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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Kinch shut down the radio equipment in silence, reflecting on the downhearted tone in his commander's voice when Hogan had reported to London that no, everything was not yet quite in place for the Allies to stage an attack on Berlin. Headquarters was getting impatient, and this, the latest in an increasing number of calls to the men working undercover in Germany, was evidence of that.

Hogan had not moved after the transmission ended, and now he looked almost guiltily at Kinch, the dark circles under his eyes emphasizing to the radio man just how heavy a toll the last three weeks had taken on the Colonel. Sitting in the tunnel with only the light from the oil lamps to illuminate the area, Hogan's face was definitely thinner, gaunter, than it had been a month ago. The large bruise that had been almost like a mask had faded, but the outline and discoloration was still visible, lending Hogan a pained appearance that overpowered the brightness of anything he said, which already wasn't very cheerful. And the officer seemed infinitely less confident than he had been before the crash. Kinch sighed inwardly; that accident had claimed so much more than his commanding officer's physical health.

As if able to read the Sergeant's thoughts, Hogan shook his head. "I don't know what I'm doing, Kinch," he confessed.

Kinchloe frowned. "Sir?" he asked. The single word probed deeply.

Hogan ran a hand through his hair, realizing with unreasonable frustration that he had left his crush cap upstairs. "We've got two Krauts in camp and orders from London to keep the Germans away from Berlin. With a combination like that, I should be able to come up with a plan in a flash… but it's all eluding me. I'm out of step; I don't know what I'm doing."

"Don't be too upset, Colonel," Kinch suggested immediately. "You take all the time you need. Things haven't exactly been 'business as usual' for you lately; London will wait till you're ready."

Hogan's tired brown eyes seemed to look right through Kinch. "Come on, Kinch—I'm sure London's called more often than you've told me. They must be waiting for something; Bomber Command is preparing an attack and they want information. Am I right?"

Kinch let his eyes stray away from Hogan.

"Kinch, am I right?" Hogan persisted.

Finally, Kinchloe heaved a deep sigh and nodded. "Yes, sir. You're right."

Hogan paused. He was grateful for the concern, but distressed at the idea that his men were holding out on him. "Kinch," he said, with a quiet desperation in his voice, "I need to know when they contact us; you can't hide that from me. You understand?"

"Yes, sir," Kinch answered solemnly. "But Colonel, until now you just haven't been in any shape to—"

Hogan put up a hand to stop him. "I know," he admitted. "I know. I appreciate what you were trying to do. But you've protected me long enough. It's time I got off my tail and got back to work."

Kinch looked at Hogan and said seriously, "You needed a break, sir. They should have given you some time to recover." Physically and mentally.

Hogan shrugged. "All requests for leave: denied, right?" he responded with an attempt at a smile. "It was never going to be easy being involved in this operation. The war's not going to stop because Papa Bear needs a nap. Let's face it, Kinch: I've been slack and I need to get back on the ball. I just… can't…" He looked for words that even now refused to come. "…focus."

Kinch nodded. "It'll come, Colonel," he said. "When your body and your mind have healed, it'll come."

For a brief moment, Hogan looked Kinch right in the eye. Then, as he absorbed the Sergeant's statement, he let his gaze fall. He shook his head almost regretfully. "It'll take too long," he said softly. "They need the help now."

Kinch watched his commanding officer waging this internal battle and felt a strong wave of sympathy. If there was one thing Hogan hated, it was feeling out of control. He asked the Colonel gently, "Have you talked to Langenscheidt?"

Hogan's eyes snapped to Kinch's face, wide and haunted. "No," he answered, too quickly. Then, lowering his head again, he added, "I can't do that. Not yet."

"Colonel," Kinch persisted, trying to be both supportive and helpful, "he was the one who knew Kleinschmidt best. He was able to confirm everything that—"

"I know." Hogan cut Kinch off hastily, desperate to stop the words he knew were coming. He ran a hand across his face, closing his eyes and breathing deeply as irrational fear rose within him. "I just…" He trailed off without finishing his thought.

But Kinch understood what the Colonel could not say. He nodded and quietly assured him, "Everything in its own time, Colonel. First we'll focus on getting you better."

Hogan accepted the statement with a mixture of hope, and doubt.

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"I've gotta go see Klink," Hogan announced the next day. He leaned his cane up against the stove, then zipped up his bomber jacket and pulled up the collar.

"What about, Colonel?" asked Le Beau.

"Lehmann's getting out of hand; I need to put a stop to it. And—" Hogan paused, as though considering his words—"and… I think I know how to use Schafer to help London prepare for that raid."

"How're you going to do that, Colonel?" Carter asked.

"One step at a time, Carter," Hogan answered. He retrieved his cane. "First I have to stop Lehmann before he audits Klink all the way to the Russian front."

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Hogan accepted Klink's offer to sit down, propping his cane up against the front of the Kommandant's desk. Klink wasn't usually so accommodating, but he was still uncomfortable seeing his senior POW in less than robust health, and the American's face was still distinctly on the pale side after being on his feet for more than a few minutes—as Klink had witnessed again at this morning's roll call. So he made the uncharacteristic gesture of having Hogan relax in his presence, even though Klink knew this meant that Hogan could rattle on in relative comfort about the minutiae of prison camp life.

Hogan carefully stretched out his left leg, irritated at how little effect aspirin was having on the pain, then turned an annoyed eye on Klink. "You have to stop Captain Lehmann, Kommandant," he announced. "He's starting to get on my nerves."

Klink waved a dismissive hand toward Hogan, and with an accompanying humph of distaste, sat down at his desk. "Your nerves?" he said, dropping his voice in case anyone was just outside the office. "Hogan, you have no idea what he is doing to me. He is looking at everything—everything. He's all over the office, in all my files—he's even asking Fräulein Hilda to give him all correspondence between my office and Berlin! Now what does he need that for?"

"Maybe he's afraid you're wasting ink," Hogan replied with a shrug. "Listen, Kommandant, he's harassing my men. He went into Barracks Four yesterday and took away two of their spoons. He said there were more spoons than men!"

Klink waved his hands uncomfortably. "Look, Hogan, Captain Lehmann may do whatever he wants. And how do I know you won't use those extra spoons for digging, eh?"

Hogan tilted his head as a disbelieving expression took over his face. "Are you kidding? Those spoons are so weak we couldn't dig through a sandbox." He frowned. "And they belonged to two men who happened to be outside in the yard—so now they're two spoons short!"

"Fine, fine—get two more spoons from supply." Klink shook his head. "Look, Hogan, this isn't easy on any of us. You will just have to adapt until Captain Lehmann is gone. He is doing his job."

"I'm fully aware of that," Hogan answered sourly.

Hogan's tone made Klink swallow the words that were on the tip of his tongue. Schultz had told him about Lehmann's encounter with Hogan in the barracks, and how Hogan had without a word handed over the blanket he had behind his back. Klink had never given a second thought to it himself; Hogan did have two bunks. And when the American had been discharged from the hospital, he was still so ill that it was Klink himself who had sent extra blankets and firewood over to Barracks Two, to ensure Hogan had everything possible to aid his recovery. But that was wrong, too, wasn't it? Klink sighed to himself now. Because if I was a more efficient Luftwaffe officer… or you were really just another prisoner…

"Captain Lehmann is doing an excellent job," Klink said brusquely. "He is a model of German efficiency."

"Swell," Hogan said. He drew his leg back and, reaching for his cane, stood up. "A little more of this efficiency and you'll find yourself counting snowshoes instead of spoons."

Klink laughed humorlessly. "Very funny, Hogan. But I hardly think that I will be sent to the Russian front over a couple of pieces of silverware."

"That's what they all said," Hogan said, shrugging as he limped toward the door, "right before they got on that train to Stalingrad."

"Is that all you wanted here this morning, Colonel Hogan? To try and scare me?" Klink asked, trying not to give away that the American's words really did give him a fright—or at least, more than a little bit of doubt.

Hogan opened the door, then stopped and looked at the Kommandant. "Hey, you don't have to listen to me. It's your snow storm." Hogan appeared deep in thought for a couple of seconds, then said, "Oh, there was one other thing."

Klink rolled his eyes toward the ceiling. "I was afraid of that."

"I think I'd better have a talk with Major Schafer after all," Hogan began.

Klink nearly dropped his monocle. "Really?" he asked. "What made you change your mind?"

"Herr Kommandant!" came a voice from the outer office.

Hogan turned to find Corporal Langenscheidt in the doorway beside him. A sudden wave of coldness swept through him. He gripped the cane, and the doorknob, a little tighter.

"Yes, what is it, Langenscheidt?" Klink asked impatiently.

"Herr Kommandant, the prisoners in Barracks Six are causing trouble with Captain Lehmann. Sergeant Schultz has requested that you come, sir."

"Humph," Klink grunted. "See, Hogan? More trouble from your men with our efficient German organization." Hogan didn't answer, still staring at the Corporal. "I will be right there, Corporal. Go back and tell Sergeant Schultz I'll be along in a moment." Langenscheidt saluted and, now dismissed, headed back to the hut where the disturbance was. "Now, Hogan, I can get Major Schafer for you, but—what was it that changed your mind about talking to him?"

Hogan was still staring out where Langenscheidt had been, and, if Klink wasn't mistaken, there was fear in his eyes. Hogan, afraid of a harmless guard like Langenscheidt? How could that be?

"Oh—uh, you'd better, um, handle this thing in Barracks Six, Colonel Klink. I'll—I'll… get back to you later." Hogan looked down and consciously tried to stop the hand holding his cane from shaking so visibly.

"Hogan, don't you think you should come with me?"

Hogan turned to Klink, his eyes wide and clearly anxious. "Come with you? To Barracks Six?" he asked.

"Yes, Hogan. You heard Langenscheidt—you need to take control of the prisoners and get them to cooperate with Captain Lehmann."

Hogan's eyes hardened momentarily. "The way I did?" he asked. Klink had no answer. Then Hogan seemed to sink down toward his cane. "I can't walk that far, Kommandant," he said, suddenly seeming to Klink even weaker than he had been that morning. "I'll have to leave it to your… German efficiency."

Then, looking so pale he scared Klink, Hogan gave the German a shaky salute and hobbled out of the office.

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Hogan rubbed his face with shaking hands, wiping away the sweat and terror that had come with the nightmare. Kleinschmidt had been with him, again. Accusing Hogan of denying him, again. But this time, the young guard had been more persistent, his tone more urgent. Please keep talking to me. Just a little bit longer. Can you not show me the mercy God is showing you? Hogan fought the pleas, twisting and turning until he woke up from his troubled sleep with his blanket half on the floor and the rest tangled around his body. His leg was throbbing unbearably, and he could feel every vein pulsing blood through his head.

"No more," he whispered softly; to whom, he was not certain. "If you were really showing mercy… no more."

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Schultz opened the door to Hogan's office at the invitation to enter and made his way through the dim room over to the bunk, where Hogan was sitting on the lower berth, looking drained and apparently doing, and seeing, nothing.

"Colonel Hogan, Kommandant Klink wanted me to tell you that the men in Barracks Six are having lights out one hour early tonight and tomorrow night because of the way they acted this afternoon." Schultz shook his head slowly. "They were very angry with Captain Lehmann, and the Kommandant was very unhappy."

Hogan frowned. "They have every right to be," he said glumly. Because I should have been there to stop Klink from putting on a nice show for Lehmann's benefit.

Seeing only the surface meaning of Hogan's words, the Sergeant of the Guard continued. "Please, Colonel Hogan, I know Captain Lehmann is a difficult man, but he is being very hard on the Kommandant. Please, could you try and help him?"

For just a second, Hogan's eyes were cold and, to Schultz, even frightening. Then the American's expression softened and he said quietly, "Sure, Schultz. I'll behave."

Schultz smiled, pleased. He could always count on Colonel Hogan when things got too hot for Klink. "Danke, Colonel. I know it will make the Kommandant happy if you get along with the Captain."

Hogan smiled. "I'll go make nice with that pain in the—" He stopped and threw a mischievous grin at the guard, then, noting Schultz's worried look, amended himself— "with that auditor, right now. Where is he?"

Schultz relaxed and smiled. "The Captain is still conducting a tour of the barracks. Corporal Langenscheidt is escorting him and holding onto anything…" Schultz screwed up his face, realizing he was about to make Hogan angry but it was too late to take back his words. "…anything… that the Captain thinks has been incorrectly distributed to the prisoners."

But Hogan had only half heard him. "He's with Langenscheidt, Schultz?"

"Ja, Colonel." Schultz shrugged. Obviously the Captain's activities weren't as serious as the guard had thought. "He is helping the Captain with—"

"I—I think I'll wait till he's done," Hogan said. Schultz furrowed his brow questioningly. Colonel Hogan was suddenly uncomfortable, but the German couldn't put his finger on what it was that was bothering him. "He could be anywhere in camp right now, and my leg is… uh… giving me a bit of trouble at the moment. I'll see him when he gets back to Klink's office with his spoils of war. You come and tell me when he's done, Schultz. Okay?"

Schultz frowned, disturbed by Hogan's uncharacteristic reluctance to immediately step up to a challenge. "I will send Corporal Langenscheidt," he replied, nodding. "He will know where all the things have been taken from, and I think he would like to talk to you—"

"No, no, Schultz," Hogan answered quickly. "You come and tell me. It'll be our little secret, okay?"

Schultz considered the American's words, and the almost transparent panic in them, and nodded assent. "If that is what you want, Colonel Hogan," he said reluctantly.

"It is, Schultz. Believe me, it is."

"All right, then. I will be back when the Captain is finished."

It was with a great deal of relief that Hogan replied, "Thanks, Schultz." And when the guard left, Hogan covered his face with his hands, and allowed the fear to slowly drain out of him. Then he reached again for the bottle of aspirin, wishing desperately for the hundredth time that it was something much stronger, that would let him escape his nightmares.