Disclaimer: I don't own Hogan's Heroes or any of the characters; I merely borrow them and play with them for a while.

As it became obvious that the war was coming to an end, Klink's fears grew in both numbers and strength until they reached a stormy panic. There was no doubt that Germany was going to come out of this as the loser, and everything that heralded was truly frightening. His Fatherland's imminent defeat opened up for so many terrible prospects and uncertainties that were now gathering outside like uninvited guests, banging on the door, demanding to be let in.

Yes, so many questions of what would happen once Stalag 13 was liberated.

Would the prisoners lynch him? (No, surely – probably – Hogan wouldn't let that happen, no matter how much of a grudge he might hold against Klink after all the years in German captivity.) Would the Allies put him on trial for war crimes? (He didn't think he had done anything that would merit it, but one never knew what atrocities the victors might decide to pin on him.) Would he be handed over to the Russians? (And wouldn't that be the irony of his life, when he had spent so much of this war trying to – and so far succeeded, even – avoid getting sent off to the Eastern front.)

So many horrible uncertainties, and each of them threatening to put an inglorious end to Colonel Klink for good.

However, even though he had barely dared to hope for it, the surrender of Stalag 13 turned out to be a peaceful affair. Humiliating, yes, but peaceful nonetheless.

Afterwards, he spent some quite forgettable time in an Allied POW camp. Where he was the senior POW officer. Oh, how Hogan would have laughed if he knew about that! Well, perhaps the man did know; Hogan always had this eerie knack of seeming to know everything, even the kind of things that a normal POW shouldn't know about at all.

He remembers his time in the camp as consisting of mostly waiting. Waiting for the announcement of Germany's surrender that would inevitably come. Waiting for news from the outside world, of what was happening to their defeated Fatherland. Waiting for someone to tell them what would happen to them.

Time passed slowly. There were rumours, speculations, and guesses flourishing, but little substantial information from their captors. And day after day, Klink would walk his usual round along the camp perimeter – at a safe distance from the warning wire, of course – morosely staring out over the barbed fence surrounding them, hoping that the familiar routine would help to dispel at least some of his worries and fears. Not knowing was really the worst part.

Then, one day, some important-looking people arrived in the camp. A couple of them wore American uniforms, but the others sported civilian attire, a rather uncommon sight in a military POW camp. Klink paused in his aimless pacing, then, to curiously stare at the visitors as they walked into the commandant's office, closing the door behind them.

About ten minutes later, one of the camp guards exited the building and walked up to him. Colonel, you're wanted in the Commandant's office, he said.

Klink's heart almost stopped at that. What did those people want with him? Had the Allies decided that he, a high-ranking Luftwaffe officer, was to stand trial for whatever war crimes they'd decided he was guilty of? Were the men in the civilian suits here to take him away to face his ultimate fate?

On unsteady legs, he followed the young guard inside. He hoped no one noticed his hand trembling as he saluted. However, the looks the men gathered in the room gave him weren't accusatory or resentful like he had expected, but rather interested and curiously evaluating.

Have a seat, Colonel, one of the men said, indicating a chair.

Klink sat.

To his immense relief, it turned out that he wasn't being accused of anything. No, the men before him were from the Allied occupation administration, and they were recruiting Germans willing to work for them and help to make things run smoothly by functioning as intermediaries between the occupying forces and the civilian population. And for this task they wanted Germans who were fluent in English, had previous experience with administrative work, and weren't Nazis. As a matter of fact, his name had actually been put forward by the former senior POW officer at Stalag 13 (at this, Klink's eyebrows shot upwards, because why would Hogan ever recommend him for anything?). If he was willing to accept the offered position, he would leave the camp sometime during next week to start his new life as a clerk working for the Allies.

And Klink accepted. What else could he do? It was surely better than being imprisoned here behind barbed wire, not knowing when he would ever be a free man again.

Perhaps he should be content with his lot in life. After all, he has a job with a steady income and an apartment of his own (albeit rather small) in a time when so many people are both homeless and jobless. What's more, he survived the war unscathed, despite all those worries that he wouldn't live to see the end of it. And unlike so many of his fellow officers, he was never accused of any war crimes. Even his stint as a POW was relatively short and painless.

In the end, all those fears that plagued him during the long, dreadful years of war never came to fruition. And now, here he is, all safe and secure, despite his previous convictions that he would never be.

But despite that, he's not content. Because now that the looming danger and uncertainty have disappeared, and he no longer needs to worry about his personal safety for the first time in many years, there is this growing realization nagging at his consciousness. The realization that he has gone through life worrying about nothing and everything, and now that there is nothing left to worry about, he doesn't know what to do with himself.

There is this painfully empty void inside of him, and he has nothing to fill it with. Perhaps it was always there, but he never noticed it because his fears were always vying for his attention, or maybe the void was simply left by the fears as they disappeared.

He thinks that maybe if he hadn't let his fears so totally dominate his life, he would have had something to fill that emptiness with. But he always focused so much on things that in the end never happened instead of actually living, letting his days – his life – go to waste.

And so there is still one fear left, one that just won't disappear no matter what. The one fear that perhaps, when it all comes down to it, his father, the strict military man, was right.

Maybe he really is a failure.

And not just in the way his father meant it.