Boxing Day, 1944

Down in the tunnels under Stalag Thirteen, Kinch was waiting. He was always waiting for something. And, for a long time, he waited alone. He still did, quite often. But, tonight, there were other men gathered with him to lighten his load. They were waiting for Carter to get back from blowing up a bridge, and it always made them a little extra nervous when the dopey sergeant was on his own.

They had passed most of the time telling each other their news from home—Schultz had brought them a whole pile of letters that morning, much to everyone's surprise and delight. And, once their recent news was shared, they delved into general stories about life before the war.

"I tell ya, she was built like a brickhouse!" Garlotti exclaimed. "And she's coming towards me, thinking I'm her secret admirer and ready to take me off to her lair and my brother's sitting there just yukking it up!"

"Mon Dieu!" LeBeau cried, holding his sides as he laughed.

"With brothers like that, who needs enemies," Kinch observed with a wry smile.

"Well turns out she must've been part vampire because she got this close to me and nearly passed out from all the garlic I had on my hands. Wanted nothing to do with me. After that I never complained when Papa made me mince for him!"

"I'll bet!" Private Lopez said.

"What about you, Colonel?" LeBeau asked. "What was your most horrifying date."

Hogan grinned wickedly, but the look disappeared almost instantly. "Oh," he said flippantly, "I've had my share. But Lopez still has little ears."

"Colonel!" Lopez protested.

"I don't want your mother hunting me down!" Hogan replied.

Lopez thought about that for a moment. "You may have a point, sir. But considering we're spies who go toe to to with the Gestapo—"

"Small potatoes compared to a racy story," Hogan said.

"Well, I have a story! And I am not afraid of your mother!" LeBeau declared as he started to tell the one about the Parisian dancer who wasn't all that she seemed.

Kinch, having heard the story before, only half listened and instead turned his attention to Hogan. The colonel was leaning up against a wooden beam, arms crossed as he listened with half a smile on his face and a twinkle in his eye.

It occurred to Kinch that this wasn't the first time Hogan had declined to tell a story about himself or his past. Kinch had always thought it was to maintain an air of mystery. No one really knew all that much about him. Most of the information he did reveal was most likely lies fed to the Germans as a means to an end.

LeBeau reached a part of his story that always got a big laugh. The others obliged him, but Hogan's grin just grew a little wider.

Come to think of it, Hogan wasn't one for boisterous laughing either, unless it too was part of an act. Not that Kinch was really one to talk—he was always reserved and wasn't easily provoked into loud laughter or revelry. And though he liked to have company, at the same time, it almost felt like a chore to be around so many people.

But, the thing was, Hogan wasn't reserved. Far from it. And he genuinely seemed to like being around people—like he drew energy from it. Kinch could see it in his eyes—he wanted to join in, he wanted to laugh and make merry and tell the most outrageous stories, true or otherwise. The kind of stories he told Klink with a wink and a laugh. But he never did, at least not to his men.

Klink tilted his head as he studied his commanding officer.

Ah.

That was it.

Of course, Kinch knew that Colonel Hogan was an officer—knew he was their leader and commander. And he knew that placed a heavy burden on his shoulders. But he didn't quite understand how isolating it must have been. Hogan just wasn't allowed to joke and laugh and be silly even though Kinch had the feeling he very much wanted to. It wasn't about maintaining an air of mystery; it was about maintaining discipline and respect.

Kinch had a hard time imagining that any of them could lose respect for Colonel Hogan. But maybe he only thought that because Hogan kept himself so aloof.

It was funny—Kinch kept himself aloof because of his nature; Hogan kept himself aloof because of his duty, even though it went against his nature.

It had to be lonely. Maybe it was supposed to be lonely.

Hogan caught Kinch looking at him and raised an eyebrow. Kinch quickly diverted his attention back to LeBeau, who was acting out a ridiculous dance before concluding his tale.

"What about you, Kinch?" Garlotti asked after wiping the tears from his eyes. "You've gotta have a story or two."

"Oh, well, I—"

Kinch was saved by the sound of someone coming down the tunnel. Everyone turned to see Carter stumble into the radio room, without a coat and looking half frozen.

Instantly everyone was on their feet and rushing to his side.

"Carter, are you okay?"

"Mon Dieu, you are like ice!"

"Here, sit down!"

"Garlotti, go get some coffee!"

Kinch grabbed Carter and steered him towards one of the cots. He dropped down onto it, and Kinch grabbed a blanket to throw over his shoulders.

"What happened, Carter?" Hogan asked calmly.

Carter sniffed and wiped his nose. "I… I uh ran into a little trouble, Colonel. But it's all right. I'm not hurt or anything. Just cold."

"What sort of trouble?" Hogan pressed.

Carter sneezed and then wiped his nose. "Patrol. But... they… were just kids, Colonel and I... I… well… I got away."

"Did you blow up the train?" Hogan asked.

Carter nodded. "Yeah. Yeah I did."

"Good. Good job, Carter." Hogan put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed it.

"Thanks, Colonel," Carter said quietly.

Kinch saw a flicker of hesitation on Hogan's face as if he wanted to stay and offer more support. But he couldn't. A 'good job' and a small touch was all he could afford.

"Let me know if you need anything," Hogan said before climbing up the ladder to go back to the barracks.

As soon as he left, Garlotti returned and shoved a cup of coffee into Carter's hands. He and Lopez once again began asking him if he was all right and what happened while LeBeau fussed over how cold Carter looked and lamented that he would get sick and how he would whip up some soup for him right away.

Kinch took a deep breath and sat down on the cot beside him. And, though it went against his nature, he put his arm over Carter and pulled him in close like he imagined the colonel would do if he could. Carter sniffed, this time not from the cold, but from a lone tear, and leaned into him.

And while the others fussed and talked and questioned, Kinch stayed quiet and watched and waited until Carter didn't need him anymore.