A/N: This is the first fan fiction story I've posted in a long time, and I wrote it just as a diversion from a longer, darker, more intense Adam-12/The Poseidon Adventure crossover story I'm also writing.

I'll try to post new chapters pretty regularly, but please don't get impatient if it takes awhile.
Please Read and Review! I'm always looking to improve my writing. :)

Luftwaffe Oberst Wilhelm Klink strode happily out of an apartment building while whistling (off key) the song "Lili Marlene," happy thoughts running through his head. He had had dinner with a young lady who had taken a fancy to him, and then they had spent the rest of the evening chatting. She had proved to be an excellent conversationalist, (along with an excellent kisser) and Klink had thoroughly enjoyed the evening.

Klink hurriedly crossed the snow-covered sidewalk to his car while trying not to freeze to death in the extremely cold temperature. He chuckled: They sure had been warm up in Irmina Freud's room. Still thinking happy thoughts, Klink opened the car door and slid into the icicle of a seat. As he reached out to shut the door, however, he stopped as he heard laughter drifting across the freezing wind. Looking out of his windshield, he noticed a group of several boys in the distance kicking at some object.

It's too small to be a ball, Klink thought, leaning forward and squinting through his monocle to try and make out what it was. Curious, Klink decided to drive a little closer.
As he pulled up where the boys were playing, he noticed one of them shout a warning to the others, and they quickly scattered as he exited the staff car and walked over. And then he saw it.

A tiny, fluffy orange-and-white kitten huddled against a wall. It can't be more than nine or ten weeks old, Klink decided, as he bent down to examine the shivering kitten. As he reached toward it, it stretched its nose toward him, and then raised its brilliant blue eyes to meet his. Klink caught his breath as he met the kitten's mesmerizing gaze. It's like it's looking through a window to the other side, Klink thought. Is it deciding whether I'm trustworthy? The kitten's eyes held no trace of fear, which was surprising considering the abuse it had endured before Klink came to its rescue.

Finally, the kitten broke the stare and, as Klink watched, crawled slowly toward him. Stopping next to Klink's foot, it sat down and curled its tail around itself for warmth. Slowly lifting its eyes up to meet Klink's for the second time, it slowly half-blinked and lay down close to Klink's foot.

Klink gently reached down and scooped up the kitten, holding it close to him to warm the kitten up, as it was still shivering. Without a second thought, Klink turned and headed back toward his car, still holding the kitten securely.

Meanwhile, back at Stalag 13, Hogan paced in front of the stove, holding a cup of now lukewarm coffee in his hands. Newkirk and Carter were engaging in a game of gin, with one box of cigarettes as the stakes. LeBeau was sitting next to Newkirk, watching, and Kinch was down in the tunnels by the radio. Carter was the first to break the silence.

"Gin."

Newkirk rolled his eyes as he threw down his cards.
"Cor. That's the fourth game in a row you've won tonight!"

Carter grinned as he reached for his prize. "You win some, you lose some."

Newkirk snorted. "That's original."

"It's not whether you win or lose that counts."

Newkirk rolled his eyes for the second time. "Yeah, well, have you 'eard: 'Better to keep silent and let people think you are a fool, than to open your mouth and remove all the doubt'?"

"Oh, look who's talk—"

"Colonel?" Kinch broke in, coming up the ladder with a slip of paper in his hand.

"Yeah, Kinch?" Hogan asked, taking a sip from the coffee cup, before frowning down at the cold coffee.

"Irmina Freud just radioed us. She got the information from Klink that we needed. She also mentioned something else," Kinch replied, glancing down at the paper he held.

"What's that?"

Kinch quirked the side of his mouth up in a slight smile. "I wrote it down. These are her exact words: 'Please do NOT send me to ever get information from Klink again. I would rather be tortured by the Gestapo. That man is worse than a bald octopus.'"

Newkirk choked on his coffee. Hogan chuckled.

"Message received. Tell her not to worry, she won't have to endure that torture anymore," Hogan said, wryly.

As Kinch turned to go back down into the tunnel, Olsen spoke up from his place at the door.

"Here comes our bald octopus now."

Schultz opened the car door for Klink and saluted as the Kommandant swept past him. Grumbling about the lack of thanks he received, Schultz climbed into the staff car and drove it back to the motor pool.

Klink was halfway into his office, kitten in tow, when he heard a familiar voice behind him.

"How was she, Colonel? Schultz told me you had a hot date tonight. Was she really that gorgeous?" Hogan asked, wryly, nudging Klink with an elbow as he waggled an eyebrow.

"Oh, yes Hogan. That gorgeous," Klink affirmed, forgetting to remind Hogan of the no-prisoners-out-of-barracks-at-night rule, grinning as he remembered the evening.

"Say, Colonel, what's that you're holding there under your coat?" Hogan asked, noticing the lump under Klink's coat.

Klink frowned. He hadn't intended to have Hogan see the kitten. Why, he might get labeled as Ol' Softy instead of the Iron Colonel! He attempted to hurry into his office before Hogan questioned further, but he was too late. Klink watched nervously as Hogan reached for the coat to peek at the object.

"Awwwww…"

Klink rolled his eyes as Hogan gently pulled the kitten out of Klink's coat. Klink had to admit he took a small amount of pleasure watching Hogan's smirk soften into an expression of pure delight as the kitten rubbed it's face against Hogan's, and Klink grinned when Hogan heartily laughed as the kitten swatted Hogan's nose.

"Colonel, where'd you find this ball of fluff?" Hogan asked, holding the kitten with one hand as he stroked it with the other.

"On my way back from Fräulein Freud's apartment. Some boys were abusing it, and I rescued it," Klink explained.

Hogan glanced at Klink out of the corner of his eyes and gave him a wry grin. "You old softy."

Klink grimaced.

Hogan strode briskly back into the barracks and poured himself a cup of coffee.

"Klink's sure not going to like it when he finds out that Irmina has left town," Hogan smiled as he took a sip of (finally) hot coffee.

"He really liked her, huh?" Kinch grinned.

"Kinch, 'ave you ever seen Irmina?" Newkirk asked.

"No."

"That explains why you even asked," Newkirk informed him.

LeBeau chuckled and slapped Newkirk's arm knowingly.

"Besides, have you ever seen Klink not like a girl?" Hogan asked, chuckling.

"I've seen Klink not like a girl!" Carter piped up.

At the men's questioning looks, Carter elaborated. "Burkhalter's sister. You know, Gertrude Linkmeyer."

LeBeau snorted. "Gertrude Linkmeyer is NOT a GIRL."

Suddenly, Kinch noticed something. "Colonel, did Carter give you a shave today?"

"No, why? Do I need one?" Hogan reached up to feel his face.

"You have a cut on your nose."

"Hey!" Carter exclaimed, frowning.

"Oh, that!" Hogan chuckled, touching a hand to his nose, and drawing it away to see if it was bleeding. "Oh, Klink just got himself a kitten. It decided to do a Carter special on me."

"KLINK has a kitten? Carter said, surprised, deciding to ignore the reference to his skills as a barber.

"Old Blood and guts?" LeBeau asked, just as surprised as Carter.

"It must be a different Klink," Kinch decided.

"No, it's our Klink. He rescued it from some boys who were playing rough with it," Hogan explained.

Newkirk shook his head. "I didn't think Klink had it in 'im to show compassion for a kitten."

Hogan shrugged. "Well, it's only a few weeks old, and Klink was in a good mood. It is cute. It would melt Hochstetter's heart." He considered a moment, then revised his previous statement. "Well, maybe not Hochstetter's. He doesn't even have a heart."

Klink, now in his quarters, sat on his couch watching the kitten play with a ball of yarn he had found in Helga's desk. What do I do with this kitten? He asked himself. Klink wasn't even a real big cat lover; However, this particular one had just seemed to pull at his heartstrings the moment he saw it. Maybe it was those gorgeous eyes…

Klink knew he wanted to keep the kitten. But a kitten doesn't belong in a prison camp! Common sense screamed at him. And Hochstetter would flip if he found out that Klink was keeping a pet cat in Stalag 13. Klink snickered at the mental image of Hochstetter flipping, then remembered what one of Hochstetter's tantrums sounded like, and stopped laughing.
If Klink did keep the kitten, he would have to keep it hidden when the Gestapo came by.

Klink finally slammed his fist down on the edge of the couch, making the kitten jump. He knew he had already decided deep down to keep the kitten, and common sense wasn't going to win this argument. But it wouldn't do to let the kitten run around the compound at night. Especially when it was this young. I'm going to have to have… a sandbox?!

Going to the door, Klink cracked it open and called for Schultz; Then he scrounged around for a box.

"You called, Herr Kommandant?" Schultz asked, coming in and shutting the door quickly behind him before the freezing air blew in.

"See if you can find a box around here, Schultz," Klink ordered. "But if you breathe a word to anyone that I have a sandbox in my quarters for a kitten, you'll be at the Russian Front so fast you won't know what hit you."

Schultz didn't know if he had heard correctly. "A sandbox, Herr Kommandant?"

"Yes! I can't have a ten-week old kitten run all over the compound at night! Now shut up and find a box!"

"Jawhol, Herr Kommandant."

A few minutes later, Schultz spoke up. "I have found a box, Herr Kommandant."

"Let's see it," Klink said, coming over to where Schultz was standing.

Schultz held up Klink's suitcase.

"Dumkopf!" Klink cried. "Not my suitcase!"

Finally, when they found a wine crate that would be suitable, Klink sent Schultz to get some sand from the compound.

Schultz went to the door, then turned around and came back.

"What is it, Schultz?" Klink asked impatiently.

"What do I use to bring the sand inside?" Schultz wondered.

"I don't know, find someth—" Klink stopped mid sentence as he found something. "Use this."

Klink pulled Schultz's helmet off his head and handed it to him.

Schultz looked dismayed. "But-but-but it's freezing outside…"

"You asked! Now do it!" Klink ordered.

"Jawhol, Herr Kommandant."

On the way back in, however, as Schultz hurried through the door, the kitten scampered across his path, causing Schultz to take a tumble. He landed face first in his helmet full of sand.
When Schultz looked up, he noticed the kitten in front of him, staring at him. And he could have sworn the kitten was laughing at him.

After some more name-calling, Klink sent Schultz out for more sand. Finally, they got enough to fill the wine crate.

"Well, aren't you proud, Schultz?" Klink asked, as he looked at the sandbox sitting next to the sink in his bathroom.

Schultz considered a moment. "Nein, Herr Kommandant. It is not one of my best creations."

Klink shook his fist. "Diss-missed, Schultz."

Schultz saluted and lumbered out.

That will do for tonight, Klink thought. Before he shut off the light to finally get to bed, Klink glanced at the clock. 1:00. Klink grimaced. This was ridiculous. What have I gotten myself into? I'm going to be the laughing-stock of the Third Reich.

As he turned around to glance at the kitten, he didn't have any trouble finding it in the dark. Those glowing eyes told him exactly where it was.

"Gute Nacht, Kätzchen."

A few minutes later, as he drifted off to sleep, Klink felt something small jump on the bed, and smiled as the kitten snuggled under the covers next to him.

Klink decided it was worth the risk of being a laughing-stock. Though he might regret it in the morning.

Just in case you're wondering, the reason I put 'sandbox' instead of 'litterbox' was because kitty litter wasn't invented until 1947; People used either sand, dirt, shredded newspaper, etc. if their cat was indoor.