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

----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- -----

I'm losing control, Hogan thought, pinching the bridge of his nose in the hopes of relieving some of the tension behind his eyes. Newkirk had just shouted down the tunnel opening that there was now trouble with Sergeant Schultz, and the others had scrambled back to the barracks to find out what was happening, leaving Hogan downstairs with only the cold walls for company. Wilson had gone upstairs to circulate amongst the other prisoners and not arouse suspicion, and Klink was still being watched down near the cooler. Things are happening all around me, and I can't do anything to dictate how they're affecting the operation.

Hogan sighed heavily. He was getting tired of the décor around him. Though he knew that for the first few days he had been simply physically unable to go anywhere else, he didn't realize how much he would miss being among the action going on above his head. And now, this windowless world was making him feel distinctly claustrophobic. He needed to move. But he was aware enough to know that he wouldn't make it up the ladder without considerable difficulty, even if he could go up there without being seized for execution, which he doubted.

Hogan felt a little stronger after his initial encounter with Klink last night. Fevered sleep had given way to a natural rest, and the soreness had receded enough for him to sit up without taking a break to control his breathing. He tried to recall their conversation, but he had been so tired, and much of it had filtered away with the sweat of fever. What he did know, though, was that he hadn't said very much. And, feeling a pang of guilt, and more than a twinge of loneliness, Hogan decided to revisit the Kommandant now.

Hogan reached for his bomber jacket and slipped his left arm through the sleeve. He considered doing the same with his right, but the bursts of pain from any unexpected impact or twist were still devastating, and he was in no mood to tempt Fate. So he pulled the jacket over his shoulder instead, brushing his left hand across his face in the process. Hogan smiled briefly—he was clean-shaven, and he knew how it must have happened. No one had said a word, but everyone knew how Hogan hated to have stubble on his face. Unable to shave himself because of his injuries, there was only one person who had ever taken on the task for him: Le Beau. The Frenchman would have known it would make Hogan feel better and more in command of himself and his surroundings. He was right, and Hogan was grateful.

Taking it slowly, Hogan made his way down the tunnel toward the cooler. Finally he came across Corporal Hamilton, sitting several feet away from Klink, looking bored. "I'll take over for now, Corporal," Hogan said. Hamilton nodded and left.

Klink was sitting on another chair, wearing his overcoat, hunched over like an old man looking for something on the floor. The blanket he had wrapped himself in last night was folded neatly at his feet with his hat perched on top of it, and someone had lit one of the oil lamps down here to relieve the gloom. He looked up when he heard Hogan's voice.

"They've let you come back down here, Colonel," Klink said.

Hogan raised an eyebrow. So Klink thought they were both prisoners. You don't know how right you are, Hogan thought wryly. Both of us have no place we can go. Yet. "How did you sleep last night?" he asked simply. Hogan took the chair Hamilton had been sitting in and moved it to within a couple of feet of the German, then sat down. He didn't want a repeat of last night.

"It was cold," Klink complained. Then, as if catching himself, he added, "But at least I am alive."

Hogan nodded. He frowned, trying to think of what to say. He wasn't accustomed to being at a loss for words. But how did he explain to Klink what had been happening under his nose for three years? He closed his eyes.

"Are you all right, Colonel Hogan?"

Hogan opened his eyes, surprised at the concern in the voice, and looked at Klink. "I'll be okay," he said.

"Major Hochstetter did terrible things to you, Hogan. I'm sorry I couldn't stop him."

Incongruous images flickered in Hogan's mind—a sharp slap across the face; a field of brilliant yellow flowers; a dazzling knife of pain in his abdomen; a moonlit waltz; a long, low moan as a blackjack found its mark near his kidneys; a scream of agony at the nauseating snap of his finger; "I love you...". Hogan shook his head slowly; his throat was too dry to speak.

"What do you think will happen to us?" Klink asked, sensing the necessity of changing the subject.

"Not much at the moment," Hogan answered, relieved. He braced himself, then launched into what he knew he had to do. "Look, Colonel, I think I need to explain a few things to you."

It was Klink's turn to frown. "Explain a few things?"

"About where you are, and what's going on here."

"Now that I would like to know," Klink answered. "You have been here longer than I have, Hogan. What is going on? And wasn't that Corporal Hamilton sitting here earlier? Have they taken him, too?"

"There is no 'they,'" Hogan replied. "There's us."

Klink took a moment to register what Hogan said. "Us?" he finally asked.

Hogan nodded. "That's right." He waited for the confusion on Klink's face to transform into curiosity. Where to start? "First of all, Kommandant, you haven't left Stalag 13."

"I haven't?" Klink asked, looking around him. "Where are we?"

"We're in a tunnel under the camp," Hogan answered. He paused only briefly as he saw Klink's expression change to one of anger. "We have...several."

"Colonel Hogan, your men have been digging tunnels—" Klink blustered, not sure how to react, and so choosing to take the command route.

"Yeah, and it's a good thing, too. Otherwise you and I would both be six feet under," Hogan retorted, unwillingly becoming irritated at Klink's reaction. "My men got you out through the wall of the cooler, same as they got me out of solitary. We loosened a stone and dug a tunnel from the barracks to the building."

"Loosened a stone—? Hogan, why? I mean, why not dig straight out of camp?"

"Because we had work to do. At least until old Nut Brain up in Berlin decided to change the rules and I had to go into hiding."

"Work?"

Hogan exhaled loudly, exasperated. He wasn't handling this right. He changed tack. "Let me explain it this way," he said, almost formally, calming himself down. He's not gonna like this, but there's nothing he can do about it now. "Colonel Klink, the Allies are running a sabotage and intelligence operation out of Stalag 13. The reason you don't know about it is because we function out of a network of tunnels under the camp, with the help of the local Underground. We come and go as we please, except when the Germans pull something unexpected, like you did last week. So we don't really want to go right out, unless we plan to come back in." He paused. "Hochstetter was spot-on when he accused me of being involved in the destruction of the oil refinery the night before he came. It was an assignment from London; that's why I couldn't take you up on your offer of escape before it was too late. I had orders to follow, and I did."

There, it was out. Hogan hadn't done more than glance at Klink during his monologue. Now, he took a moment to study the Kommandant's face. It was blank. "Colonel?" Hogan prompted.

Klink pulled himself from his daze and nearly whispered, "Hogan, are you trying to make a fool of me?"

"Only when it suits the Allied cause, sir."

"Did you really think I'd believe this nonsense you're telling me?" Klink's voice rose a bit in anger. Hogan frowned. "I don't know what you think you're trying to accomplish here, Hogan, but if you're trying to cover up an infraction of the rules by your prisoners with some wild story, it's not going to work."

"It's true, all of it," Hogan answered sharply.

"How could such a thing be true?" Klink protested. "I would have known if something was being planned on such a grand scale. A couple of little tunnels here and there, yes, I can see where that might have escaped detection—after all, prisoners are forever trying to dig tunnels out of camp—but a full scale operation under my feet? Impossible!"

"It's not impossible; it's true, and you're in it!" Hogan said, annoyed. Damn it, why won't he just listen? "We've been at it for almost three years—we started a couple of months after I got here. Why do you think I let Oskar Schnitzer bring me back into camp when I escaped?—I needed to bring in radio parts. Then when London asked me to run the operation, I agreed."

"The veterinarian?" Klink asked.

"A member of the local Underground," Hogan snapped back. He considered. "I'm only telling you this because you're going to have to go the same route that a lot of our downed Allied flyers go—if we don't get you back to London, the Germans will shoot you. And we can't afford to let that happen. You know too much."

Even through his bewilderment, Klink could hear what appeared to be a compliment. "I know too much?" he asked, hopeful.

"Way too much," Hogan answered. "But don't get that look on your face—you don't even know you know it." Klink opened his mouth to answer, then shut it when he realized he didn't know what to say. Hogan shrugged. "They used you and a few other people to keep information they needed, just in case."

Klink recovered in time to scoff. "Ridiculous!" he said.

"Oh yeah? Ask Burkhalter. He told Hochstetter all about it, before Hochstetter said not to worry about it and to have you shot anyway." Klink paused. Hogan continued. "You want to take that chance?"

Klink seemed to shrink a bit as he thought of his options. "No. No, not really."

Hogan forced himself to ease off. This is so surreal, he thought. I never thought I'd be explaining this to Klink this way. "Look, I know it's a lot to digest in one hit. But the truth is, Kommandant, that the Germans consider you dispensable now, and the Allies consider you indispensable. You probably don't want to go forward, but you sure as hell can't go back, unless you want to be shot."

Klink nodded, swallowed. His world was emptying out before him and he couldn't think of what to do. "I know."

"And I can't go back, either. So like it or not, we're roommates." Hogan stood up and realized how tired this encounter had left him. "Later on, you can come back down to the other end of the tunnel. I'll show you around, and you can be kept there in relative comfort until the coast is clear and we can ship you back to London." He turned to go back to his bunk, then faced Klink again. "I'm sorry you had to find out this way," he said sincerely. "It wasn't the plan. I was hoping you'd never find out."

"Of course," Klink said.

Hogan couldn't miss the note of sarcasm in Klink's voice. "Not just because it was a secret operation, but because I didn't want you to think we were playing you for a fool."

"But you were, Hogan. You were."

"Actually, I was playing more on your ego." Hogan paused. "And your humanity. We would have been goners many times if you hadn't stood up for the prisoners. You've been a fair Kommandant, Colonel. It was a little less difficult to stay here under your command."

Klink seemed to take some comfort in the words. "Is that true, Hogan?"

Hogan nodded. "Yes, it is." Hogan stood up. "Listen, I'm gonna go back up the other end. When you're ready, follow the tunnel till you get to me. It's a simple system, no turnoffs. I'll answer any questions you have."

Klink's face remained shell-shocked. "Thank you, Hogan," he said. What else could he say?

Hogan nodded once in acknowledgment, less than happy with having to burst Klink's balloon as he had, but knowing he owed at least an explanation to the Kommandant, who had, after all, tried to save his life. "You're welcome."

Hogan cradled his right arm as he felt his fingers and wrist starting to ache again, then turned on his heel and purposefully walked away.