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

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

Hogan nearly dozed off as Le Beau's light touch played a razor along his face, once again shaving his commanding officer and soothing his jagged nerves. He felt a slight thrill of fear as Le Beau's hand touched his neck, but, as he had done all the other times that had happened recently, he forced the panic back, reminding himself that this man's hands were not going to tighten their grip and try to throttle the life out of him.

Aside from the continuing concern about his hand, and occasional sudden tiredness, Hogan had healed quite well physically. But he still woke up most nights in a cold sweat from nightmares that he could only see shadows of, and memories of a reality that he wanted desperately to forget. He had noticed a change in himself—a greater wariness of ordinary situations, a smaller sense of trust. He questioned his motives more often, including his decision to keep Black Forest in the dark about Klink. If he was going to trust Eichberger with the operation, why could he not tell him that Klink was in the tunnel? And some of his humor, the weapon that kept his deepest, darkest fears at bay, had disappeared. That worried him almost more than the nightmares, and it saddened him.

Now, with a hot towel wrapped around his face, and some light humming coming from Le Beau, Hogan was feeling nearly normal again. Much as he hated not being able to do everything for himself, he was enjoying the pampering after eight weeks of hell. But he knew himself well enough to realize that this would only sit well with him for so long, and whenever a sudden jolt of pain in his hand brought tears to his eyes, he cursed Hochstetter and vowed to be completely independent again as soon as possible.

He felt a presence on his left side. "Yeah?" Hogan asked, not opening his eyes.

"Thought you might like a cup of coffee, Colonel."

Hogan opened one eye and saw Carter holding out a steaming cup. Closing his eye again, he smiled patiently and said, "Just put it over on the desk, Carter. I'll have it in a minute."

Le Beau removed the towel from Hogan's face, and Hogan sat up as Le Beau patted some aftershave on his cheeks. "Voila, a perfect shave," the Frenchman declared.

"Thanks, Le Beau. You know, if you need a trade after the war, you'd make a great barber. I'd be first in line every morning."

Le Beau tutted. "My work is free at the moment, but after the war, you might have to pay for it." Hogan raised his eyebrows and grinned. "Well, maybe you would get yours for nothing, Colonel."

"Thanks," Hogan said. He turned to Carter. "What's going on around the place?" he asked.

"Kinch is downstairs keeping Colonel Klink company, and Newkirk is trying to teach him how to play poker."

"Teach him how to play?"

"Well, maybe teach him how to cheat."

Hogan laughed softly. "Now that sounds more like it."

"Colonel, I still don't understand. Why didn't you tell Captain Eichberger about Klink?" Carter asked.

"I'm not sure," Hogan answered, clearly still considering the issue himself. He stood up and headed for the coffee. "I just felt more comfortable keeping that a secret." He shrugged as he picked up the cup with his left hand. "Maybe I'm just being too cautious."

"But you told him about yourself, Colonel," added Le Beau.

"He already knows about me. He knows all the codes, he knows the whole set up. He could have sold us out long ago. But I won't let him in on everything just yet." He grimaced at the strength of the brew, then took another sip before putting down the cup. He started pacing the room, rubbing his chin, thinking. "If he's not working for us, it'd be better to have him think he's gained our confidence than for him to be scratching for clues for the duration. As far as Eichberger's concerned, I'm on my own, got it? You're to tell him nothing. He's not to know exactly who else is involved."

Le Beau nodded. "Oui, Colonel."

"Now I guess I owe Klink a visit. Heaven only knows how many marks Newkirk's taking him for."

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

"I just wanted to let you know that we haven't forgotten you. We don't normally keep people down here this long. But we've had a few interruptions along the way, and we're hoping to resume normal operations soon."

Klink studied Hogan closely, trying to measure the impact that a month in the cooler had had on the senior POW. He had heard rumblings from the others about Eichberger and Hogan, but not enough to make sense of any of it. And now, getting fed up, he was determined to hear the whole story.

"So I am led to believe," Klink answered. "Hogan, what is going on around here? Is it true that Captain Eichberger is really an Allied agent?"

"That's the sixty-four dollar question," Hogan replied. Klink looked at him, confused. "It's the biggest question of them all," Hogan explained. "He claims to be. Once we're satisfied that he's telling the truth, we'll get you out of here. Special delivery." He turned to Kinch. "What's the news from the Underground?"

"The heat seems to be off. We kept up a bit of work when we could, and some partisans started pulling off a couple of little sabotage jobs in the last few weeks—mainly because they didn't want the Gestapo to have any solid evidence that you were in charge of the operation."

Hogan nodded. Eichberger had mentioned something about amateurish incidents nearby, and Hogan appreciated the fact that the locals were trying to help cover for him, and the operation, in the only way they knew how. "They're good people," he said. "Unfortunately, they're out of practice, thanks to us—the Nazis aren't quite convinced that I wasn't the head of the local operation despite their work. We'll have to relaunch ourselves carefully."

"How are we going to do that, sir?" Kinch asked.

"We'll start small. Carter, there's a bridge about two miles from the refinery. Do you remember it?"

Carter blushed as he recalled that he wasn't supposed to have been anywhere near the refinery the night Hogan was there. "Sure do, boy," he answered. Newkirk elbowed him. "Sir," he added. Newkirk jostled him again. "He already knows!" Newkirk looked at him in surprise.

"I want you to go out tomorrow night and get rid of it. Make it good, but not too good. That might just make Hochstetter doubt whether he's got the right guy if he points his finger at me again. Take Louis with you as lookout."

"Right."

"What other little targets have we been meaning to get around to that we haven't done yet?"

"Well, there was that tunnel that the convoys use about five miles from here. The Underground tried it, but they didn't do a very good job of it and the Krauts fixed it up, good as new," Newkirk said.

Hogan nodded. "Then that's next. We'll make it a better job. More professional- looking."

"Won't Hochstetter still be suspicious, Colonel?" Le Beau asked.

"I've never seen him not be. We'll just have to be careful not to get caught," he said, trying to sound light. He hated that it was such a great effort now to sound at ease when contemplating the Gestapo officer. "By the time we're done with those two projects, there should be another little treat ready for us."

"How's that, Colonel?" asked Kinch.

"Eichberger says he knows about an important shipment of ammunition and fuel heading toward the Russian front. It'll be passing by this camp, and he wants to blow it."

"Gee, Colonel, is that a smart thing to do?" Carter asked. "I mean—what if it's a trap?"

Hogan shrugged. "How else are we going to find out? I'm afraid we don't have any choice. But I'll do that one myself—I don't want Eichberger knowing who else is involved in this operation, not yet. He hasn't got any more names. He's just been hinting at others. If he gets anyone, it's going to be me alone."

"Not alone, Colonel," Newkirk protested.

Klink watched with interest. He could see now what that over-exuberant Sergeant Carter had been trying to tell him a few weeks ago. Here was Hogan, just out of the cooler, organizing the continuation of an operation that could place him and his subordinates in front of a firing squad, but taking the time and the care to shift the heaviest risk onto himself.

Klink had never before seen a man so aware of all the factors involved in a situation, and it amazed him that after two months of maltreatment by his captors Hogan could rebound so quickly. His mind drifted momentarily back to the day Hogan had been brought into camp, accompanied by General Burkhalter. Staring emotionlessly with a half-lidded gaze in the Kommandant's office, Hogan had seemed like an empty shell. He had said nothing, looked at no one; when reading his file, Klink had wondered just what kind of man he was dealing with. When Hogan's defiance and anger had suddenly flared up, despite all that had been done to him before his arrival at Stalag 13, Klink had reluctantly felt his respect for the American go up.

Now, watching Hogan swiftly take charge of his men, and noting their eagerness to please him and to stay by his side, that level of respect went even higher. He should have learned from Hogan. But then, Hogan had not revealed his true self to Klink, until now.

"Yes, alone," Hogan said firmly. "If everything goes smoothly, the rest of you will get involved again." He turned back to Klink. "And then, it'll be time to say auf Wiedersehen to you."

Klink could only nod understanding. His agreement, as Hogan had already made clear, was not required.

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

Hogan waited anxiously for the trap door in the bunk to open, and only then took a full breath and unclenched his shoulders long enough to release the tension holding them tight. "Are you okay? How'd it go?" he asked immediately, as he pulled Carter awkwardly, left-handed, back into the barracks.

"Fine, Colonel. No problems," Carter answered, brushing himself off and turning to watch Le Beau follow him up the ladder.

"Oui. Everything went fine, Colonel," the Frenchman added.

"Good. Any patrols?" Hogan asked.

"One, but nothing we could not handle, Colonel. We just hid in the bushes until they passed," Le Beau reported.

Hogan nodded. "How'd it look?"

Carter grinned. "Like a high school kid did it. But it'll stick."

Hogan shook his head. "I doubt any high school kid could do what you did, Carter. You are one of a kind."

Kinch agreed from the table. "You can say that again."

Carter smiled. "Thanks. No, honest, Colonel, it looks great. But you don't have to worry; no one will think it came from here. Not from me, anyway. I mean I did a good job, but I made it look like it had to be amateurs. And I don't mean amateur like you or Newkirk, no sir, boy—" Newkirk and Hogan exchanged amused glances at the unintended sleight. "—I mean like people who've never even seen dynamite, much less worked with it. I made it look so inexpert that—"

"At ease, Carter," Hogan said. Carter put a lopsided grin on his face and stopped. "Good job," Hogan said to him and Le Beau. "Carter, you'll go back out tomorrow night with Kinch. But I'm not going to play the odds—Newkirk, you go with them and play I Spy. There might be a few more patrols out there, and they'll both need to concentrate on getting the tunnel done. The fewer interruptions the better."

"Yes, sir," Newkirk nodded. "Sir, do you want to come?"

Hogan paused. "No. I think I'll leave it to the experts." Hogan stretched stiffly. "Now let's get some sleep. It looks like we're back in business."

Hogan retreated to his office and shut the door, still hearing the muted sounds of his men in the common room. He was pleased all had gone well, and he was starting to feel more confident about the possibility of being able to resume regular operations. But Newkirk's question had startled him. The thought had never even occurred to him to go outside the fence. And while like any good agent he was always aware that the work he did was perilous, the coldness that penetrated him when he considered it now was a far cry from the usual tightening of his stomach and slight light-headedness he had seen almost as a comfort before heading outside the wire. Damn you, Hochstetter. You won't get the better of me, he thought, desperate to believe it. I'll be back... and you won't know what hit you. He paced until the adrenalin worked its way out of his body, and eventually he collapsed on his bunk and fell asleep, begging his mind and spirit to recover quickly, so his nightmares would not become reality.