room! All of you, out! Out! Out!" They all scattered in different directions, terrified of Hogan's spot on impersonation of a German General.

Hogan dropped the act as soon as they were out of sight. "Is he okay?"

LeBeau leaned closer, worry clear on his face. "Newkirk, can you hear me? Say something!"

"Surbugen moofern sin." He mumbled, reaching up and patting his little French friend on the cheek.

"What's that mean?" Carter questioned with a gasp.

"I have no idea." LeBeau smiled. "But he responded, so that's good, no?"

"What are you three doing hereee?" Schultz whined.

"You mean you're not happy to see us?" Carter asked with a smirk.

"Of course I am, but why are you in those clothes?"

Hogan grinned. "Do you really want to know, Schultz?"

The guard hesitated. "I am not sure."

"You see, we had to intercept a message at the German Headquarters so naturally we had to impersonate-"

"Stop! Stop! I want to know nothing!"

"Good to have you here, Schultz." Hogan grinned. "Now, come on, let's get him somewhere safe." He moved to Newkirk's feet and together they pushed him down the hall, passing his room by.

"We're not taking him back to his room?" Carter questioned.

"It is not safe for him here." LeBeau snapped. "We all need to get out of here before those soldiers get smart and figure out who we are."

"But he needs a doctor." Schultz whined. "They gave him something."

"Is Doctor Kemmler on duty tonight?" Hogan asked.

"Yes, I think so."

"Then go get him Schultz; we'll find an empty room. There's got to be one around here somewhere." They wheeled the stretcher to an examination room far from Newkirk's assigned room. It was a tight fit as they all filed in, but at least they wouldn't likely be found there.

"Newkirk, ol' buddy." Carter leaned over him. "Can you hear me? Blink once for yes, twice for no."

"Garder, youarn idiom." Newkirk grumbled.

"Oh no!" Carter gasped. "What does that mean? Did he blink once or twice?"

LeBeau rolled his eyes. "Newkirk, would you like me to translate?" He nodded slowly. "'Carter, you're an idiot.'"

"Thangu Lebaun."

Hogan smiled as they bickered. He was too busy checking the drugged Englishman to join in. He lifted Newkirk's shirt and frowned when he saw blood seeping through the bandages. "Newkirk, you're bleeding." LeBeau whimpered and moved out of sight of the blood. "What happened? Did they do something to you?"

Newkirk made a weak fist and pushed it into Carter's side, mimicking what Baumann had done. Hogan understood and tensed.

"Those dirty rats!" LeBeau growled. "We should have done more to make them pay. Like punch them right in the nose!"

Schultz reappeared with the doctor at his side. "What are you doing in here?" Doctor Kemmler asked. "What happened? Why are you dressed like that?"

"Those rotten soldiers attacked Newkirk." LeBeau snapped. "They gave him something, and his side his bleeding again."

The doctor pushed aside any further questions and attended to his patient. The four men waited anxiously while Newkirk was examined.

He finished and nodded. "He is okay, it appears they gave him a mild sedative, and he just popped a stitch. I'll have him all fixed up in no time, and the drugs should wear off shortly with little side effect."

They let out a shared sigh of relief. "Doc, I think we need to take him out of here and soon." Hogan said sternly.

The doctor hesitated. "Yes, I suppose that would be best. I hate to admit it, but he would be better off far from this place. When I'm finished, I will discharge him."

"Thank you, Doc."

"But he still needs a lot of care. I will make a list."

"A list?"

"Yes, a list of the care he will still need to be provided." The doctor smiled. "Don't worry, it won't be much, he has plenty of friends to help him along the way."

While the doctor worked on Newkirk, Schultz moved to Hogan's side. "I am sorry, Colonel Hogan," He said weakly. "I left him unattended again and he was hurt… again."

Hogan nodded. "Yes you did, and yes he was."

Schultz hung his head. "I am a dummkopf."

"But do you know what else you did Schultz." Hogan continued. The German guard looked up with interest. "You did exactly as I asked and you kept Newkirk safe."

"But Colonel Hogan, if I hadn't left, those men would not have hurt him."

"I don't blame you for what those men did, I blame them. Schultz, you stood your ground against five men with a gun pointed at your face, something I've never seen you do before. And if you hadn't, we never would have found him in time and Newkirk would be… well he'd probably be dead." Hogan patted him on the shoulder. "You did good Schultz."

The big German guard grinned. "Thank you Hogan."

The Colonel shifted as a thought occurred to him. "So where were you when the men came for Newkirk?"

"I went to find more flowers. The others were dying, and it was so sad."

Hogan rolled his eyes and smiled. "Again with the flowers. Schultz you really are just a big softie inside and out."

Newkirk stretched his legs out and leaned back against the wall of Barrack's Two. It had been almost two weeks since his release from the hospital, and he hated to admit it, but he was happy to be back at Stalag 13. Better here than sitting in the ruddy hospital. He thought. The guys had babied him for the first few days back, barely even letting him eat on his own, but it had quickly worn off. Once he started walking on his own, they let him be, still jumping in when he struggled.

A cane leaned against his leg. He had to use it for several more weeks to steady himself on his right side, making helping out on missions a little difficult. But even if it was just sewing together disguises, he was doing something and feeling useful again.

Klink was happy that he was no longer transporting prisoners to the hospital and back nearly every day. Schultz was happy to be back at his old job. And Hogan was happy to have his team back together again. Everyone was happy- well, as happy as a POW camp in the middle of Germany could be.

"Nice to see things back to normal." Hogan said as he approached the resting Englishman. "How are you feeling?"

"Right as rain, Colonel; I'll be back to my old self in no time."

"Boy, that's a shame." Carter said, appearing out of nowhere.

"Who asked you?" Newkirk snapped.

"Now don't aggravate the old man." LeBeau chuckled and grabbed Newkirk's cane. "Or he'll beat you with his cane." Newkirk grabbed it back and whacked the Frenchman across the legs. "OW!"

"Wasn't a bloody bad idea." Newkirk smirked.

"Hey, that's not half bad." Kinch sat down next to him. "You could use that thing as a weapon on our next mission."

"I just might do that."

LeBeau chuckled. "I still think it makes you look like an old man."

"Better an old man than a Frenchman."

"Hey!"

Carter chuckled. "That was a good one."

"Be quiet, Carter!"

"Yes, it's good to have things back to normal." Hogan said with a laugh.

Newkirk spotted Schultz across the compound. He let out a loud whistle, catching the guard's attention. "You fellas want to see something?" He asked with a mischievous smirk.

Schultz waddled up and let out a heavy sigh. "What do you want?"

Newkirk smiled up at him. He'd been milking Schultz's guilt for all it was worth over the past few weeks. "I just wanted to say hi, Schultzie." He said with an air of innocence.

"Are you sure that is all?"

"Of course that's all. Hello, Schultz."

The guard rolled his eyes. "Hello, Newkirk."

He turned to leave but stopped short when Newkirk spoke again. "I'm also a little hungry." He added, suppressing a smile. "I could really use something sweet."

Schultz turned back slowly. "Sweet?"

Newkirk nodded. "Like maybe… oh I don't know, some chocolate."

The German sighed again and sat his rifle against his leg before he pulled a chocolate bar out of his overcoat. "But… it is my last one." He whined.

Newkirk held a hand to his side and let out a long groan of pain, even though he felt nothing more than a dull ache. "Oh Schultzie, it hurts bad it does…" He groaned. Schultz handed over the candy, wincing when it left his hand. Newkirk unwrapped it and took a bite, suddenly cured of his discomfort. "Thanks mate."

"You are welcome Newkirk." Schultz gave a small smile. "Is there anything else I can do for you?" He asked cautiously.

"Not now, but I'll let you know if I think of anything."

"Wunderbar." He said heavily. He bent down and picked up his rifle. Together, Newkirk, LeBeau, Carter, Hogan, and Kinch, all ducked in mock fear, taking cover in case in stray shots went off. Schultz rolled his eyes. "Oh that is very funny, you are all jolly jokers."

Hogan straightened his jacket. "Just playing it safe."

Schultz fixed him with his best glare, but it quickly folded, and a smile took its place. He turned and chuckled as he walked away. Newkirk grinned as he watched the soft-hearted German go. "You know, Colonel, he's not so bad… for a Kraut." Schultz may have been on the side of the enemy, but who ever said that an enemy couldn't also be a friend?

The End