No ownership of the Hogan's Heroes characters is implied or inferred. Copyright belongs to others and no infringement is intended.

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Wilson tiredly rubbed his eyes and face, and moved to the base of the ladder that led to the main room of Barracks Two.

"How is he, Joe?" Kinch asked. Wilson had not left Hogan's side for nearly two hours, but had insisted that the others leave them alone, something that both relieved and worried Hogan's men. Now that Wilson had moved away, they considered him fair game for any questions.

"Major Hochstetter worked him over pretty badly," the medic admitted. "He's got so many bruises on his face, they all run together." He shook his head. "But bruises are the easy things. The Gestapo was pretty brutal."

"What do you mean?" Newkirk asked, not really wanting to know.

"Two broken fingers on his right hand, a broken rib, I'll have to watch for pneumonia—they must have left him soaking wet at one stage and it was cold in there, I gather. Concussion, contusions, hell of a tender abdomen—maybe some bruising of the kidneys, you name it… and something else I couldn't quite understand, but I can tell you it wouldn't have been pleasant."

"What's that?" Kinch asked, concerned. Wilson considered not answering, then shrugged and led the others back to Hogan's bedside. He pulled down the blanket covering the Colonel and gently pulled open the fresh, dry shirt that had been put on him. His torso was wrapped securely in white bandages, but there were specks of red showing through. "Blood?" Newkirk questioned. He shrugged; regrettable, but not surprising.

Wilson nodded. "A lot of small incisions—like knife-jabs. Not deep enough to mortally wound him, but certainly deep enough to cause some pretty bad pain and have a decent chance of damaging something inside. About ten of them," he recounted, pointing to a small area just below Hogan's ribcage, "all in this area."

Le Beau screwed his face into a look of disgust and repulsion. His eyes were drawn toward the marks on Hogan's throat that clearly outlined someone's handprints. He felt constantly on the brink of tears, but none came, and he could say nothing, and no matter how far away he moved he could not block out the regular, low moans of his commanding officer, who had yet to lie completely still, even in this state of oblivion.

Just then Carter came running down the tunnel. "Klink and Schultz have just gone into Colonel Hogan's cell," he panted.

"They'll start searching soon," Le Beau managed to say, turning away.

Carter shook his head. "Klink told Schultz to come here and get some clothes for the Colonel before he lets the dogs out."

"A couple of us had better get up there then," Newkirk said.

"I'll go," Kinch volunteered. And, with a look at Le Beau, he added, "You come, too, Louis." You need to get out for awhile.

"Oui, let's go," Le Beau answered. He almost couldn't move fast enough to control the nausea he was feeling.

Carter took in the mood of the others and approached Hogan's bunk, where Wilson was just beginning with light fingers to bundle up Hogan again. He looked at the Colonel's wrists, thick with bandages, and his right hand, splinted to keep the broken fingers protected, and knew that the others had not told him everything when they explained how Hogan had been found. He wanted to appreciate the gesture, but he also hated it: his imagination could put in so many more terrible scenarios. Or would they only be mild images in comparison to the reality?

"How long will he be like this?" Carter whispered.

"It's hard to tell," Wilson answered, burying Hogan's arms under the blankets. "I'd like him to wake up sooner rather than later; I need to get some fluids in him, and I can't do that when he's unconscious. On the other hand, the longer he's out, the less he feels, and that's not a bad thing in this case."

Carter worried. And though he didn't want to know the answer, in case it wasn't the one he wanted to hear, he asked, "Is the Colonel going to be okay?"

Newkirk braced himself for the answer as well. He had long been wondering, but had also been afraid of the possible answer.

Wilson turned to the two men and registered their grief and fear. "Look, there's no way around it; he's in awful shape. Hochstetter would have figured he could do whatever he wanted and no one would care since the Colonel was going to be shot anyway. But everything they did was just window dressing—it was aimed at hurting, not killing. He'll be okay. It'll just take some time."

Newkirk's eyes were once again pulled to the man lying on his back on the bunk. Though his eyes were closed, there was nothing about Hogan that suggested he was resting. His face was etched with new lines of agony and stress, and a particularly strong stitch of pain occasionally left him moaning as his body jerked and pulled away from the cot. "You've gotta hand it to the Gestapo," Newkirk said with contempt; "they know just how to hurt you enough so you want to die—then they torture you by letting you live." His anger grew as he studied Hogan's battered face. "And Hochstetter would have planned it so the Colonel was fully aware of what was happening when he finally pulled the trigger."

Wilson nodded and thought of the state Hogan was in when he had come in—unresponsive, but with his eyes open in eerie slits. Awake, but not aware. Until they had started to tend his injuries, when he seemed to somewhat come into himself, and allowed himself to lapse fully into unconsciousness, something Wilson took as a sign of Hogan understanding the change of circumstances around him. "Well, this time Colonel Hogan got the last laugh: he took himself somewhere Hochstetter could never go." He sighed. "Now all we have to do is get him to come back."

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"WHAT?" Hochstetter's voice rose at least an octave and his face turned a bright red as Klink reluctantly presented his findings to the other officers in his office.

"What do you mean, Hogan is missing?" Burkhalter asked, trying to ignore the continued ranting and raving going on beside him. "How could a man locked up in solitary confinement and chained to the room be missing?"

Klink shrugged apologetically. "I cannot imagine, General Burkhalter. Sergeant Schultz says no one went in or out of the cell."

"Perhaps not while he was awake," Hochstetter accused, growling.

"Major Hochstetter, I assure you, my guards are quite alert when it comes to looking after our special prisoners," Klink began.

Burkhalter waved his hand to stop Klink from continuing. "Yes, yes, Klink. But the problem remains: Colonel Hogan is not in his cell. Regardless of how he got out, a man in his condition," he said, with a glare towards Hochstetter, who merely raised an eyebrow and his chin in defiance, "could not have gotten very far. You have called out the dogs?"

"Of course, Herr General," Klink answered. As late as possible, to give Hogan a fighting chance. "The guards are already out looking for him."

"You would probably be better served by searching inside the camp, Klink," Hochstetter suggested. The others looked at him questioningly. "Hogan may have needed some… looking after… before he went on his way. Perhaps he is still inside the Stalag."

"Ridiculous!" Klink dismissed immediately.

"Perhaps not so ridiculous, Klink," Burkhalter said. "As a matter of fact, perhaps you had better send some men in to study the cell itself. If Schultz was awake, and Hogan got out, then there would have to be a flaw in there. And you had better find it."

"Yes, Herr General."

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Kinch looked up from the coffee pot at Le Beau. "They do a good search of that cell and they'll find the tunnel. You'd better tell Carter to get rid of it, and fast."

"Oui, I will go." Le Beau stopped on the way out and turned back as a sudden, clear thought made it through his racing mind. "Kinch—what is happening? Are we closing down the operation?"

Kinch stared back. He had not made it past the present to start worrying about the future. "I don't know, Louis. Only the Colonel decides that. Let's move one step at a time, and hope he recovers in time to salvage this disaster. Right now, we just close the one tunnel."

And hope it's the only one.