Summary: Carter falls in love at first sight--with the daughter of an SS general!
Author's Note: Many thanks to Zoey Tranor for providing her usual scintillating editing skills.
Disclaimer: Hogan's Heroes is owned by Paramount, Viacom and others; this is an original story that does not intend to infringe on their copyright. Feedback is welcome!
Copyright: July 2002
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Star-CrossedBy Syl Francis
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"...For never was a story of more woe
Than this of Juliet and her Romeo."
(Romeo and Juliet)
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Sunday 14 FEB 1943/2000hrs local Grand BallroomSchloss Hammelburg
How did he know there was a Top Secret safe before I told him...?
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Hogan took two glasses of champagne from the passing tray. He nodded at Carter who flashed him a look of sympathy mixed with amusement before moving on to the other guests. Thanks, buddy, Hogan grumbled silently, frowning in distaste. The next instant his disgruntled expression changed to one of magnetic charm.
Thus transformed, Hogan turned back to the elegant woman standing next to him. Gallant smile firmly in place, Hogan handed her one of the drinks. Annoyed, but trying hard not to show it, he handed her one of the drinks and wondered what it would take to discourage her. So far, nothing had tried worked.
Hogan sighed inwardly. He should have ducked for cover the minute she sidled up to him. She had 'predator' stamped on her, and he was the prey. I'm beginning to feel like the entree on tonight's menu.
Surreptitiously he checked his watch, and saw that it was almost time for Kinchloe to be in position outside. The last thing Hogan needed was to be tied up with a hungry female that had him in mind for her first course. Undaunted, he decided that it was time to initiate his fallback plan. Smiling, he held up his glass in a silent toast.
"Thank you," she acknowledged, returning the salute before taking a sip. "Tell me, Col. Hogan, what is it like? Being a prisoner of war, I mean?"
Hogan's eyes took on a faraway look. "What's it like?" he repeated with feigned wistfulness. "Why, lonely, Fraulein. Very lonely."
"Oh, you poor man..." she said sympathetically. "And it is 'Anna.'" He nodded. Wondering if he was showing just the right amount of pain in his eyes, Hogan gave her the same pitiful look that his dog used to affect when begging for scraps at the dinner table.
"Yes, Anna, the loneliness can be very difficult to bear at times," he admitted. "But that isn't the worst of it. Sometimes..." He stopped abruptly and looked away. "Oh, but I shouldn't be troubling you with my problems," he said with a shake of his head.
"Oh, please, Col. Hogan...it is no trouble at all--"
"You are so kind...and so beautiful." Hogan's voice was a silky caress, which held her enthralled.
"Please, tell me more," she breathed. "I really wish to know..."
"Very well...it's difficult for a soldier to openly admit this," he said with just the right catch in his voice to melt her final defenses. "But being a prisoner of war can at times be a bit frightening..."
"Frightening?"
"Oh, yes," Hogan said with the utmost sincerity. "After all...Stalag 13 is run by one of the most vicious kommandant's in all of Germany--Col. Klink!"
"Col. Klink!? That annoying man with the ridiculous monocle?" she asked in disbelief.
"Oh, don't let that incompetent, simpering act fool you. The man's a real monster," Hogan said quickly.
"You poor man," she repeated, placing her hand on his forearm, squeezing suggestively. "Is there anything I can do to help?" Hogan took her hand in his and brought it up to his lips.
"I don't know, but if you'll meet me upstairs later," he said with a twinkle, "I'm sure that I'll think of something."
Snatching her hand away as if insulted, she turned and stalked off. Not fazed in the least by her actions, Hogan followed her with his eyes, enjoying the view afforded by the dangerously low backed gown, and was soon rewarded when she turned to glance back over her shoulder. She gave him a long knowing look and disappeared into the next room.
"Still got it," he murmured with a slight smirk. Returning back to the job at hand, his eyes swept the grand ballroom of Schloss Hammelburg. In the background, he heard the opening strains to The Blue Danube. Soon the dance floor was filled to overflowing, and Hogan studied the guests as they waltzed by.
Of course, his was the lone American uniform in the large, brightly lit room. All around him uniforms of Germany's elite SS, Wehrmacht, Luftwaffe, and Gestapo flowed past him. Black and red banners hung from the ceiling, displaying Swastikas, the dark symbol of Nazi Germany.
"Now I know how Daniel must've felt like in the lions' den," he muttered. A hearty chuckle from behind announced that his 'guard,' Sgt. Schultz--who had discreetly stepped away when the beautiful woman first approached Hogan--had drunk a few too many glasses of champagne while he had been gone.
"Jolly Joker!" Schultz exclaimed a bit too loudly if a passing Gestapo officer's dark glare was any indication. Hogan glanced at his watch and saw that it was time to signal Newkirk.
"Schultz," Hogan said, his tone overly friendly, "I recommend you go inspect the kitchens. I hear that LeBeau's saving you a plate of strudel."
"Nein!" Schultz said with an emphatic shake of his head. "My orders are to keep an eye on you and the other prisoners this evening. So...here I am, and here I will stay." Hogan gave the portly guard a look of hurt surprise.
"So that's the thanks I get for arranging to have LeBeau save you a plate!" he protested. "Suspicion! Just what do you think I'm planning to do? Break into the Top Secret safe upstairs? Surrounded by all of these SS and Gestapo officers? D'you think I'm crazy or something?" Folding his arms, he glared at Schultz and looked highly offended. "Well then, I'll just have Newkirk go back to the kitchen and tell LeBeau to forget it!"
With that, Hogan signaled Newkirk who had been standing by within earshot. The Englishman, dressed in waiters' whites, came up to them easily balancing a tray of drinks over his shoulder. Before Hogan could speak to him, however, Schultz broke in.
"N-no, Col. Hogan!" he said quickly. "Of course, Kommandant Klink did not mean that I have to stand next to you the entire evening. After all, you would be crazy to risk any monkey business here, surrounded by SS and Gestapo!" Schultz smiled broadly. "Besides, it is time to inspect the kitchens, as you say." About to start walking away, he stopped and gave Hogan a frightened look.
"Col. Hogan..." he began, obviously hating to ask the question on the tip of his tongue. "How did you know that there was a Top Secret safe upstairs?"
"You just told me," Hogan said with a disingenuous smile. Newkirk nodded in solemn agreement.
"That's right, Schultzie," Newkirk said. "I just heard you, plain as day!"
"Oh." Shrugging, Schultz sauntered away, swaying slightly from the effects of too much champagne. "I just told him," he repeated, smiling, and then stopped suddenly, a confused look coming over him. "But if I just told him, then how did he know there was a Top Secret safe before I told him that there was a Top Secret safe--?" He rolled his eyes heavenward, and scrunched his face in confusion and fear. "I know nothing! Nothing!"
Newkirk gave Hogan an ironic look. "I never thought I'd agree with Schultzie on anything, Colonel. But he's right--this idea is crazy!"
"That's what I like about you, Newkirk," Hogan growled. "Always the optimist." Then, looking pointedly at his watch, he added, "Don't you need to be someplace just about now?" Newkirk sighed and nodded reluctantly.
"On my way, sir." Newkirk walked off and was quickly swallowed by the thick crowd of partygoers. About to follow Schultz into the kitchens, Hogan was stopped by a taunting voice from behind.
"Well, well, well...what do we have here, Uncle Emil? Do you believe that this is the vanguard for the much anticipated Allied Invasion?"
Hogan froze, his face darkening for a split second. He relaxed, took a sip from his drink, and turned to face the speaker, his expression now clear. A senior officer, an SS Oberstgruppenfuhrer and a Gestapo lieutenant were watching him with interest. Hogan saw that the gruppenfuhrer was openly appraising him. Hogan raised his glass by way of greeting.
"SS-Oberstgruppenfuhrer Emil Mueller, I presume?" he asked. The SS officer nodded in assent and returned a raised glass in greeting.
"I see you have heard of me," Mueller said.
"Everybody's heard of Gruppenfuhrer Mueller and his famed 434th SS Panzer Division, sir. Everybody, that is, who makes it his business to know the names of Germany's most dangerous men." At Hogan's words, the Gestapo officer visibly stiffened, but Mueller held out his hand in a staying gesture.
"I take that as a compliment, Col. Hogan," he said.
"You know my name?" Hogan asked, unable to hide his surprise.
"I have made it my business to know you: Colonel Robert Hogan, commanding officer of the 504th Bomb Group. Before you were shot down, your group was responsible for destroying one of my finest tank battalions."
"And don't forget the 'secret' fighter base," Hogan said helpfully.
"Was that you, too?" Mueller asked softly. "You set back our close combat air support for six months! Do you have any idea how many of our best pilots and planes we lost on that raid?"
"Fifty or so--give or take a few," Hogan said facetiously. Mueller's expression became thunderous. He was about to speak, when a soft, feminine voice interrupted him.
"Father! There you are! I have been looking everywhere for you!" A lovely young girl of about twenty ran up to them, and she threw her arms unselfconsciously around Mueller's waist. "Father, you promised me a waltz!"
"Please, Alyse...can you not see that I am busy at the moment?" he snapped, in annoyance. The girl immediately stepped away from him, her hurt expression apparent.
"I apologize, Father," she said softly. She was about to turn away, when Hogan stopped her.
"Wait, Fraulein..." he said. "I don't believe we were properly introduced."
"My cousin does not consort with the enemy, Colonel!" The Gestapo lieutenant who had fallen silent once Hogan and Mueller started talking suddenly stepped forward. "Alyse, be a good little girl and--"
"Wolfgang Mueller, I am not a little girl anymore!" she protested, her eyes flashing defiance. "And don't let that uniform go to your head, either," she added cagily. "If you don't behave, I'll tell Hanna how I used to beat you up while we were in the nursery!" She laughed merrily as she teased him, her presence practically lighting up the room.
Hogan caught Mueller's eye at the moment and both men smiled in mutual amusement at her words.
"Alyse, that is no way to address an important officer of the Third Reich!" Wolfgang protested rather pompously.
"That is true, dear cousin," Alyse said, her eyes lighting with mischief. "But whoever claimed that you were important?" Wolfgang made a grab for her, and Alyse instinctively let out a squeak of fright. She took refuge behind Hogan causing him to almost spill his drink. Wolfgang feigned to go right and Alyse fell for the ruse. Within seconds, she was laughing happily while he held her at arms length, pretending to scold her.
Hogan watched, fascinated by the unusual sight of a Gestapo officer actually showing a gentle, caring side. It was obvious that Wolfgang cared deeply for his cousin. He again glanced over at Mueller who had affectionately placed his arms around the two 'quarrelsome children.' The SS general spoke softly into Alyse's ear, and immediately, she again became the demure young woman that Hogan had seen earlier.
"Col. Hogan, may I present my daughter, Alyse, who is home on school holiday to celebrate my temporary homecoming."
Hogan offered a slight bow. "Fraulein...a pleasure."
"Colonel..." she murmured shyly. Turning to Mueller, she asked again, "Father...my waltz?" Giving a long, heartfelt sigh, Mueller rolled his eyes toward the ceiling.
"You see who is truly in charge here, Col. Hogan?" He smiled in tolerant amusement and took his daughter's arm. He started to lead her away, but paused when he noticed another Gestapo officer hurrying toward him.
"Wolfgang!" the newcomer called, coming to a sliding halt. "Am I glad that I caught you!" Spotting Mueller and Alyse, the officer immediately went to attention and clicked his heels. "Guten Abend, Herr Gruppenfuhrer!" Mueller nodded wordlessly. "Alyse," the young man added softly, giving her an appreciative look.
From where he stood, Hogan noticed Alyse stiffen. She raised her chin proudly and gazed down her nose at the newcomer. "Guten Abend, Leutnant Braun." Though her tone remained polite and her smile warm enough, Hogan sensed an undercurrent of contempt beneath.
"Karl--please, Alyse. How many times must I insist that my name is Karl?"
"I am sorry," she replied with a bright smile, "but I have a terrible head for names. Just ask Wolfgang. Isn't that true, Cousin?" Smiling affectionately, Wolfgang chucked her gently under the chin.
"Uncle Emil, Karl and I must speak with you--in private?" He turned to Alyse. "I apologize, dearest Cousin, but I must ask you to again put your waltz on hold. Will you forgive me?"
Alyse pouted prettily, but then smiled up at him. "Of course, Cousin. Father? Perhaps another waltz?" Nodding, Mueller leaned down and kissed Alyse tenderly on the cheek.
"I shall be back before you know it," he promised. "Col. Hogan...if you will excuse me?"
"Of course, sir," Hogan replied, glancing at his watch. "Oh my, look at the time. I'd best go check on my men. Fraulein, if you will excuse me?" At her nod, Hogan started towards the kitchen. After a few steps, he looked over his shoulder, saw that the three officers were heading upstairs, and immediately made a beeline to the outside courtyard gardens.
Ducking outdoors, Hogan sprinted across the immaculate, moonlit garden and hoped that he would be on time.
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Sunday 14 FEB 1943/2030hrs local KitchensSchloss Hammelburg
You sure are swell, boy--uh, I mean, ma'am!
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"Carter, take this out to table two!" LeBeau ordered, handing the perplexed sergeant a tray of hors d'oeuvres.
"But, Louis! It's Newkirk's turn!" Carter protested.
"Newkirk is--" LeBeau pointed up, not finishing his sentence.
"Still? I thought they were supposed to be done by now--?" Carter asked, suddenly worried. However, he spoke to empty air, because the diminutive French corporal had suddenly taken off, spewing a long string of French expletives at a cook's helper who had apparently committed a grave culinary blunder.
Carter looked at the tray in his hands and sighed. When Hogan had informed them that they were going to 'help out' at a fancy 'Kraut soiree'--as a cover to photograph a set of Top Secret plans for a massive German counteroffensive on the Eastern Front--Carter knew that he would probably end up doing most of the 'helping out' while Newkirk spent his time with the pretty frauleins, not to mention breaking into the safe located upstairs.
"Oh, well." Carter shrugged fatalistically. "At least it keeps him off the streets." Smiling, he balanced the tray over his shoulder and started for the exit.
As he stepped through the swinging doors that led from the vast kitchens to the luxurious grand ballroom out front, Carter was instantly accosted by Col. Klink, Kommandant of LuftStalag 13.
"Where have you been?" Klink demanded. "Do you not realize that we are almost out of food and drink out here? And if that happens, SS-Oberstgruppenfuhrer Mueller will be most displeased! That could mean the Russian Front for me!" Carter nodded distractedly as he made his way across the ballroom to the buffet tables. Klink followed closely at his heels.
"And where is Schultz?" Klink continued, waving his arms in distress. "I specifically ordered him to keep an eye on things--!" he stopped. "What am I saying? The fat dumkopf is probably the reason we're almost out of food!"
"Sir, isn't Gruppenfuhrer Mueller the commanding officer of an SS division in Russia? The 434th Panzer?" Carter asked.
"Yes," Klink nodded, his eyes searching the crowds for Schultz's head. Abruptly, his face became suspicious, and he sidled in close to Carter. "But how would you know that...? A prisoner of war?"
"Gosh, sir..." Carter thought quickly. "I thought that everybody had heard of the commanding officer of the 434th!" He gave Klink his most sincere look, which wasn't too difficult since that was his normal expression.
"Really?" Klink asked, taken slightly aback by the information.
"Oh, yes sir! We even learned about him in basic training."
"That is remarkable." Klink brought his hand up to his chin and nodded knowingly. "But, of course...what can one expect? The Gruppenfuhrer is a very great man, after all."
"Oh, yes, sir," Carter agreed. "Just think! If he transfers you to the Russian Front then it'll be because he wants you in his outfit! You know...on account of he was so impressed by the great job you did here tonight!" Seeing Klink's pained expression, Carter added weakly, "You know, like a reward...?"
Klink was white as a sheet. "Some reward!" he muttered, aghast. Not wanting to hear any more thoughtful comments from Carter, Klink left in search of Schultz.
"Boy...!" Carter muttered, letting out a sigh of relief. Once Klink was safely out of sight, he turned back to replenishing the buffet tables. As he worked, Carter thought suddenly about Newkirk and Kinchloe, and what they were probably doing at that moment--upstairs in Mueller's private study--and immediately began to worry. Unconsciously, he began whistling softly to himself, and started gathering empty trays and glasses. Soon, he was working happily at his task.
"What is that tune that you are whistling?"
At the soft voice next to him, Carter whirled round, almost dropping the heavily laden tray he'd been filling with empties. "What--?" he yelped, but was stopped by a pair of sparkling blue eyes. Instantly, he felt the air whoosh out of his lungs like he had been kicked in the stomach.
The lovely blue eyes smiled in pleased amusement. Abruptly, Carter became aware that the owner of the eyes was speaking to him.
"--whistling?"
"Um...uh--what?" he mumbled. He had no idea what she had said. His knees shook slightly at her close proximity, and Carter retreated a couple of steps to put a safer distance between them. As he did, he noticed that her sapphire eyes were framed by an exquisite face, which in turn was crowned by a golden cascade of hair pulled back in a simple, but sophisticated chignon.
"The tune you were just whistling," she repeated gently, taking a step forward. "I have not heard it before. It seemed rather light and gay. What was it?"
"Tune...?" he asked, unable to think of anything except how the light from the chandeliers seemed to make her eyes dance.
"Yes..." she said softly, and took another step forward until they were practically toe to toe. "The tune...?"
Inexplicably, Carter felt a sudden urge to touch her and reached his hand out to her, but just as quickly dropped it again. As he did, he accidentally knocked over an empty glass and sent it crashing to the floor. The unexpected noise snapped them both awake from whatever trance they had fallen into, and almost as one, they each went down on their knees and started clearing the shattered glass.
"Sorry..." he muttered. "My fault--"
"Oh, no! I should be the one to apologize," she said, picking up pieces of glass without being asked. "It was entirely my fault...I distracted you from your duties."
"Oh, no, ma'am..." Carter said with a quick shake of his head. "I'm the clumsy one who--Hey, you shouldn't be doing that!" Gently he took the shards of glass from her hands. "You could cut yourself!"
"Oh, really! I am not so fragile as to need such protection! But I thank you for being so chivalrous."
"Chivalrous? Me?" Carter looked pleased at the idea; however, his expression instantly became serious. "Well, you should be protected! From getting hurt, I mean." Then, realizing he was speaking to a beautiful young woman, he dropped his eyes and immediately became tongue-tied. "Uh, um...I've, um, gotta get back--" He stood, and keeping his face turned determinedly away from her, finished bussing the table. Without another word, he started back to the kitchen.
"Wait."
Carter stopped. He willed his legs to take a step forward, but that single plea (or was it a command?) rendered him incapable of walking.
"The tune...I would really like to know its name," she said softly. "Please?" Carter turned slowly until he was facing her again. "You see, we are not allowed to listen to the wireless at school. The sisters are very strict."
"It's called 'Pick Yourself Up,'" Carter told her. "I heard it once, and it kind of stuck." He shrugged. "Whenever I'm feeling a little down, it just comes to me, and I start whistling it. Before I know it, I'm happy again."
"Thank you," she said. She walked up to him and gently placed her hand on his. "Now, I will have something to hum when I am feeling a little...down." Standing on tiptoe, she leaned forward, and kissed him lightly on the cheek. Carter's eyes popped open in shock. Rewarding him with a luminous smile that made her already beautiful features even more so, she stepped back and looked expectantly up at him.
"Gosh!" Carter stood awestruck, his hand automatically touching the spot on his cheek. "Gee...you didn't have to do that!" He knew that his whole face was flushed crimson, but did not care. As he looked down at her, Carter was experiencing so many new and conflicting emotions that he could not begin to sort them all. "You sure are swell, boy--uh, I mean, ma'am!"
"Alyse," she corrected.
"Alyse," he repeated, savoring the sound. Carter stared mutely into her eyes, completely lost in their depths. As if from far away, he heard LeBeau calling.
"Carter! Hurry with those empty dishes! I need you back here!"
"I have to get back to work, boy, um...ma'am, um, I mean, Alyse," Carter stuttered, mesmerized by how her golden hair shimmered when she turned her head.
"Yes," she agreed. "Carter...is that your given name?" He shook his head.
"Andrew."
"Andrew..." she repeated with a smile. "I know you'll think me terribly bold, but--"
"Alyse!" A young woman surrounded by several young men in Wehrmacht uniforms waved madly from the other side of the ballroom. "Alyse!"
"Carter!" LeBeau hissed, gesticulating angrily.
"I must go," Alyse said regretfully.
"Me too." Carter took a step back; however, before he could take another, she grabbed him by the arm and spoke breathlessly.
"I would like to see you again. Meet me outside in the garden after midnight. The guests should be gone by then!"
"After midnight--? But, I--!" However, Alyse had already turned and hurried to join her friends. "--won't be here," he finished lamely. Standing in the midst of the Nazi glitterati, watching her glide away, Carter was only certain of one thing. "Boy, she sure is swell."
Feeling suddenly ten feet tall, he started wending his way back to the kitchens, happily whistling 'their' song. As he did, he saw Schultz who was dreamily patting his large stomach coming out of the kitchen.
"Hey, Schultzie," he called, hurrying up to him. As he did, he searched the ballroom for Alyse and finally spotted her. "Schultz, can you tell me who that girl is? You know, the pretty one over there?" Schultz looked in the direction that Carter was pointing.
Giving Carter a knowing smile, Schultz tapped him lightly on the shoulder. "That, Sgt. Carter, is the young lady of the house. Fraulein Alyse Mueller--only daughter of SS-Oberstgruppenfuhrer Mueller."
Carter stared in shock at Alyse and shook his head. "She can't be," he murmured. "She's such a nice girl." Watching her moving from guest to guest, smiling in greeting, laughing merrily at a comment here and there, Carter realized that he did not care whom her father was.
He looked at his watch. Midnight seemed eons away.
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continued in Part 2