Sorry for the long wait, but between a camping trip and the world cup I haven't found time to write. But now I've managed to complete a new chapter, and I hope you will like it.

Jout stood in front of the mirror by the sink as he tied his tie. In two hours, Major Fuhrmann's fundraising party was scheduled to start and Hogan and his men were expected to be in Klink's quarters in ten minutes. LeBeau was ordered to cook and Newkirk, Carter, and Baker were acting as waiters, and so they had to prepare the party. Hogan and Jout would watch things over until the guests arrived, then they had to talk to the SS generals when those generals wanted. Jout was not looking forward to this, but it gave them a chance to observe Fuhrmann. When he finished tying his tie, he went over to Newkirk's bunk and removed his dress jacket from it to put it on. All the while he was being watched by Newkirk, who found his boyfriend incredible attractive in his dress uniform.

Jout straightened his jacket and asked his friends, "You know, I don't understand why Fuhrmann wants me to be there too. I mean, if it's about having an officer at the party, Rob will be there. And he is a colonel. I'm merely a lieutenant."

"Merely?" asked Newkirk as he took a drag from his cigarette. "Ya are a lieutenant at the age of 21 and became one when ya were 17. 'at's impressive."

"Maybe, but he did not know my age when he ordered me to attend the party," Jout said. "I just have a bad feeling, that's all."

"You don't have to," came his brother's voice from the office. He was dressed in his dress uniform too. "I don't think Fuhrmann will try anything funny during a fundraising party with the SS. We'll just watch him and do a little small talk with those generals. But be careful; I'm sure those generals will try to gain some information."

Jout nodded and went over to his footlocker to place his cap and flight jacket into it. Hogan observed his brother's walk and said, "Seems like your ankle is fine again. You don't limp anymore."

"Not really." Jout closed his footlocker and rose to his feet. He went over to the table and placed his right foot on a stool. He rolled up his trouser leg and revealed a thick bandage up to his mid-calf. "I went over to Wilson and told him about the fundraising and that he needed to do something about my limping because Fuhrmann could not see that. He bandaged my ankle so tight that I don't feel it anymore. Said I had to remove the bandage as soon as the fundraising his over because of the hindered blood circulation."

He rolled down his trouser leg again while Hogan said, "I don't like that. Maybe we should tell Klink that you don't feel well."

Right then, the barracks' door was opened, and Schultz entered the main room. "Colonel Hogan, Major Fuhrmann wants you and your men at the Kommandant's quarters."

"Yeah, just a moment, Schultz" Hogan waved his hand at Schultz and looked back at his brother.

"No, no, no. My orders are to bring you all to the Kommandant's quarters. Sofort!" Schultz exclaimed and pointed at the door.

Jout straightened his jacket one more time and walked over to Schultz and clapped him on his big shoulder. "We're on our way, Schultzie. Don't want you to get in trouble."

Jout sauntered through the door, with that giving his brother no chance to prevent his attendance at the fundraising party, always making sure to favour his right ankle without giving away his injury. As the group strolled through the compound, there was no other prisoner in sight. Klink had confined them all to their barracks to prevent possible insolences of the prisoners towards the generals. Jout went up the stairs to Klink's quarters directly behind Hogan and Schultz, carefully observing his surroundings. There were two guards posted at the door, Sergeants Kaufmann and Ehring; two more of the strict guards. They were holding their machine guns firm and radiated a tensed atmosphere, as if they were guarding the Fuhrer. Klink probably intended to impress the generals, or maybe Fuhrmann was the one who wanted to impress them; whoever it was, he did not help Jout to calm down. When he entered Klink's living room, Jout saw Klink and Fuhrmann standing in the middle of the room, talking with each other. Fuhrmann was much taller than Klink (Jout guessed him to be about six feet) and looked younger and more athletic (Fuhrmann was probably in his mid-thirties). His short and neatly trimmed fire red hair contrasted with his raven-black uniform, and even though Jout found him physically attractive, Fuhrmann was much more intimidating than Hochstetter.

Fuhrmann stopped talking with Klink once he noticed Hogan and his men. "Right on time, my dear Colonel Hogan. I hope your men are fit to work."

Free of any emotion, Hogan answered. "They are. Corporal LeBeau is an excellent chef, and Corporal Newkirk as well as Sergeants Carter and Baker are experienced waiters."

"That's good to hear." Fuhrmann looked past Hogan at the other prisoners and ordered, "Start with the preparations. I want everything to be perfect for my guests."

The men shuffled away; LeBeau into the kitchen and the other three began to clean and arrange Klink's quarters. Jout stayed by his brother's side, trying to act as carefree as possible in the presence of the man who was after them and who was responsible for Snow Fox's death. Whatever it was, something about Fuhrmann made Jout uneasy.

Without acknowledging Jout's presence, Fuhrmann turned to Klink and asked, "Who is responsible for the background music?"

"Ahem…who?" Klink asked, his voice showing how nervous he was. "I thought about letting a record play in the background."

Fuhrmann rolled his eyes. "Klink, you can't invite the high and mighty of the SS without having someone playing some music. The record player is fine, but not the whole time. Do I have to do everything around here?"

"Well, Major Fuhrmann, I could play some musical pieces on the violin," offered Klink as he nervously fidgeted with his hands.

"God no!" Fuhrmann exclaimed. "I know enough people who complained about your awful playing." The major looked back at Hogan and, for the first time, at Jout. "Can any of you play a musical instrument?"

"Only the drums, but I don't think that's sophisticated enough for your guests," laughed Hogan, his bold attitude present as ever. He knew how dangerous Fuhrmann was for them and their operation, but Hogan would never show his worry. As long as he was cocky, his men knew that nothing was lost.

Jout had lowered his glance and did not react; only after he felt the other three men's stares at him did he look up. "Well, I learned to play the piano. But the last time I played was at least three years ago, so I'm not sure if I still can."

Hogan gave his brother a surprised look. Even after more than one year of being united again, he still learned new things about his younger brother every day. He had the feeling that Jout still felt not comfortable with revealing things about himself; a fact he definitely needed to address.

"There's only one way to find out." Fuhrmann walked to the piano that stood next to the entrance and opened the lid. "Say, Klink, why do you have a piano when you can't even play?"

"I only bought it recently, Major Fuhrmann. I haven't had the chance to learn it yet," explained Klink while he followed Fuhrmann.

Fuhrmann snorted and turned to Jout, pointing at the stool in front of the piano. Completely uncomfortable, especially since his friends stopped working to observe him, Jout looked first at Hogan, who gave him a small but reassuring nod, and then back at Fuhrmann. "What do you want me to play, Major?" he asked as he sat down.

"I think my guests would enjoy some classical music. How about Mozart's "Rondo Alla Turca"? That's pretty famous," Fuhrmann suggested.

"I can try, Major. But like I said, I haven't played for more than three years."

"And I'm sure you're still better than Klink will ever be. Now try." Klink was about to interject at Fuhrmann's remark, but the Gestapo major shot him a warning glance which silenced Klink. There was something about Fuhrmann that made him seem menacing.

Jout took a deep breath and cracked his knuckles. Now he would see how good of a teacher Reverend Adler had been. The first notes Jout played sounded a bit jarring and he had trouble finding the right rhythm, but bit by bit his piano skills emerged again. And with every note he hit, Jout grew more and more confident at playing. He was completely concentrated on the music piece he played, which made him forget that there were people listening to him. His friends and brother were fascinated by Jout's unexpected skills; especially Newkirk was surprised but extremely smitten by his boyfriend's musical talent. When he was finished, Jout averted his gaze from the piano and looked at his friends, their fascinated stares making him smile shyly.

Fuhrmann clapped in his hands and announced, "That's good enough for my guests. I advice you to play pieces of distinguished German composers or my guests won't be happy. And if their unhappy, I'm unhappy. And you don't want to see me unhappy."

Jout gulped and began to tremble slightly. It was not even Fuhrmann's threat that sent a chill down his spine, but rather his pitch-black eyes. They matched his uniform and they way they sparkled had something diabolical; a sparkle that reminded Jout of the way his father's eyes had always flashed when he had beaten him up.

It seemed like Jout was not the only one intimidated by Fuhrmann. Klink was equally nervous and feared a transfer to the Russian front if the fundraising party did not go well. So he walked over to the bookshelf by the window and said, "Major Fuhrmann, I have a music book with the most famous musical pieces of great German composers. Perhaps Lieutenant Hogan could use it while he plays for your guests."

"That's a great idea," said Fuhrmann. He glanced back at Jout and said, "Now use the time until the party to practise. Only the best for my guests"

Four hours later…

The party was already going for two hours, and so far, Jout had made a pretty good job at avoiding to talk with those SS generals. He simply stuck to the piano most of the time and when he took a break, Hogan did not leave his side while mingling with the German officers and their wives. His brother helped him to reduce his nervousness, as well as the praising comments he received from the Germans for his musical talent. But every time he looked into Fuhrmann's direction, he was greeted by the sight of the red-headed major watching him closely with a predatory smile on his face; a smile that made his blood run cold.

After another round of piano playing, Jout excused himself to use the bathroom in Klink's quarters. As he washed his hands, he splashed some cold water into his face to freshen himself up and to cool down his nerves. Fuhrmann's presence and constant staring was making him jumpy; he feared something awful to happen at any moment. He did not trust Fuhrmann. There had to be a reason why he held the party at Stalag 13; and why he demanded that he and his brother attended it. Knowing that Fuhrmann was after Papa Bear, Jout had a bad suspicion. What if Fuhrmann suspected Hogan to be Papa Bear? Or worse, what if he knew that Hogan was Papa Bear, and only needed valid evidence? Jout took a deep breath to regain his composure. Worry himself to death would not help the situation; he had to talk to his brother after the party.

Jout checked himself in the mirror once more, and then he opened the bathroom door to return to the living room again. But as he stepped out of it, he saw Fuhrmann leaning against the wall of the hallway.

Fuhrmann looked up from the ground and flashed a smile at Jout. "Hallo, Lieutenant. Are you feeling alright? You're white as a sheet."

Fuhrmann stalked towards him and Jout immediately backed away from him until his back met the wall. When Fuhrmann kept coming closer, he practically pressed himself into the wall. "I'm…I'm fine, Major," Jout stammered. He looked down at his pale hands and smiled. "You see, since I'm a prisoner in your beautiful country, I'm not as often in the fresh air as I should be. No wonder I'm ashen-faced."

"Is that so?" Standing only inches apart, Fuhrmann looked Jout over, making him extremely uncomfortable. "Anyways, I wanted to talk to you, Lieutenan.t"

Jout gulped again, not liking the sound of the major's voice. "And that's why you head me off at the bathroom?"

"That's the only place I can catch you alone," Fuhrmann laughed. "Otherwise, your brother is always with you."

"Well, what can I do for you, Major?"

In a low voice, Fuhrmann asked, "Does the name "Papa Bear" ring a bell?"

Jout succeeded in controlling his facial expression and appearing calm, but inwardly, his heart was racing. "Papa Bear?" he repeated at last. "That's a character in a famous fairy tale. My brother used to read it to me all the time when I was young."

"Really? What is it called?"

"Goldilocks and the Three Bears. Why do you want to know, Major?"

Fuhrmann moved his head to Jout's ear, trapping the American in between the wall and himself. "Papa Bear is the name of an important underground leader who operates in this area. And you know what? I think Papa Bear is your very dear brother."

Jout began to laugh, still being trapped by the major. "That sounds ridiculous, Major. My brother is a POW. How is he supposed to be an underground leader?"

"That is what my superiors say too. But once I found out how he does it, you will not be laughing anymore. You will all end up in front of a firing squad and I will be the one who gives the order to shoot." Fuhrmann backed away from Jout and while he walked away to the living room, he gave a sardonic laughter that went marrow-deep that left Jout glued to the spot.