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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Hogan looked at the identity papers he had been handed and quickly memorized everything on them. "They look good," he said shortly, as he put them inside the breast pocket of his jacket. Hogan had only managed to catch a couple of hours' sleep overnight, his mind still ticking over what he had to do today and how he was going to approach the task. When he did doze, his mind conspired to keep him working on the problem, displaying a jumble of images that included everything from Paris burning before his eyes to Tiger being dragged away to face a firing squad. In every scenario, there was nothing he could do but watch impotently, apologetically, and silently mourn his losses alone.

"Jorge will meet you in the kitchen; you are expected. He will arrange von Choltitz's breakfast, and then it is up to you." Charles straightened and faced Hogan head-on, his posture almost formal. Hogan raised his chin and furrowed his brow questioningly. "Paris is in your hands this morning, Colonel Hogan. Bonne chance."

Hogan swallowed hard. He nodded once sharply but did not answer. He turned to Le Beau, who was standing with Jacinthe near the doorway. "You know what to do."

"Oui, mon Colonel," Le Beau answered. "I will watch the Hôtel Terminus to keep track of the Gestapo's movements and to look for Tiger."

"And?" Hogan asked pointedly.

Le Beau's eyes took on a sudden sadness. "And if you are not back by nightfall, I am to go back to camp on my own."

Hogan nodded. The others in the room shifted uncomfortably. While they all took chances for the cause they believed in, it was always hard to watch contingency plans being made for the loss of one of their own. Now, knowing they were witnessing what could be the last job from the leader of the legendary organization that operated out of Stalag 13, they were even more ill at ease. Hogan had proved himself to the Resistance over and over again in the past couple of years, by the work he did, and by the lives he had saved. And he was now taking on what they could only consider the nearly impossible—but knowing it himself, and with the life of a single member of the Resistance still in his mind, he was still heading out with a cool-headedness that amazed them all. There was not a tremor, not a quiver in his hands, in his voice; not a shadow of doubt on his face. He was doing his job; the incredible risk that went with it was incidental. Hogan accepted that fact with apparent ease, and that filled them with a respect that none of them could voice.

"Merci bien pour votre gentillesse pendant que nous avons été ici," Hogan said to Jacinthe now. Thank you for your kindness while we have been here.

The woman came forward and gently placed a hand on Hogan's arm. "Dieu est avec vous," she replied softly. "We will meet you when you return."

Hogan nodded, then stared deeply into Le Beau's eyes, and walked out.

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"Some parts of Paris are still quite beautiful," Jacinthe said as she and Le Beau walked slowly down the street, trying to look like two lovers on a casual stroll, instead of a pair of agents trying to keep track of the Germans.

Le Beau linked her arm in his and turned his gaze upward. "Oui, c'est vrai," he admitted. Then his voice turned hard. "But it is only because those are the parts of the city that the Germans want to keep for themselves."

Jacinthe laughed gaily as a German soldier passed them on the sidewalk. "Oh, Louis, you say the loveliest things!" she cried, and as the soldier continued to watch, she kissed the Frenchman on the cheek and squeezed him tight.

As the German left, she released him. "Maybe I should call him back to watch us all day long," Le Beau said with a small smirk.

"Ah, now there is a bit of the man I expected to see," Jacinthe declared.

"Je ne comprends pas," Le Beau replied.

"A prisoner of war, kept in a camp full of men for years… one would expect you to be more… shall we say… lonely?" Their arms still linked, Jacinthe reached away from him to pick a single yellow flower from a pot outside a café.

Le Beau shrugged. "Oui, d'accord," he agreed. "But at the moment I have perhaps too many things on my mind."

"Your Colonel," Jacinthe guessed.

Le Beau nodded heavily. "Oui. I am worried about him. What he is doing is not easy, or safe. Or even possible."

Jacinthe twirled the bright blossom in front of her face, marveling at the simplicity of the design, and the beauty of the delicate flower. "He must not think so, if he is attempting it."

"Le Colonel is known for doing the impossible," Le Beau admitted. "But this time…" He sighed. "Even if he succeeds in stopping von Choltitz, he will go back to Germany feeling he has failed if he cannot find a way to save Tiger."

"Ah, Tiger," Jacinthe repeated knowingly. Suddenly she tugged at Le Beau's arm, and nodded imperceptibly across the large street. There was the hotel before them—a beautiful, finely structured building—with armed soldiers standing outside the entrance, and others scattered on the pavement nearby. She pulled him down onto a little bench, snuggling in close as though she could not get enough of him. "Put your arm around me," she whispered. "We can sit here and wait, as long as we do not look suspicious."

Le Beau complied, despite his worries appreciating the softness of Jacinthe's body, and the silky feeling of her warm blonde hair.

"Tiger," Jacinthe repeated in a whisper. "She is such a brave woman. I have only met her once, but Charles has met her many times. Your Colonel—he cares about her very much, non?"

Le Beau nodded. "Oui. He will not admit it; he says he cannot get emotionally attached to anyone in our line of work. But he does." Le Beau thought of his commanding officer, now surely at the Hôtel Meurice, and walking straight into the enemy's lair. "And I think, perhaps, she also likes le Colonel très profondément."

"It must be hard for him, knowing she is with the SS, but not being able to do anything for her."

"He will try to save her somehow, when he is finished with von Choltitz today. He will not simply give up. It is not Colonel Hogan's way."

"You have great faith in Colonel Hogan," Jacinthe observed.

Le Beau nodded. "Oui. If anything can be done, he will do it." He sighed and stared at the entrance to the hotel across from them. No one was going in, and no one out. He wondered if Hogan would be leaving the Hôtel Meurice as a free man today. "Regardless of the cost to himself."

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Hogan took a last look at the white suit jacket he had been given by Jorge downstairs and gave it a final tug, whether to straighten it or to steel his nerves he wasn't sure. He waited with outward patience while the soldier armed with a rifle stationed outside the door picked the lid off the plate on the trolley and peered suspiciously at the eggs and sausages arranged so nicely by Jorge only minutes earlier.

Finally the soldier replaced the lid and shrugged. He knocked on the door to the room. "Frühstück, Herr General," he announced. He opened the door a couple of inches and waved Hogan into the room.

Hogan swallowed his heart for the fourth time since getting off the elevator and pushed the trolley into the suite, closing the door behind him. "Herr General, nourishment for your busy day ahead," he said in French.

Hogan looked up around the room to find the man he presumed was von Choltitz fully dressed and staring out the glass doors that led to the balcony. The German officer turned, glanced at the trolley, and stared at Hogan. "Who are you?" he asked curtly in German.

Hogan tilted his head as though not understanding. "Comment vous appelez-vous?" the German asked now.

Hogan registered the politeness of the man's words, even though the tone was harsh. Interesting, he thought, as he tucked the information away. "Je m'appelle Henri, monsieur." He moved the trolley toward a beautifully upholstered chair and started arranging the tray. Von Choltitz turned back to the window. "Vous devez manger, monsieur le général."

At Hogan's urging the General to eat, von Choltitz whirled around. "Wer Ihnen hier gesandt hat?" he asked sharply, moving in. Who sent you here?

Hogan paused in his preparations and put on a surprised look at the General's question. "Général?"

Von Choltitz stared at Hogan hard for a moment, as though suddenly doubting that he really was who he appeared to be. Then he shook his head and waved his hand to dismiss the question. He turned back to the window.

Hogan stayed still for a moment to give von Choltitz time to regain his composure, then he finished laying out the meal and looked at von Choltitz, who was clearly lost in thought. "Votre petit déjeuner, général." Hogan gestured toward the food on the plate.

Von Choltitz almost reluctantly came further into the room, looking listlessly at the food that would have been a feast to many Parisians this morning. "Danke," he said emotionlessly. Then he sat down and stared at the food but did not move to eat it.

Hogan paused. Now or never, he thought. Hogan glanced one last time around the room, then said in a low voice, in English, "You're thinking about your family, General?"

Von Choltitz jerked himself out of his chair, requiring Hogan to take a step back or else be run down. "Who are you?" he demanded, his eyes boring into Hogan's.

Hogan forced himself to remain steady and unmoving. "That's not important," he replied as calmly as he could. "What is important is what I have to tell you. Your family is safe."

Von Choltitz continued to stare intently at the Colonel. Hogan accepted it with only a trickle of sweat down his back to give away his tension. "How do you know about that? Where have you taken them?" the General asked.

Hogan took in a deep breath and deliberately moved away from von Choltitz. "We need to talk, General," he said. He looked meaningfully toward the door.

"No one will come in," von Choltitz answered. "Now, what are you saying about my family? What do you know about them?"

"I know that until two nights ago they were at home in Baden-Baden waiting for you to return after you finished blowing up Paris."

Von Choltitz's face looked anguished. "Yes, they were. What do you want with them? Why do you have them?"

"I understand that your family was going to be held accountable if you didn't follow Hitler's orders fast enough," Hogan said.

Von Choltitz's eyes widened. "The Führer?" he said, as though considering a new possibility. "Are you saying the Führer has ordered their arrest?" He grew angry. "You will tell me what I want to know or I will call the guard!"

Hogan shook his head. "I don't think so. Look, General, this is how it works. You've got orders to destroy Paris. For some reason, you haven't done it yet—whether for aesthetic reasons or personal reasons, I don't know and I don't care. But sooner of later someone was going to find out and go for your wife and kids, and I'll bet you'd have caved in pretty quickly when that happened."

"And so?"

"So if you know your family is safe, you might have more strength to defy Hitler and prevent one of the biggest tragedies of the war."

Von Choltitz seemed to calm down a bit at that statement. "Where are they?" he asked quietly.

"They're safe and being well looked after," Hogan answered.

"I have my orders," von Choltitz said defiantly.

"I know," Hogan confirmed. Then he started his appeal. "General von Choltitz," he began, "do you really want to be responsible for the destruction of this city? Of all this history, all this beauty—all these people? You're a military man, General. Military men used to have honor. War is for battlefields, not for children riding bicycles in city gardens, and old men and women scraping for a crust of bread." Hogan went over to the balcony doors and looked out over the city. "These people have suffered enough, General. The Allies are close, and you know it. If you can hold out just a little longer, you can stop them from suffering any more. Now we've looked after your people—it's time for you to take care of ours."

"It is my duty to stop the progress of the Allies, in any way the Führer sees fit."

"And it's my duty to stop you, in any way I see fit. I'm giving you a chance to make a difference, General."

"You are holding my family hostage. You are no better than those you purport to fight," von Choltitz said accusingly.

Hogan shook his head. "No, General. There's a big difference. Hitler was going to execute your family if you didn't burn Paris. We're going to protect them if you don't."

"And if I follow orders? If I start the destruction today? Will you kill them then?"

"No," Hogan admitted quietly. "I'll be honest with you, General. I took a chance ordering them to be swept away from the Nazis. I don't know if your dedication to Hitler is greater than your dedication to your family. But killing innocent women and children isn't what I'm about. If you destroy Paris, they'll be released when it's safe for the people they're with to do so. If you don't, they'll be kept safe from the Nazis until there's no chance of them being harmed."

Von Choltitz stared again at this busboy who had turned his life upside down. "Who are you that you can guarantee me this?"

"Let's just say I'm a friend of Paris."

"I could call the guard right now, order you taken by the Gestapo—"

"But you won't do that, General," Hogan countered. "If I don't show up where I'm expected tonight, some people might get very cranky." Von Choltitz said nothing; the implication was clear. "By the way, General," Hogan said. "I understand some members of the Resistance are to be brought before you to decide their fate. Think about what impact they might have as free men, instead of as dead ones."

Von Choltitz was still unable to speak. He nodded briefly, and looked at Hogan intently. The Colonel went to the door. "Don't have me followed, General."

Von Choltitz finally found his voice. "They are safe, you say," he said.

Hogan nodded once. "Yes."

A pause. Then: "You have my word: you will not be followed."

"And you have my word: I'll keep my promise." Hogan pointed toward the untouched breakfast. "I understand you weren't too impressed with Hitler's table manners when you met him last year. Maybe you're better off eating alone after all. Guten Tag, Herr General."