No ownership of the Hogan's Heroes characters is implied or inferred. Copyright belongs to others and no infringement is intended. Copyright text, storyline, and original characters belongs to L J Groundwater. Thanks.

----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- -----

"Hogan's men will return to Stalag 13 tomorrow, Klink," Burkhalter announced. "By then, Major Hochstetter will have had time to write his official report about this whole incident, and your camp will return to normal."

Klink was astonished. "General Burkhalter, I don't understand. I expected Hogan's men to spend much more time in custody."

"There is no need for that," the General replied dismissively. "We know what happened. Major Oberholzer left his post without authorization. He defected to England, and when he came back with some crazy notion about Hogan being the cause of all his troubles, he contacted no one and set about exacting his revenge in secret."

Klink's eyes had widened during Burkhalter's explanation. "He defected?" he gasped.

"He was obviously unstable," Burkhalter continued. "A not atypical Gestapo trait," he added, thinking about his conversation with Hochstetter. "What does the hospital say about Hogan?"

"They want him out tomorrow," Klink said. He shivered inwardly; Hogan didn't look remotely ready to leave his hospital bed. "They say they need the room for Germans."

Burkhalter nodded. "As it should be," he agreed. "What did he have to say when you saw him?"

I shot him. "Very little," Klink replied, trying to ignore Hogan's words echoing in his head. "He was barely conscious."

"There will be much to ask him. Of course we know that Hogan and his men would have acted out of self-defense. It will be quite simple to clear them of any wrongdoing."

"But Major Oberholzer was a German officer…" Klink protested in a breath.

Burkhalter's face took on an exasperated expression. "And a traitor! I consider what Hogan's men did a favor to the Third Reich. And if you know what's good for you, Klink, you will, too. It could be quite chilly for you if you think otherwise."

Klink swallowed, hard. The implication of what Burkhalter was saying hit him full in the face. Hogan and his men were to be considered blameless—whether they actually were or not—because that would save Klink and Burkhalter from a sudden transfer to the Russian front! Klink started nodding furiously. "Yes, General. It was a favor. A very good favor."

"Klink, shut up."

"Yes, sir. Shutting up."

"Get some sleep. You will probably have to face Hochstetter in the morning. And for that, you will need to be in full command of your faculties—or as full as you can manage."

----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- -----

"They're not around!" Scotty reported softly to the others. "They must have been faster than we thought."

Baker, Thomas and Goldman all huddled in closer as they moved into the shelter of the trees. "We've gotta get them back before someone discovers them missing!" Goldman said.

"They were going to hold over at the first stop for a couple of hours, so if we can reach them there, we should be able to bring them back before roll call," Thomas observed.

"Can we get a message to them?" Goldman asked.

Baker shook his head. "No—these people don't have a radio. But I know a fast way to get there. I'll go get them."

"No way; I'll go," Scotty countered.

"Why you?"

"'Cuz I hate trying to figure out the radio. Goldman, you come with me. Baker—I'm not touching those switches!"

Baker couldn't stop the grin that made its way onto his face. Now he knew what Kinch always went through. "Okay, that's fine. I'll take the radio. Just make sure you bring those fellas home!"

----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- -----

The newly-returned prisoners stood panting in the tunnel as Goldman secured the latch above their heads. "So what do we know?" Olsen asked. One of a thousand questions that they'd had no time to ask when Scotty and Goldman had appeared out of nowhere, telling them that they had to get back to camp—now.

"Not much," Baker admitted. "But Schultz says Colonel Hogan and the others have been found. We didn't want to take a chance that we might blow everything here if the Krauts suddenly discovered more men missing."

Foster nodded. "Good call."

Olsen pursed his lips. "You know… part of me was actually looking forward to getting back to England," he admitted softly.

"Yeah," Thomas agreed. "Me, too. I'd kind of… convinced myself that it was better than being here in this rat hole with guns pointed at me all the time."

Goldman nodded. "I know what you mean. But…"

Finally, Foster asked quietly, "What if they've found him… and he's too badly hurt to come back? Or…"

The men let the unspoken thought hang in the air for a few seconds. Then Scotty said, "The Colonel will never tell. He's been through more without breathing a word."

"We don't know what he's been through this time, Scotty," Olsen admitted. "But I'd rather take my chances here that it'll work out in our favor, than never know what could have been, if I went home."

Foster nodded, slowly at first, then more quickly as he built up his own strength and determination. "Me, too," he said. "I'll take my chances. Colonel Hogan's never let us down before." Suddenly his mind flew to that last mission he'd been on when Colonel Hogan was snatched from behind them. He remembered Hogan's hand on his arm, and the way the Colonel was constantly looking out for them, his eyes darting all around them in his efforts to see that they all got home safely. "No matter what kind of mess he's been in, he's not gonna let anything happen because of him."

The others smiled, feeling better for having aired their fears and dispensed with them. Then Thomas said, "Look, I hate to break this up… but if we don't get up top soon, we're not gonna get any sleep before it's time to try and sweet talk our favorite roly-poly Kraut."

A light laugh confirmed an end to the tension. Still smiling, and with even a bit of an impromptu song about rotund German guards, the group headed back up to the barracks.

----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- -----

The silence of Klink's entrance into the room was intended not to disturb Hogan if he was sleeping. What it did instead was give the Kommandant a true glimpse of the American's current condition, something that made him feel guilty when he considered what he had come to do. Hogan was not asleep; on the contrary, he wasn't even in bed. He was sitting in a chair, dressed in his uniform, including a shirt that Klink had had Schultz bring from camp, alternately curling into himself and biting his lip to stifle his groans, or momentarily sitting up straighter to try and take in a full breath. Neither position really had its advantages, and neither seemed more comfortable than the other, Klink observed: Hogan would no sooner move one way, then he would grimace and return to the other position.

Klink was unwillingly filled with compassion. Hogan needed rest, and, clearly, medication for his pain. He was being denied both now because of a decree that comfort and care should only be given to the Master Race, to the fine German people. The very people who had put Hogan in this condition. Klink's fists clenched as Hogan stifled a moan. Verdammt, Hogan, the Kommandant thought, both anxious and annoyed. How is it that you always challenge me to blur the line between what I am told to believe… and what I feel?

Finally, Klink couldn't bear to witness any more, and he rattled the doorknob that he suddenly realized he had never let go of, praying that Hogan's well-documented need for privacy would react to the noise by the Colonel making an astounding and instant recovery, even if it was all an act.

The ploy worked. Not as convincingly as Klink would have liked, but Hogan at least opened his eyes and tried to stop moving incessantly. His expression tight and unwelcoming, Hogan locked gazes with his visitor for just a second before his head was forced back down.

In spite of himself, Klink felt forced to act. Closing the door behind him, he came and bent down beside Hogan. He could see tears shining on Hogan's eyelashes as he breathed in short, sharp hisses through his gritted teeth. His face was flushed, and Klink was sure he could feel heat radiating from him, but Hogan was not sweating. A fever… infection… the Kommandant concluded. In spite of himself, he worried.

"What… izzit?" Hogan gasped eventually, throwing a split-second glance at the silent man beside him.

Forced to find something to say, Klink opted for the simple facts: "You're returning to camp with me today, Hogan."

Hogan's response was a breathy exhale of a laugh, abruptly cut off by an involuntary gasp as he bit his lip so hard Klink saw a trickle of blood erupt around his teeth.

Klink waited a moment before he said in a softer voice, "The doctor says you're not in any danger. The bullet missed your vital organs."

"Glad… to hear it." A single tear escaped Hogan's tightly shut eyes as his head bowed even lower.

"He also says… that Major Oberholzer seemed to have been injecting you with some kind of narcotic that was designed to slow your heartbeat and suppress your reflexes. That's why you were finding it so hard to breathe. He says it should ease up fairly soon now that it is no longer being administered."

Hogan didn't bother to answer. Both men remained silent for a few moments. Finally, Hogan raised his head and asked tiredly, "My men?"

Klink waited as Hogan took in and let out a few controlled breaths. "They're on their way back to camp now. Schultz picked them up from Gestapo Headquarters." Hogan's mouth started working, but words were hard to come by. Klink inserted the answer to the question he thought Hogan was trying to ask. "They're all right, Hogan. They are tired and hungry, but they are fine. I've told Schultz to make sure they're looked after when they get back to Stalag 13."

Hogan nodded once and closed his eyes, ran his tongue carefully over his cut lip.

"Hogan," Klink began. He stopped. Perhaps this wasn't the right time.

But either curiosity or a need to distract himself made Hogan prompt him to go on. He opened his eyes but didn't look up at Klink. "What?" he asked abruptly.

Klink debated excusing himself and leaving, but there was something in Hogan's demeanor that gave him pause. In spite of everything he had been through, Hogan had not leveled a single accusation at anyone. Maybe it was that the American wasn't well enough, maybe he was too confused by everything that had happened. But Klink had a feeling that wasn't the reason, and that Hogan was simply going to go forward, letting bygones be bygones "for the good of the men," as he always seemed to. If Hogan could continue to do this, after what he and his men had just been through, then Klink resolved to be strong enough to say his piece.

"You—you went out of camp, Hogan. You escaped," Klink began.

Hogan's breathing got louder as he regulated his outward response to his discomfort. Finally, he growled, "I was gonna… come back." His fists curled even tighter as he took a clearly painful breath. "Oberholzer… stopped me."

"But you left, Hogan. Why did you leave? It was foolish. There has never been a successful escape from Stalag 13." Klink almost winced at how lame he sounded to his own ears.

"Told you…" Hogan panted. He pushed himself up to look Klink in the face, his eyes bright, his cheeks damp: "my men… were in trouble. I… had… to find them."

Hogan suddenly choked out a breath and then clenched his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut as a strong wave of pain washed through him. When it diminished, his body relaxed and he turned tiredly to Klink. "What are you… trying to say?" he asked, exhausted.

Klink nodded and finally plowed in. "You were right about your men, Hogan. They hadn't tried to escape. You know them better than I gave you credit for." A pause. "The next time, I will believe you."

Hogan answered, looking hard-pressed to keep his eyes open. "Let's not… have a 'next time.'"

Klink smile tightly. "No. Let's not." He stood up, not sure where to go next. Finally, he retreated back to the facts. "We need to go, Hogan."

"I'm ready," Hogan answered, in a voice so weak that the words were laughable. He closed his eyes, as though needing to gather his strength to stand, and then positioned his feet firmly on the floor. But he could move no farther, and his head drooped in weary defeat. He opened his eyes as he felt a hand grip his arm.

"Let me help you," Klink said.

Hogan nodded and let Klink draw him gently up from the chair, trying very hard to stifle a cry when stretching his wounded body knifed pain through him. Finally standing, Hogan ran a hand across his face and waited for the lightheadedness to stop before he tried to take a step. "Thanks," he panted.

Klink nodded brusquely, trying to mask the emotion that had come over him during this little interaction. "You're welcome." He waited until Hogan seemed steady on his feet, then the two of them started out of the room, Klink not letting go of Hogan's arm, and Hogan, surprisingly, not complaining about it.

The American officer looked distinctly grey when they reached the car. Klink helped Hogan into the passenger seat, then went around and got behind the wheel to drive back to camp. Stealing a glance at his prisoner before heading off, he said, "I'll make it as smooth as I can, Hogan," though he wasn't exactly sure why he felt he needed to tell him that.

Hogan merely nodded once.

They drove for some time, Klink deep in his own thoughts. Finally, he said aloud, in a clear attempt to detach himself from his feelings, "There will be consequences for leaving camp without permission."

His eyes closed and heading toward sleep, Hogan managed to reply, "No… cooler. Okay?" The feebleness of his voice worried Klink. "Spent enough… time… locked away."

"We'll see," Klink replied, trying to sound firm but sure he wasn't being very convincing. He waited for the protest. When there wasn't one, he looked at his passenger and found Hogan still, his breathing uncomfortable but steady. Sleep, Hogan. That is an escape I will not deprive you of.

Then Klink turned his eyes back to the road, and, trying to block out any thoughts of what might have been, he tightened his grip on the steering wheel and finished the drive back to camp.

----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- -----

Hogan leaned against the frame of the door to his office, looking out into the darkened common room. There was little he could see by the dim light that came from behind him out into the barracks, but it didn't matter, not really; he knew his men were there, sleeping peacefully, soundly. Safely.

"You are up very late, sir. It is not good for you."

Hogan was startled by the voice next to him. He strained to see Corporal Le Beau had managed to make it to his side undetected. Quiet as a mouse, Hogan thought, automatically proud of the man's stealth. He shrugged in the darkness. "I'll sleep in tomorrow."

Le Beau snorted a laugh. "Right."

"You're up late, too," Hogan observed.

"I can never sleep when you are prowling around."

"Was I prowling?" Hogan asked.

"You always prowl when you have something on your mind. What are you thinking about?"

Hogan shook his head. "I dunno."

Le Beau frowned. "Are you hurting, Colonel? I will go get Wilson for you."

"No, Louis, it's not that. I'm almost a hundred percent now."

Almost, Le Beau noted.

Before he could answer, Hogan continued, "I'm just… thinking how good it is to stand here and know everyone is back where they belong. This place looked pretty empty for awhile."

Le Beau nodded silently. When he and Carter had been captured by Oberholzer, he suspected the Colonel would take it hard. When Kinch, and then Newkirk, had also been taken, the Frenchman knew that Hogan would be left on his own. But he had always assumed that the Colonel would easily pick up the pieces with other operatives and move on. Now, he fully realized what had become abundantly clear when they were at the factory: that as much as the men depended on Hogan, he depended on them. As much as they wanted him as their leader, he wanted to have them to lead. As much danger as he routinely had to put them in as part of his job, he wanted them safe. And he had proven that beyond the shadow of a doubt by his actions in Hammelburg.

"It is strange to be happy to be back here," Le Beau admitted. "But I am."

Hogan nodded and let out a long breath through his nose. "So am I."

The pair went silent for awhile, each lost in his own thoughts. Then Le Beau said, "I'd better get back to bed. I have to cook for Burkhalter's sister and Klink tomorrow."

Hogan laughed softly. "You'll need all your strength for that, Le Beau," he agreed.

"You notice Frau Linkmeyer is not so shy about coming to camp now that her brother and Klink are off the hook with Berlin," Le Beau scoffed.

"Yep," Hogan said, crossing his arms in front of him. "Lucky for us Burkhalter's sense of self-preservation is so strong. He was more than happy to agree that Oberholzer was a traitor with a particularly finely-honed sense of revenge."

"Well, everything we told the interrogators was not a lie—Oberholzer did go to England and come back."

"True; we just didn't mention that it wasn't his idea to go in the first place." Hogan's small smile disappeared. "It could have gone bad, Le Beau," he said in a whisper. "It could have gone really bad."

"I didn't think it went really good, Colonel," the Frenchman answered.

"No, I suppose it didn't," Hogan conceded.

Another voice in the darkness. "Don't you guys plan to sleep tonight?"

Hogan's eyes darted immediately to the source of the sound. "Sorry, Carter. We didn't mean to wake you."

"That's okay," came the Sergeant's sleepy voice. "I was gonna get up soon anyway."

"What, in five or six hours?" Le Beau asked, amused.

"Probably. What are you fellas doing in the dark?"

Hogan smiled softly. "Just talking, Carter. Go back to sleep."

"Hey, I wonder if London's gonna give us another big job soon."

"Do you always think about this at midnight?" Le Beau retorted.

Hogan heard Carter's feet touch the floor. "Well, gee, yeah. When I'm awake. I mean, I'm usually awake at this hour because of London, so it wouldn't be unusual for me to be thinking about it at midnight—"

"Carter…"

"Sorry, Colonel."

"London will give us a job when they need us." Hogan paused, thinking back to the job that indirectly got him and his men into their mess with Oberholzer in the first place.

"Well, gee, it's sure been a long time—three weeks!"

"Don't complain; we've earned the break. Besides, they're probably too busy counting their prisoners over and over again to make sure they haven't missed anyone." Hogan shook his head. "They sure weren't happy when I reported that Oberholzer had gotten out."

"Because it showed up a weakness in their system," Carter proposed.

Hogan clenched his fists, glad that his men couldn't see him. "There are weaknesses in the Krauts' system, too," he said. "That's why men escape from Luft Stalags."

Le Beau piped up, "Well, I, for one, would like London's system to be fool-proof."

"Me, too, Le Beau," Hogan answered. But no system is… which means someday, this could happen again… and we might not be so lucky.

Please, God, next time… let us be ready.