Hi!

First, this story is like medicine. After the death of a beloved person I thought about getting over it, and so the idea of writing a story came into my mind. Actually, I'm not quite sure whether it was a good idea to let this story I simply had to write be an english fanfic, because I'm still not the best in wirting English. I hope you may forgive this.

But nevertheless I want you to enjoy the story.

Sorry for the # int the title, actually it hould have been a '.

But now, the story:

It happened some hours ago, but he still couldn't realize anything of it.

He sat there, chin in his hands, and waited for something else to happen, but nothing happened at all. Nobody talked, nobody even moved. Some of his comrades where out of the barracks. They didn't want to bother him or any of the other members of the Traveller's Aide Society.

They suffered a great loss, and some days ago he wouldn't have thought that the disappearing of one of his friends would hurt that much. Now he knew better.

Yes, he was his friend, and he could still hear his voice in his head, but the fact that he wouldn't hear his real voice again was still overwhelming. So much overwhelming that he couldn't realize it at all.

He wondered what had happened to the others. Hogan maybe was in his office, behind the locked door, so nobody could reach him. He needed to be alone. Surely he blamed himself already. He was the one in command, he made the plans, he was responsible for the consequences.

Newkirk knew that it was hard for the Colonel, but he also wanted to talk to him. Wanted to talk him out of his own guilt. Wanted to see him, wanted to check whether his CO was okay. But he didn't dare it. Maybe he would leave him alone for some hours, then he could check on him.

Kinch was somewhere downstairs in the tunnels. Newkirk could remember his shocked face when he got to know what happened at the meeting point. He himself was still in shock, he felt his hands trembling and his heart beating fast.

He felt alone. He needed to talk to someone, so that he could face his own feelings. Inside him, there was a mixture of several of them. He felt angry. Angry that he lost a good friend, maybe his best friend, and it all simply went on. Time passed like nothing did happen, but so much had happened. Too much to realize. Then he felt guilty. Guilty that he couldn't protect his mate, that he couldn't change anything, guilty for living while he was dead. He felt empty. He had heard that loosing a friend would leave a person in a mood like that. Empty, because there was now a hole in his life, a gap which couldn't be filled that easily.

There was also a gap in the team. They had lost a friend, a team member, a nice guy and also a hero. He had saved them all. All that was left of him was an empty bunk an a lot of memories. He wondered whether the Colonel had already informed London that they had lost a man. Maybe they would send another man to replace their fallen mate, but Newkirk was sure that nobody could replace a friend like that.

The door opened.

"Raus, raus, alles raus. Geh'mer, geh'mer, geh'mer!", it was Schultz. Poor old Schultzi hadn't an idea that they were one man short.

Hogan opened the door to his door. He was pale, paler than even a ghost could be.

"Colonel Hogan! Are you ill?", Schultz asked surprised.

"No, I'm not", the man mumbled. Newkirk watched him with concern. The Colonel looked like the Corporal felt: absolutely bad.

The first time Schultz noticed that something was really wrong was when he counted the prisoners of war. When one was missing, he started to read out every single name, but he didn't get far because after reading out loud the first two names Klink came out of his office. Newkirk could watch Schultz getting smaller and smaller when he informed the Kommandant that one prisoner was missing. Klink's face went red and he barked that someone should let the dogs out and ordered Schultz and some other German soldiers to look for the missing man even before he knew the name of him. At least he wasn't interested in this minor problem, he simply wanted to keep his record. Klink glared at Hogan through his monocle.

"I will find your man and when I find him, all men from your barracks will spend 30 days in the cooler. Nobody escaped Stalag 13, nobody escapes and nobody will escape in the future..."

"You won't find him", Hogan said in a low , but stubborn, and Newkirk bit his lip. He wasn't quite sure about it but he thought he saw a tear glistening in the Colonel's eye.

"Why?!"

"Because he's not stupid!", Kinch remarked and supported the Colonel because he wasn't sure whether his CO would find an excuse very fast.

"We will see, we will see", Klink aid and shot an angry look at Hogan who remained apathetically. Then he went back to his office.

Newkirk glanced at his CO. Hogan looked hurt, so hurt and guilty the Corporal hadn't seen anyone before, but after another moment the mask returned and Hogan looked only pale again.

"Let's get back to the barracks", Kinch said and patted Hogan on the arm.

Silently they went in.

The silence remained. Newkirk felt uncomfortable and wanted to get out. Out of the barracks, out of the Stalag, he wanted to run away, but with the forest full of Germans who looked after a missing prisoner of war, there was no chance. He only would endanger the so called Traveller's Aide Society. Newkirk also wondered whether this whole business would go on. They were traumatized and he wasn't sure whether they could go on. Going on would only remind them of him, the missing member.

Unless the nearly overwhelming numbness Newkirk realized that he needed to talk to someone. Without talking, he would break down sooner or later. Normally he had a mate who would listen to everything that bothered him. Thinking on this reminded him again how big the hole in his life was now. Too big.

Finally Newkirk decided to ask Kinch to listen to him. The Sergeant sat there, staring at the wooden table in front of his face without showing any reaction that he recognized all the things that happened around him. Actually nothing remarkable happened, but that wasn't important.

"Uhm, Kinch, do you mind if I sit down?", he asked politely.

The Sergeant shook his head, but still didn't look up.

"Do you want to talk?", Newkirk offered. Maybe they could both share their sorrow, maybe it would be easier to bear.

Finally Kinch looked up.

"Not really. It still hurts too much."

"I know", Newkirk said, "but maybe it would help."

"Do you want to talk?", Kinch asked, ignoring the Corporal's last words.

"I'm not sure, but I guess I need to", Newkirk answered and looked away. He couldn't stand a look into Kinch's eyes and see the huge misery in there. It was too painful to see his ever so calm and peaceful friend hurt like that.

"Mhh, I understand. But I guess I'm not the right person you should talk to", Kinch sighed.

Newkirk knew right in this moment that it was too painful for the sergeant to talk about the death of his friend, even thinking on the young man was quite hurtful.

Newkirk stood up.

"I'm sorry, mate."

"No, it's okay, really."

"Sorry, mate, but I can't."

"I know. I understand that quite well. We all have to come to terms in our own way, haven't we?", Newkirk said in a neutral way, but nevertheless a glimpse of despair could be seen on his face, a glimpse Kinch couldn't ignore.

"Perhaps you should go to the Colonel. Surely he needs someone to talk to. Everytime when something went wrong I went to him and let him talk about whatever was on his mind. After that he always felt better, but this time... I think it's too much for me to bear, and for him, too"; Kinch stared at the table again, his face motionless.

Newkirk nodded. Yes, the Colonel was the next one to talk to. Normally he would go to Carter, Carter was very good in listening to the problems of his friends. Sometimes he tried to give advices, but most of the time he simply listened. Additionally, Carter's advices weren't that informative and helpful, but they were good enough to laugh at them and to get in a better mood. Also he made Newkirk feel that there was someone who understood him, his fears, his sorrows and everything that bothered him. But Carter wasn't there. Newkirk would never have the chance to talk to his friend, not in this life. Because this time, Carter was the reason for all their grieving. Carter was dead.

First chapter is done :)

Now it's up to you: Because I don't know whether I want to leave this story as a one-shot or I want to continue, I'd like you to decide. Send me a mail or something like this ( and please don't forget the reviews^^) and tell me what to you want: an one-shot with a sad end or a story maybe with a happy ending. It's up to you!

isa^^