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

AN: Severe problems with seem to be interfering with this chapter. This is the most complete version I can find. Fanfiction admits there is a problem here somewhere but are not through fixing it yet. Please bear with me while we sort it out—and until we do I won't be posting so you don't have to go through three versions of this!

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"It's too dangerous, gov'nor. The man's a bleedin' fruitcake!" Newkirk protested that evening. Hogan had just told the rest of the men about his desire to come out of hiding, and that had them all reeling.

"I agree, Colonel. Eichberger says he's a reasonable man, but I can't imagine him taking too well to you suddenly showing up." Kinch spoke, almost knowing he was wasting his breath, but somehow hoping Hogan would listen.

"And what about Hochstetter?" Le Beau put in. "Once he finds out you are back, he will have a field day with you." His voice dropped as he continued, "You do not need to be put in front of the firing squad to be killed."

Hogan looked at his men with fondness. Somehow it always surprised him when they wanted to protect him, even though he never doubted that they would do it for each other without hesitation. Perhaps it was that he considered it his job to look after them, not the other way around. But regardless of the reason, he was touched by their loyalty. "It sounds like Eichberger isn't really impressed with our Major Hochstetter," Hogan said. "I have a feeling that if we play him the right way, he might be strong enough to keep the Gestapo at bay."

Carter shook his head. "Gee, I don't know, Colonel. Major Hochstetter's a Major and Captain Eichberger's only a Captain. He can just order him to do what he wants, can't he?"

"Carter, my boy, sometimes it's about brainpower more than about brass," Hogan replied. "And from all accounts, it appears that Eichberger has a clear advantage over Hochstetter on that front. Let's just see how it pans out, and then I'll decide what to do." He looked at the silent, anxious faces staring back at him and tried to put on a smile. "Look, I can hide out, run, or come back. If I come back, I can remain part of the operation. And I'd rather sit out this war with you fellas than in some overheated office back in London when they decide to ground me as an old man."

No one answered, but they started shifting their eyes, shuffling their feet, and crossing their arms in discomfort. They didn't like it, but they knew that if anyone was going to be able to work his way around this new Kommandant, it would be Hogan. And as dedicated as they were to the operation and its goals, they also knew they wouldn't carry on with the same heart if Hogan weren't there with them. Because while the operation was not intended to ever be solely dependent on one man, Hogan had become its essence—you didn't think of the group without thinking of Hogan. And not one of them could think of working for anyone else.

"Do you think we can survive without Klink?" Newkirk asked. "We always worried about what would happen if he was gone."

"Well we don't have any choice now," Hogan answered. "Eichberger is who we have, so Eichberger is who we work on. We won't know how sharp his teeth are until we get bitten. And I'd rather him try them out on me than any of you fellas. Kinch, what do you hear about that order?"

"Not much yet, Colonel. Underground and London are going to get back to us."

"Okay. Then I'd better start getting my cover story ready, so I know what I've been doing for the last three weeks!"

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The touch of Kinch's hand on his shoulder startled Hogan into wakefulness. Usually an extremely light sleeper, Hogan had not heard the radioman come down the ladder, nor, it appeared, as he saw the clipboard in Kinch's hand, had he even heard the radio's noisy beeps and clicks. He sat up blearily, rubbing his eyes with his left hand, as his right still felt like lead, and tried to blink himself into full awareness. "What's going on, Kinch?" he asked.

"Sorry to wake you, Colonel," Kinch began. Hogan just nodded. "I thought you'd want to know what I found out about that execution order."

Hogan took in a deep breath and tried to carefully stretch the kinks out of his neck. "I thought you didn't expect word about that till at least this afternoon."

"It is this afternoon, Colonel. It's two thirty."

Hogan's face registered surprise. "I'll have to talk to Wilson about what he's putting in those syringes," he joked weakly. Damn. I must not be as well as I thought. "So what have we got?" he asked, putting aside his unease. He absentmindedly stroked his hurting right hand and wrist.

"Well it was tough getting anything from Hammelburg—the Underground still isn't very active thanks to the Gestapo nosing around." Hogan nodded. "But we did manage to get word out from a contact in Gestapo Headquarters. Hochstetter's ranting and raving around the office about not being given his chance to have a go at you," Kinch started.

Hogan snorted, wincing at a stitch of discomfort in his abdomen. "I think he had plenty of chance," he replied.

"Yeah, well, apparently he's been dressed down for not completing the job he was sent here to do in the first place. He was accused of putting his own interests first, and now he has to report failure, since by the time the order was rescinded...well, you should have been... long gone."

Kinch faltered into silence. Hogan nodded, staring at nothing as he considered what would have happened if Hochstetter hadn't been so hell-bent on trying to make Hogan confess to acts of sabotage before finishing him off. "I suppose this is one time I should be grateful he's such a maniac," Hogan practically whispered.

"That did have its usefulness," Kinch agreed quietly. How awful must it be to have to be grateful that a man hates you enough to torture you before he gets around to killing you? He looked at Hogan's troubled face, with one or two lingering bruises leaving a slight discoloration on his still-pale cheeks, and wondered how Hogan could cope with all that had happened to him. Hogan's eyes told Kinch that the Colonel was once again locked up in that cell, enduring a torture intended to drive him mad with pain before facing a certain death. Hogan had never spoken about the experience, choosing instead to try to put it out of his mind. But Kinch could see that it was still there, every time he caught Hogan off-guard. And it was heartbreaking to see the haunted look that dimmed the normally bright spark in Hogan's eyes, leaving Hogan uncertain and, at least until he forced the feelings of fear and rage down for awhile, unconfident in his future. "Colonel?" Kinch prompted softly.

Hogan took a deep, calming breath and blinked himself back to the present. He looked at Kinch expectantly.

Kinch swallowed before speaking again. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Hogan shook his head. "No, thanks, Kinch," he said with difficulty. "I'd rather just forget all about it."

Kinch wasn't fooled, but he nodded agreement. "If you ever do—"

"I know," Hogan interrupted quickly. "Thanks." He cleared his throat and made a visible effort to steer the subject away from himself. "Well, it sounds like it's all on the up and up. I don't think Hochstetter's that good an actor to be able to put on a show like that just for the benefit of someone who might be watching who's on the other side. He's too arrogant to think that anyone might be infiltrating the great Gestapo," he said. Kinch nodded. "So now the only question that remains is: is Eichberger the kind of guy I can trust not to shoot me when I show up?"

"That's a tough call, Colonel," Kinch said.

"I'll give the fellas a couple more days to feel him out. Then it's time to make my move. If this works, Kinch, we could be back in business."

Kinch smiled and nodded, hearing some life come back into Hogan's voice. But he hadn't been mistaken when he saw the glassy eyes only minutes earlier, and wondered how long the spark would be there, before some horrific memory wiped it out again.

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"But what will happen to me down here, Hogan?" Klink asked, when Hogan explained that he was heading back up into camp. Though he was not happy living this non-life underneath Stalag 13, at least he had had Hogan as constant company. But now, with the American saying he was going back upstairs, Klink was starting to feel more uncertain than he had before—he would be alone. And Hogan would not be there to protect him from anything the prisoners decided to do.

"We'll keep you company," Hogan reassured him lightly. "But hopefully you won't be here too long anyway. Once the Underground is satisfied that the Gestapo isn't actively monitoring their activities any more, we'll get you out by the usual route."

"The usual route?" Klink asked. He had heard this phrase before, when Hogan had spoken with London that day, with an anger in his voice that Klink had rarely heard in his senior POW.

"An Underground network. Maybe a sub. Or a plane, if I can get London to agree. They haven't been very cooperative lately," Hogan admitted. Klink heard some of the irritation coming back into Hogan's voice.

"A plane?" Klink breathed. "You can get a plane?"

Hogan shrugged. "We've done it before. Depends on how important they think the information is. Right now they don't even know what you have. I'll have to convince them you're worth the effort."

Klink frowned at the implication that his worth would have to be proven. "What makes you think you can convince them?" Klink asked. Then, suddenly, "They don't seem very interested in what you have to say."

Hogan noticed the hint of mockery in Klink's voice and felt the hairs on the back of his neck start to rise. "They have their moments," he said stiffly. "But if I tell them you're important, they'll take my word for it. I haven't steered them wrong in three years. And they have a stack of German POWs sitting back in London to prove it."

Now it was Klink's turn to feel uncomfortable. The implication was clear: Klink himself was about to join those who had passed through Hogan's network before, to sit out the war in some prison camp, at the mercy of enemies who he was not at all sure were civilized. "What has become of these people?"

"Some of them will just bide their time until this whole mess is over," Hogan answered. His mind raced through some of the faces that had appeared before him before heading back to London. "Others, like Biedenbender, are interrogated and debriefed before being put in a camp for the duration."

"Biedenbender?" Klink said breathlessly. "I thought he defected!"

Hogan laughed humorlessly. "Him? Not on your life. I just helped him back to the Allies. Best birthday present I'd ever had."

"Hogan, how do you do this?"

"Just a lot of hard work, Kommandant. A lot of hard work, a sprinkling of luck, and a lot of help from the Man Upstairs. I like to think He's on our side."

"Sometimes I wonder if He is paying any attention at all," Klink said, disheartened.

"Didn't know you wondered about things like that, Colonel," Hogan said softly.

"Every man wonders about those things, Hogan, if he is human. The Allies do not have the market cornered on humanity."

"Touché," Hogan said. "You just never struck me as the contemplative type."

"And you never struck me as the type of man who would be in charge of a military operation of such grand proportions," Klink countered. "In war, people are rarely what they seem."

Hogan nodded. "It seems like we've both missed a few details along the way. Well, Colonel, you'll have plenty of time to contemplate when you're in the hands of the Allies. I think I can say with confidence that you won't face the same type of interrogation I did." Klink winced at the thought. "And once they've finished with their gentle treatment of you, they'll give you a nice cozy spot with a good view of the war."

"It will not be home, Colonel."

"No," Hogan agreed. "It won't. But a lot of us are in the same boat. If all goes to plan with Eichberger, I'm here for the duration, too."

Klink shook his head, discouraged. "When will this war be over?" he asked, not expecting any kind of an answer.

Hogan didn't have one. "Not soon enough for me, Colonel. Not soon enough for me."