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Chapter 52

Hotch sighed as he dropped his keys into the dish on the table beside the front door. After a pleasant dinner with Rossi, and learning a few things on the grandson of the late Colonel Hogan, he believed he became closer to the officer. In fact, it might be difficult to wait the necessary six months to meet with the man, but he'd find a way to manage.

He closed and locked the front door before he set the alarm for the night. Afterward, he headed across the floor and up the stairs. When he reached the top floor, he paused when he came to the closed door of Jack's bedroom. He cracked the door open, and took a peek inside the empty room. Despite its dark interior, it was only thanks to the ceiling light in the hallway that he at least saw his son's bed. He imagined Jack tucked under the blankets fast asleep with the nightlight on his bed-table giving off a faint glow inside his bedroom. Hotch allowed a small smile appear on his face at the imagined scene.

But reality struck him flush in the face suddenly. Now seeing the empty bed only served to remind him how much his son's absence affected him. He let out another sigh, quietly closed the door, entered his own bedroom, and closed that door behind him.

He placed his briefcase on the bed, opened it, and removed the journal. After putting it on the night table, he re-locked the briefcase and sat it on the floor beside his dresser. He gathered a pair of clean undergarments, a pair of pajamas, and walked into his bathroom to take a shower before bed.

As the hot water ran over his tired body, Hotch made quick work of the shower, shampooing his hair, and toweling himself dry. He hurriedly dressed in his clean undergarments and pajamas, reentered his bedroom, and turned off the overhead light. Once he climbed into the bed, he arranged the pillows behind his head before grabbing the journal and turning on the lamp on his night table. He flipped through the remaining pages to find there were ten more pages before he reached the end of the journal. He flipped to where he left off earlier, and began to read.

(Stalag 13 – A Week Later):

Things were quiet at Stalag 13 the past few days, and the men of barracks two were happy. But with three of his men recovering from serious injuries, Hogan sensed they needed more time. So he radioed London and asked for more time off, and London granted them a week. So with assignments being given to the underground instead, Hogan's men used the chance to rest up from their latest close escape and heal from their injuries.

Newkirk and LeBeau, despite their bruises being barely visible, healed sufficiently enough and now were able to carry out easy or simple assignments within the camp itself. But Hogan steadfast refused to permit them to take part in work details assigned by the Kommandant.

Kinch's shoulder had almost completely healed, but there was still a little lingering stiffness. But for the most part, he was almost at full capacity. Hogan also limited his radioman's activities in the camp so as not to arouse suspicion by the Germans. Fortunately for everyone involved, that was not difficult with the guards or Klink.

And lastly, Hotchner who had been the worst injured, was almost completely healed except for the faint bruises still present on his face and involving his injured eye. But the eye itself was healing nicely. Doctor Prust had made at one more visit to the Stalag, but came through the tunnel as he couldn't justify a return to the camp through the front gate. He was extremely pleased to announce to Hogan that Hotchner's eye would be fully functional and the sergeant would suffer no aftereffects.

Prust had also informed the prisoners that Fuchs had gone home a few days ago as he had fully recovered.

Hogan was not only relieved by the news about his own men and Fuchs, but grateful that things would soon be back to normal. In fact, that was when he had decided to ask London for another week's vacation and did exactly that after the doctor left.

(Later the Same Evening):

In the tunnel, Kinch was seated at the radio wearing his headset, monitoring all incoming calls. Newkirk, LeBeau, and Carter were keeping him company as things were slow. The men were telling the radioman all about their narrow and dangerous escape from Gestapo headquarters when Hogan, followed by Hotchner, walked into the radio room.

"What are you guys talking about?" asked Hogan, not letting on he had heard a bit of the conversation.

"We were just telling Kinch about the escape from Gestapo headquarters, Mon Colonel," explained LeBeau, smiling. "We didn't want him to miss out on anything that happened after he'd been shot."

Hogan looked at the trio with doubt in his eyes, but kept his opinion to himself for now. "Just make sure you don't embellish the truth, okay?"

"Now why would we do that, Gov'nor?" asked Newkirk sheepishly.

"Because I know how you two are with storytelling," Hotchner said. "Carter I'm not so worried about you one bit. But I don't want to hear anything from you two about anybody riding in on a white horse to save the day. Just stick to the facts."

"Is anybody home?" a voice said as it got closer causing the men to cease talking and stare straight ahead as a familiar sight came into view. Smiles broke out all around on everybody's faces except Hotchner's when Fritz Fuchs, dressed all in black and carrying a briefcase, walked into the radio room with a smile on his own face. He sat his briefcase on the edge of the radio table.

Hogan was the first to step forward and stretch out his hand. His smile widened as the German shook it firmly. "Fritz, glad to see you on your feet again. How are you?" The others gathered around the German except for Hotchner who stood off to the side and Kinch who remained seated at the radio.

"Gut," the German replied. He glanced at Kinch. "How are you, Sergeant Kinchloe? Have you recovered from being shot?"

"I'm fine," Kinch replied with a lazy grin. "The shoulder's a tad stiff, but getting better every day."

"Glad to hear it," the officer replied. Then his eyes fell on Hotchner and their eyes met briefly, but neither man spoke to the other. Finally, it was the German who spoke first. "Sergeant Hotchner, I am glad to see you are recovering. How is your eye? I hope you will suffer no aftereffects from your attack?"

Hotchner let out a deep breath. "I feel good, captain. Doctor Prust says my eye will be just fine. Thanks for asking."

Fuchs smiled. He sensed the man wanted to say something to him but wasn't sure where or how to begin. For now however, Fuchs would give him a few minutes.

Hogan patted the briefcase. "What's in the briefcase?"

Fuchs unlatched the briefcase, reached inside, and pulled out a bottle of Scotch. He handed it to Hogan who looked up at his friend as he accepted the gift.

"Not that I'm not appreciative, but I'm afraid I don't understand," he said.

The German chuckled. "It's a bottle of twelve-year-old Scotch. Consider it a gift from the major."

Hogan smiled with delight at the bottle in his hands. "Now why would your boss give us a bottle of his best Scotch?"

The German officer smirked. "Because he doesn't know it's missing from his supply."

Hogan and the others chuckled at the thought of the major giving them a bottle of his best liquor for a job well done. He glanced at his men.

"LeBeau, go fetch several tin cups. I say we deserve a toast to our good fortune."

"Oui, Colonel."

But before the Frenchman could move, Fuchs again opened his briefcase and this time removed a box wrapped with string and handed it to the American officer as well. Hogan first stared at the box, and then at Fuchs, confused.

"Whenever I get injured or in danger, Lilly worries and goes on a baking frenzy. This time she made several dozen chocolate chip, peanut butter, and oatmeal cookies. And as we have more that we need and David doesn't yet have any teeth, I thought you and your men might enjoy some."

Carter's eyes lit up like a child's on Christmas Day. "Oh boy! Cookies and Scotch!"

Everybody, including Fuchs, stared at Carter in disbelief at hearing his exclamation. Aware that everybody's eyes were on him, the young sergeant looked around at his friends with surprise. "What?" he asked not understanding.

LeBeau shook his head. "Nothing, mon ami," he said, then looked at Hogan. "I will get the cups, Colonel." He hastily left the area. While they waited for him to return, Hogan studied his friend.

"What's happening with the investigation, my friend?" he asked worriedly.

"Gut news, Rob," Fuchs replied as LeBeau returned with seven tin cups and placed them side-by-side on the radio table.

"Tell me," Hogan replied as he opened the bottle and began to pour a little Scotch into each cup while Carter undid the string on the box.

As Hogan handed each man a cup, Fuchs explained to them the final outcome of the investigation into what happened at Gestapo headquarters, and what Hochstetter had told Berlin in his written report. Kinch's eyes narrowed as he listened and glanced at the Colonel.

"Hey, Colonel, that sounds almost like the story you told the major while in Klink's office that day."

"Does it?" Hogan teased as he sipped his Scotch. "I hadn't realized it."

"So it's really over, mate?" Newkirk asked the German.

"Ja. It is finally over and we all can relax for a while." Bluebird's eyes shifted to Hotchner. It was time to clear the air. "I gather you want to tell me something, Sergeant Hotchner."

Hotchner took a drink from his cup mainly to gather his nerve. He looked at Fuchs. "Can we talk alone, captain?"

Not waiting for Fuchs to respond, Hogan intervened. "Kinch, Newkirk, Carter, LeBeau, let's give Hotchner and Bluebird a bit of privacy for a few minutes." He then glanced at Hotchner. "We'll be nearby when you're done." The officer sensed what was about to happen and was proud of Hotchner for taking the initiative. The four men followed Hogan out of the radio room and to another branch of the tunnel where there would be privacy for the duo, but they could still overhear what was being said between the two men just in case.


Fuchs sat his cup atop his briefcase and clasped his hands behind his back. His blue eyes stared at the nervous-looking sergeant.

"We are alone now," Fuchs observed. "Say whatever you need to tell me. I promise I will listen and not judge you for your words."

"Thank you," Hotchner began. "Captain, since Newkirk, LeBeau and I were rescued, I have done nothing except go over again and again in my mind what happened in Gestapo headquarters. Also, I have been told how if it hadn't been for what you did, things might have ended badly for us as well as for yourself. And…and while it's gonna take a little time to get used to having someone who works with the Gestapo as an ally, I can promise you when I say I am willing to cut you some slack instead of treating you as an enemy."

Fuchs didn't answer right away. Instead, he mulled over what the man had just said to him. "Danke, sergeant. I hope I don't make you angry by asking this, but what made you change your mind about me in the end?"

Hotchner let out a deep breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "It was pointed out to me that you have just as much if not more to lose than we do. And any man who despite that added risk, can still do what you did for us and the underground, can't be a bad guy in my book." Hotchner stretched out his hand wearing a smile, and Fuchs grabbed it and the two men shook hands.

As they did so, Hogan and the others came back into the radio room, all wearing smiles.

"I'm glad to see you two have made peace with each other," Hogan said observing the two men. He raised his cup and smiled. "I'd say these peace talks and us being safe and sound calls for a drink. How about it, guys? Fritz?"

"I think you're right, Gov'nor," Newkirk agreed. He and the other men, including Fuchs, raised their cups, and were about to clink them together when a voice interrupted the procedure.

"Wait!" Carter ordered.

"What now?" asked Newkirk with a roll of his eyes.

"We forgot the cookies!"

"Mon Dieu!" uttered LeBeau, exasperated.

"C'mon, Carter," said Kinch.

"That's bloody marvelous, Andrew," added Newkirk sarcastically. "Interruptin' the Gov'nor's toast for cookies. No offense, captain," he added with a glimpse at Fuchs.

"It's okay. No harm done," Hogan said as he took a cookie from the box Carter was holding to make sure each man got one. When they all had one, he then offered the box to the German.

"Captain?"

"Nein, sergeant," Fuchs declined. "I have eaten enough cookies during the week I was at home after being discharged from the hospital. As I told you before, Lilly baked them like crazy while I was in the hospital, so I had plenty waiting for me."

"Sorry," Carter apologized sitting the box back on the table, then took one himself. "Go ahead with your toast, Colonel," he added looking at Hogan.

"Thank you, Carter," Hogan began again. "As I said before, making peace between Bluebird and Hotchner is great. And us being alive and back here is also great. Therefore, I say both things deserve a toast. Here's to happy endings."

The men all raised their cups and clinked them together in celebration to a happy ending for one and all.

(The End – 1944)

With a sigh of regret having reached the end of the journal, Hotch closed the book and sat it on his night table. He couldn't believe after all this time he had finally finished reading it.

He was glad to read that his grandfather had made his peace in the end with the Gestapo captain. Even he himself thought of Fuchs as one of the good guys, but could understand his grandfather's hesitation at accepting him. And although it took his grandfather a bit longer to realize this fact, he was glad he finally did in the end.

Reaching out, he switched off the lamp and slid down into the bed. Pulling the covers up to just under his chin, he felt he had a lot to think about not only tonight, but before he went into the office the next day. He also needed to figure out what he would tell the others in the morning when he met with them, because they all deserved to know everything he had found out tonight having been on what he considered an incredible journey with him.

A tired smile appeared as his eyelids began to droop. And just as sleep began to take over, one last thought came to him.

He wished his grandfather was alive so he could tell him how proud he was of him for everything.