Okaayy people, here is the first chapter, I hope you enjoy it xD But there are a few things I would like to point out, the first being there may not be some historical accuracy in some aspects, but its not major, secondly, during this fanfic you may get the feeling that we don't like certain characters, it is not this at all, it is simply because we needed to use characters for certain parts to pull it all together LOL, but we love everyone, so don't worry xD Also this is sort of going to be a particularly long story, and does indeed have detail and a plot in a way, just to make it more epic. But I promise you, there are niceee juicy bits LOL, and the more detail the better right? xD ! The characters may seem in character or not in character in some bits, but it's just how the fanfic has to work okay, so please don't leave things saying errr this is out of character, because yeh it's not going to be perfect LOL. ALSO just a reminder, if you don't like this pairing, don't bother reading or even reviewing okay ^_^ BUT if you are liking this story, please DO leave a review, this is what me and my sister live for :D tell me what you think, and the next chapter will be posted up VERY soon after your wonderful opinions xD

Colonel Robert E. Hogan sat comfortably in his office, his eyes dedicated to a yellow-tinted piece of paper, inked in cursive black handwriting. He had already finished reading the somewhat neat scripture, but his eyes continued to gaze upon it, trying to make sense of it. Well, it made perfect sense; there was no doubt about that. It was the reality of it all that Colonel Hogan was finding hard to take in. He guessed that was to be expected, for his mind had been so caught up with blowing up German ammunition dumps and secret experiment plants that he had almost forgotten all about his family back in Bridgeport, Connecticut.

Almost.

His mother had just passed away – well, she had passed away four weeks ago now, but Hogan had only gotten his letter today. At seventy-nine. Her body riddled with cancer, according to his uncle's letter. Apparently she'd been battling against it for the past three years, but this was news to Hogan. None of the letters his mother had sent during his time at Stalag 13 contained hints of her struggle. Thought he had other things to worry about, probably.

Still, Hogan wished he'd known. Then it wouldn't have hit him with such a shock.

He tucked his letter away, deep in his draw. Now wasn't the time to be emotional.

His mother had lived a happy life. She was so proud of Colonel Hogan, serving his country with such honour.

If only he had gotten to see her one last time.

'Colonel?'

Hogan jumped, the sudden creaking of his office door startling him. Trying his best to wipe the wetness from beneath his eyes without gaining notice, the American Colonel rose from his wobbly-excuse-of-a chair.

'Yeah come in Carter. What's the word?'

'Kinch is decoding the message right now, Colonel,' said Carter, eyeing the Colonel with unmasked concern. 'Hey, is everything alright, Colonel?'

''Course it is,' said Hogan, 'why wouldn't it be?'

'Oh uh, I dunno,' Carter shrugged, now doubtful to his own suspicions, 'forget I asked.'

Hogan followed Carter's lead out of his office, across their barracks and down through the tunnel, hidden beneath a set of bunk beds. Grieving over the news of his mother's passing had to be left for later. For now, he had work to do.

'Have you decoded the message, Kinch?' Hogan asked, peering down at the black sergeant.

'Sure have Colonel,' answered Kinch, 'London says you're to meet an undercover agent tonight at 23:00 hundred hours. The agent has some urgent information.'

'Urgent information?' Hogan frowned. 'So urgent that they couldn't message London themselves?'

'Apparently it's got more to do with our welfare than London's, Colonel,' said Corporal Newkirk, leant up against the cool wall of dirt, puffing a cigarette. Hogan face faulted, digging his hands deep into his bomber jacket's pockets.

'Well, we'll soon find out, won't we?'

'We'd better get back up to the barracks, Colonel,' said LeBeau.

'Yeah, we don't wanna miss roll call,' said Kinch, shutting off his radio. Hogan nodded in agreement.

(SCENE CHANGE)

For Hogan, that day had been the longest to memory. Although nothing of great excitement happened, he wished it had – anything to keep his mind from his passing mother. He couldn't tell the others; no, they didn't need to know. He didn't need their sympathy, for sympathy would only add to his already unstable emotions. Why couldn't that rendezvous with the agent be arranged for earlier that day? Why so late that night? At least then, Hogan would have something to occupy his mind. Even worse so, he had the horrid suspicion that both Kommandant Klink and Sergeant Schultz knew of his loss (well, they obviously knew, having read everyone's letters before hand). He spent most of the day trying to avoid them, for they were giving him funny facial expressions that Hogan could only guess to be sympathetic gestures. They were scary-looking, if anything.

He couldn't be so selfish. There was a war on! He had other priorities; he couldn't grieve now!

Finally, late evening arrived. If anything, the knowledge of his mother's death paid him some advantage; there wouldn't be any random barracks inspections that night, he was sure of it. If Klink knew him as well as he thought he did, he'd know Hogan was better left alone in such a time.

So around five to eleven, Hogan snuck through the emergency exit, dressed in black. He was accompanied by Carter and Newkirk, who too were covered from head to toe in black clothing.

'See anything yet, Colonel?' Carter whispered, almost tripping on an upturned tree root.

'Not yet, but we've still got three minutes to spare. He should be along soon.'

'Any idea on who this agent is?' Newkirk asked. 'Just a civilian or what?'

'No idea,' Hogan shrugged, 'but if they have direct contact with London Headquarters, then they're probably important. Shhh, hear that?'

There, among the thicket was the silhouette of a hooded figure, waving for them to approach. Their guns at the ready, Hogan, Newkirk and Carter crept forward, beneath the high, pale moon.

'The moon is bright tonight,' said the silhouette, in a feminine whisper.

'Only bright if the clouds don't suffocate it,' said Hogan, cautiously, 'perfect flying weather.'

'Bears don't fly, they walk,' she answered.

'But eagles fly.'

'Only if their wings aren't clipped.'

'Okay that's the recognition code,' said Hogan, in an air of relief. 'So you're the agent?'

'We can't talk here,' said the hooded woman, the moon's light revealing her black hair. 'Is there somewhere safe we can go?'

'We'll talk in the tunnel,' said Hogan, swivelling around. 'Come on, quickly.'

So Hogan, Newkirk and Carter led the agent back through the emergency tunnel, carefully taking watch to the spotlights. Once in the safety of the tunnel, the agent removed her hood, her keen pale eyes meeting Hogan's.

'So, what do you have for us?' he asked, his arms crossed.

'Information,' said the woman, firmly. 'Information I have obtained. I am an apparent Gestapo field agent – a British spy. And I am aware of how important your operation is here, under the order of one Kommandant Wilhelm Klink.'

'Klink?' Hogan frowned.

'What's that old duffer got to do with it?' Newkirk asked, cigarette between his fingers.

'That's why I have come here tonight,' said the agent, 'I'm not sure how much you have heard, being confined to this prison camp and all, about the other camps set up in Germany.'

'Other camps?' Carter blinked, apparently dumbfounded. 'For what?'

'For people who don't, shall we say, live up to the Fuhrer's standards.'

'You mean the Jewish?' Hogan asked, eyebrows narrowed.

'For this account, I am not speaking of those particular concentration camps, no.'

Hogan had only heard rumours involving concentration camps and the sorts of people who were sent there, and in a way, let himself believe that they were only rumours. But, he knew beneath it all, there was probably a disgusting, horrible truth.

'They send people to concentration camps for being Jewish?' Carter questioned.

'Well from what I heard, they don't just send them there,' said LeBeau, in an awe of disgust.

'I can't discuss anything regarding that,' said the agent, exhaling a worn breath. 'All I can say is, the SS aren't just rounding up the Jews. They have their eyes on various other categories of people, too.'

'Such as?' Newkirk flicked the ash from his cigarette.

'That I can't discuss either.'

'Then what can you discuss?' Hogan asked, slightly impatient.

'The Gestapo have a list of suspects,' said the woman, 'your Kommandant's name is nearing the top.'

'What's he being accused of?' asked Kinch.

'The Fuhrer condemns anyone he believes is associated with ungodly behaviour,' said the agent, taking a breath, 'your Kommandant is fifty years of age, and unmarried?'

'That's Colonel Klink,' said Kinch, through a smile. The agent however wasn't smiling.

'Look, I understand you're an agent,' Hogan began, his impatience growing, 'a spy. Double agent. Whatever you wanna call it. But we're on the good side, remember? You don't have to speak in riddles to us! Just lay it down straight, will you?'

'Homosexuals are considered to be just about as worthy as a Jew, to the Fuhrer' said the agent, taking Hogan and his four men by surprise. 'So, the SS and the Gestapo are rounding them up.'

'What?' Hogan gaped, half snorting with disbelief. 'Homosexuals?'

'Yes. They're taking a very serious approach to rounding them up, Colonel.'

'Rounding up blimin' queers?' Newkirk face faulted. 'And I was under the impression that they had more important things to do, you know, like win a war?'

'I'm serious, Colonel,' warned the agent, her face stricken with disgust at the humours smirks spread across the faces of Hogan's men. 'Men of all walks of life are being arrested! Officers, soldiers, civilians! Sent to concentration camps! Those who they prove are homosexuals are castrated and shot! Those who they suspect, are castrated – lucky if not shot too!'

'You're serious?' Hogan frowned, the smirks suddenly wiped clean off of his men's faces.

'Yes,' the woman warned, 'and your Kommandant's name is on the suspect list. Gestapo agents will be sent out to question him within days. If they even suspect he's one of them, then he'll be sent off and castrated!'

Hogan winced; she couldn't be serious, right? This had to be some kind of joke… The Nazis were actually rounding up suspected homosexuals? And if that wasn't bad enough – Klink's name was on the list! Klink wasn't a queer, Hogan knew that for a fact.

'But old Klink isn't queer,' said Hogan, his voice hardly making out the words.

'Then why isn't he married? At fifty years of age?' the agent asked.

'Look if you met him, you'd know why! And so will the Gestapo! All they have to do is spent ten minutes with him alone!'

'Well, I have warned you,' she said, taking a step back from Hogan. 'I know how important this operation of yours is to the war effort, and I know this operation has only been successful under the ignorant nose of your Colonel Klink.'

'But this seems like a lot of effort, just to protect some lousy kraut,' said Kinch, less sympathetic.

'No, she's right,' said Hogan, sounding half offended towards Kinch's statement. 'We'll never get another Kommandant like Klink. Besides, no man deserves that kind of humiliation, especially him.'

'But Colonel, what are you gonna do?' Newkirk grumbled.

'Yeah, you can't get him married a day before the Gestapo arrives!' said LeBeau. 'It'll look suspicious!'

'Look we'll figure something out,' said Hogan, gesturing for them to calm down. He still couldn't believe his own ears – of all the things Klink could be suspected of! The damned Gestapo had picked the one Klink was defiantly not.

'If I hear anything, I'll make contact, somehow,' said the agent.

'Thanks,' said Hogan, with unmasked gratitude. 'We all appreciate the risk you took to be here tonight.'

'It's just my job, Colonel,' said the agent.

(SCENE CHANGE)

'… A camp… for ruddy queers… Those damned Nazis are barmy,' said Newkirk, upon their journey back through the tunnels and to their barracks. 'What a ruddy waste of time.'

'Well we already knew crazy-eyes was a nut,' said Hogan, 'this just confirms it.'

'When she said that stuff about what they do to them, Colonel, she doesn't mean that…?'

'Look, Carter, I think it's best left,' said Hogan, hushing the younger sergeant.

'The Colonel is right,' said LeBeau, 'the possibilities are just too sickening to think about.'

'Well, I've never met one of those before…'

'One of what? A Jew?' Kinch asked, closing up the tunnel entrance.

'No,' Carter swallowed, 'I meant, one of those.'

'You mean a queer?' Newkirk sniggered.

'Yeah, those.'

'Well just take a look in the mirror, Carter –'

'That's not a very nice thing to say to someone, Newkirk,' Carter frowned, shoving past him.

'Heh, well, you never know,' said Newkirk, climbing into his bunk. 'Old Klink might be a –'

'He's not!' said Hogan, with such anger, it silenced the entire barrack. Only now just realising his bizarre outburst, the American Colonel turned away, secretly trying to figure out why Newkirk's comment had pinged against his chest.

'I'm off to bed,' he said, finally. 'Goodnight.'

And with that, his door slammed shut.

'… He didn't seem to happy,' whispered LeBeau, fluffing up his uncomfortable, lumpy straw-stuffed bunk.

'Maybe you offended him, Newkirk –'

'Get out of it,' Newkirk grumbled, wiggling his finger about Carter's face. 'He's been in a funny mood all day, he has.'

'Well maybe he likes Klink,' said Carter, 'as a friend, that is. Maybe he just didn't like the idea of having him sent off to some, mean concentration camp, or something.'

'Or maybe you should just go to bed, Carter,' said Kinch, rolling over.

(SCENE CHANGE)

Hogan tossed about his bed. It was uncomfortable, that was undeniable, but it wasn't what was keeping him from sleep. No, it was the recent warning that double agent had bestowed upon him that was keeping him awake. He always tried to keep emotions out of war, but the news he'd heard tonight was too great. A camp, for homosexuals? Where they were to be not only castrated, but shot, too? Hogan couldn't help but feel for the poor men, trying to the best of their abilities to mask their obscure lifestyles, knowing that if the SS learnt of this, both their pride and dignity were as good as dead.

He knew homosexuality was wrong. He was repulsed by the mere thought of two men engaging in acts that should only be preformed by a man and woman. Yet, he knew it wasn't right to kill because of it. Why, everyone was different. Everyone did something someone else didn't approve of. That was no reason to kill them. But the Nazis were.

And now Klink was a listed suspect? Colonel Klink? Hogan couldn't help but scoff aloud at the accusation. They couldn't have suspected a man less homosexual than Klink! (Perhaps himself). Just because he was unmarried? Hogan was unmarried! Did that make him an apparent queer as well? Of course not.

Klink was as eager to gain attention from the opposite sex as any straight man was. The only problem was, he was pretty bad at getting it. He was a bit of a loser, Hogan couldn't deny that. Yet no loser should be captured, castrated and shot.

Then again, maybe Klink was queer? If someone as toad-like as Burkhalter could be married, why wasn't Klink? He was ten times handsomer than Burkhalter! (Thinner, too).

Hogan shook his head, appalled at his own thoughts. No. Klink wasn't queer. Simple as that.

Once again, Hogan thought of his deceased mother.

Hogan was in Klink's office, trying to persuade him to wear the floury pink hat his mother always wore. Outraged by the request, Klink tried to dismiss him, but Hogan wouldn't budge.

'Come on Kommandant, put the hat on!'

'Why on earth would I want to wear your mother's hat!' Klink spat.

Hogan couldn't help but notice Klink's office looked a lot different. Actually, it wasn't his office at all. There were items and images around them, but the American Colonel's eyes couldn't focus on them. All he could see was his Kommandant, refusing to wear his mother's hat.

'Please, Kommandant, for me?'

'For you! What makes you think I'll put this hat on for you!'

'Because you always do everything I ask,' said Hogan, approaching Klink, his hands resting in his leather jacket's pockets. 'Even if you don't know you're doing it.'

'I most certainly do not!'

'Come on, Kommandant,' Hogan whispered, 'do it for me, and I'll do anything for you.'

'Hogan I have no idea what you're blabbering about!' a frustrated Klink snarled, backing away from Hogan's advance. 'You're acting very suspicious!'

'I am?'

'It's an obvious attempt to escape!'

'Who'd wanna escape from here?' Hogan purred. 'Who'd wanna escape from you?'

Klink squinted through his monocle, eyebrows narrowed at Hogan's closeness. There was something aching on Hogan's body as he pressed up against the Kommandant – something Klink wasn't oblivious to.

'Hogan, w-what on earth…?'

'Forget the hat, Kommandant,' whispered Hogan, through barely parted lips. 'There's something else I want you to try on…'

'W-what's that?'

'This…'

Hogan awoke in a sweat. He sat up in his bed, wiping the wetness from his temples. What on earth was that all about? The harder he tried to remember what had happened in the dream, the less he seemed to recall. The only thing he did know was something uncomfortable was stiff between his legs.

Get a grip, you always wake up with that.

So, forcing aside his obscure dreams, Hogan forced himself out of his bunk; there was the sound of Schultz banging about the barracks.

End of chapter! I hope you are liking it so far xD pleaseeee leave a review! All reviews are accepted, except the flames of course LOL. Please let us know what you think! Thank you!