(*Author's note: I forgot to mention that I don't own Hogan's Heroes or Quantum Leap and the trademarked characters and places that go with them. I'm not sure who owns them, but it's not me. And while I don't think for a minute that executives from either of those companies is going to read this, well, better safe than sorry. Better to ere on the side of caution, as it were. Well, that's all I have to say right now)

***

He was starting to remember more. He knew his name, for one thing- that had come to him in a flash. It was Wilhelm, Wilhelm Kink. He also knew that he was German, or at least, that he lived there. Some things, however, seemed to elude him. Like a reason that he was in this strange place to begin with.. He couldn't understand it. There didn't seem to be a reason. It didn't look like a hospital or an institution. He was alone, he always figured that hospitals and institutions were crowded and even when they weren't crowded, patients didn't usually get their own rooms.

After Verbena had left, he had done a little exploring. There were two rooms that he had access to: the room with the bed and the strange, and seemingly purposeless, semi-circle railing; and a bathroom. The bathroom had everything one might expect to find- except a mirror. How was he supposed to shave? Although, to be fair, it wasn't as if he had been able to find a razor anyway.

Wilhelm had noticed something else as well, though he tried to ignore it with minimal success. He seemed to be literally not himself. From what he could recollect, he was somewhat, alright, completely, passed his prime. Yet he felt fit and the body underneath the skin tight flesh colored suit looked firm and young. He also had hair again and the vision in his left eye was completely clear. It made no sense.

He felt as if his world had been turned upside down and he had been thrown into some kind of Jules Verne novel. Invasion of the Body Snatchers came to his mind, and although he couldn't recall the reference, it seem to fit somehow. All in all, he didn't care for the situation and he wished that someone would concede to tell him what was going on.

Eventually, he sat back on the bed, feeling a bit overwhelmed by it all. He tried to dredge more information from his muddled mind before surrendering to defeat. He still wasn't getting anywhere.

When he heard the door open again, Wilhelm didn't bother looking up. He figured that it was Verbena, returning as promised. That was why he was caught completely by surprise when he heard the gravelly voice. "All right, I need some information."

For some reason the word "interrogation" popped into Wilhelm's mind. And he knew that "interrogation" wasn't pleasant. In fact, it seemed that it should border on the unpleasant. Maybe a bit more than unpleasant. He looked up and sighed in relief. He knew this man too and something told him that he could be trusted.

"Hello Al." Wilhelm tactfully decided not to say anything about the man's singularly bizarre attire, instead he decided to focus on more immediate concerns. "What am I doing here?"

If Al was unnerved by Wilhelm's knowledge of his name, he didn't show it. Ignoring the question, Al asked a few of his own. "What's the date and what's your name?"

The latter poised no problem to Wilhelm as he had already figured it out. But why would Al need to know the date? Shouldn't he know? Unless. . . Unless Al wanted to be sure that he knew it. Did he?

After thinking about it for a moment, it too came to him. "As far as I know, the date is October10, 1943. My name is Wilhelm Kink." Thinking that it was about time he was let out of the dark, he added, "And I think that it's time that you answered some of my questions."

Al didn't answer him. He actually looked a bit paler. What is it about me, Wilhelm asked himself, that makes people pale so?

"Are you sure that's the date?" Al sounded as if he hoped that Wilhelm had been mistaken.

However, Wilhelm hadn't made a mistake, as far as he knew, and he was getting tired of being prodded at. "How should I know!" he said irritably. "I have no way of knowing how long I've been in this prison of yours." As the words flew out of his mouth, things were coming together in his mind. He wasn't just in prison. He wasn't just a prisoner. He was a prisoner of war. He was a German soldier and Al was an American . . . well, he was American. It all made a kind of sense. For the moment he ignored the fact that he seemed to have someone else's memories and turned on Al, triumphant.

"I get it now. You are tying to get me to, what is it?, 'spill the beans', aren't you? Well, you can do what you want, I'm not going to tell you anything." He hoped that he had said that last bit with more bravery than he felt. He wasn't sure how long he could take an "interrogation", but he had a feeling that he wouldn't last long.

Al shook his head. "You aren't a prisoner and I don't plan on torturing you for this information. I just need to know some things."

Wilhelm felt torn. The memories said that not only was Al trust worthy, he was also a friend. But his common sense, what common sense he could get together, said that he had already said too much. What to do?

"Well," Wilhelm began with hesitation, leaving the question of 'If I'm not a prisoner, why are you keeping me here?' for later, "it depends on what you need to know."

"Fair enough." Al looked at Wilhelm intently, almost predatorily "What's the last thing that you can remember?"

Trying to ignore the intensity of Al's gaze, he thought for a moment. "I remember being in my office. I was on the telephone with . . . with one of those Gestapo generals." Wilhelm sighed, "I can't remember anything more after that . . ." He trailed off, noticing that Al didn't seem to be listening. In fact, Al's eyes had widened the merest bit and he looked at Wilhelm as if he had grown another head.

"You're a Nazi." Al said the word as if it were a curse.

Nazi. National Socialist Party. Hitler. Yes, it was the missing piece that Wilhelm had been looking for. Well, one of them. He nodded slowly.

Al's features hardened and without another word, he stalked out of the door.

Wilhelm stared after him, feeling more lost than ever. He knew that Americans had no reason to love Nazis, they were at war after all, but that wasn't enough to explain the look of pure hatred that had appeared on Al's face when Wilhelm had made his admission. It was like Wilhelm had become something worse than a killer when he said he was a Nazi.

Whatever propaganda the allies have been getting about us, he thought, it must be very effective to get a reaction like that.

***

After saying hello to Kink's secretary, whose name he knew was Hilda, and walking out into the crisp morning air, Sam felt a bit better. Until he saw the barbed wire and the rickety looking barracks. His first thought had been 'concentration camp'.

He breathed a mental sigh of relief when he realized that the figures roaming the camp were not the emaciated figures in striped rags that he had seen so many pictures of. They looked healthy enough and they wore uniforms: American; French; English . . . It was a Prisoner Of War camp.

He turned back towards the building that he had just left. There was a sign which read 'Kommandant.' So, Sam thought, this Kink is a Commandant of a POW camp. Well, that was just great. He got to be a drunk Nazi who ran his own prison. Wonderful. Perfect.

Sam was shaken from his melancholy by a tap on his shoulder. He spun around and glared at the cocky young man in an American Colonel's uniform. To Sam's surprise, he knew this man's name. "Hogan."

Hogan smiled, "I'm glad that you haven't forgotten me."

"What do you want?" Sam snarled. He wasn't sure how this Kink acted, but he hoped that he was doing it right.

Obviously he wasn't, for Hogan looked at him strangely. "Are you all right, sir?" He actually sounded somewhat concerned.

"I'm fine." When Hogan just stared, clearly unconvinced, Sam added, "I didn't sleep well."

Hogan nodded slowly, still not completely convinced but seemingly willing to let the matter rest. "I don't really want anything. Just wanted to shoot the breeze is all."

For some reason, Sam did not believe this for one moment. He also did not have time to pursue it. Behind Hogan, he saw the Imaging Chamber door opening. "Excuse me, Hogan, but I really must go."

Hurriedly, Sam turned from Hogan and motioned to Al to follow him back towards the office. As intent as he was to get to the office to talk to Al, he didn't notice Hogan staring after him, looking perplexed.



As soon as the office door was shut, Sam turned to Al. "What am I doing here?"

Al shook his head, "We don't know yet, Sam. Ziggy doesn't have all of the information yet on this time period."

"That's not what I meant. How come I leaped outside of my own lifetime?"

"We're working on it." Al sighed, "Ziggy's blowing a gasket on this one."

Sam nodded and began to pace. "Do you have anything for me?" When he received no immediate response, he stopped. "Well?"

Al sighed again, "I didn't stay with the visitor very long." He fiddled with his cigar for a moment before he continued, "After I found out that he was a Nazi, well, I just couldn't stick around." Al held up a hand, forestalling any comments Sam might have made over his conduct, "I know it was the wrong thing to do." Jabbing his finger at the hand link, he went on, "But we do have some information for you."

Sam made a curt get-on-with-it gesture.

"You are a Colonel Wilhelm Kink and it says here that you run Stalag 13, a POW camp in Luft." Al hit the link and smiled as it had the desired affect, "in Luftwaffe, Germany. The date is October 10th, 1943 and until Ziggy can get some more data, that's all there is."

"It's October? The calendar I found said that it was September."

Al shrugged, "Maybe Kink doesn't keep good records."

Sighing, Sam sat heavily down at the chair behind the desk and put his head in his hands. "What am I supposed to do Al? I don't know how to act like a Nazi. I haven't been here more than ten minutes and someone's supious already." He looked up at Al, "What kind of person is Kink?"

"From what I saw of our visitor, I don't think Kink is the forceful type; of course, I didn't see him for very long. For all I know he's the quiet, sadistic type. I suggest that you just keep a low profile until Ziggy's done downloading the data."

Sam laughed humorlessly. "Thanks a bunch, Al."

"Yeah. Well, it's the best I can do. I'll get back to you when Ziggy's done."

Before Al had a chance to leave, Sam said, "Wait. Al, can you get me some information on a General Boes? He's supposed to come here soon."

"All right, I'll find what I can. Be careful, Sam."

Sam nodded to Al's retreating form. "You bet I will, Al."

***

TO BE CONTINUED

(again)