Hogan looked at Newkirk, with a sigh. "Come on," he said. "You're right, that we should do this before the Germans find her."

"It's not even that, Colonel," Newkirk said. "We need to do this because she would still be alive right now, if we 'adn't bombed that bridge."

Hogan said nothing.

A few minutes later, they were climbing out of the tunnel stump. Newkirk carried a shovel, and Hogan a gun, with his other hand wrapped around Newkirk's arm, knowing that the corporal wouldn't hear the possible approach of danger until it was too late.

It seemed to take forever to reach the bridge again, but when they did, Newkirk led Hogan to the site. He dropped the shovel and wordlessly knelt by the body.

Hogan did the same, and together, they paid their respects to the child whose life had ended too soon.

Finally, the colonel stood, walked to a nearby tree, and started to dig.

Newkirk barely heard the sound of the shovel. Eventually unable to look at the little girl anymore, he closed his eyes and waited for Hogan to finish.

The colonel came back a short time later, and knelt, to lift her, but Newkirk put out his hand to stop him. He slid his own arms under the small body—despite Hogan's protests about his injury—and stood, carrying her over to the hole that Hogan had dug. He knelt and gently placed her inside, before standing again, taking the shovel, and pushing the dirt back in, ignoring the pain that laced through his arm.

Hogan held back from taking the shovel away immediately, understanding that Newkirk wanted to have a hand in this. After a minute or two, he wordlessly took it from him, and finished the job.

The walk back to the Stalag was silent…neither of them knowing quite what to say. Hogan opened the stump and let Newkirk in first, before he climbed in himself and headed down the ladder. Once he stepped off, he looked at the Englishman, who was sitting on the bench, looking depressed. He walked over and sat beside him, taking Newkirk's injured arm and pushing up the sleeve, wanting to ensure that he hadn't injured it further.

Newkirk watched as Hogan removed the bandage. The five-inch-long slice looked angry and red, and he wondered what on earth had hit him when the bridge had exploded.

Hogan was relieved to see that the stitches were still holding. "You're lucky you didn't make it worse," he said, hopefully loud enough for the Englishman to hear.

Newkirk sighed, remembering the feel of the small, cold body within his arms. Suddenly, his eyes welled up and a tear escaped before he could stop it. He quickly wiped it away before Hogan could see it, but when he looked at the colonel, he saw that it was too late. Embarrassed, he looked away.

"There's no reason to be ashamed, Newkirk," Hogan said, as he rewrapped the corporal's arm. "Everyone cries."

"Not me, guv," Newkirk said, even though he knew that he was lying. He sighed and closed his eyes. "I'm actin' like Carter…'e's the emotional one."

You're more emotional than you'd ever admit, Hogan thought, thinking back to Newkirk's outbursts over particularly impossible tasks, and each time Newkirk had been worried about his 'mates' when they were late coming back from a mission…each time he'd been protective over his friends, putting himself in danger to ensure the other's safety... "What happened to you today is not something that only an overly-emotional person would react to, Newkirk," he said. "If I'd been in your shoes, I would feel the same way that you do."

Newkirk sighed and looked at the floor.

Hogan finished with the bandage and pulled Newkirk's sleeve back down. "I think it's time we headed to bed."

Newkirk looked back up. "What?"

Hogan realized that he'd forgotten to speak up. "Time for bed," he said, louder. "Roll call is in a few hours, and you need to rest."

Newkirk knew that to be true; his ears were still ringing, making his head throb. Wordlessly, he changed back into his RAF uniform and they went upstairs, where Newkirk sat on Carter's empty bunk.

"Try to get some sleep," Hogan said into his ear. "If you need me, you know where I am."

Newkirk nodded and lay down, still in his uniform, knowing that he'd be too tired in the morning to put it on. With a sigh, he flung his good arm over his eyes, wishing that the painful ringing through his head would stop so he could go to sleep…he only hoped that he wouldn't see the little girl in his dreams…

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Hello."

Newkirk blinked, shocked to find himself sitting on a boulder in the woods. The air seemed eerie, like there was some kind of supernatural tinge to it.

"Helllloooo!"

An image suddenly appeared directly before him, and Newkirk startled at the sight of a young girl, dressed in white, with an odd lighted outline to her body.

"I'm Abby!" she said. "What's your name?"

Newkirk's mouth opened and closed again, wordlessly.

The little girl giggled, and the sound seemed to bring Newkirk out of his speechlessness.

"It's you," he said, sounding shocked. "You're the girl who…who…"

"That's right! It's me!" she exclaimed, before doing a silly little spin, her white dress twirling around her. "I'm an angel now!"

Newkirk felt emotion trying to overpower him, and he swallowed convulsively. "I'm so sorry, luv," he said, before lowering his head. "It's my fault that ya…died."

Tiny hands suddenly touched his knees, and Newkirk reopened his eyes to see that she'd leaned forward, and was smiling. "I know! They let me come to say thank you!"

Newkirk blinked at that. "What?!" he exclaimed, the word suddenly reminding him that the explosion had rendered him temporarily deaf, and yet he could hear the little girl just fine.

"I'm home, now, with my mommy and daddy," she said. "They both died last week when something really big and loud hit our house."

A chill went down Newkirk's spine. Now he knew what the little girl was doing outside, alone, in the woods…

"I couldn't find anyone to help me. But it's okay now, because mommy and daddy are right there!"

Newkirk looked to where she was pointing, but couldn't see anything. Suddenly, a faint mist seemed to float by about five feet away, and when Newkirk instinctively blinked, it was gone.

Suddenly, the girl propelled herself into his arms. "They said that I have to go now."

Still in shock, it took Newkirk a few seconds before he realized that he was holding the little girl that they had accidentally killed, and that she was alive…or, at least, living in another world. Closing his eyes, he wrapped his arms around the small body and hugged as tightly as he could without hurting her.

She giggled, before pulling away. "Love you!" she exclaimed, before dashing away…and disappearing into thin air.

A hand suddenly touched his shoulder, and Newkirk jumped, eyes flying wide open. Blinking, he tried to catch his breath.

Hogan frowned, having not meant to startle him. "Are you okay?" he asked, realizing that the Englishman obviously hadn't heard any of the noise going on as everyone got ready for roll call.

Newkirk blinked at him, and was shocked to find that his face felt wet with tears. He quickly wiped them away with his right hand, before sitting up.

Hogan said nothing, not wanting to embarrass him. It was understandable for the terrible situation to affect Newkirk's dreams. "Can you hear any better?" he asked, deliberately speaking at a normal tone as a test.

Newkirk sighed. "What?" He asked, his head still pounding.

Hogan echoed the sigh. There was no point in repeating the question. "It's time for roll call."

Newkirk blinked, looking around the room as if expecting to see something unusual there, but not finding it.

Everyone filed outside, got counted, and pretended to listen to Klink's latest nonsense before going back inside.

Newkirk wasn't sure if he was lucky or not to avoid hearing most of Klink's rant…it was very strange, being hardly able to hear anything, though he was glad to see that the ringing had lessened a little. He headed towards Carter's bunk, intending to lie down again, but someone took hold of his good arm.

Turning, Newkirk saw that it was Hogan, who gestured towards his quarters.

Newkirk followed, knowing that the colonel probably wanted to check on his injuries. Obediently, he sat on the lower bunk and held out his arm.

Hogan sat beside him and unwrapped the bandage. The wound looked raw and painful, and the skin around it was starting to bruise. "How's it feel?" he loudly asked.

Newkirk shrugged, as if didn't bother him much.

Hogan didn't contradict him, knowing that the Englishman couldn't hear well enough to argue anyway. He started to rebandage the injury, when Newkirk suddenly spoke.

"Colonel?"

"Humm?"

Newkirk hesitated. "Do ya think Abby's in Heaven?"

Hogan looked at him. "Of course, a child that young doesn't truly know right from wrong." Suddenly, he stopped. "Abby?"

Newkirk nodded. "That's 'er name."

Hogan blinked. "And you found that out…how?"

"She told me." Newkirk blinked and suddenly looked up, realizing what he'd just said.

Hogan wondered if the bridge explosion had given Newkirk a concussion that he hadn't known about. "She told you?!"

Newkirk sighed. "I 'ad a dream last night…" his gaze shifted away, as he remembered.

Hogan patiently waited. "And?"

"What?"

"AND?!"

"Oh." Newkirk gave a sheepish expression, before telling him the dream.

Hogan said nothing as he listened.

"Now, I know what ya thinkin', sir," said Newkirk. "An' I agree with ya. I don't believe in ghosts." He hesitated. "But who doesn't believe in angels?"

Hogan had to agree with him there. Angels had to be watching over them each and every day, as they went about their dangerous missions.

"I know it was a dream," Newkirk continued. "But…everythin' she said made sense."

Hogan nodded. "It does make sense, and I'm glad that our little angel sent you that dream."

Newkirk looked up. "Ya believe that, Colonel? Ya think she really did?"

Hogan wasn't sure if he did or not, but who was he to burst Newkirk's bubble? The Englishman was a skeptic all the way, but this awful experience had rattled him to the core, and Hogan would agree with anything that would ease his conscience. "It sure looks that way."

"What?"

Hogan mentally shook his head. "I said, it looks that way."

Newkirk smiled slightly, and Hogan squeezed his shoulder before standing. "Come on, I don't know about you, but I'm starving!"

With a nod, the Englishman stood. After Hogan walked out the door, Newkirk looked up to the ceiling. "I 'ope I can meet ya up there someday, Abby," he whispered.

The words, 'you will' floated through his head, which he noticed wasn't ringing as badly. With a smile, he left the room.

Up in Heaven, Abby looked down at Newkirk, and smiled back.

THE END

*sniff sniff*

I'm sorry for the sad subject matter, but this made a pretty good story, if I do say so myself! (LOL!) If anyone thinks that Newkirk didn't act like Newkirk…try being him during this situation, and see how much you act like yourself! ;)