Disclaimer: Perhaps if I had enough faith, I would wake up one morning to find I owned Hogan's Heroes, but as of yet nothing of the sort has happened. I don't own the original characters; I don't make money from this; any similarity between this and another story is purely coincidental, etc. etc.

Author's note: I do claim Louisa Heiedenburg, Emil, Christoph, Georg, and any other characters I may invent during the course of this story. I would appreciate you asking me before using any of them.

I will not be explaining Hogan's operation; I am assuming if you are on this site that you know what is going on. The German in the story will be mainly implied, I may throw in a word here and there, but it is mostly up to you to decide when they're speaking in German and English.

This is my first fanfic, so I would appreciate reviews. Also, I don't have a beta reader yet, so I apologize for any typos. And I apologize if I'm rather slow to update; I will try, but my life has been insanely busy lately.

So, all that said: on with the story!

Impossible Dream

It is the mission of each true knight, his duty…ay, his privilege…

To dream, the impossible dream…

"Colonel!"

Robert Hogan turned to find Kinch clambering out of the tunnel. He walked to the stove and poured himself a cup of coffee as the radioman approached, frowning when he saw the look on his friend's face. "What is it, Kinch?"

"Message from the underground, Colonel. They're sending a courier sometime tomorrow to inform us of a crisis. It sounded urgent. They said to tell you it had something to do with Louisa Heidenburg."

"Hey guv'ner," Newkirk spoke up, "ain't that the bird what took care of you when you got winged in that Paris caper a few months back?"

Hogan's eyes were slightly glazed, and it took him a second to realize the four men around him were waiting for an answer. "Yes…yeah," he replied, regaining his composure. "That was the one."

"Oui. She cared for him when he was sick. Don't you remember? She gave me her recipe for Profiteroles."

"Good-looking bird that was," Newkirk mused contentedly. "It's really a shame she couldn't stay longer. It'd almost be worth getting shot in the arm to 'ave a pretty little thing like that to wait on you."

"Colonel," Carter asked bashfully, but Hogan was still distracted. "Colonel?" He waited until he was noticed, then continued half-hesitantly. "Were you and Louisa… I mean, did you and she ever…" He shrugged and blushed.

Hogan half-smiled at the young man's discomfiture, but before he could say anything Newkirk cut in, laying his arm across the naïve American's shoulders. "Now Carter, you know there are some things an officer and a gentleman just can't discuss."

Carter's blush deepened, but Hogan cut in. "There's nothing between Louisa and me. She's engaged to someone in the Austrian Underground, remember?"

"Mon Colonel, she has not seen him in three years. Surely it is time to move on."

"That's her decision, Lebeau. For now, she's taken. We're just friends." He looked for his cup of coffee and, realizing it was still in his hand, took it into his quarters.

Newkirk waited for the door to close before leaning in and saying in a slightly lower voice, "Just look at his face, mates. And he claims there's nothing between them? Blimey."

Hogan set the cup down and stretched his legs out on the bunk, putting his arms behind his head as he leaned his back against the wall. Louisa. Such a beautiful, wonderful woman. Just friends? Was that all there was to those few weeks? What about the way she'd sat by him for hours while he drifted in and out of consciousness? Did he imagine the look in her eyes when they'd said good-bye? Were all of the late-night conversations only talk? What about the night before she'd left?

"Robert," When she said his name it was like her lips were on his, and yet the word was edged with biting steel. He couldn't have her. And Robert Hogan was a man not used to not having what he wanted.

"Robert?"

He looked up to find her looking at him worriedly. "Yeah?"

"Are you all-right? That's the third time I've called you."

"Yes, yes, I'm fine. I'll just miss you, is all."

"I'll miss you too, Robert. I was so scared when you were shot – and so happy when you woke up."

He smiled bitterly. "And there is no other face I would rather have woken to."

"I wish you could stay longer, Robert, but it is better this way… for both of us."

He sighed heavily and walked toward the fire. "I can't help it, Louisa. It's hard on both of us. Emil has been gone for over two and a half years now. Why can't you…"

"Stop it, Robert! Just stop it right now! You know this is hard enough for me, with Emil gone and you here. Why must you make it harder than it already is?"

"Because I love you." She started to cry. He turned to comfort her, and suddenly he had crossed the room and was holding her, kissing her tears off of her cheeks. Eventually his mouth found hers. She tried to pull back, but he wouldn't let go, and it didn't take long before she pulled him closer and surrendered.

He pressed his mouth down desperately, wanting more, and she returned the passion. Almost unaware of his actions, he started to push her down on the sofa, but before he could she shoved violently, unexpectedly on his chest, sending him a few feet back.

Both stood silently for a second, their breathing heavy, gaping at each other. Her bun had come loose, and her hair tumbled down, a strand falling in her face, catching the golden glow of the lamplight. Her shirt was wrinkled and damp with sweat, and one of the buttons was half-undone. Her eyes were wide and wild as she stared at him.

Finally he straightened. "I…" He cleared his throat. "I guess that was good-bye."

"Yes…Goodbye."

"I think I'd better go ahead and leave. I know I'm not due back in camp until tomorrow, but something… something may have come up."

"That sounds like a good idea. Auf wiedersehn, Robert."

"Good-bye, Louisa." He didn't dare touch her after the last time, so he settled for an awkward wave across the room and then left by way of the back door. He made the mistake of looking back to where she stood looking after him, her figure framed in the soft firelight, a single tear slipping down her cheek. The glance between them held him captive until she finally broke it by turning away and disappearing inside. Suddenly the night air before him was the coldest he'd ever felt.

He still wished he hadn't kissed her. At the time it had seemed like the right thing to do, a parting farewell before they both resigned themselves. He had hoped for some sort of closure, but it only made the goodbyes harder. Louisa had been right; he shouldn't have pressed her.

But it had seemed so right: he had been shot rescuing her, she had nursed him back to health, and they had a week alone in the safe house together. He had thought the kiss would be perfect, untamed, sheer delight, like a fruit plucked at its ripest.

But it had been a forbidden fruit. The sweetness had a tint of peril to it, of the consequences of partaking in something illicit. The danger he had thought to be exhilarating was now dizzying to the point of nausea. He had always loved looking over the side of the cliff, but that night they had been teetering on the edge. Louisa had been the only thing to keep both of them from plummeting into the unknown depths. He didn't think he would ever get over that night, and it was all because of that kiss…

Just friends. Was that all they were ever destined to be? Would he keep on hoping, praying in vain for year after year while Louisa went on with her life? Maybe he would get a chance to set things straight after this mission. It was time to move on.