~*~Mirror, Mirror~*~

MIRROR, MIRROR

"Elf... zwolf... dreizehn... vierzehn... (11, 12, 13, 14)"

Freddie counts out her second set of reps on the pull-up bar in the gym at Stalag 13. She's been doing light exercises for the past few weeks following the beating she took from Sgt. Metzler, the Bavarian behemoth. Her broken ribs have since healed, and she's ready to return to her duties with Hogan's unit.

The door opens, and in walks a grinning Newkirk. "'Ello, love. Keepin' in tip-top condition, I see."

"That's right. Funfzehn... sechzehn... (15, 16)"

"If it's one thing I love, it's the shape of your shape." He walks over in front of her and watches. "Sure is lovely." She smiles as she hangs there, then hops down, unable to do anymore. "A perfect combination of softness and strength."

"Alright, you. Whatdya want? You didn't come over here and sweet talk me for nothing..."

Newkirk puts on his pouty face and sets his hands lightly on her hips. "Aw, darlin'. What makes you say that? Can't I just come over here and talk nice to you without you thinkin' I want something?"

"You could," she says, "but I wouldn't believe it." She laughs and playfully pokes him in the stomach as she walks away towards the floor mats.

"I was just wonderin' where you were," he says. "Kinch said he saw you head over this way, so I figured I'd check."

"Oh," she says as she prepares to start her push-ups. "Well, is there anything in particular that you want?"

He lays down beside her, props his head up on his hand, and smiles. "The same thing I always want." Freddie breaks into laughter as she starts her exercises.

"Eins... zwei... drei... vier..." Suddenly, her pattern is broken as Newkirk reaches around her body and flips her over onto her back, pinning her shoulders down as he lays across her. "Hey!"

"Gimme a kiss," he says in his deepest, most seductive voice possible.

"If I do," she asks, semi-upset, "will you let me go back to my workout?"

"Maybe."

"Oh, very well." Freddie pulls him down and kisses him quickly on the lips. "There. Now can I please get up?"

Newkirk looks hurt. "No. That kiss wasn't good enough. I want a real one."

She looks up at him, confused. "Whatdya mean a 'real' one?" He smiles at her as he continues to hold her arms down.

"I want one of those kisses that makes my hair stand on end, makes me warm all over." Newkirk begins lowering his face to hers. "You're so good at that."

"Ohhhh," she says slyly, "well, let me shatter your thermostat." Freddie curls her arms around his neck and pulls him in for a slow, deep kiss. Newkirk's body turns into dead weight as he's swept up in the moment. She removes his hat and tosses it aside, running her fingers through his hair. He moans lightly as his body starts to tingle, his mind slipping into another dimension. His hands wander aimlessly around her shoulders until they finally journey into her hair and settle in. Freddie's tongue gently grazes his upper lip as she backs him off of her.

"Was that better?" she asks. Newkirk, slow to open his eyes, clears his throat and scratches his head.

"Uh huh. Much better." He blinks slowly and whispers, "Do it again..."

"I'm sorry. I've reached my giving quota for this morning." Freddie chuckles. "You'll have to come back later."

"Well, lemme get a raincheck then." Newkirk's mouth finds hers and returns the delicious favor, this time making her moan. His tongue slowly glides around the inside of her mouth as his lips press gently against hers. When they release, he backs off of her completely and lets her sit up. "I think that'll satisfy me for a little while." Freddie's slow to respond, looking much like Newkirk did when she kissed him.

"I hope so," Freddie says as she rises to her feet. "I'm exhausted and I don't think I'll be much fun until after I take a nap. Anyway, I have to finish my workout."

Newkirk rises to his feet as well. "Why? You don't need it. You've got a svelt figure that makes me mouth water every time I put my arms around it."

She laughs as she walks over to grab a towel. "What else is there to do in this place? Besides, I think the workout will do me some good. Like therapy, you know?"

Newkirk slugs the large sandbag before wandering aimlessly around the gym. "Yeah, I guess you're right. I still can't believe that you took such a beatin' for me."

"Why does that surprise you so much, Peter?"

Newkirk looks at his feet. "I don't know. I guess it's just because... you know... you're a woman. And women-"

Freddie smiles. "And women aren't supposed to do those things, right?"

"Well, yeah. A woman should leave all that fightin' stuff to a man." He runs his fingertips gently down her cheek. "At least the woman in my life should."

She takes his hand and lightly kisses his palm. She looks him seriously in the eyes and says, "When the war is over, I'll stop fighting. I promise." Newkirk smiles as Freddie backs away and continues to towel herself off.

"Where did you learn how to do all that stuff anyhow, love?" he asks.

"It was part of my SOE training. I even learned a little judo and boxing, too. Luckily, I've never had to use it." She looks at him with a little surprise. "Didn't you learn self-defense in basic training?"

"Not really. I mean, I did, but I was in the air most of the time. Never really used it." He playfully jabs at her chin and says, "But I could knock you out if I had to."

Freddie smiles and sets down her towel. "No, you couldn't."

"Oh, no?"

"No." She senses that he may try to take a real crack at her, so she watches him out of the corner of her eye.

Newkirk smirks and takes a step back. "Probably right. I don't like to hit girls-" He takes a real swing at Freddie's head, but she's ready for him. Ducking safely out of the way, she plants her right hip into his lower back and grabs him around the neck. She then flips him over backwards and sends him sprawling onto the floor mats. Newkirk shakes his head in surprise.

"See?" says Freddie. "I told you that you couldn't take me down."

"Hold it, Freddie," Newkirk protests. "Best two out of three."

She sighs. "If you insist." He stands up, smiling like a little kid as he takes his jacket off. Then he removes his sweater and turns to toss it on the parallel bars. Freddie makes her next move. Running up behind him, she slides down onto her back and reaches one hand up between his legs and pushes against his stomach as she pulls him down. Newkirk loses his balance and falls backwards across Freddie, who rolls through to her feet and presses his legs towards his head, pinning him down. With his backside sticking defenselessly up in the air, she lovingly spanks it.

"Do you give, corporal?" she asks calmly.

"Ouch! Yes!" screams Newkirk. "Cut it out!!" Honoring his plea, she lets him go. All he can do is lie on his back and look at her with shock and amazment. He's also sucking oxygen like an out of shape swimmer. "Whatdya tryin' to do? Make a pretzel outta me?"

"Mmmm, you'd be a yummy little novelty. All covered in hot mustard, and I'd wash you down with a tall glass of beer. But I was just proving you wrong." Freddie lends him a hand getting to his feet again. Newkirk holds his lower back.

"That's the last time I do that. That's for bloody sure." She smiles as she walks for the parallel bars. "Hey, do ya think you could show me a few of those moves?"

"Sure." She walks back to him and begins her instruction.

Meanwhile, in Klink's office, Lieutenant General Riker of the Reichsfuhrer's staff in Berlin reviews the files of the inmates of Stalag 13.

"Your prisoners are treated well?" asks Riker.

"Yes, sir. We operate within the confines of the Geneva prisoner of war Convention."

"Excellent," affirms Riker. "Mustn't create problems with the Red Cross." Riker comes across Freddie's file and smiles with moderate interest. "Ahhh," he says, "I see you have your very own female prisoner here. A feather in your cap, no doubt?"

"Yes, herr General. However, she is treated just like the men here. She works just as much as the others." Klink watches as Riker sits at his desk and reads Freddie's file. He comes across her vital statistics and opens his eyes wider in surprise.

"According to her file, she's a native German. Why is she in a prison camp?"

"She fled Germany with her father when the Fuhrer came to power. They now reside in England, herr General."

"Very foolish."

"Yes sir."

Riker stands and slowly begins to pace. "Have you ever tried to sway her allegiance back to the Reich?"

"I have, herr General. And even the Gestapo has tried. She won't be moved. Her mother was killed in the Blood Purge, thus making any attempt very difficult. I, personally, don't think she can be swayed."

The General grins cunningly. "Perhaps, my dear Klunk-"

"That's Klink-"

"-you've been going about it the wrong way."

Klink removes his monicle. "How do you mean, sir?"

"You may have been too obvious. She may need to be attacked in a more... cerebral fashion." Riker sits in the chair in front of Klink's desk. "Tell me everything you know about this girl."

"I don't know very much, sir. I only know what is in her file."

"Well, does she display any unique talents? Or have any special hobbies? Any information, no matter how insignificant, would be most useful to me."

Klink thinks. "She's very fond of German spirits, particularly strong beer." He smiles sheepishly and says, "I found this out when I invited her over for supper one night."

Riker is confused, but more appropriately annoyed. "Is this part of your normal practice, Colonel? Dining with the prisoners?"

"No, sir. It was part of my investigation." He returns to the former question. "Oh, yes. She's quite efficient in the motorpool. A hard worker and a very reliable mechanic. I trust her to work on my staff car."

"Interesting. Go on."

Klink continues to rack his brain for more information about Freddie. "She does seem to be quite fond of one of our British prisoners, Corporal Newkirk."

"Where is his file?" Klink retrieves Newkirk's file from the cabinet for Riker to examine. "I see. He'd almost be a handsome young man if he wasn't of inferior stock. 23 years of age. Average height and build. Brown hair. Grey-green eyes, obviously a deviant trait." He cringes at the thoughts of a German girl being romantically linked to a non-German. "They uh... spend alot of time together, yes?"

"Quite often, sir. The guards in the mess hall say they sit together at every meal, and I have personally seen them holding hands while walking around the compound."

Riker seems satisfied. "Excellent." His eyes narrow in careful contemplation. "I think I've found my way inside our defector's head."

Klink is royally confused. "I don't think I understand, sir. What is your fascination with Sgt. Milworth?"

"Milworth?" snaps Riker. "Her name is von Raffschneider. She is German and I intend to see that she returns to the Fatherland. We must cleanse her mind of all non-Aryan influences and rebuild her." He hands the files back to Klink. "I want a copy of von Raffschneider's file, and one of Newkirk's as well. And I want a full report about him. Have them sent to me at once."

"Jawohl, herr General."

"We will be in touch, Klunk."

"That's Klink, sir," he corrects as he salutes.

Back in the gym...

"Ha! Now I gotcha!"

"Almost, Peter," instructs Freddie. "You've applied enough pressure, but you've put it on the wrong point. Here, lemme show you." Newkirk lets go of her wrist and lets her demonstrate on him. They face one another before they square off. She grabs him by the wrist and gives it a little twist, making him wince in pain. "Apply the pressure right here, right between the two tendons there. Once you've got your opponant in a wristlock, you can lead him anywhere you want." And she does just that, leading him around the room by his thumb.

"Is there any way to break this hold?" he asks painfully.

"Not really," she admits. "But I suppose you could fight and claw your way loose." With the seeds of possibility planted in his head, Newkirk stomps on Freddie's toes in an attempt to break her hold. When that fails, he kicks her hard in the shins, making her release her grip. While she's bent over, he puts her in a strong headlock.

"I think I found way to break that wristlock," he says triumphantly. Freddie struggles for more breath against his powerful forearms. In desperation, she elbows him in the stomach, sending Newkirk down to one knee. His hold loosens just enough to allow her to squirm free. She pushes him down onto his belly and dives on top of him.

"Oh, no you don't!" she yells laughingly. "You're not getting away that easily!"

Freddie wraps her forearm around his neck and brings her other arm up underneath his armpit. She claps her hands together tightly and rolls over onto her back.

"Are you gonna stop fighting?" she asks as she squeezes firmly.

Newkirk struggles to free himself. "No!" he yells. He knows that she's not trying to hurt him, but he doesn't want his pride hurt by losing to a girl.

"You're a bone-headed little bugger, aren't you?" Freddie constricts her arms a little more, drawing gurgling noises from Newkirk. To make his escape harder, she begins to rock back and forth like an alligator strangling its prey.

"Rrrrrgggggrggggh....," he groans. Out of despiration, he starts slapping her hands. "Come on, lemme go!"

"You said you wanted to learn."

"Yeah, but I don't wanna die!"

Freddie laughs. "Peter, relax. I'm not gonna kill you. Come on, use your head. How are you going to get out of this?" Using all of his strength, Newkirk rolls onto his side, taking Freddie with him. Now on all-fours, he can feel her whole weight on his back. He grabs her arms and tries to flip her over, but decides to just fall backwards instead, slamming her into the mat.

"I'll get you off me somehow," he promises as he continues to struggle.

"Not if I can help it," she says calmly as she gently nibbles on his earlobe. Newkirk slowly stops his fussing and fighting, letting her continue to turn him on. Her grip loosens slightly. "You don't really want me to stop, do you?"

"No... Please don't." He starts to rub her legs as they wind around his waist.

She runs her tongue around the outside of his ear. "Would you like me to keep going?"

"Yeah..." Freddie lulls him into a false sense of security by whispering and blowing into his ear. Suddenly, she squeezes him tight, making him snap back into reality. "What the-"

"Never let your enemy make you comfortable," she warns. "This is when they'll move in and kill you." Newkirk can't take the anguish anymore and taps his hand on the floor mat, signaling his defeat. Freddie immediately lets go of him. Both of them sit on the floor, completely out of breath, just looking at one another.

"Are you alright?" she asks.

"Yeah," he answers, his embarassment evident in his tone. "I'm fine." Freddie tries to smile as she lends him a hand to stand up. He doesn't look at her as he takes it, suddenly pulling her back down to the floor. Newkirk rolls her onto her back and quickly moves on top of her, holding her arms high above her head.

"Peter-"

"Shhhh... I'm gonna show you a hold of my own." He gently kisses her lips, trying to let her know that he's really not upset. He moves his soft mouth down her cheek and towards her ear.

"It's your turn to submit to me," he whispers in his low raspy register.

"Never," she retorts. Newkirk sees the small twinkle in her eyes which compels him to kiss her again.

"Come on, you know you wanna... Whisper in my ear, 'I surrender...'"

"You should know by now," she says as she struggles to get free, "that I don't give up very easily. Not even to you."

"Then I'll just have to persuade you." Newkirk kisses her again and quells any further resistance from her. Freddie is able to circle her arms around him and hold him close as he begins to slowly mark her neck.

"Mmmmm... I surrender, Peter," she whispers.

This week brings intrigue and mystery for Klink. He is summoned to the Hauserhauf Hotel on several occasions to meet with Riker, who is beginning to lay the groundwork for a massive 'head game' with Freddie. Klink is introduced to a young man who is known only as Schraider. The chisled German has been tagging along with Riker during his visits to Stalag 13 so that he can see Newkirk and study his mannerisms first hand.

"This man is the whole plan," says Riker. "He will deliver your Sgt. Raffschneider back to the Third Reich."

"How, herr General?" asks the inquizitive Klink. "With all due respect, Schraider doesn't look like Newkirk."

"There's a very simple solution to that problem. However, all that you need know is that he will become Corporal Peter Newkirk."

"Become Cpl. Newkirk? How can he become him? Wouldn't he need to-" Klink's mouth drops open. "No. You don't mean that-"

"That is exactly what I mean." Riker paces the room a bit as he looks through Newkirk's file. "Schraider fits all of the vital requirements; same height, is fluent in English. That much of the problem is solved. We have a world-renown plastic surgeon working with us on this case. When he's done with Schraider, Fraulein Raffschneider won't be able to tell the difference. In a matter of a few short weeks, Peter Newkirk will have an exact twin."

"Remarkable," says an astounded Klink. "You mean that this man will look just like Newkirk without using make-up whatsoever?"

"Precisely." Riker taps Schraider on the shoulder and asks, "Why don't you give us a small demonstration? Colonel, turn around and listen closely. Tell us if you recongnize this voice."

Schraider clears his throat and composes himself before he speaks. "'Ello. M' name's Newkirk. I was born in London 23 years ago, and I'm a corporal in the Royal Air Force. I'm tryin' to save the life of the woman I love. I think the Germans will win the war, and I'm tryin' to make her understand that. She's native to the Fatherland, and I want her to return and fight for the greater glory of the Third Reich."

Klink turns around and sits in a chair before he falls over. "That's amazing!"

Riker smiles like the evil dog that he is. "One of our agents in London sent us an airman's uniform and all necessary paperwork. Everything's been authenicated."

"I... I... don't believe it," says Klink, still dumbfounded. "This is truly an amazing feat. But do you really think it will work, herr General?"

"I'm sure it will," Riker says confidently. "I'm willing to bet my life on it."

In the two and a half weeks that followed his meeting with his initial meeting with Riker, Klink has noticed nothing out of the ordinary. At least, not yet.

This morning, Klink received a phone call from Riker informing him that the surgery went as planned and that the new 'Newkirk' will be arriving at Stalag 13 that day. Klink starts to get a little nervous and he begins to worry about Newkirk. On the whole, the Englishman hasn't been a bad prisoner. He's a nice young man and at times can be very warm and engaging. Klink, truthfully, doesn't dislike any of his prisoners and has never wished for anything bad to happen to them. He's thinking seriously about warning Newkirk of the impending event, but that would be considered an act of treason.

"Herr Kommandant," says a kind voice. Klink looks up and sees that it belongs to one of the young corporals. "The prisoners are outside for their morning formation, sir."

"Oh," says Klink. "Thank you, Cpl. Langenscheidt." He slowly rises to his feet, grabs his coat and hat, and goes outside for morning inspection.

"All prisoners present and accounted for," announces Schultz.

"Excellent. Thank you, Schultz." Klink slowly approaches the prisoners. "I have a little announcement to make."

"Lemme guess," says Carter. "Goering needs another notch in his belt." This draws a big laugh from the men. "Or maybe he needs a uniform one size larger-"

"That's enough, sergeant," says Klink. The prisoners are still laughing.

"Don't keep us in suspense, sir," asks Newkirk. "What is it?"

"I will be entertaining a very important guest today, so I want each and every one of you to be on your best behavior."

"Don't worry, Kommandant," assures Hogan. "We'll be good."

Freddie chimes in, "Yeah, but only until it's time not to be." Klink glares at the prisoners with his usual disappointed look.

"Diiiiiis-missed!" Hogan's group gathers around him to trade thoughts about the 'guest.'

"Who do you think is coming, Colonel?" asks Kinchloe.

"I don't know," says Hogan. "It's too early in the month for Burkhalter's inspection, and it's way too early for the Gestapo's two month visit."

"I got 15 marks that says it's Churchill," quips Newkirk.

"I got 30 that says you dream too much," remarks Freddie. Newkirk smirks at her and pulls her cap down over her eyes.

Hogan dipenses his idea. "Then again, it could be that shady looking character that was here a few weeks ago. LeBeau, set up the coffeepot. I'm going over to talk with Klink and try and get a name out of him." LeBeau leaves for their hut and the others follow along.

"What is it, Hogan," says Klink. "I'm very busy."

"I know you are, sir. That's why this will only take a second."

"Tell me your complaint, then get out."

"I was just wondering if you wanted my men to work on beautifying the camp." Klink brushes Hogan off in hopes that he'll leave.

"Yes, yes, yes. Do whatever you like. Now please get out. Diiiiis-missed."

"Thank you, sir." Hogan turns to leave again, but stops and asks, "Is anything wrong, Kommandant? You seem a bit edgy."

"No, everything's fine. But thank you for your concern."

Hogan is still curious, but he decides to withdraw from pressing the issue. "Alright. Well, I'll tell the men to get started."

Outside, Hogan gathers the men and heads over to the fence. He couldn't help but try to figure out what was eating at Klink.

Later that same day, in the motorpool...

"Ouch! Locke, if you drop that blasted wrench one more time-"

"I'm sorry, Freddie. It slipped outta me hands. Probably got some grease on it." She reaches up from under the transport truck and hands the wrench back to the young airman who dropped it. She rubs her head before she goes back underneath. Newkirk wanders into the motorpool and talks with his countrymen.

"Hey, have either of you chaps seen a gorgeous fraulein wanderin' about?" he asks.

"She's down below," answers Darby. Newkirk looks down at the pair of legs sticking out from underneath the truck. He smiles and crawls underneath with her.

"So this is where you've been hidin'," he says. He lays on his back and looks up at the underside of the engine.

"Yeah," she says with a laugh, "I've been trying to get away from you." Newkirk winces at her joke in fake pain.

"Ouch. You sure know how to hurt a bloke. You go right for the heart."

"Darling, you know that I wouldn't care if you followed me around wherever I went." The young Englishman smiles and drops his eyes from the engine block to Freddie's face.

"You know," he says, "you're the prettiest mechanic I've ever seen." Freddie starts laughing as she changes tools.

"I bet you say that to all the mechanics." Newkirk smiles as he scoots himself closer to her, rolling himself onto his stomach.

"No, I mean it. You're very skilled at what you do. You certainly know how to keep m' engine running. But, you're still missin' the most important impliment from your toolbox. And I, um... happen to have a spare that I can give you."

"Oh, yeah?" she says, amused. "And what's that?"

He moves in a little closer. "A screwdriver." He strokes the outside of her ear with his nose. Little does he know that Darby and Locke heard every word he just said. Both of them start laughing uncontrollably. Freddie grabs a ratchet and starts poking at Locke through the empty space where the radiator sits.

"Get outta here, you two! Or I'll kick you both over the moon!" she shouts. Locke pulls Darby with him as they grab their coats. They laugh all the way out of the motorpool.

Newkirk tries to move himself on top of Freddie. "Now that they're gone-"

"Peter, I'm trying to change the oil!"

"What?"

She lets out an aggitated sigh. "I'm trying to work." He smiles mischievously.

"So am I..." Freddie kisses him quickly and pushes him off.

"You are incorrigible." She pulls herself out from under the truck and retrieves a bucket. She slides back underneath and smiles at Newkirk, who's still lying on his back and looking somewhat surprised. "But you're adorable." She sets the bucket under the engine, pulls the plug, and lets the old oil drain into it. "Come on out of there, Corporal. I'm done under there."

She stands up and wipes her hands on a rag before she climbs up-top to inspect the engine. Newkirk crawls out from underneath and dusts himself off. He slowly walks around to the front of the truck and watches as she begins loosening the bolts that hold the piston covers on.

He watches for a few moments, then removes his hat and asks softly, "Freddie, are you mad at me?"

Freddie looks at him as if he'd grown a second nose. "Of course not. What makes you think I'm angry at you?"

"Well," he says as he looks at his feet, "you didn't seem too happy to see me under there. That's all." She hops off the bumper and faces him, wiping her hands again.

"Sweetheart, I was right in the middle of something." She touches his chin with her finger. "You broke my concentration, that's all. Nothing to become terminally angry over."

He still doubts her. "Are you sure, love?"

She gives him a reassuring smile and says, "Sure, I'm sure." He, too, smiles a bit.

"Alright. If you say so." He opens his arms and draws her in. He sets his cheek onto her warm neck and closes his eyes. "I'm sorry, darlin'. I can't help but get a little crazy whenever I'm near you."

"It's not any easier for me," she consoles. "But I think I'm better at controlling myself in public."

Newkirk winces. "I guess I shouldn't have said what I did with those fellas around, huh? Now they'll never stop laughin'. I'm sorry if I embarassed you."

Freddie's hands rub over his back and shoulders. "Don't give them a second thought, love. They're just jealous." She retreats from his arms and looks into his hazy emerald eyes. They sparkle like jewels in the sunshine, but they've been kissed with a touch of melancholy. She slowly and seductively pulls him around the far side of the truck. "But since you're here, I think we should make use of this empty motorpool. Don't you?"

Newkirk's eyes open wider. "Make use of it?"

"Yeah. Since I sent those two on their merry ways, seems a pity to waste perfectly good solitude." She leads him around a corner and into a dead-end space. He slides his hands around her hips and pulls her into him as she gently pushes him up against the wall.

"Mustn't waste anything during a war." He touches her cheek and leans forward to kiss her passionately. Time seems to stop as lose themselves in the sweltering liplock. Unfortunately, they're promptly interupted by Carter, who's smiling sheepishly.

"Colonel Hogan thought that you'd be over here, Newkirk. Hello, Freddie."

Smiling, she answers, "Hello, Andrew." Newkirk is just a bit upset.

"Why does that man always nag me when I'm neckin'?"

"Well," says Carter, "I think he just knows that you're wherever Freddie is."

He's still not thrilled. "What does he want?"

"All men from barracks #2 are working near the east fence. Colonel's orders." Newkirk's still hot over the interuption.

"Which colonel? The one with eagles, or the one with the monocle." Freddie tries to diffuse him before he goes nuts and takes it out on Carter.

"Peter, go with Andrew and do your detail. I'll be here all day. I've got to get three trucks up and running, so you can come around again when you're finished. Alright? I won't go anywhere." His face softens as she strokes his chin.

"Alright." He steps a little closer to her and asks, "Keep those yummy lips warm for me, will ya?"

She rubs his arm and answers, "You got it." Newkirk gives her a quick peck on the lips and turns to go with Carter.

"Come on, Andrew. Let's hurry and get this over with." Just as the two men go around the corner, Newkirk mouths to Freddie, 'I'll be right back.'

Neither one of them had any idea just how wrong he would be.

"Come on, fellas," encourages Hogan, "let's make the camp look nice. It may not be home, but we should at least make it look like we're proud of it." Some of the men are repairing the barbed wire fence while others are wandering around the area and picking up garbage. Carter returns with Newkirk, and they both start working on a small section of the fence.

"Nice of you to join us, Newkirk," teases LeBeau.

"Bugger off," replies the Englishman. "You're just jealous."

"All right, you guys," says Hogan. "Leave him alone and let him work."

"Sir," asks Newkirk as he paws throught the toolbox, "I need a pair of tin snips from the shed." Hogan smirks at him and gives him a shot of his own.

"Alright, but come right back. No detours to the motorpool." Some of the guys heckle Newkirk as he leaves. He shrugs most of the wolf whistles off, but he shoves one of the older guys out of his way.

He walks across the yard just like he's done a million times in the past. He's about five yards from the tool shed-

Ping!

Darkness. Newkirk's been hit in the head with a lead pipe and he collapses to the ground. Two of Riker's guards drag him behind the shed, out of sight of the other prisoners. They tie his hands behind his back, pick him up, and haul him off to Riker's car.

In the meantime, Schraider sneaks around the other side of the shed and heads back to the fence.

"Did you find the snips?" asks Hogan.

"Huh?" says Schraider. "Oh! The snips! Uh, no sir, I didn't. But that's alright, I'll use something else." Hogan nods his head. Schraider picks up a small pair of pliers and starts to tighten the barbs on the fence just as Carter nudges his arm.

"Hey, I'm sorry I interupted you and Freddie back there. I really don't like to do that, but the Colonel sent me over."

"That's alright," says Schraider, completely oblivious to what Carter means. "You were just followin' orders. Can't damn a man for that."

"Yeah," smiles the young American. "I guess you're right. Thanks for not killing me."

Once the fence has been repaired, Hogan pulls 'Newkirk' aside.

"Ok, loverboy. You can go back to the motorpool now."

"I beg your pardon, sir?"

"Back to Freddie."

"Oh! Right. Thank you, sir." Schraider starts walking away towards the motorpool while Hogan stands there and shakes his head.

Freddie's totally engrossed in what she's doing under the hood and doesn't notice 'Newkirk' approaching the truck. She hops down from the bumper and turns to her left, walking straight into Schraider's chest.

"Gosh, Peter. I'm sorry. I didn't-"

"Oh, that's alright. Didn't hurt a bit." He watches her walk over to the outdoor workbench to retrieve the alternator. He's slowly beginning to understand why the real Newkirk is in love with her.

"Looks like it didn't take you guys long to fix the fence."

"The what? Oh, that! Well, you know how it is. When you got several guys workin' on something, it's gets done faster."

"Yeah. I wish some of them would come over and gimme a hand. The troops keep making more work for me. I've never seen a group of soldiers so rough on their machines before. They horse their trucks around until they don't work, then they give them to me and say, 'Here, fix it.' Not so much as a wink or a thank you or anything."

"That's a ruddy shame," he says. "Would you like some help?"

"Nah, I think I can handle it," she says. "Thanks anyway, darling."

He smiles. "Right." Freddie climbs back up onto the truck and starts to put the alternator back in. Schraider casually glances at her backside as she leans over. Clearing his throat, he says, "Well, I better let you get back to work. See ya later then."

"Wait a minute," she says. She turns and sits on the grill of the truck. "Stop by my barracks later, ok?"

"Why?"

"No reason. I just wanted to be with you, I guess. And I kind of want to make up for being short when you first came over."

Schraider smiles. "Sure. What time?"

"After lunch. Shall we say... 2:30?"

"I'll be there," he says with a huge smile. Freddie steps down and kisses him lightly on the lips.

"I'll be waiting."

After lunch, Schraider retreats to Freddie's barracks where he finds her reading her Bible.

"Am I interuptin'?" he asks as he peeks in.

Freddie looks up from her reading and smiles. "Not at all. Come on in." Schraider walks in slowly and sits on the edge of her bed. He's not sure of what to do next.

"So," he begins, "is it a good book?"

"Of course," she answers with a laugh. "Don't you read the Bible?"

"Not really." And he means it. The Nazis believe that there is no higher diety than Hitler. Any German who was caught practicing any organized religion was subject to a visit by the Gestapo, and given a free trip to the nearest labor camp.

"I'd lend you my copy, but I'm afraid you'd never understand it."

"Why's that?"

"It's written in German."

'Newkirk' laughs. "Oh." Freddie looks up from reading and closes the book. She sets it next to her, then reaches for Schraider to pull him close.

"It's a very old copy." She picks the book up, opens the front cover, and shows him the name inside. "Belonged to my great grandmother's cousin."

Schraider tries to read the name, but it's faded with time. "It looks like it says... Richthofen."

"That's right."

"Your great grandmother's cousin was a Richthofen?"

"Yep. Now guess which one. I'll give you three chances, but the first two don't count."

His eyes light up. "Manfred von Richthofen?" Freddie sets the book down on the shelf beside her bed.

"The one and only. Der Rote Kampfflieger (The Red Fighter Pilot) was a distant relative." She nuzzles him softly. "But that's all in the past. I never knew 'The Baron'. He was shot down behind British lines three years before I was born." Schraider uses this as a stepping stone to launch his offensive.

"But he's a national hero here in Germany. Aren't you proud of that?"

"Was, Peter. He was a national hero. The Germany that he loved and died for no longer exists. And gone with the old empire are its heroes."

"That's not true," he protests. "Baron von Richtofen is still talked about with great pride and admiration."

Freddie looks puzzled. "How do you know that?"

Schraider quickly backpeddles. "It's a gut feelin'. Who else would these Luftwaffe pilots think of when they climb into their planes?"

"Certainly not about the man who shot 'The Baron' down." She rests her head on his shoulder as she snuggles him a little closer. For reasons unknown to her, 'Newkirk' feels distant even though he's lying in her arms.

"Stop talking, love. You're starting to sound like a lunitic. Everyone in camp will start calling you 'Freddie's Fruitcake.'" Schraider touches her hands lightly.

"Darlin'," he says, "why don't you like to be called 'Fredricha'? It's such a strong name, not to mention very pretty." This question comes from out of nowhere.

"What are you talking about?"

"'Freddie' sounds too masculine. I don't think it suits you at all."

"Doesn't suit me?" She looks at him a little strangely. "Have you been in Klink's liquor cabinet again?"

"No. I've just never heard anyone ever call you by your first name."

"So?"

"You're a lady. Doesn't that bother you? Even a wee bit?"

Freddie raises her head. "Peter, Freddie is my nickname. It's quicker to say than 'Fredricha.' I don't mind if they shorten it. I'm still treated with respect by the others. You know that." She rests her head on his shoulder again. "Besides, it sounds too German, and I don't wanna be German right now."

'Newkirk' sits up and looks at her. "Why not?"

Her stern eyes narrow with confusion. "Where are we right now?"

"In a stalag in Germany."

"Exactly." She takes her arms off of him and stands up to walk around. "I'm a prisoner in my own damn country."

"Hey, at least you're home. I'm not." Freddie's getting suspicious, but not worried.

"Peter," she asks, "what's happened to you? Why are you bringing all this stuff up now?" She chuckles a little as she continues, "You sound like you want me to run right home and join the Nazis or something."

"Darlin', I think you could be a great hero to Germany. Just like your cousin, the 'Red Baron.' You're here and you can fight for your home. Be a 'prodigal daughter' of sorts." Freddie smacks her forehead in disbelief.

"Heiliger Strohsack (Holy smoke)," she says, "you really do need to read the Bible. The story of the prodigal son is about a boy who leaves his father after an argument, and then returns to him after several years. Didn't you know that?"

"Yeah, I know," he says matter of factly.

"Peter, Great Britain is my home now. I'm fighting for all of the people there. And I'm fighting for the British prisoners here, too."

Speaking of British prisoners...

The real Newkirk wakes up in the back of Riker's staff car. He rubs his head and opens his eyes to see where he is. His eyes are immediately drawn to the barrels of the guards' guns.

"Ah," says Riker. "Guten Morgen, Cpl. Newkirk."

"How... how did you know my name?" he asks as he sits up.

"It's a long and complicated story. Let us just say that Col. Klink let me look at your file."

"Klink? That one-eyed nancy..."

"Oh, come now, Newkirk. He's really not that bad. After all, he is on the winning side." Newkirk rubs the back of his head as he looks out the window.

"Where are ya takin' me?"

"You're being transfered to another stalag. Temporarily."

"Why? What for?"

"Patience, my young airman. All of your questions will be answered in due time."

The staff car pulls up outside the kommandant's office at Stalag 9. Riker goes inside to speak to Col. Bachmann, leaving Newkirk in the car with the guards.

When Riker re-appears from the office, he instructs the guards to take Newkirk over to the solitary confinement cells.

"Have no fear," Riker says as Newkirk is thrown into a cell. "You will not be harmed."

"I don't believe you," Newkirk says angrily. "Anyway, you still haven't answered my question. Why am I here?"

Riker coolly replies, "You are being kept here until Schraider completes his mission. Then you will be returned to Stalag 13."

Newkirk becomes more concerned. "Who's Schraider?"

Riker smiles like a fox. "Let's just says he has been sent to your camp in your place." He slowly paces in front of his cell. "It's time for your Sgt. von Raffschneider to come home to Germany, my young friend." As soon as he hears Freddie's name, Newkirk begins to get angry. He charges towards the door and grips the bars tightly.

"If you lay one hand on that girl, I'll-"

"You'll what? What can you do from here?"

The young Englishman looks Riker square in the eyes. "I'll kill you. With me own bare hands. I'll kill you!"

"Peter," says Freddie, "you're starting to scare me."

"How am I scarin' you?" asks Schraider.

"You suddenly seem fascinated with my family and my background. You've never been this curious about it before."

"So I'm fascinated. That's not a crime, is it?" He slowly wanders around Freddie's hut, his swagger noticably different. His hands are folded behind his back as if he were interrogating a criminal. His eyes look like he's plotting something. "Fredricha, how can I make you understand-"

"Knock it off, Peter. You are really starting to scare me."

His gaze turns serious, but not threatening. "Why? What have I done?"

"You called me by my first name."

"Yeah, so?"

Freddie steps closer to him, angry and upset. "You never call me by name unless we're... making love." Schraider starts to panic inside. He had no idea that Newkirk and Freddie were intimate. She steps into him a little more and asks very sincerely, "Darling, what's wrong with you?"

Schraider's face has lost its color. "I... I don't know. Guess I'm just a little crazy right now. That's all."

"A little crazy?"

"It's just that... well, I've got something very important to tell you. Something that's been on me mind for a while."

"Tell me," she says. "Whatever it is, no matter how disturbing or painful, I can take it." He smiles as he sits himself down on her bed and draws in a deep breath.

"I think... we're fightin' a losin' war." Like a ton of lead falling without warning from out of nowhere, this news hits Freddie right between the eyes. Her jaw drops open as she listens to him.

"We're what??"

"You heard me. I think you and I are on the wrong side of the war." He gets a little more excited. "Look, the Luftwaffe leveled London. And they're not gonna stop! You and I can help end the war if we jump to their side. I don't wanna die, and I know you don't either. Joinin' the Germans is our only way to survive."

Freddie's in a state of utter shock. She can't believe that 'Newkirk' feels this way. After all the heartache that he's helped her to forget, knowing all the mental pain she's endured since her early teens, Newkirk couldn't turn on her now, could he? He's a major componant in Hogan's war machine. She doesn't know what to say to him.

"This war.... has made you a madman," she says as she leans on the table. "You're insane! How can you believe a single word of what you're saying?"

"Freddie, look around us. You said it yourself, we're stuck in a prison camp. We're out of the war, but we can still fight. We can join the Germans and fight for victory." Freddie, whose blood is boiling, slowly walks over to where Schraider's sitting.

"Peter, I never thought that I'd ever say this to you... but you can go to hell."

"Fre-"

"I said you can go to hell!" She grabs her coat and heads for the door, but he blocks her path.

"Just listen to reason-" Freddie grabs him by the lapels and shoves him up against one of the bunks.

"I've heard enough! I don't know what's come over you, but you better have your head checked." She looks him dead in the eyes and says, "After all we've been through. After all I've been through... for you! And you show you're appreciation by telling me to join those animals, the ones I've been fighting against." Her voice gets softer as her emotions come to the surface. "You bastard." Schraider's face shows no compassion.

"Freddie," he says, "stop cryin'. You're German, you're stronger than that." He pushes her back from the door.

"Why are you talking like this, Peter? Why?"

He stands directly in front of her and says, "Because what I'm sayin' is the truth." As tears stream down her cheeks, her face doesn't lower from his. She looks in his eyes, as if to search for answers, but she finds something out of place. His eyes don't look right.

"You're not feeling well." she says.

"No, I'm fine."

She continues to look at his face. "No. You're sick. I can see it in your eyes."

"Well, I've got a small headache. Maybe I ought to lay down." He picks up his hat and heads for the door. Freddie's not about to let him go without dishing out a little punishment.

"Hold it. Maybe I can take care of that headache." She balls up her fist and slugs him across the jaw. Just then, LeBeau enters the hut and watches 'Newkirk' slap Freddie across the face with such force that he knocks her over. The Frenchman rushes to Freddie's side.

"Newkirk, what's wrong with you!" Schraider picks up his hat and heads for the door.

"She hit me first." LeBeau stands up and gets in his way. He's very angry.

"Apologize to her. Right now!"

"Get outta my way!" He pushes LeBeau aside as if he were an empty box. He lets 'Newkirk' leave, then attends to Freddie again.

"Oh, Freddie. Are you hurt?"

"Just in the heart, Louis. Just in my heart."

"What happened?" Freddie gets up off the floor and brushes herself off.

"I don't know." She looks at her friend and says, "Let's just forget about it, ok? No big deal."

"No big deal?" questions LeBeau. "It didn't look like no big deal."

"Look," she implores, "please don't say anything to the guys for a couple of days. Let this whole thing disappear." LeBeau isn't quite sure if he should let this incident slide, but he looks her in the face and nods.

"Alright," he says softly. "If you say so."

Newkirk picks up a stone and scratches yet another hashmark on the wall. He's been away from camp for four days now and he's getting very restless. His appearence is somewhat haggered; his face unshaven, his hair uncombed, and his uniform dirty. With the thought of Freddie hot on his mind, he hurls the small wooden table in the cell at the barred door.

"Lemme outta here, NOW!" shouts Newkirk. The guard outside hears the commotion.

"Was ist los (What's wrong)? Are you hungry?" Newkirk, always one for a good fight, tries to remember some of the more 'colorful' phrases Freddie taught him for fun.

"Ihre Mutter ist Hexe (Your mother's a bitch)." The guard's look of concern turns sour, forming an angry expression on his face. As he walks away, Newkirk begins to laugh. His laughter is short-lived, however, as Riker saunters around the corner. "Oh, it's you. I thought it was the British council."

Riker smiles. "Your humor amuses me, Newkirk. But only for a short while." Newkirk's face wrinkles with tension. "Is there anything you need?"

"Yeah," he retorts, "my girlfriend. And while you're at it, gimme a blowtorch."

"Unfortunately," Riker grins, "those things I cannot give you." As he turns to leave, he stops. "One moment. Aren't you with your girlfriend right now?" He laughs sadistically as he leaves. Newkirk charges the barred door again.

"I'll get outta here one way or another! You'll see! And when I do, I'll send ya to the Devil himself!"

The vision of Freddie being slapped by Newkirk keeps replaying itself in LeBeau's mind for the past few days. He makes up his mind that he will tell Hogan, but doesn't want to go behind Freddie's back. Maybe, he figures, he can bring up the incident casually in conversation, then ask Freddie to tell Hogan herself.

Around mid-morning, Freddie stops by barracks #2 to chat with Carter, who's outside doing his laundry. LeBeau comes outside, and the three of them get to talking.

"Hey," says Carter, "have either of you noticed that Newkirk's been acting strange lately?" LeBeau looks at Freddie and waits for her to say something.

"Well, he seems a bit quiet," she says. "I asked him the other day if he was feeling well."

"Yeah? What'd he say?" Carter asks as he continues to scrub.

She acts as if everything's normal. "He said he felt fine. Just had a headache." LeBeau can't let the game go on anymore. He breaks into the conversation.

"Was that before or after he hit you?" Carter stops washing as soon as he hears the word 'hit.' Freddie sighs as the story begins to unfold itself.

"What?" Carter asks, totally shocked. Freddie looks at LeBeau, almost hurt that he brought it up.

"He slapped me across the face," she says. The young American throws his wet socks into the washtub in anger.

"He hit you?"

"He slapped me, Andrew," explains Freddie. "He didn't hit me."

"Slap. Hit. They're the same thing. Why did he do it?"

"I don't know," she says. "Look, fellas. Do me a favor. Don't say anything to the colonel. I don't want him to know about this."

LeBeau looks nervous. "Why not?"

"I don't want it to interfere with our operation. I'm willing to just sweep it under the rug." Hogan emerges from inside without anyone noticing. He hears part of the conversation and notices that Freddie doesn't look too cheerful.

"Sweep what under the rug, Freddie?" he asks. Carter and LeBeau try to tell him what happened, but Freddie cuts them off.

"Nothing, sir. Just a figure of speech."

"Colonel," blurts Carter, "Newkirk hit Freddie."

"He what?"

She cringes and shakes her head. "Andrew-" LeBeau reaches around her shoulder and soothingly holds her.

"Carter is right. The colonel should know about it."

Hogan's still in the dark. His eyebrows slant in a curious and angry fashion. "The colonel should know about what? If something happens in my outfit, I want to know about it." LeBeau tells Hogan what he saw.

"Colonel, Newkirk struck Freddie. They were having an argument of some sort and I walked in on it."

"Freddie," presses Hogan, "is that true? Did Newkirk hit you?" She sighs, knowing she's not going to be able to keep it a secret anymore.

"Yes sir." Hogan shakes his head disapprovingly. Just as he's about to get more information about the situation, Schraider walks over from Klink's office.

"'Ello, mates!" he says, unusually cheerful. He looks at Freddie as if nothing has happened. "Hi ya, love. Didn't see you sittin' there." He walks over to her and kisses her on the top of the head. LeBeau looks at Hogan, who appears to be just as confused. Carter, on the other hand, is ready to pounce on 'Newkirk.'

"Uh, Newkirk," begins Hogan, "you better sit down. We've gotta talk."

"What's on your mind, sir?"

Hogan doesn't waste time with formality, rather trading that for the cold facts. "Why did you hit Freddie?"

"Hit her, sir?"

"Yeah," interjects LeBeau. "I saw you hit her when I came into her barracks." Schraider's on the spot. He tries to lie himself out of the situation the best he can.

"Well, sir. She hit me first. Punched me in me face with a closed fist. I slapped her out of self-defense."

"Why did she hit you?" asks Hogan.

"I don't know, sir. She must have gone temporarily insane."

"I'm insane?!" screams Freddie.

"Didn't anyone ever tell you," says an angry Carter, "you're not supposed to hit women? Even if she strikes first?"

"We were havin' a friendly argument-"

"Friendly?" asks LeBeau. "From what I saw, there was nothing friendly about it." The situation begins to heat up as the men begin to quarrel.

"Settle down!" demands Hogan. "Now listen up. We've got a very important job here and I don't want to start playing the part of a mediator if you two are having a disagreement. But Freddie's never given us any reason to doubt her before. LeBeau was a witness, and I don't doubt him either. Newkirk, you're confined to the barracks. I have no choice but to suspend you from all of our operations until further notice or until absolutely necessary. Maybe that'll teach you to cool your head a bit."

"Colonel, you can't do that to me," Schraider protests.

"You're under 'house arrest', corporal." Freddie looks at LeBeau and Carter, who both look at her in like puzzlement.

"Yes, sir," concedes Schraider, totally defeated.

"I want Freddie under guard until this all blows over. Carter and LeBeau, you'll both take turns sleeping in Freddie's quarters." Both men are in agreement. Hogan and Schraider are still locked in a staring contest, neither one wanting to give in first.

"Hey, Fritz," calls Newkirk, "this bread is moldy."

"Pick it off," replies the mamouth guard. "It's all you get. General Riker's orders." He turns and walks slowly back down the hall. Newkirk watches him walk away.

"So, I guess this means that you don't have any pumpernickle on you, eh?" He sighs and sits back down on the cold floor and picks at his food. Something about his bread looks odd, like it's already been broken. He carefully opens the tiny loaf and finds a note on a small slip of paper. His heart begins beating with anticipation. Was it from Freddie? Did she come to rescue him?

'Sit tight. Help is coming. All will be explained.'

He grins and tucks the note away in his coat pocket. Finally, he's get a reason to smile. Suddenly, his ears pick up noise from outside his cell. He gets up and tries to peek around the bars the best he can. The guards are changing for the evening. Disappointed, he turns from the door and heads back to sit down.

"You are Newkirk, yes?" comes a soft voice from behind him. Newkirk turns and sees a young German soldier standing there.

"Yeah," he answers cautiously. "Who are you?"

"My name is Bohrman. Did you get my note?" Newkirk heads back to the door.

"Yeah. You slipped me the note?"

"Ja. I will help you."

"Wait a minute," he says. "How do I know that this isn't a trap?" Bohrman smiles kindly as he lowers the barrel of his gun to the floor.

"Let's just say that I know what it's like to be torn away from someone you love dearly. Listen carefully." He looks around to make sure the coast is clear. "There's always a lull in activity around 0100. I will bring you a uniform and papers that will help you on your escape. You will show your identification papers to the guard at the gate, and you will leave. Unfortunately, I cannot go with you. You will have to find your way back to Stalag 13 yourself."

"I still don't understand," Newkirk says. "Why are you helpin' me? Are you with the Underground?"

"No, my friend. I'm not," answers Bohrman. Again, he looks around for other guards. "I may be a German soldier, but I'm not a Nazi." The young man leans on the cell bars as he tells his story. "I've never agreed with the National Socialist doctrine. I never wanted to become a soldier, but I was conscripted. I was an apprentice cobbler and I hoped to open my own store someday. I wanted to marry and raise lots of children, but my fiancée was taken from me and sent to a concentration camp."

"Oh, my God," says Newkirk, horrified. "She's-"

"Yes. She's Jewish. And it's verboten (forbidden) by law for a German to marry a Jew." Bohrman's young face has pain written all over it. "I don't know if she's still alive or not. She's been at Dachau for over a year now. Whenever they show us the newsreels from there, I try not to look at their faces. I'm afraid I'll see her lying dead in the mud." He shakes his head in confusion. "I cannot believe what we as a human race are doing to ourselves."

"My girl's a quarter Jewish," says Newkirk.

"I know. I read her file in Riker's office. She's beautiful, too." Bohrman reaches into his coat pocket and retrieves a photograph of his girl to show to Newkirk. "This is my Maria. Only 20 years old." The Englishman looks at the photo and smiles.

"She's a beauty, alright. An eyeful of a girl." He hands the picture back. "When are you two goin' to be married?"

"We were supposed to be married a year ago. But her background was discovered when we went for our marriage license. She was arrested on the spot." Bohrman looks at his feet. "I may not be able to save her, but I can at least help you get back to your love. I know Maria would want me to help you."

"Don't sell yourself short, mate. I might be able to help get your girl out. I'll pass word along through the Underground and see what they can do. Sort of like payin' you back for helpin' me. If you're on the level, that is." Bohrman smiles wide.

"Thank you. That would mean the world to me." Newkirk smiles and extends his hand through the bars, and the young German takes it. "This ridiculous conflict has cost us all so much."

"You can say that again. Hey, you said you were in Riker's office, right?"

"Ja."

"Tell me why I'm here. Please. All I know for sure is that Riker's tryin' to get at my Freddie." Bohrman slings the strap of his sub-machine gun over his shoulder and leans in closer to Newkirk.

"Yes, that is true. You are being held here for an undisclosed amount of time, sort of being kept out of the way. Riker's trying to win your Fredricha's fighting spirit back to the Third Reich."

"What?"

"Ja. It sounds crazy, but he's trying. He's going to tell her that the Germans are winning the war by substituting Schraider for you."

"Riker mentioned his name in the car. Who is he?"

"Schraider's a Gestapo agent who has been surgically altered to look exactly like you. Riker hopes to use 'you' to convince her to join the Reich. I guess he believes that a familiar face can win her confidence. He's using her trust in you to get the job done."

Newkirk rubs his brow nervously. "And she trusts me. Completely. Of all the dirty, under-handed tricks-"

"Shhh... Someone will hear you." He looks around and sees a fellow guard coming. "I must go now. I'll be back in a couple of hours. Hang in there, friend."

"Right." Newkirk slowly turns back towards his bed and sits. He's still a little apprehensive about escaping, but just the mear thoughts of Freddie in the arms of another man erases any doubts or fears from his mind. To him, he's escaping to rescue her from the Devil. For once, he'll have to fight for her.

"Colonel," shouts Schraider, "you can't keep me away from Freddie."

"Newkirk, you hit her. I don't think she wants to be near you right now. And quite frankly, I don't even want you near me."

"All I was tellin' her was that I thought we were on the wrong side of the war. Then she blew up at me!" Hogan, Kinchloe, and the others are all standing with mouths open.

"You told her what?" asks Kinchloe. "How could you do that!"

"Because it's what I feel."

"You're nothing but a traitor!" yells Carter. "After all the missions we've been on, and after all the prisoners we helped to escape. You really think we're losing?"

"Yes."

"Sir," asks LeBeau, "I request permission to build a guillotine." A few of the other men tensely laugh.

"Shut up, you frog!" snaps Schraider. Kinchloe jumps to his friend's defense.

"Take it easy, Newkirk-"

"Shut up, Kinch! Don't gimme orders! You can't. You know why? Because we aren't in the same army. We don't let black men into our army!" Kinchloe's eyes open wide and his nostrils flair with intense anger.

"Boy, don't make me kill you..." he mutters.

"Enough of the blue talk, Newkirk!" bellows Hogan. "I don't know what's come over you, but you better get over it pretty damn quick!"

"Sir," says Schraider, "you're runnin' a very loose operation. All of these men should be addressin' you with proper authority and respect."

Carter can't stomach what he's hearing. "I don't believe this-"

Schraider doesn't forget him. "Sit down, half-wit. Take a lesson." Carter lunges at 'Newkirk', but he's supressed by the men. Hogan refuses to let this circus continue.

"Mazursky and O'Neill. Take Cpl. Newkirk down below and hold him there. He's not to be let out except for role call and mess... if he's lucky." Schraider tries not to look surprised as the bunk lifts and exposes the tunnel entrance. Hogan and his men watch as he's lead down into the tunnel.

"What the hell happened to him?" Hogan asks to no one in particular.

Meanwhile, Freddie's laying down on her bunk, trying to figure out what's happened to her lover. She's contemplating leaving him, but she's too attached. Nobody in her entire life has ever played such a sweet melody on her heartstrings. As she continues to lament, her heart slowly breaks, leaving her no other choice but to weep.

"Peter," she whispers through the tears, "what's happened to you? Why have you turned on me?" Carter and LeBeau come into the barracks, both having elected to sleep in Freddie's hut at the same time. They come upon her crying and they immediately attend to her.

"Mon amie," comforts LeBeau as he sits down beside her. "Come here." Freddie sits up and lets LeBeau hug her. He strokes her hair and tries to calm her as her head rests on his small but strong shoulder. "Ecoute moi, mon cheri (Listen to me, sweetheart), everything will be alright."

"Yeah," confirms Carter, who's kneeling beside her bed and holding her hand. "Once I beat the insanity out of him, he should be just like new." Freddie starts to laugh.

"Oh, I know everything's going to be fine," she says, drying her tears. "I'm just surprised I guess. I've never heard him talk that way before."

"Neither have we," says LeBeau. "It's almost as if Newkirk were another person."

"Kinch is contacting London right now to find out if they have any record of him going temporarily insane," Carter adds. "He's probably just over-stressed."

"I don't know," Freddie says. "He seemed alright this morning when he found me in the motorpool." Carter looks at his feet.

"Maybe he's mad at me for interupting you two this morning."

"No, no," she says. "Something that small wouldn't upset him." LeBeau takes off his coat and tosses it on the bunk next to hers.

"Come, come. Go to sleep now. I'm sure things will look brighter in the morning," he says. Carter wanders over to another bunk as LeBeau tucks Freddie in. He gently covers her with a blanket and kisses her softly on the cheek. "Bon soir, mon cheri. Pleasent dreams. If you need anything, wake us up."

"Thank you, Louis," she answers, placing a sweet kiss on his cheek. She raises her head a little so she can see Carter. "Thank you, Andrew."

He's confused. "For what? I haven't done anything."

Freddie smiles. "For being here."

"Oh," he says shyly. "You're welcome, Freddie."

"I wish," she continues, "I could put into words just how much you both mean to me. You two are true friends."

Carter takes off his hat and slowly walks over to Freddie's bunk. "You know I'd always stand by you, Freddie. Even if you're wrong".

"That goes for me, too," says a smiling LeBeau. "One for all, all for one. Just like the Musketeers."

Newkirk nervously looks at his wristwatch. 12:50 p.m. It's almost time. He'll find out one of two things: if Bohrman is telling the truth, or if he's being set up to die.

"Freddie," he thinks to himself, "I'm comin' for you, love. Hang in there. Just a little longer." His train of thought is broken by Bohrman's gentle voice.

"Newkirk. I'm back."

"Isn't it too soon?" he asks. The German opens the cell door quietly and passes through a uniform and helmet, and a billfold with identification papers.

"It's never too soon to rescue someone you love. Now hurry and get changed." Bohrman turns around and keeps watch as Newkirk throws the slightly over-sized Luftwaffe uniform on over his own clothes. "Remember what I told you. Show your papers to the guard, and he will let you out."

"It sounds too easy," says Newkirk. "What if the guard refuses to let me leave?"

"He won't."

"I don't know if I-"

"Listen to me. The guard at the gate shares my feelings towards the Nazi party. He will let you walk out of here without incident." He opens the cell door again, this time letting Newkirk walk out. "Please believe me."

Newkirk sighs as he puts on his helmet. "Alright. Let's go." Bohrman escorts him down a short corridor to the side door of the brig.

"Keep your hands out of your pockets," he warns. "Just act casual and you'll be fine." Both men head over to the little red and white striped guard shelter.

"Guten Abend," says the guard. Bohrman acknowledges him with a slight wave of his hand. "Ihre papiere, bitte (Your papers, please)." Newkirk recognizes this phrase as one of the many that Freddie taught him. He hands the guard a pay booklet that has a name on it.

Bohrman leans over and whispers to Newkirk, "That belonged to one of the guards here. He was killed at the Eastern front. Incase anyone is watching us from far away, it just looks like you're being checked."

The Englishman swallows hard. "Do ya think anyone's watchin'?"

"It's doubtful. But I don't want anything to look out of the ordinary." The guard hands the booklet back to Newkirk.

"Viel Gluck (Good luck)," he says. He motions to the other gate guard to open the gate. Before Newkirk walks out, Bohrman stops him.

"Stalag 13 should be straight down this road, about 15 or 16 miles. Stick to the path, and you should be fine." He extends his hand to him. "Be careful, Newkirk."

He takes his hand. "I will, Bohrman. And thank you for your help. I will send your girl's name on to London. They'll help her, I'm sure of it."

"Thank you," Bohrman says with a smile. "Now hurry. Fredricha could be in terrible trouble."

"Right. So long, mate." With that, Newkirk runs down the road and into the dark night, the thoughts of Freddie warming his heart.

LeBeau rolls over onto his other side and gently stirs. His eyes crack open and slowly focus on a dark figure sitting at the table. The only light in the room is coming from the end of the figure's cigarette.

"Freddie?" he asks, rubbing his tired eyes.

"Yes, Louis. It's only me." Freddie's sitting at the table and thinking. LeBeau puts on his shoes, wraps his red scarf around his neck, and joins her at the table.

"Are you alright? Why aren't you sleeping?" he asks sweetly, putting his hands on hers.

"I'm fine," she admits, "but when I close my eyes, I can't stop thinking about Peter."

"Do you want to talk about it? Maybe it will put your mind at ease." She smiles and squeezes his little hands ever so gently.

"You needn't worry yourself with it. I'm fine."

"Freddie, I know you're a tough girl. You can take a beating like a man and still walk away looking as beautiful as a goddess. But your heart is hurting. Please. I'm here for you." Her eyes slowly drop from his as sadness fills every chamber of her heart. He gently lifts her chin and says, "I may not be very big, but I think my shoulders are large enough for you to cry on."

Freddie smiles through her pain. "I don't want to cry, Louis. To be honest, I really don't know if I'm more angry than I am sad." She takes a quick drag from her cigarette. "I guess I'm just confused."

"You are not alone," he reassures. "We've known Newkirk a little longer than you, and he's never acted this way before. We all thought he lost his mind when the two of you got into that brawl in the yard shortly after you arrived here. He's never really liked German girls until you came along. Oh, sure, he'd maybe fancy this one or that one for a while, but he never stayed with her for very long. A week at the most. But then he met you and I saw the most fantastic change in him. And I think it was for the better. You gave him a new reason to fight, something to believe in."

"Louis," she says, "I'm not a magician, I'm just a woman. I don't think I changed him just like that."

"Love is a powerful thing, mon cheri. Do not doubt yourself."

"So, how come he wants to change sides? Did his love for me go so deep that he feels that this would be best? Like I should return home or something?"

LeBeau's eyes hold no answers. He looks at her sadly and declares, "I do not know. I really do not know."

Up ahead sits another red and white striped guard hut. One man comes out and stands at the barricade as Newkirk approaches.

"Halt. Papiere, bitte." Newkirk reaches into his coat pocket and produces the pay booklet again. The guard looks through it quickly. "Wohin gehst du hin (Where are you going to)?" Newkirk silently thanks God that he understands the guard's question.

"Luftstalag dreizehn. Ich bat um Versetzung (Stalag 13. I asked for a transfer)," he says. The guard starts to chuckle as he flips through the booklet some more.

"Aus woher (Where from)?"

"Luftstalag neun (Stalag 9)." The guard laughs and hands the booklet back.

"Viel Gluck mit Oberst Klink (Good luck with Colonel Klink)!" He lifts the barricade and lets Newkirk pass. "Haben Abend verbringen (Have a pleasent evening)."

"Danke." Newkirk waits until he's well out of sight of the guard before he starts running again.

"What did London have to say, Kinch?" asks Hogan.

"They said that Newkirk's never shown any signs of insanity or even battle fatigue. Never been arrested by civilian or military police. They don't know what could have happened." Hogan rubs his brow as he paces around the tunnel. He's still trying to make sense of all this, not only for himself and the others, but for Freddie.

"Should I wake Freddie and tell her what I've found?" Kinchloe asks.

"No," says Hogan as he wanders back to the radio. "Wait 'til morning. Let the poor kid sleep today off."

Inside barracks #4...

"I'm at a loss as to what I should do," says Freddie. "I don't want to leave him, but I don't think I could love him if he's taken a sympathetic stance towards the Germans."

LeBeau pours himself and her another cup of coffee. "You don't have to decide right now. That is a serious decision and it requires alot of careful thought."

"I suppose you're right," she relents. "Maybe he'll come around again."

LeBeau smiles. "I think he will." By now, Carter's awake and scratches his head.

"Morning already?" he asks with a yawn.

"No, Andrew," apologizes Freddie. "It's a quarter after one. I couldn't sleep, and then Louis woke up, too."

"Oh," he says. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have fallen asleep. You know. Incase you wanted to talk."

"Don't apologize, dear Andrew. Louis was up." Carter puts on his boots and comes over to sit at the table. She offers him a cigarette and he accepts.

"It can't be much further," Newkirk says to himself. "I hope I don't catch pnumonia before I get back." He puts the collar of the overcoat up and rubs his hands over his ears. "It's probably just up around the bend there..."

The still night air is shattered by the sound of a motorcycle coming up from behind him. Newkirk steps off to the side to let it pass, but he's surprised when it stops for him.

"Guten Abend. Mochten Sie gerne mitnehmen (Would you like a lift)?"

"Ja," Newkirk answers with a smile. "Danke. Luftstalag dreizehn. Beeil dich, bitte (Please hurry)!" He climbs onto the back of the motorcycle, and the soldier speeds off. "It won't be long, Freddie. I'm comin'!"

"Wieso bist du Gehen so weit von Lager (Why are you walking so far from camp)?"

"Motorschaden (Engine trouble)." The cycle driver laughs.

"Das war's ja deutscher Leistungsfahigkeit (So much for German efficiancy)!"

Within a matter of a few minutes, the lights of Stalag 13 shine like a homing beacon. It would have taken at least another 25 minutes if Newkirk had walked or ran on foot.

Pulling up outside the gates, the driver says, "Hier bitte (Here you go)."

"Danke furs Mitnehmen (Thanks for the ride)," says Newkirk. With a quick nod, the driver speeds off into the darkness, leaving Newkirk outside the fence. The gate guard sees that he's in a German uniform, so he lets him in without checking for identification. Newkirk keeps his head low as he salutes the guard and slowly but directly heads for Freddie's hut.

By now, Carter is dressed and sitting with LeBeau and Freddie just as the real Newkirk quietly opens the door. The three of them sit quietly as Newkirk sneaks inside. Freddie, who's facing the door, strains against the darkness to see who it is.

A voice whispers, "Freddie? Freddie, it's me."

"Me who?" asks Freddie in a normal tone. Newkirk quietly closes the door and comes further into the room. He takes off his helmet and overcoat. LeBeau and Carter both stand up, each of them thinking Schraider escaped from the tunnel.

"Freddie!", he says as he walks towards her. "You're not gonna believe this, but-"

"How the hell did you get out of the tunnel?" asks Carter, about ready to attack.

"What?" asks Newkirk. The trio notices the Luftwaffe uniform he's wearing and they begin to get angry.

"He's bloody flipped!" says Freddie. "He's traded his British uniform for a German one already!"

"What are you talkin' about, love?" Newkirk looks at Carter and LeBeau and asks, "What are you two doin' here?"

"We're guarding her," says LeBeau.

"From what?" Newkirk asks.

"From you, you traitor," says Carter. Newkirk's face wrinkles with confusion.

"Would someone please tell me what's goin' on?" Carter leans in to Freddie and makes a suggestion.

"We better get him back into the tunnel."

"Wait!" says LeBeau. "We can't go outside. We'll be shot."

"Let's take him down through the tunnel entrance here." Newkirk pleads for the group to wait.

"Hold on, lemme get this ruddy uniform off." Carter grabs him by the arm.

"Leave it on, you maggot." LeBeau and Freddie move the stove away from the break-out panel and open the tunnel hatch. The Frenchman goes down first, followed by Freddie, then Newkirk and Carter.

"Freddie," asks Newkirk, "what's wrong? Why won't you let me explain?" She turns sharply and gets right in his face, backing him up against the dirt wall.

"Because you've said enough today! And I've heard all I wanna hear out of you right now!" He looks into her angry eyes, trying to calm her. She, too, looks at his eyes and sees how clear they are. Even the poor tunnel lighting can't hide the hazy, inviting green. Carter and LeBeau escort Newkirk around the corner to where Kinchloe and Hogan are in conference. Hogan looks up and sees the foursome approaching.

"What are you doing?" he asks.

"Bringing him back," says LeBeau. "We were talking when he came into Freddie's barracks."

"Hold on a minute," says Kinchloe. "How did he get out passed O'Neill and Mazursky? And how did he get a uniform?" Newkirk picks this as his time to defend himself.

"The guard in the cooler gave me this so I could slip out of camp undetected."

"You weren't in the cooler," says Hogan.

"Yes, I was! Would you just let me-"

"No, you weren't. You've been down here all day. Under watch." Newkirk's had enough.

"What are you talkin' about? Would the lot of ya just lemme explain?" Mazursky comes around the corner with a tin cup.

"Newkirk wants some water, sir," he asks. Hogan looks at Freddie, who looks at Kinch, who shares a confused look with Carter and LeBeau. Mazursky looks at the real Newkirk, then does a double take.

"Who in the hell is this guy?" says Mazursky.

"That's what I'd like to know," says Carter.

"Mazursky, is Newkirk still in there?" asks Hogan.

"Yes, sir. Right where I left him. O'Neill's watching him right now." The group looks at Newkirk, then to Hogan. Now, he figures, the whole incident will come to a head.

"No," says Freddie. "No, it's impossible. There can't be-"

"Bring Newkirk out here. Then you and O'Neill head upstairs."

"Yes, sir." The Heroes stand in stunned silence while Schraider's being brought out. Once he's brought out, everyone sees that there are two Newkirks. Schraider looks just as surprised as everyone else.

"Holy shit!" exclaims Kinchloe, probably best summing up the mood.

"Who is he?" asks Newkirk.

"I'm Peter Newkirk," answers Schraider. "Who are you?"

"Oh, no you're not. I'm Peter Newkirk," says the Englishman.

Freddie begins to panic but keeps a reign on herself. "Heiliger Mary, Gottesmutter (Holy Mary, mother of God). I don't believe this! Colonel, what are we going to do?"

Carter has a plan. "Why don't we shoot 'em both." LeBeau nudges him and smacks him in the head.

"I can't tell them apart," admits Hogan. "Freddie, can you?" She looks at them

both as she stands back.

"Oh, God. I don't know."

"Give it a try," coaxes Hogan. "You've probably spent more time with him than the rest of us have. You're the only one who can do it." Freddie looks at the Heroes, hoping to find an answer. LeBeau gives her a reassuring nod. Turning towards the 'twins,' she begins the unnerving task of finding the true Newkirk. There's only one way to do this: turn into a sergeant.

"Up against the wall. Now! Move! Backs flat! Eyes front!" Newkirk and Schraider obey, both standing with their backs up against the wall and under a light. Freddie stands in front of Newkirk and looks at his face carefully.

"Freddie-"

Her anger comes out as she growls, "Did I ask you to talk? No, I did not!" He clams up and returns to attention. Next, she moves in front of Schraider and examines his face as well. She steps back and paces slowly in front of them.

She fires her first question. "I'm with the Royal Air Force, right?"

"No," answers Schraider. "You're uniform's green."

Newkirk chips in his answer. "That depends. Yes, if you're goin' by your cover story, and no if you're name is on a missing airman list. You're in the British Auxilliary Territorial Services, but you were picked up by the British Army, and are now with the SOE. That's why you're uniform's still green."

"Where was I born and when?" she stoically demands.

"Munich, 14 September, 1922," answers Schraider. Newkirk is only a split second behind with his answer.

"Stuttgart, 14 September, 1922." Freddie now knows beyond a doubt which is the real Englishman. She continues to pace as she asks one more question.

"Have I ever been France?" Not knowing the right answer, Schraider lets Newkirk answer first.

"Yes. You didn't stay long, you were passin' through on your assignment."

Schraider says, "You were just passin' through."

She walks back in front of Newkirk again and checks his eyes again. They look clear and inviting. Then she steps in front of Schraider and examines him the same way. They still look hazy and cloudy like they did earlier.

Moving back in front of the real Newkirk, she orders, "Keep your head straight. Turn your eyes as far to the right as possible." He does so and she looks carefully. She orders the imposter to do the same.

She steps back and barks, "Uh-bout... face!" Both men turn and face the wall, awaiting further commands. "Eyes... left!" Both of their heads jerk left with perfect military precision.

Freddie says slowly, "Neither one of you bastards move." She stands close behind Newkirk, making sure he knows she's there. She does the same to Schraider, then steps back. Like lightning, Freddie reaches around from the right and grabs a hold of his jaw. She pulls his head violently around to the right, snapping his neck and killing him instantly. The Heroes all jump as Schraider's lifeless body slumps to the floor, all of them fearing that she killed the wrong man. Newkirk looks at what she's just done and backs away from her, leaning up against the wall in fear. She, too, looks at him.

"Oh, my God," mutters Hogan. "Are you-"

"Relax, sir," she says with a sigh. "He was the imposter."

"How could you tell? You may have killed the wrong one!" screams LeBeau.

"No. I'm certain." She looks at Newkirk and says, "I was born in Stuttgart, not Munich. London knows that, too, but when I was captured, I gave Munich as my place birth." She wipes her brow and says, "Pick him up and lay him on the table. I'll show you something else I found. If my theory is right, I should have said something earlier and we could have avoided this whole mess." LeBeau, Carter, and Kinch pick Schraider up and lay him out on the work table. Newkirk, still in shock, slowly creeps over.

"I'll try to make this as simple as possible," she says. "Now, Peter's eyes are greyish-green. Correct?" The men nod in agreement. "It's an unusual color, therefore it's a genetic fluke. Since it doesn't happen very often, it's practically impossible to duplicate by scientific means."

"So, what are you saying?" asks Hogan.

"Obviously, whoever altered this man's appearance couldn't change his eye color by using medicine. He couldn't just pop a pill and suddenly have grey-green eyes. So, the best alternative-" She opens one of the dead man's eyes and slides the contact off. The Heroes gasp in amazment. "-is to use contact lenses."

"Mon Dieu!" says LeBeau. "How could you tell?"

"Well," continues Freddie, "I asked this man yesterday if he felt alright because I noticed his eyes were hazy." She looks over her shoulder at Newkirk. "If Peter's not feeling well, the green in his eyes gets darker, not lighter. That was my first clue that something wasn't right. I also noticed the almost invisible edge of the lens."

"But, if it's almost invisible," asks Carter, "how could you see it?"

"Have you ever had a stray hair stuck on your eye before?" she asks.

"Yeah. It's very uncomfortable."

Freddie smiles. "That's how I could see it. The edge looked like a hair stuck on his eye. And if a hair on your eye so uncomfortable, why didn't he try to remove it?"

"That's incredible!" says Carter. "I never would have thought of that!"

Hogan is still mad that someone tried to plant someone in his outfit. "Way to use your head, Freddie. Good work. But it still doesn't answer how this guy right got here or who put him here."

"That's what I've been tryin' to tell you," says Newkirk. The Heroes turn and face him. "This mornin', Carter came over to the motorpool to get me so we could work on the fence. I needed something from the tool shed, so walked over there. Then, all of the sudden, the lights went out, and when I came to, I was in the back of a staff car takin' a free ride to Stalag 9."

"So, whoever did the switch," says Hogan, "had to be watching your every move. Then when you left for the shed, they nabbed you and slipped the imposter in."

"Damn," says Kinchloe. "Who would do something like that?" Newkirk tries to explain as he takes off the uniform.

"The guard that helped me escape said that General Riker is responsible for all this. He read in Freddie's file that she was a native German, so he committed himself to winning her back to their side." Freddie, who's listening closely, goes numb with confusion. "He must have found out that Freddie and I are... romantically involved and decided to use me as the means to win her back."

It's all starting to make some sense to Freddie. "No wonder you, I mean 'he', kept talking about jumping sides. He told me that we were fighting a losing battle against the Germans and we should both be fighting for them."

"Freddie," says Newkirk as he tosses the uniform aside, "after all the Nazis have done to you, I'd never, ever suggest such a thing. Even as a joke."

"I know that," she says. "At least, I think I know." Newkirk can see that her eyes are filling with more confusion and doubt. She withdraws from the group and heads towards a tunnel.

"Freddie?"

"Please. I just... need some time to think. And be alone." Hogan and his men look at one another without saying a word.

"My God," whimpers Newkirk. "What did he do to her?"

"That bastard must have done a number on her brain," says Carter, still a little angry. "Imagine that. Using love as a means of warfare." He looks at Schraider's body and says in an uncharacteristically low register, "It's enough to make you puke."

"Carter," says a smirking Newkirk, "that's probably the most intelligent thing I've ever heard you say."

After carefully disposing of Schraider's body in the nearby woods, Hogan and his men regroup in the tunnel for an impromptu debriefing. It's decided that Newkirk will pretend to be Schraider until Hogan figures out when to spring the trap on the High Command.

The men look relieved to have the real Newkirk back, but they're still concerned for Freddie. Hogan advises that everyone try to stay away from her for a while, just to give her some space and the time to think things out for herself. Newkirk, however, wants to be with her.

Once he's cleaned the burnt cork off his face, Newkirk shaves his beard off. Then he wanders around the tunnel system to find Freddie, eventually finding her counting supplies in the dynamite room.

"Hi," he says carefully. She turns towards him and tries to smile.

"Hello."

"I know you wanted to be alone, but... I wanted to see you."

"That's alright," she says, setting down the clipboard. "I kind of wanted to see you, too. I just needed some time alone."

"You don't have to explain, darlin'. You needed time to get your head straight." She says nothing as he slowly walks further in the room and sits on a crate. "Must have been quite a shock for you. Seein' two of me and all that."

"Well, it wasn't easy. But then again, what is?" There's a brief moment of silence before Newkirk speaks. He looks down at his feet.

"Darlin', I feel so guilty right now."

"Why? You didn't do anything. You're a victim, too. Probably more than I am."

"Yeah, but the 'other' me hurt you." He sadly lifts his eyes to look at her face. "And I wouldn't be the least bit angry if you left me because of him. LeBeau told me what happened." He puts both hands on top of his head and sighs.

"Peter," she says, "I'm not leaving you. I had no idea that you were kidnapped. Nobody had a clue. He fooled all of us. How do you think I feel? I wasn't there to stop it from happening to you. Darling, please. Don't be so hard on yourself."

"Yeah, but I feel like I let you down," he says sadly. His eyes slowly fill with tears, making him turn away from her. Freddie goes to him and sets her hand on his shoulder, her heart aching for him.

"You have never let me down." She strokes his chin and says, "What's done is done. The most important thing to me is that you came back safely." She tugs on his hands and makes him stand up.

"So what," Freddie continues. "You weren't there for me last week, but you're here with me right now. And I'm here with you." Newkirk's heart spills over with emotion, his jewel-like eyes sprinkling tears on his cheeks. He is both overjoyed and sad at the same time. "Alright?"

"Oh, Freddie," he says as he embraces her. "I was so scared without you. I was afraid that I'd never see you again. I didn't know what was happenin'. All I knew was that I was missin' you." As they hold one another, she can feel his torso shake against hers as he softly whimpers on her shoulder.

"Shhh, Peter. Don't cry," she pleads gently, a knot forming in her throat.

"I'm sorry," he says as he tries to stop. "I can't help it."

"No, I mean it. Don't cry. If I hear you do it, then I'll start." Newkirk laughs a little, then backs away so he's nose to nose with her.

"I guarantee it will make you feel better," he says, kissing her fingers as she wipes his tears.

"I know it does," she says, "but I better keep it inside. It may come in handy someday." Freddie can't help but be pulled into his beautiful gaze.

"Pain never comes in handy," he says. "It only makes you feel alot worse." She smiles at him.

"It makes me strong." Newkirk carefully pulls her closer, his lips just bearly touching hers.

"Let me be strong for you. Let me carry your worries and your troubles for a while." Freddie's smile slowly fades as she gets lost in his devoted look. He reaches up to touch her face, brushing some of her blonde waves off of her cheeks. "Your heart is heavy with grief. Share your burden with me." Her hands squeeze his arms lightly as she tries not to give in to her emotions.

"Please," she begs, "I mustn't."

"Darlin'-"

"No. I'm... I'm German. I'm stronger than this. At least, that's what that other chap said." Newkirk rests his wrists on her shoulders as his warm fingers caress her jaw.

"Yes, you are strong. You're the strongest girl I know. But bein' German doesn't negate you from bein' human." Her eyes begin to well up as his kind words sink in. "Darlin', I'm beggin' you. Let go of the pain. I can see in your eyes that it's killin' you."

Still, she resists. "No."

"Darlin', please."

"If I start crying," she explains, "it'll look like I can't handle it. It'll show that I'm weak-" Newkirk takes her face in his hands and looks her dead in the eye.

"No. It'll show that you're strong. You may not believe it, but I do." He tries to draw a parallel between her past and the present. "When your mum died, you wept. You were cryin' because you had lost someone dear to you. But what you didn't know was that you were showin' the world just how much you loved her. You loved her so much that you cried when she was taken from you. Love is so strong that it will make you cry."

Freddie tries to hide her eyes from Newkirk, but he doesn't let her look away from him.

"And love," he concludes, "is power." Freddie closes her eyes as a single tear drips down her cheek. At last, everything makes sense.

"You're right," she whispers. "You are so right." He brings her into his chest, letting her head rest on his shoulder. His arms circle around her and hold her tight as she lets her ill feelings go. As he holds her, Newkirk feels her pain and anguish slowly seep into his body, bringing tears to his eyes once again. Her sobs get progressively harder, but not loud enough that anyone else can hear.

"Das war's, mein liebling (That's it, darling)," he coos in German. "Heraus damit (Out with it)." He strokes her hair and kisses the top of her head while a few tears run down his cheeks. "Ich kann es nicht ertragen, du leiden zu sehen (I hate seeing you in pain)." Freddie raises her head and looks at his tear-stained face. Her mouth breaks into a small smile as she kisses his lips tenderly.

"Ihre Deutsch ist gut, aber Ihre Akzent ist schrecklich."

He grins. "What did you say?"

"I said," she giggles, "that your German was good, but your accent was awful." He smiles and laughs at her good-natured dig. They gently wipe each other's tears as they look deep into one another.

"Really?"

"Yeah," she giggles. "But you're just learning."

"Well, maybe I better speak to you in French." He lowers his mouth to hers, his lips parted slightly. Freddie raises her lips to meet his.

"Oo, la la," she says breathlessly. Their lips meet in a delicate clinch, pulling and pressing against each other. Newkirk wets her upper lip with his tongue just before he gives her a gentle, but deep, kiss. Freddie hooks her hands around his shoulders and holds him as close as she can. He momentarily leaves her mouth so that he can lovingly bite at her neck.

"Darlin', tell me how to undo what that bastard has done. Tell me how I can make everything right for you again."

"Just hold me," she says. "That's all I want you to do right now. Just hold me." Newkirk smiles as he looks deep into her eyes.

"I'll keep as close as I can without burnin' m'self." Freddie pulls him down to her mouth again, kissing his supple lips. Her hands run over the full course of his back, finally coming to rest around his waist. She inhales deeply, drawing in the smell of the night air from his clothes. She is also tantalized by the sweet smell of his stale aftershave lotion, making him even more irresistable.

"You're definately the real Peter Newkirk," she says with a smile. "The other one wouldn't let me touch him. It was like he was repulsed by me or something."

"He was obviously insane if he thought you were repulsive." His hands slowly work their way up from her hips to the middle of her back, rubbing her gently. "How could he resist you? How could he not want you?" He sighs as he concludes, "But I'm happy he stayed away from you."

"Me too," says Freddie. "I would have been physically sick if I ever found out that I had made love to someone pretending to be you." Newkirk smiles as he hugs her again.

"Tomorrow, love," he says, "we're goin' outside the fence. Just you and me. We'll find a quiet spot where no one will find us." He backs away and kisses her lightly on the lips. "I wanna help you forget everything that's happened."

"Well, what about you?" she asks. "You didn't exactly go on holiday."

"Nevermind about me," he says with a wink. "I'll be spendin' some time with a beautiful lady."

"Peter," she says, "whenever I'm with you, the world disappears." She flips some of the hair off of his forehead. "Nobody else exists. A surreal calm envelopes me and I'm floating weightless in a peace the likes of which will never be known by those who keep us prisoner."

Newkirk smiles. "Those Nazi bastards don't know what they're missin'."

The following day, Newkirk and Freddie sneak out of the tunnel and head deep into the surrounding woods. They paw their way through the heavy brush until they find a small clearing that's protected by beautiful evergreen trees.

After lunching on a few goodies LeBeau packed for them, they stretch out in the warm spring sun. Newkirk leans back against a fallen tree and pulls Freddie into his arms. He kisses the top of her head as she rests against him.

"Now," he says with a small twinkle in his eye, "comes my favorite part of the meal."

"What's that?" she asks.

"Dessert." He cranes down and kisses her on the lips. "Mmmm. Can I have seconds?"

"Only if you share." Freddie wraps one arm around his neck and brings his mouth closer. Newkirk smiles and makes a small, playful growl sound as they smooch. Her lips separate just a bit, beckoning him to do the same. The kiss grows a little more passionate, simmering just below a rolling boil. When they stop, he looks down at her and gently leans forward so she can sit up again. He takes off his jacket, followed by his sweater, and tosses them aside, leaving his undershirt on. He reclines again and retrieves Freddie.

"Sorry, love," apologizes Newkirk, "but I always get warm after I eat."

"Your nose is growing, Pinocchio," Freddie says with a laugh. "You're hoping I take off my shirt, too."

"I'd never suggest such a thing," he jokes. He gives her a gentle squeeze and says, "I'm really quite warm. And you'd get warm, too, if you kissed a girl whose lips taste like lucious strawberries."

Freddie smiles and continues to badger him. "Peter, we just ate strawberries."

Newkirk puts on his mock angry face and says, "You're goin' to shoot down any attempt I make at bein' romantic, aren't you." She rolls over onto her side and strokes his chest.

"Of course. That's what I'm supposed to do. You make a move, I shoot you down. Then you get frustrated and I laugh at you."

"Hardly sounds fair."

"All's fair in love and war. And you and I are right smack-dab in the middle of both." Freddie leans in and gingerly kisses the exposed skin on his chest, making him smile.

"So, are we on the winnin' side? Or are we losin'?" he asks. She ponders for a moment.

"I'd say we're winning." Freddie stretches up and kisses his mouth slowly, savoring the silky texture of his lips. Newkirk hums softly as her kisses grow more intense. "Mmmm," she says. "You know, you do taste like the strawberry wine that my uncle used to make." He smirks and holds her close to him.

"It's because we just ate strawberries," he teases. He leaves one smoldering kiss on her lips before he asks, "Freddie, would you have ever left me 'cause of that faker? Tell me truly. I promise I won't get mad."

Freddie props herself up onto one elbow and caresses his face and chest. "I'll level with you, Peter. I was thinking about it. But LeBeau told me not to act in haste, so I waited." Her fingers lightly skip across his mouth. "My head was screaming for me to leave you, but my heart wouldn't do it. I guess it knew before I did that something wasn't right. I'm so thankful I didn't act on impulse because I would have lost the real you, and if that ever happened, I don't think I could go on living." Newkirk's heart begins to ache as she tells the truth. "I just hope you don't... hate me for even considering it."

"No, angel," he says lazily, "I'm not angry with you. You were in the center of the whole charade. You couldn't have known." He holds her hand over his heart. "My only regret is that I didn't get my licks in before you killed him."

Freddie smiles. "Sorry. I couldn't stand looking at him anymore." Newkirk's eyes grow wider.

"Now, hang on a minute. He looked just like me!"

"Only on the outside," she says. "But on the inside, he was black as night and as unforgiving as a Russian winter. You, on the other hand, are none of those things. You're warm, sensitive, full of life. You're everything I've ever hoped a love to be."

"I am?"

Freddie smiles softly and whispers, "Yes." Newkirk gracefully touches her face as he brings her in for a kiss. They start out slow, tasting one another deeply, but neither of them could stop the intense craving for each other. Slowly and carefully, he rolls her onto her back, pressing his body against hers as he continues to kiss her madly. Her fingertips gently dig into his back as they skid towards his tight backside. Suddenly, something rustles in the surrounding brush. Newkirk rolls off of Freddie and pulls a revolver from his coat.

"Stay here," he says. He quietly rises to his feet and heads slowly for the bushes. Freddie pulls a small knife from her boot and secures the clearing. She hears more rustling and then Newkirk's booming voice.

"Don't move!" he yells. Freddie hears him struggling with someone, or something, for a brief moment. Then she hears another voice ring out in pain that she doesn't recognize.

"Peter?" she asks. "Are you alright? Say something." She can see him making his way out of the bushes and pulling someone along with him. All she can see is a uniform, so she figures it's a guard who has lost his way. Her jaw drops open when she realizes that Newkirk has found a boy, no older than 14. The young man puts both hands on top of his head as a sign of surrender.

"Come on out, you," orders Newkirk. "What were ya doin' in there?" The boy begins to shake with fright and looks to Freddie for help. He's weary, filthy, and obviously doesn't understand what's going on, much less what Newkirk is saying. Fear paralyzes him and he can't utter a single noise.

"My God," she says as she puts her knife back in her boot. "Take it easy with him, Peter. He's scared." Looking at his slightly over-sized uniform, she says, "He must be a Hitler Youth." She looks the boy in the face and asks, "Hitlerjugend?" He replies with a slow affirming nod.

Freddie slowly moves closer to him and holds out her hands. "Keine Angst. Wir meine es nicht bose mit du (Don't be afraid. We won't hurt you)." He is still shaking. Freddie gently touches the boy's dirty hands, smiles warmly, and says, "Setzen Irhe Hande unten (Put your hands down)."

"Lassen Sie mich leben, bitte (Please don't kill me)!" the boy blubbers.

"Bleib ruhig. Du bist okay (Keep calm. You're alright)." The boy looks around and sees that Newkirk and Freddie are the only people in the area. He slowly lowers his hands. Freddie seems to have gained a little of the young boy's trust by speaking to him softly in German. "Bist du Hunger haben (Are you hungry)?"

The boy is slow to answer. "Ja." She takes his hand and leads him over to where she and Newkirk were sitting. She gives him a few slices of bread and cuts off a nice, thick slice of salt-cured meat. He takes the food thankfully and begins devouring it.

"Immer mit der Ruhe. Keiner werden stehlen (Don't rush. No one's going to steal it)." Freddie hands him her canteen and he takes it, gulping a few large swallows of water. "Wie ist Ihr Name (What's your name)?"

The boy wipes his mouth on his coat sleeve and swallows the food in his mouth. "Lenhardt," he replies.

"Mein Name ist Fredricha, und das ist Peter (I'm Fredricha, and this is Peter)." The boy looks curiously at Freddie's uniform.

"Du bist Englander (You're English)?"

Freddie smiles as she hands him some more rations. "Nein, Ich bin Deutscher. Peter ist Englander (No, I'm German. Peter's English)."

Newkirk steps away from the boy and puts his revolver back in his coat. He watches as Freddie calms the young soldier down. He shakes his head disapprovingly at the thought of using young boys as fighting men.

"I can't believe how barbaric the Nazis are," he says to himself. "He's only a boy, for God's sake! Is their army so despirate for manpower that they'll sacrifice their own children?" He puts his sweater back on just as Freddie slowly walks over towards him.

"Poor lad," she says. "He said he hasn't eaten for two days."

"Is he alright?" he asks.

"I think so. Probably been wandering around the woods, trying to find his unit." She looks back at the young man. "He's inhaling our leftover rations like he's never eaten before." Newkirk throws a glance over at the boy.

"They don't really use young boys in the army... do they?"

Freddie sighs. "Unfortunately, they do. As soon as the Hitler Youth boys turn 14, they're given basic army training. Hand-to-hand, rifles, mortars, everything. Once they've completed that, they're assigned to a unit and expected to behave like a soldier. Many of them are hardened veterans by the time their voices change. Some of them even get assigned to units on the Russian Front." This turns Newkirk's stomach.

"That's bloody criminal!"

"I know. And the saddest part of all is that the boys are usually the first ones to die, simply because they panic. If they turn and run, they're shot by their commanders under the military's article of desertion. If they don't leave their posts, they die a hero's death. Either way, they're doomed."

Newkirk's face begins to get red with anger. "This has gotta stop." He looks over Freddie's shoulder at Lenhardt, who is still eating. "Freddie, we gotta do something. We can't let 'em go back. He'll get killed!"

Freddie smirks. "You've been reading my mind again, haven't you." The Englanders go back over with the boy. He stops momentarily to watch them sit beside him.

"Tell him," suggests Newkirk, "that we wanna help him." Freddie nods affirmingly.

"Lenhardt, Wir wunsch hilfe du (We wish to help you)."

"Hilfe mir? Aber Ich bin Ihr Kriegsgefangene (Help me? But I'm your prisoner)."

"Nein," she reassures. "Du bist nicht. Du bist ein Kind, ein Soldat nicht (No, you're not. You are a child, not a soldier)."

"Aber-"

"Kinde solltest ist beim Speilen und lachend, Kampf nicht. Das geht ihr nichts an (Children should be playing and laughing, not fighting. That's none of their business)." Freddie brushes some of Lenhardt's blond bangs from his forehead. "Wohin gehst Ihr Eltern (Where are your parents)?" she asks. Young Lenhardt stops eating for a moment and looks sullen.

"Ich wissen nicht. Ich haben nicht sehen sie."

"What did he say?" asks Newkirk.

"I asked him if he's seen his parents, and he said he hasn't. He doen't know where they are."

Newkirk rubs his chin. "Ask him where he lives."

"Right. Lenhardt, wo kommen Sie her?"

"Munchen." Freddie looks up at Newkirk.

"He says he's from Munich. Don't we have contacts there?"

"Yeah," he says. "I'm thinkin' the same thing you are. We could pass him along through the Underground, but I don't know if Colonel Hogan will go for it." He stops pacing and looks at the boy. "If he says no, I'll take the blame and get him to Munich m'self. I'm not gonna let this young fella die."

"Neither will I," Freddie says with a grin. She stands up and gathers up their things, then turns to Lenhardt and says, "Kommen mit wir (Come with us)."

"Wollen Sie (Where)?"

"Zuruckgehen Kriegsgefanenenlager (Back to camp)." The boy's eyes light up with a renewed sense of fear.

"Ihre beide Kriegsgefangene (You're both POW's)?"

"Ja."

"Ihr haben ausbrechen (You've escaped)?"

"Ja, so ungefahr (Well, sort of)," continues Freddie, "aber wir zuruckgehen (but we always go back)."

Lenhardt doesn't understand why the two escapees want to return to their prison camp. "Ihre werden zuruckgehen? Ihre verruckt (You want to go back? You're crazy)!"

Freddie smiles warmly. "Das mag sein (Perhaps)." Newkirk takes the small picnic basket and waits for his lady love and Lenhardt to come along.

Once the three of them have safely entered the tunnel, Freddie makes a small bed for Lenhardt and gets him a little more to eat.

His young eyes never stopped moving. He is facsinated by all the gadgets and conveniences, not to mention the tunnel system itself. Newkirk, in the meantime, goes upstairs to bring Hogan down.

"Hier (Here)," says Freddie, handing Lenhardt a cup of coffee. "Er solltest du warm (It should warm you)."

"Danke." He drinks the warm liquid slowly as he continues to look around. "Wie ist das Platz (What is this place)?"

"Ein Stollen (A tunnel)." Lenhardt stops drinking and looks confused.

"Wo ist der Kriegsgefangenlager (Where's the camp)?"

"Wir sind darunter (We're under it)."

His eyes light up again. "Darunter (Under it)?" He walks around and presses up against a support pillar, feeling the sturdy construction. "Mann. Das ist erstaunlich (Wow. This is amazing)!" Freddie smiles as the boy marvels at the prisoners handywork. She walks over to him and sits him down for a serious talk.

"Zuhoren. Wir sind mit Untergrundbewegung. Wir sind anstrengend freilassen Deutschland von Tyrannei. Du darf sagen nicht uber uns das niemand. Verstehen (Listen. We are with the Underground. We are trying to free Germany from tyrrany. You mustn't say a word about us to anyone. Understand)?"

"Ja. Meine Lippen sind versiegelt (Yes. My lips are sealed)." Freddie grins warmly and puts a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

"Das ist lieb (Good boy)." Lenhardt smiles a little and continues to drink his coffee. By now, Newkirk has returned and shows Hogan their unexpected guest. The colonel's mouth drops open with shock.

"Who the hell is he?"

"His name's Lenhardt, approximately 14 years of age, from Munich. We heard him wanderin' in the woods, sir," Newkirk explains. Lenhardt's face is awash with a renewed sense of fear. He can tell that Hogan is an officer just by looking at him. The boy stands up slowly as Hogan stands in front of him.

"Colonel," interupts Freddie, "we couldn't leave him in the woods all alone. He'd never make it through another night." Hogan draws in a long breath and sighs.

"We can't keep him. You know that."

"I know that, sir," says Freddie. "We brought him back here so we could send him home."

"Freddie," says Hogan, slightly angered, "don't you realize that this kid could blow the whistle on our whole operation? If he gets away, he'll squeal to the Krauts." He looks at her and suddenly comes to the realization that he's insulted her as well. "Sorry."

"Sir," Newkirk breaks in, "he's only a boy. I, for one, am not gonna let 'em go back and get killed. He's too young to see this sort of rubbish." Hogan looks at Newkirk and can't believe he has suddenly developed a soft spot for a German soldier. To Hogan, Lenhardt is a man, a soldier simply because he is wearing a uniform. Age makes no difference to him.

"Newkirk, he may be a boy, but he's the enemy's boy." Hogan paces slowly over to a chair at a work bench. He sits and contemplates the situation. "Did you two ever stop to think that maybe he's being used as a plant? To get information out of us?"

Freddie and Newkirk give each other a quick glance, then look down at the floor.

"No, sir," answers Freddie, standing up straight and ready to take the blame. The colonel is still disturbed by Lenhardt's presence.

"The two of you may have blown our cover and compromised our identities."

"Colonel," she says, "he only knows our first names. He doesn't know anyone else." Freddie's becoming more and more aggitated at Hogan's icy treatment. "I don't think either Peter or myself would be foolish enough to divulge secrets to anyone, especially to a young boy who wouldn't understand them, much less be in uniform. Sir, with all due respect, you have absolutely no compassion for the delicate nature of this situation." Newkirk steps back from Freddie, fearing that Hogan will spit fire at her. No one has ever stood up to him like that before. Hogan isn't too happy with her at the moment, but he's impressed that she's not backing down either.

"Sergeant," says Hogan, "I don't see an innocent boy sitting here, I see a spy. I don't trust him because he's got a swastika on his chest. You, of all people, should understand that."

"Yes, sir. I do understand. But I also know what it's like to be stranded so far from home and scared for your life." Freddie looks at Lenhardt with concern. "Did you ever stop to think that maybe he didn't want anything to do with this war? He had no choice; the government forced him into the HJ. Yeah, he's wearing a swastika, but for Christ's sake, Colonel, he's only a boy!"

"I think that imposter got inside your head. Are you going soft on the Nazis now? Are you going to switch sides?"

"Absolutely not!" shouts Freddie angrily. "Colonel, I don't expect you to get this, but I'll say it anyway. When I decided to join the Underground, I knew that France wasn't the only country in need of liberation. England, Poland, Czechoslovakia, and any villiage in between needed to be saved. And more importantly for me, Germany." Freddie slowly walks over to Lenhardt and takes his chin gently in her hand. "My people, especially the children, need to be free. And I intend to see that they are all free."

Newkirk stands in awe of her strong and direct statement. Her words stirred within him a new understanding of why they are there. Hogan is equally impressed by her fortitude. He stands up and slowly walks over in front of her, staring at her with a softer gaze.

"You really feel strongly about this, don't you," says Hogan. "This boy has convinced you that you should help him, huh?"

"Yes, sir. I never want to see a young boy like Lenhardt mauled by the horrors of conflict." She looks at him and says, "Sich ein Ruhe. Du bist in Sicherheit gerade (Get some rest. You're safe now)." Lenhardt says nothing as he moves to obey. He goes over to the little bed in the corner, takes off his jacket, and lies down.

"I try, Colonel," Freddie continues, "not to fall into the vacuum of hate that Hitler created. It's so hard not to. But think for just a moment. The Nazis raped Europe and claimed it as their own. They killed innocent people to get it. But when the Allies stood up to the Reich, with all the battle lines drawn and war erupting inevitably, wasn't our killing of the enemy just hate with a different face?"

Hogan lowers his eyes from hers, looking at his feet. When his gaze turns to her eyes again, he says, "'Retaliation' makes it sound justifiable, doesn't it?" He pats her on the shoulder and says, "But you're right, Fred. That's really all it is." He glances over at Lenhardt, who is still watching what's going on. "Can your friend speak any English?"

"I don't know, sir," Freddie says. "I'll ask him. Lenhardt, konnen Sie Englisch?" The boy gets up and walks over to Freddie, putting both hands on top of his head like he did when Newkirk found him.

"Surrender, friend." Freddie smiles and turns back to Hogan.

"I guess that's all he knows, Colonel." Hogan rubs his chin and paces briefly.

"Alright. Tell you what I'll do. I'll have Kinch get in touch with our operatives in Munich tomorrow. We'll work something out." Freddie and Newkirk smile happily.

"Thank you, sir," says Newkirk. He almost forgets about Bohrman's girl. "Sir, if you could, could you pass a name alone to London for me?"

"Sure," says Hogan. "What's the name?"

"Her name's Maria. She's a prisoner at Dachau. She was supposed to marry a chap named Bohrman, the fella who helped me out of Stalag 9. I told him that I'd try and see if I could get her out if he helped me, and I'm not gonna back out on a promise."

"I'll do that. No guarantees they can help her, but I'll send it along."

"Thank you."

Two weeks pass, and things at Stalag 13 are starting to return to normal. The spring thaw has begun, and Mother Nature paints the Westphalian countryside in the most brilliant spring colors.

As promised, Hogan helped young Lenhardt return to Munich, much to the delight of his grateful parents.

Everyone receives mail this week, even Freddie. She's visiting the boys in barracks #2 when Schultz comes around for mail call.

"Mail?" she says. "For me?"

Newkirk asks, "Who's it from, love?"

She looks at the return address and smiles. "It's from Lenhardt." Newkirk sits next to her at the table as she reads it to him.

"'Dear Freddie, how are you? I am well despite my broken arm.' Poor kid."

"How'd that happen?" asks Newkirk. Freddie reads on.

"He says that he broke it while wrestling at a Hitler Youth encampment. Wow, listen to this. 'I wanted it broken, so I let my friend Kurt do it. He pinned it behind my back and snapped it in half.'"

Newkirk wrinkles his nose in confussion. "What on earth would make a boy purposely brake his arm?"

"Beats me." She reads on. "Oh, wait. He explains it. 'I got to thinking about what you said, and I decided that I didn't want to be in the Hitler Youth anymore. The only way I could go home was if I was medically dismissed.'" Freddie laughs. "Now that's using your head, huh?"

Newkirk laughs along with her. "Smashin'." She continues to read ahead in the letter. "What else does he say, love?"

"He says that he and his parents are going into hiding. 'Don't worry,' he says, 'It won't be for very long. We're leaving for England this weekend, but hope to be back by Christmas time, next year.'" She reads on. "He also says that when the war is over, he plans on becoming a teacher. He says he wants to help correct the wrong that was done to his generation."

He puts his arm around her shoulder and says, "You saved a good boy, Freddie. I'm proud of you." She smiles as she reads on.

"'Please tell your friend Peter that I say hello.' Signed, Ihre Freund, or 'your friend', Lenhardt. Isn't that sweet?"

"He's quite an amazin' kid," Newkirk says with a smile.

"Yeah. He sure is." Freddie puts the letter back in the envelope and says, "Alright. I shared my mail with you. Now who's your letter from?" He looks at the name on the envelope.

"Bohrman. Hey, I wonder if they found his girlfriend." He opens the letter and reads it silently to himself. Freddie watches his face as it droops lower and lower with sadness.

"What is it?" she asks. Newkirk looks back at her sadly, then back down to the letter.

"His girl's dead. He says the Underground contacted him and arranged for him to go to Dachau. By the time he got there, she had been dead for two days." He folds the letter up and puts it back in the envelope. "He wanted to tell me incase I was wonderin' about him and that he appreciated my help in finding her anyway."

"Peter," she says, putting her arm around him, "I'm so sorry. I know you were hoping that he got there in time."

He sighs. "Yeah. If he had only got there a day or so earlier, he might have saved her." He sets his hand on hers, kissing her fingertips. "It's terribly ironic, isn't it? You got a letter of great inspiration and hope from someone you helped. I got one from someone I tried to help, and it's filled with sad news."

"Darling, don't blame yourself," she says softly. "You did everything you could to help him."

Newkirk turns to her and asks, "Do you really think so?"

"Yes." She looks around them and motions for him to follow her. They both go leave his barracks and walk over to Freddie's hut.

"You exercised every available option that was open to you," she says as they go inside. "You made good on your promise to him. Unfortunately, the desired result just wasn't meant to happen."

"But why? Why couldn't he have found her in time?" Newkirk sits down at the table, with his head in his hands, and feeling very depressed.

Freddie, sitting down beside him, almost whispers in his ear. "Only God knows," she says. "Only God knows." She kisses his cheek as he hangs his head in sorrow.

"It's not fair, Freddie."

"I know it's not, love. War isn't fair. It takes the good away from people and replaces it with heartache and misery." He shakes his head in comprehension as she continues to rub his back. "Sweetheart, nobody is going to hate you because someone that you tried to help lost a loved one. That wasn't your fault. You did everything you could to help them both. You tried to bring them together, but it just wasn't meant to be."

"I know," he says, "but I just wanted it to work out. He helped me get back to you, and I wanted to help him get back to his girl."

"Not everyone is going to have a happy ending when this war is over, Peter." Freddie rests her chin on his shoulder. "It's ok to feel bad for him, but don't hate yourself because of his misfortune." He sighs again, then looks at her. "I am very proud of you for helping him. You may not realize this right now, but this whole experience has made you a better person."

"What? How?"

"You saw Bohrman as a man who missed his girlfriend, not as a Nazi. You saw beyond his uniform and you saw him for what he is; another human being in love. You both found a common ground and were both willing to help each other out."

Newkirk looks at her like a student listening to a wise sage. The truth of her words begins to penetrate his brain, bringing a sense of calmness and peace to his heart.

"Yeah," he concedes with a small smile. "I guess I tried to do all I could." Freddie hugs him in reassurance.

"Yes," she says. "I know you did. The man I love wouldn't do something unless he gave it his all. Like coming back to me. If I know you as well as I think I do, you probably would have clawed and scratched your way out of Stalag 9 to get back here. And the only way you would have been able to do that is if you gave it everything you had."

"And as soon as I got back," he adds, "I'd be ready to give all of myself again... to you. No matter how tired or hurt I was." She looks at him silently for a moment, stroking his sideburns.

"And it's for that reason, Peter, why you're my hero."

He smiles. "I'm your hero?"

"Absolutely. You strive to do your best for the Resistance. You never accept anything less than perfection from yourself. There are times when you fall, but you get back up and try again. And when you aren't fighting for freedom, you allow me to see your gentle side. Peter, a hero is someone who can be as sensitive as they are fierce, but they know the right time when to be either one." Newkirk looks at her quietly and wonders.

"I've never been anybody's hero before," he says.

"Well, I think it's about time you were." A smile slowly climbs its way onto his face as his eyes find that certain peace within hers. "I love you so much, darling."

"I love you, too, angel." Freddie wraps her arms around him, resting her head on his shoulder. Newkirk rests his head on the top of hers. He sets his hand on her arm and says, "Forever and always."

The End
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FanFic
The Richard Dawson Experience

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Last UpDated: 23 February 2002.
Site Copyright © 2000-2002. Lisa Inc., All Rights Reserved.
Story Copyright © 2001. Rhonda "StuntChick36" Inc., All Rights Reserved.

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