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Without so much as a knock, the door to Barracks Two burst open. The men had already seen the approaching officers and arranged themselves innocently about the room, taking a quick final look at their commanding officer, who seemed to be sleeping, and who, they could only hope, would stay that way throughout the unexpected visit.

"Good morning, gentlemen," greeted Klink with forced cheerfulness. "As you can see, we have the pleasure of a double visit today-"

"I have it well under control, Klink," dismissed Hochstetter. He looked around the room. Carter was reading a letter, Newkirk and Le Beau were playing cards, Kinch had paused in a book. "Where is Colonel Hogan?"

"He's asleep," said Le Beau. "He is ill with some sort of virus."

"Get him out here," ordered Hochstetter.

"Really, Major, it's the first chance 'e's had to sleep all day. Can't you leave him alone for awhile?" requested Newkirk. Blimey, my mouth's gonna get me in big trouble someday.

"I would not want the Colonel to think he missed me on such a short visit," said Hochstetter. "Get him. Now."

There was a continuing protest, as Kinch moved toward Hogan's door. But the hubbub stopped as suddenly as it had begun.

"What's all the noise out here?" Hogan suddenly appeared in his doorway, pale in face but steady and strong in voice. His men knew he had no doubt as to what was going on, but he was keeping his calm demeanor for appearances.

"Mon colonel, this Bosch-"

"Steady, Le Beau," warned Hogan. Then, eyeing Hochstetter himself, Hogan said, "And so to what do we owe the pleasure, Major?" Kinch noticed Hogan was leaning slightly against the doorframe.

"Colonel Hogan, it is my belief that you were outside of this camp last night. Am I correct?" The Major surveyed him with his scrutinizing eyes. He noticed a slight pallor to the normally robust face, but could not place anything else. Yet.

"Now why would I do that? And if I did do that, why would I come back?" Hogan was keeping his voice light. Klink was nearly beside himself. These visits ate at him at the best of times. This was definitely not the best of times.

"Your motives are quite a mystery to mere mortals, Hogan. But despite what you say, the description my SS patrol gave last night was quite clear. A tall, dark haired man heading towards Stalag 13. I'm sure you can understand why I thought of you." Hogan remained silent, his face passive. His men threw quick glances at each other. SS? There was definitely more to what happened than what Hogan had told them. Hochstetter took a dramatic pause, then delivered his verbal blow. "And the man obviously injured his leg quite badly. He was stumbling along, quite unable to walk properly." He looked Hogan in the eye. "I admire you, Hogan. Your motivation was so great you wouldn't let even great pain stop you from escaping."

"I don't know what you're talking about, Major," said Hogan, meeting Hochstetter's gaze.

"Come over here, Colonel Hogan," Hochstetter said.

Le Beau trembled slightly, hoping it wouldn't show. Carter's eyes darted from the Colonel to Hochstetter and back. Newkirk straightened visibly and watched, concerned. Kinch closed his eyes for a brief moment, wishing all his strength into his friend. They wanted to help, to stop this. But the guards' guns would not allow it. Hogan drew himself up away from the doorway and, almost imperceptibly steeling himself, slowly-- remarkably to his friends-- walked steadily and evenly across the room to stand before Hochstetter.

Le Beau didn't realize he had stopped breathing until the air he let out loosened the knot in his stomach. Mon Dieu, how did he do that? The others were showing similar relief. I hope we're not too transparent, he thought. But he then realized that Klink and Schultz looked almost jubilant. Good thing Klink hates Hochstetter.

Hogan was standing square before Hochstetter. Kinch noticed a difference in his commander's breathing, and a gleam of perspiration on his white face, but no trace of the agony he would have put himself through to carry that off. "Yes, Major?" Hogan said. The voice was still steady.

Hochstetter raised his eyebrows in obvious surprise. Without missing a beat, he said, "Stand on one foot, Hogan."

Klink spoke up. "Really, Major Hochstetter, this is more than necessary---"

"Quiet, Klink. Do it, Hogan."

Hogan tried to look bored, and shifted his weight so it was fully on his left leg, his injured leg suspended. Relieved of the pain for a moment. But Hogan knew there was more, and he was bracing himself for it.

"Now the other one."

Hogan's men held a collective breath. Hogan put a weary smirk on his face. "What's the matter, Hochstetter, won't anyone play Hopscotch with you?" But he slowly, deliberately, changed feet. All his weight was on his injured ankle. He forced himself to study the face of the young guard observing the situation, forced himself to imagine a steel rod was holding his leg steady, forced himself to stay expressionless on the surface, while inside his body was screaming.

Newkirk hadn't thought it was possible for Hogan to go any paler, but he nearly jumped to help when he saw Hogan completely blanch. He marveled. Hogan wasn't giving anything away. Only a stream of sweat pouring off his forehead pointed to any stress, and that could be passed off with the flu the men had said Hogan had. Dear God, how long? Newkirk pleaded.

After what seemed like an eternity, Hochstetter nodded. "I am impressed, Hogan." Hogan lowered his other leg and shifted his weight to it. "I am most impressed."

"Next time I'll teach you to shoot marbles," Hogan answered. His voice wasn't nearly as steady now, Kinch noticed. But the sarcasm remained. Hogan stayed eye to eye with Hochstetter.

"Come now, Hochstetter, this is enough foolishness," broke in Burkhalter. "The next time your SS men see someone in the bushes, make sure they capture them the first time instead of going through this foolish charade. Let's go, Klink."

"Yes, of course, Herr General," said Hochstetter. He turned toward the door, then unexpectedly grabbed one of his guards' weapons and struck Hogan full force on the right leg.

Hogan gasped and grabbed his leg. But he didn't cave in. "Thanks, Hochstetter. I may limp now," he rasped. He gave it another rub, then stood up, glaring at his tormentor. He knows. He knows but he can't prove it and he'll do anything not to be made a fool of.

"We are not through, Colonel," said Hochstetter. "We are not through." Hogan stood tall, unmoving. Hochstetter turned on his heel and left, followed by the others. The door slammed behind the last of them.

The usual practice of counting to ten until the Germans were safely out of earshot was abandoned abruptly when Hogan crumpled to the floor.