Author's Notes:

The following story is a work of fiction, and is in no way intended as a reflection on any real person. No profit is being made, and no infringement on rights held by others is intended. The story contains adult themes as is intended for a mature audience.

For those not familiar with the premise of Hogan's Heroes, it was a 60's sitcom which focused on a group of five prisoners of war in a German POW camp during WWII. Led by Colonel Robert E. Hogan were Sgt. Andrew Carter (a sandy-haired, blue-eyed American who served as the explosives expert), Sgt. Baker (an African-American who served as the radio expert), Corporal Peter Newkirk (brown-haired, blue-eyed, and British, served as resident pickpocket, safecracker, etc.), Corporal Louis LeBeau (dark brown hair, brown eyes, 5'4" Frenchman who was an accomplished chef and assumed a number of "talents" and aliases to suit Hogan's schemes). Hogan himself was American, with dark brown hair and devilish brown eyes and a wonderful smile. Please note that the photo on the main page features Sgt. Kinchloe, who was Hogan's radio expert for the first five seasons of the show. Kinch, as the men called him, did not return for sixth season, and his replacement by Sgt. Baker was never explained in canon. I couldn't find a full cast photo that included Baker.

Hogan consistently outwitted the Nazis and invented outlandish schemes to further the Allied war effort. The "heroes" managed their operation from a remarkable network of tunnels beneath the prison camp with entrances beneath dog houses, tree stumps, old stoves, barracks bunks and various other locations. The guys assisted other prisoners and sympathizers to escape to England by providing clothing, forged papers, etc., and maintaining regular radio contact with London. They used a number of Underground contacts, which included Oscar Schnitzer, the man who delivered "fresh" guard dogs to the camp–dogs that seemed only vicious to the Germans.

The camp was run by Colonel Wilhelm Klink, generally portrayed as a vain, inept officer Hogan could easily dupe to accomplish his plans. The six-foot-tall, bald Klink's trademark was his monocle, and the riding crop he often carried tucked beneath his arm as he strode around the compound. Though he did attempt to maintain discipline, and didn't blatantly sympathize with the prisoners, he was not given to sadism or any sort of brutality with the prisoners. The Sergeant of the Guard, Schultz, was the rotund, strudel-eating, good-natured soul who made the phrase "I know *nothing*!" famous. Throughout the series, he either blatantly turned his head to the prisoners' operation, or was easily bribed with candy bars, LeBeau's cooking or other goodies to let them go about their business unhampered.

Other supporting characters included General Burkhalter, a portly man with a significant temper who was Klink's immediate superior. He had little respect for Klink as an officer, but allowed him to retain his command as he was the only kommandant who could claim he had never had a successful escape from his camp (which was due to Hogan's no-escape rule–he and his men processed other escaping prisoners through their system, but they remained behind). Major Hochstetter was the blustery Gestapo man, a bit on the short side with dark hair and a mustache, with a unique voice that is hard to describe (a little high-pitched) who had almost no patience with Klink and frequently arrived in the camp to stir things up a bit. Fraulein Hilda was Klink's secretary, a comely blonde who maintained a flirty romance with Hogan over the duration of the series, though there was never any indication that the romance was serious or destined to last beyond the war.

The following story takes place post-sixth season (the last season of the series). Given the location and the nature of the show's premise, there is considerable dramatic potential. This story is a drama.

Pairing: Hogan/LeBeau

Warnings: M/M Slash, rape theme (not graphically portrayed).

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DARKNESS BEFORE DAWN

by

Candy Apple

"Eleven new prisoners are on their way in from Stalag 9," Baker reported, taking off his headphones.

"Terrific." Hogan rubbed his forehead willing the headache to fade, but it persisted nonetheless. "They're sending us eleven men from a nearby stalag. We're supposed to get them processed and out of here with the guard doubled?"

"When did Klink double the guard?" Carter asked, frowning.

"When he finds out about the eleven escapes. And if he doesn't, it's a good bet Burkhalter'll order him to do it. I don't know what these guys were thinking–eleven at one time."

"Especially when we just got done moving out all those guys from Weissmueller's camp," Newkirk responded, referring to a large group of prisoners they'd help escape from a brutal and abusive kommandant, who was now en route to the Russian Front.

"We'll have to come up with something to keep Klink busy while we ship out the new guys. We'll figure out something. Tell the Underground we'll do our best, but have them tell the guys to expect to be lodged in the tunnel for a while until things cool off."

"Or until we think of something," LeBeau added, and Hogan smirked.

"That, too."

********

Hogan stared at the paper on his desk. Putting together the barracks chore assignments wasn't exactly top-flight administrative work, and yet he couldn't seem to make sense of it. The pounding in his head hadn't really abated since the previous night, and falling out for roll call an hour early didn't help. Klink had heard the news from Stalag 9, and he was antsy. The guard had been doubled, as Hogan predicted, and Klink had surprised them all with an early roll call. He suspected Burkhalter had probably nudged the kommandant in that direction, but on occasion, Klink actually *did* have a worthwhile independent idea on security. In any event, he sorely missed the hour that had been cut off the span of three hours he had to sleep following their late-night radio communication with the Underground.

A knock at the door was almost a welcome distraction from the task at hand, and when he invited the visitor in, was greeted by LeBeau with a steaming mug of something in his hand.

"I thought this might hit the spot this morning," he said, handing Hogan the mug, which contained hot cocoa.

"LeBeau, you're a life-saver," he said with a genuine smile, taking a sip of the hot drink. Of all the concoctions LeBeau could create on a moment's notice, Hogan had to admit that a nice cup of hot, rich cocoa was at the top of his list. He suspected it took less culinary skill than it did hoarding and scavenging of chocolate bars, but whatever it took, LeBeau did it. And he did it because he knew it was Hogan's favorite.

"Is your headache better?" LeBeau asked.

"No, not really." Hogan paused. "How'd you know I had a headache?"

"You didn't look like you felt well last night, and you kept rubbing your forehead. I put two and two together," LeBeau said, shrugging. "I think I might be able to help you."

"How?"

"First you have to close your eyes and relax."

"If I do that, I'll be asleep," Hogan responded.

"I'll stand behind you." LeBeau stood behind Hogan, close enough that they almost touched. "Okay, now close your eyes and relax. Even if you doze off, you can't fall out of the chair now," LeBeau reasoned, and Hogan had to smile at that.

He followed the directions and in a moment, felt nimble fingers massaging pressure points at the base of his skull and at his left temple. Oddly enough, LeBeau had found the side that hurt the worst without being told. Ordinarily, Hogan would have suppressed the urge to groan in relief and rest the back of his head on LeBeau's shoulder, but he was too tired and the massage felt too good. As he rested comfortably there, LeBeau's hands moved from his head to his neck and shoulders, working on knots of tension he didn't even know he had.

"Why don't you take a nap, Colonel? We're only going out for a work detail around the compound. I think a few guys are cleaning in Klink's office and some of us are washing the car and a few others and doing general clean up and picking up trash. Another dull day."

"We've got a lot of prisoners coming in."

"So what should we do? Make a cake? The Underground will call us when they're on their way, and they won't move until after dark anyway. Newkirk and I finished most of the extra civilian clothes we'll need last night. If I tell Schultz you're not feeling well, he'll take a look in at you and then leave you alone for a couple hours." LeBeau worked diligently on the taut muscles in Hogan's shoulders. "You won't be much help to those new prisoners if you make yourself sick. How many nights have you been awake?"

"The same nights you guys have."

"We were all up last night, but the other nights when we were processing all those prisoners from Weissmueller's camp? We rotated, remember? None of us were up every night. Except you."

"Part of the job. Comes with the territory." Hogan realized the massage had become a simple, soothing rubbing motion, but he was so relaxed and so enjoying the pampering that he didn't attempt to move.

"Will you please just take a nap? You know you'll be on call several more nights processing these new guys through."

"I've got to get these work assignments done so you guys know what you're doing," Hogan said, semi-facetiously.

"I'll finish them."

"I think they'll suspect something when you're off KP for the week," Hogan teased.

"If it'll make you feel better, I'll put myself on KP and let Carter cook."

"I want to be fair, not suicidal."

"Don't worry. I'll make sure I get my share of dirty jobs like always," LeBeau said good naturedly.

"Okay, you win. I'll take a nap, Mom."

"Finish your cocoa and I'll tell Schultz you're going to rest a while." LeBeau stopped massaging and patted Hogan's shoulders as he started to move slowly away. "Is your headache better?"

"Much," he said, smiling. It was true. The pain was still there beneath the surface, but it wasn't throbbing the way it had before. He knew LeBeau was right. He was over-tired, and that wasn't going to do anyone any good in the long run. "LeBeau?" His voice stopped the other man as he reached for the doorknob to leave. "Thanks."

"You're welcome," LeBeau responded, smiling brightly and leaving Hogan's quarters.

********

Eleven cold, wet POW's brushed snow off their uniforms and relished the relative warmth of the tunnel. LeBeau passed out coffee to everyone, which quieted the chilled group while Hogan addressed them. He hadn't expected the other camp's senior POW officer to be among the escapees, and the other American colonel had already asked piercing questions about how long their confinement in the subterranean chamber would be before they'd be transported to England. A few years Hogan's senior, he was a stocky man with hard features and little diplomacy.

As he watched Hogan address the group, it occurred to LeBeau how different things would be if they had a hatchet-faced, authoritarian type like Colonel Morgan at the helm of their operation. Hogan was no pushover–he knew how to keep the men in line and he didn't hesitate to pull rank when the situation called for it. He was a resourceful and adept saboteur and operation leader, and he took the full responsibility of the command squarely on his own shoulders without flinching under the weight of it. At the same time, he cared about each one of his men, got to know their needs, their weaknesses, their talents, and treated them all with respect. It was rare for Hogan to have any cause to come down on a prisoner for insubordination or disrespect. Most of them fell into an easy pattern of mutual respect with Hogan, and appreciated having him as a commanding officer.

Morgan's men looked weak and bedraggled, but LeBeau couldn't truthfully dump all that at Morgan's feet. Not all prison camps had the same rations handed out to the men, not all kommandants came even close to adhering to the Geneva Convention, let alone following it to the letter. And yet, there was a cold flatness about the interactions between Morgan and his men that couldn't be overlooked. It was obvious he cared nothing about them personally, nor they about him.

"...so, the result of all this escape activity in the surrounding stalags has been a doubling of the guard. The tunnel entrances are too close for comfort to the krauts patrolling the perimeter. We took a hell of a chance even bringing you guys down here tonight."

"What does all this boil down to, Hogan?" Morgan asked pointedly.

"We have to move slowly on this job. It could take several days to get you all out of here without needlessly endangering your lives or ours."

"That's not acceptable, Hogan," Morgan shot back, obviously deciding to pull rank. "I expect this process to be completed in two or three days at most. That's what the Underground promised."

"With all due respect, Colonel Morgan, you may be the ranking officer in this conversation, but I'm the officer in command of the Stalag 13 operation, and I will not put this operation or my men's lives on the line just because you and your men are impatient! Now I realize it's anticlimactic to break out of one POW camp and end up stuck in a tunnel beneath another, but that's the process, and if you want safe passage to England, it's all you've got."

"Apparently, Hogan, you've forgotten how the chain of command works. I'm giving you an order. You make this happen in the next two to three days. No more discussion."

"You want to leave in the next two to three days? Fine. We'll process you through first. But we can't send eleven guys--not even four or five at a time--out into the woods with that many guards on duty. You'll end up recaptured and we'll end up in front of a firing squad. Nobody wins. You can pull rank on me all you like, and in any other circumstance, I would fall into line and obey your orders, but I have a responsibility not only to my own men, but an accountability to the Allied High Command."

"Now who's pulling rank?" Morgan challenged. "Do what you have to do, Hogan, but don't drag your feet. I won't forget your insubordination. It *will* be reported."

"In your own words, sir, do what you have to do," Hogan retorted, crossing his arms over his chest as his men began the task of distributing bedrolls and showing the prisoners where to sleep.

They directed Morgan to the lone cot, in respect for his rank. He took it readily, though as he began distributing food, LeBeau discovered one of the men was quite ill with a high fever. Knowing that Hogan would relinquish the cot in a heartbeat if one of his men were ill and needed it more than he did, LeBeau didn't hesitate to approach Morgan.

"I beg your pardon, Colonel, but one of your men is quite ill and has a fever."

"So?" Morgan snapped. "He's been sick a few days now."

"It's cold on the floor, and I thought perhaps you would want him to sleep on the cot if you knew he was ill, sir."

"He'll have to survive worse conditions than this before we're through with this war."

"But he is ill and--"

"Let's get one thing straight here, you little piss ant," Morgan barked, grabbing hold of LeBeau's arm. "If I want your advice on how--" He was cut off mid-sentence as Hogan stepped between them, breaking his hold on LeBeau.

"You can be as obnoxious as you want to be, Morgan, but so help me God, if you lay a hand on any one of my men again, I'll haul you up top and hand you over to the krauts myself. Do we understand each other?"

"I'd like to see you try it," Morgan responded.

"He won't be tryin' it alone," Newkirk added, pointing his handgun in Morgan's direction.

"Put that away, Newkirk," Hogan admonished. "Believe it or not, we're all on the same side here. Carter, see if you can get Norton in Barracks 5 and bring him back to have a look at...?" Hogan looked back toward the prisoner who was still shivering in the folds of his blanket. The pale face regarded Hogan with gratitude.

"Sergeant Carson, sir. Thank you, sir," he added, smiling slightly.

"All part of accommodations here," Hogan said, his expression softening a bit after his encounter with Morgan. "Norton is our medic. If any of you have injuries, illnesses or any sort of medical problems that should be dealt with before you get back to England, just let him know." Hogan turned back to Morgan. "Meanwhile, keep your hands to yourself, sir," Hogan concluded, motioning to LeBeau to finish what he was doing, but guiding him away from Morgan.

By the time Sergeant Norton of Barracks 5 had examined the sick man and urged that he be kept warm, given plenty of fluids and be sent out last so as to give him more time to get well, the "guests" were finally asleep, and Hogan's men were safely tucked in their own bunks, it was nearly four a.m. Hogan didn't bother changing into his pajamas. He knew sleeping in his clothes probably would look suspicious if Klink or Schultz really decided to pay much attention to the situation, but he was too tired to change. Sleep overtook him quickly, and roll call came far too early.

********

Colonel Morgan and two of his men were successfully moved out two days later using a fake escape attempt by three of the prisoners of Stalag 13 pretending to cut their way through the wire at the opposite end of the camp. Hogan realized he couldn't use the same diversion for each group, and even at that, the diversion he had used was somewhat trite and predictable. Only Klink, who could be flattered and puffed up with his own importance about foiling an escape attempt, would be fooled by such a crude plan. Even he wouldn't be fooled three or four more times.

Hogan leaned back in the barber's chair, still unable to will himself to relax. LeBeau was working at his shave with the same concentration he used when he created some culinary delight.

"At least Morgan is out of our hair now," LeBeau said, finishing the final swipe with the razor. For a disconcerting moment, Hogan felt as if LeBeau had read his mind.

"How's Carson doing?"

"He'll be fine, I think. His fever's down, he's feeling better. Since Morgan left, he's been sleeping on the cot." LeBeau applied the hot towel to Hogan's face, and he sighed, still feeling tight as a bowstring despite his desire to let this process relax him. "Try to relax, Mon Colonel," LeBeau said, moving the soothing warmth over his face.

"I am."

"You're holding onto the arms of the chair so hard your knuckles are turning white," LeBeau said calmly.

"I must be losing my touch. I haven't been able to think of anything to keep Klink occupied so we can move more guys out tonight."

"You'll think of something. You always do."

"That's the point, LeBeau. I always do, but this time, I'm not."

"Maybe you're trying too hard."

"Maybe."

"Will you let go of the chair? Does turning your knuckles white help you think?" The absurdity of the statement struck Hogan funny, and he laughed a little as he let go of the arms of the chair, just now realizing that he'd had them in a sort of death clutch. "Now close your eyes and take deep breaths."

"Are you hypnotizing me or giving me hot towels?"

"Possibly both. It's all part of my secret plan to take over your command," LeBeau quipped, and Hogan chuckled. "This isn't hypnosis, Colonel. It's relaxation." LeBeau took one of Hogan's hands in both of his and began massaging it.

"What are you doing?"

"Close your eyes and rest, and trust me, all right?"

"You're the doctor," Hogan said, obeying.

"Not yet. I'm still recovering from giving dance lessons to Hochstetter as Madame LaGrange. Am I going undercover as a doctor next?" LeBeau asked with a smile.

"You've already been a famous chemist. Can't be too much of a stretch," Hogan responded, surprised how much having his hands massaged was relaxing him. He actually yawned.

"I'm just putting a warm towel on your forehead, over your eyes," LeBeau said, doing just that. Then he went to work on the other hand.

"If we ever need an expert in massage, I know where to look," Hogan said.

"Not an expert, Colonel," LeBeau replied. Hogan could hear a smile in his voice. "I just look for the tense spots and try to relax them. No real science to it."

Hogan knew the last several weeks had taken a toll on him, and he knew the last few missions had seemed harder than they had in the old days. He was getting older, and sometimes he felt like the last three years had aged him about ten. The only times he truly relaxed were times like these, and most of those times LeBeau was responsible for tending to his needs.

They'd only been at Stalag 13 a short time when LeBeau first suggested the shave and hot towels. He'd done so a little shyly and awkwardly, as they didn't know each other all that well at the time. Still, LeBeau seemed to recognize that the weight of the world was firmly planted on Hogan's shoulders, and he wanted to do something to ease the burden. Hogan had always had a special fondness for him from then on. While he didn't expect his men to worry about tending to his needs like solicitous wives, he wasn't about to turn down a few rare opportunities to have someone spoil him for a little while. More so than that, it moved him that someone worried about how he felt, when he was tired, and when he needed someone to talk to. Over the last three years, LeBeau rarely missed a cue that Hogan was ill, over-tired, or inordinately worried, and he almost always tried to help.

Hogan closed his hand around one of LeBeau's and stilled the massage.

"Thanks, Louis," he said quietly.

"Anytime, Mon Colonel. Anytime," LeBeau responded softly.

********

Hogan drained the cup of hot chocolate, savoring the last of the warm liquid. Somehow, LeBeau had rounded up enough candy bars to melt down to make it again, and as always, he'd seen to it Hogan's mug was twice as full as the others.

The wind was bitingly cold, and the snow was falling hard. The chef was piling on layers of clothing to trudge across the compound to Klink's quarters to prepare a gourmet meal for a visiting field marshal. LeBeau's services hadn't come cheaply to Klink. All the men were going to be enjoying an extra ration of white bread for the next two weeks. With the guys planning to pool some of their extra bread, LeBeau had plans to make fondue the following Sunday. Possibly the best fringe benefit of Klink's little dinner party was providing just the diversion they needed to move the rest of the prisoners from Stalag 9 out of camp.

"I hope Schultz made it back from town with my supplies," LeBeau said as he wrapped his scarf around his neck and put on his beret. He pulled on his gloves next. "Langenscheid said the roads were really getting slippery."

"Be a light supper if he didn't," Hogan responded.

"I'm not worried about the Krauts. I just want to be sure he brings us back what we need for the souffle I'm making tomorrow."

"How much streudel is that costing us?" Newkirk asked as he sat at the table, dealing cards to himself, Carter and Baker.

"Streudel and fondue."

"You told him about that? We'll be lucky to have any left when he gets done," Carter groused.

"Smugglers don't come cheap, Carter," Hogan said, smiling as he set his empty cup on the table and sat down. "Big smugglers with long overcoats are worth paying extra for."

"Well, au revoir, mon amis. I'll try to save some leftovers if Schultz doesn't get to them first."

"Hey, wait a minute. Carter, aren't you supposed to be helping serve?" Hogan asked.

"I was, but Langenscheid came by earlier and said Klink told him it was going to be real informal and they didn't need a waiter--just LeBeau to cook dinner. He said Schultz could help out."

"Probably getting ready to go back on the bread deal," Hogan surmised, curling his lip a little.

"That's grounds for a direct attack I'd say," Newkirk joked as LeBeau left in a flurry of cold wind and snowflakes, pulling the door shut tightly behind him.

********

Hogan checked his watch for the third time in ten minutes. If all LeBeau had to do was cook the dinner and serve it, then clean up the kitchen, he should have been back at least an hour ago. Tired of fighting the ominous feeling that hung over him, Hogan zipped his jacket, pulled on his gloves and grabbed his cap. As he strode out of his office toward the door, Carter's voice made him pause.

"What's up, Colonel?" he asked, looking up from the book he was reading. Baker was down in the tunnel working on the radio, and Newkirk was sharing the table with Carter, still working with the playing cards as if trying to master a new card trick

"I'm not sure. LeBeau should have been back by now. I'm going to check it out."

"Watch out for the tower guards. They're trigger happy, y'know," Newkirk said without looking up from his cards.

Just then, the door opened and LeBeau walked in slowly, keeping his eyes down and busying himself with removing his scarf as he eased past Hogan.

"What took so long?" Hogan asked. LeBeau seemed pale despite the flush of color from the wind against his cheeks, and his gait was slow and labored. Hogan immediately noticed the swelling at the corner of the smaller man's mouth. "LeBeau, what went on there?" Hogan asked directly, eliciting an unreadable expression. It was something between anger and anguish that passed quickly over LeBeau's features before they were composed again. Hogan took off his gloves, tossing them on the table, and moved closer to take a hold of LeBeau's chin and look closely at the swelling around his mouth.

"It's nothing, Colonel," LeBeau said, his voice strained and unconvincing. "I didn't tell him anything, and he finally decided I didn't know anything." His eyes never met Hogan's before he shuffled to his bunk and lowered himself somewhat carefully onto the thin mattress. He began removing his snow-soaked shoes.

"Those lousy krauts," Newkirk said angrily. "They've got a bloody nerve."

"Exactly what did he ask you?" Hogan sat on one of the benches near the table, facing LeBeau has he sat with one shoe partially off, looking as if he lacked the strength to finish the job himself. The others watched, a bit surprised, as their commanding officer knelt on the floor and removed the shoes himself, replacing them with the dry pair that was stashed under LeBeau's bunk. Their operation of outfitting escaping prisoners occasionally made it possible for them to have important luxuries like a spare pair of shoes.

When Hogan looked back up into LeBeau's face, the haunted expression he saw there chilled him more than the wind that seeped through the thin walls of the barracks. "Come with me." He stood up and hooked one hand under LeBeau's elbow, surprised at how heavily LeBeau leaned on him as he rose.

Once they entered Hogan's office, and the door was closed, Hogan let a few moments of silence pass. LeBeau stood near the desk, his back to Hogan, his head hung slightly.

"Whatever you tell me doesn't leave this room," Hogan said, his tone gentle.

"He just asked some questions and when he was satisfied I didn't know anything, he let me go."

"Was Klink present for this questioning?"

"N-no. He...he insisted but Von Gruner refused."

"How'd you get the fat lip?"

"He didn't like one of the answers I did give him."

"Louis, talk to me. You're holding out on me."

"There's nothing to tell."

"Oh, come on," Hogan protested, his voice rising slightly. "You're gone most of the evening just to serve a simple meal that should have been over a couple hours ago. You come back here with a fat lip looking like someone just ran over your puppy. Something happened and I want to know what it was."

"Do you? Do you really want to know what happened, Mon Colonel?" LeBeau challenged, turning on his heel to face Hogan. His eyes glistened with unshed tears but his face was a mask of anger. "Do you want me to tell you about him holding a gun under my chin? Do you need to hear what a man 6'4" and over two hundred pounds can do with a man my size if he feels like it? Do you want to know what it felt like when he shoved his filthy prick up..." The angry words were choked in his throat as LeBeau staggered to the wastebasket near Hogan's desk where he knelt and began to violently expel the meager contents of his stomach.

"My God." Hogan crouched near his man, putting an arm around what seemed at the moment like very small shoulders. "Louis, I'm so sorry," he said softly, producing his handkerchief to wipe LeBeau's mouth and his face, which was damp with sweat. "How badly are you hurt?"

"Just...it's just some bruises."

"It's more than bruises and you know it," Hogan scolded gently.

"I'm not going to tell this all over camp. I don't want a medic," LeBeau asserted unsteadily. "I just...I want..." He gave up as his voice broke completely, and the tears came, crashing through his defenses mercilessly.

"It's okay," Hogan assured quietly, wrapping both arms around the shaking body and drawing him close. "It's over, Louis. It's all over."

"He'll be back. He said so," LeBeau admitted miserably, clinging to the comfort being offered.

"Good. I want the bastard to come back where I can deal with him. But that really doesn't matter. I'd hunt him down in a dark corner of Hell if I had to."

"I wish I could die. I wish I were dead already."

"Don't say that." Hogan kept up a light rubbing motion on LeBeau's back, but stopped when he felt LeBeau stiffen. "What is it?"

"My back is...bruised," LeBeau managed. Hogan suppressed the outburst of anger that bubbled just below the calm surface he was trying to maintain for LeBeau's sake.

"He won't touch you again. You have my word on that."

"But if he comes back--"

"Louis, you have my word," Hogan asserted firmly. "I need to see Klink."

"What good does that do? He couldn't do anything about it then and he can't now."

"I want to find out *when* Von Gruner's coming back. We're going to give him the kind of welcome he deserves."

"I don't want to put the operation in danger because of...this."

"When that filthy kraut attacked you, he attacked this unit. I don't stand for that." Hogan swallowed his own emotions. //Why tell him it's about the unit? About the war? About Germans and Allies? It's about him. About what he means to you...about Von Gruner hurting the one person who always looks after your hurts and cares how you feel, what you need...// "He hurt you just for the fun of it," Hogan said softly, closing his eyes a moment. "He's going to pay for that."

"How?"

"Leave it to me." Hogan moved back and stood, pulling LeBeau up with him. "Right now, I want you to lie down and take it easy. I need to see Klink."

"But--"

"That's an order," Hogan said, his voice much softer than the words. LeBeau nodded and moved to the bottom bunk, curling up on his side there. "You want me to send one of the guys in here while I'm gone?" Hogan covered him with two blankets, noticing the tremors passing through his body. There was little effective way to keep him warm, and if he went into shock, a cold barracks would be no place for him.

"I think I'd rather just be alone."

"Okay. Stay put. I'll be back."

"Colonel?"

"Yes, Louis?" Hogan paused with his hand on the doorknob.

"He didn't really ask any questions about the operation. He didn't ask me anything at all." LeBeau swallowed. "Just so you know."

Hogan nodded, then left the office, pulling the door shut behind him. He was met with the expected flurry of questions from the men.

"Von Gruner worked him over some, but he'll be okay. He's resting, so, uh, just let him be for a while until I get back."

"That lousy kraut bastard," Newkirk snarled. "Just give me permission to take him out, sir."

"We're gonna put him out of business, but this is a field marshal we're talking about. One of Hitler's favorites. Nobody's going to do anything impulsive and stupid. And that's an order," Hogan added, pinning the men with an intent stare. "I'm as upset as you guys are about what happened to LeBeau, and it's not going to pass. But we handle this like all our other operations--with careful planning for the best chance of success. Got it?" When there were nods all around, and a few grudging "yes, sir" replies, Hogan stepped outside the door and motioned to Schultz, who was trudging through the snow dejectedly, putting in the first hours of a long cold night on patrol.

"I need to see Klink."

"It's late, Colonel Hogan. You know you're not supposed to be out of the barracks--"

"You were there tonight, Schultz. You know why I need to see Klink."

"There was nothing we could do. Von Gruner is a personal friend of the fuhrer himself. Kommandant Klink had no choice but to follow orders."

"I still need to see him, Schultz."

"All right, but he won't be happy."

"Yeah, well, neither is LeBeau."

When Schultz and Hogan arrived at Klink's quarters, the kommandant was still in uniform, pacing his living room as if trying to work off nervous energy. When Schultz escorted Hogan inside, Klink stopped his pacing, his expression defeated.

"Hogan, I know why you're here, and you can save yourself the time. There was nothing I could do about Von Gruner, so if you're about to quote the Geneva Convention, don't bother." Klink seemed to notice for the first time that Schultz was standing by the door. "Dismissed, Schultz," he said, his tone flat and somewhat subdued.

"Jawohl, Herr Kommandant," Schultz replied, exiting and pulling the door closed.

"You didn't demand to be present while some visiting officer 'questioned' one of your prisoners?"

"That visiting officer happened to be a field marshal. Add to that, he's a personal friend of Hitler's." Klink went to the decanter and poured two glasses of schnapps, handing one to Hogan, who ignored the gesture.

"You'll forgive me if I don't feel like celebrating right now."

"Colonel Hogan," Klink began, setting down the refused glass, "in all the time you've been a prisoner here, you must have figured out that I don't derive any pleasure from tormenting or abusing you or your men. We may have had our differences about discipline or camp policies, but inhumanity is not something I pursue as a hobby."

"I'll grant you that but--"

"But what? What would you have me do, Hogan? Defy a field marshal? All he would have done was ignore me and then have me shot or sent to the Russian front for insubordination as soon as he got back to Berlin. And he still would have had his way with Corporal LeBeau if that's what he set out to do."

"Then you know what happened?"

"I didn't witness it, but it wouldn't take a great mind to figure it out. The bed was unmade and the sheets were bloody. What would you assume happened?"

"What action are you taking? Or isn't LeBeau worth it because he's just a POW?" Hogan challenged.

"I called General Burkhalter. He told me there was nothing I could do, and for that matter, nothing he could do. He strongly encouraged me not to mention what happened here tonight to anyone, and suggested having LeBeau transferred if the problem persisted. Of course, if Von Gruner has a...taste for his company, I'm sure he'd find him somewhere else."

Hogan picked up the glass of schnapps now and took a couple swallows to steady his nerves. //The sheets were bloody. Dear God, Louis, how badly are you really hurt? What did that monster do to you?//

"So the only solution is to punish LeBeau for being attacked?"

"I've heard rumors about Von Gruner. He supposedly assaulted the secretary at Stalag 5. Knowing that, I gave Fraulein Hilda the day off today. I had no indications he'd have any interest in the company of a male POW. Von Gruner having an eye for pretty German girls hardly is adequate warning for what happened."

"Why the change of plans? Who decided not to use Carter's services tonight?"

"Von Gruner arrived, and we talked a while. I told him we had a wonderful chef." Klink drained his glass. "I pointed out Corporal LeBeau while we were standing out on the porch in front of my office. I suppose it's my fault he didn't want another prisoner there. Hogan, you must believe me, I had no idea--"

"I believe you."

"Sergeant Hoffmeier is a medic. If LeBeau needs anything..." Klink poured another glass of schnapps for himself, his hand appearing to shake slightly.

"We have a medic. He doesn't want one." Hogan sat on the couch, feeling the impact of what happened hit him full force. He gulped the last of his schnapps. It wasn't helping. "I don't have any decent facilities to...there's no place for him to clean up."

Klink didn't speak for a moment, and when Hogan looked up, he noticed the other man just standing there, looking at him.

"I am sorry about this, Hogan," Klink said, sitting on the other end of the couch. "I'd have never even mentioned LeBeau if I'd thought the danger of something like this existed."

"It never occurred to you to send someone to get me? I know you don't want to put yourself on the line here, but that's one of my men. I think you know I would have done whatever had to be done to save LeBeau from being mauled by that bastard."

"I do know that, which is why I didn't send for you. You'd have only succeeded in getting yourself shot and Von Gruner would have still done what he came to do if he so chose." Klink was silent a moment. "He shot a prisoner at Stalag 5. They say he was trying to assassinate the field marshal. The rumor I heard is that he tried to intervene on behalf of the young woman Von Gruner was forcing to go to the guest quarters with him. So you see, Hogan, there was really nothing to be done."

"He's got to be stopped. You know that."

"If you're plotting something, you'd be wise to drop it."

"Who else knows what happened here tonight?"

"I imagine Schultz is quite sure of what happened, though he didn't see the room after Von Gruner...was finished."

"How did it happen?"

"LeBeau served the meal--"

"I thought Schultz was doing that."

"No," Klink corrected, "Schultz was simply...here. I planned he would help serve, but Von Gruner insisted that he be served by 'a real French chef'. He repeatedly tried to engage LeBeau in conversation, even spoke French to him a few times. Corporal LeBeau was polite within the confines of military protocol, but he said very little. Von Gruner got angrier and angrier as the meal progressed, and he received only the barest answers to his questions. Finally, he rose from his chair, and when LeBeau came in the next time, he grabbed hold of his arm and announced he was going to question the prisoner in an environment where he'd be more forthcoming."

"And you didn't even try to stop him?"

"I told him it was a rule of the Geneva Convention that I notify the senior POW officer if one of his men was to be questioned, but Von Gruner responded by asking me 'does this look like Geneva, Klink?' I tried insisting that I be present, and he responded that I had my choice of getting out of his way or finding myself en route to the Russian front for coddling my prisoners." Klink shook his head. "Even if I had defied him, Hogan, he wouldn't have left here tonight without taking what he wanted. He was traveling with three guards, all of whom were dining with us."

"Von Gruner took him into your bedroom?"

Klink nodded. "What is it you want me to do, Hogan?" Klink sounded genuinely tired, and genuinely sorry.

"I'd like to use your guest quarters. Give LeBeau a chance to have a warm shower and a warm place to sleep. I'm not sure how much blood he's lost or how badly he's hurt. When he's willing, I'll have our medic take a look at him."

"Very well. I'll give Schultz the orders." Klink rose and headed for the door to summon Schultz. "If you have any other plans, keep them to yourself." Klink paused. "I assure you...I won't stand in your way."

"That's all I ask," Hogan responded, rising also. "Thank you for the use of your guest quarters."

"If you need any supplies, just tell Schultz. I'll have a meal prepared and sent over. Though our cooks aren't exactly of LeBeau's stature in the kitchen, perhaps something hearty with a bit of protein might be good for him."

"Thank you, Kommandant."

********

When Hogan returned to the barracks, the other men were sitting around the room on their bunks, looking as if they were holding a sort of silent wake. It was past lights out, but Schultz had made no move to enforce the regulation.

"Klink agreed to let us use his guest quarters for LeBeau. He needs a warm place to rest, a comfortable bed..." Hogan took in a deep breath, wishing he had another glass of schnapps handy. Deep down, he knew the Germans couldn't make enough schnapps to steady his nerves at the moment.

"Colonel, what is it you're not tellin' us?" Newkirk challenged.

"Louis was worked over pretty badly. I'm not sure how seriously he's hurt. He doesn't want a lot of fuss made about it, so let's keep it down around him, huh?"

"Shouldn't we be getting Sergeant Norton to come in and take a look at him?" Baker suggested.

"Yeah, as soon as I can get him settled in the guest quarters and he agrees to it."

"Klink's no better than that field marshal," Carter stated bitterly. "He let it happen."

"He couldn't stop it. I realized when I went over there to have it out with Klink that he didn't have any more power with this guy than LeBeau did. Von Gruner is not only a field marshal, he's one of Hitler's pals. Klink called Burkhalter, but Burkhalter wouldn't take action. Von Gruner outranks him in both official rank and favor with old crazy eyes."

"So we just sit back and--" Newkirk was cut off with an angry retort from Hogan.

"No! We don't just sit back but we also don't destroy this operation by making a crazy, ill-advised move out of revenge. LeBeau's the one who got the brunt of this and even he's aware that's not the right solution. I think you all know better than to think we're going to let this go. This is delicate. Burkhalter knows there's been a problem here, so if Von Gruner shows up dead from a convenient car accident or train derailment or something subtle--like blowing up his headquarters--do you think Burkhalter's going to cover for us with the Gestapo? Klink might actually do it this time around, but Burkhalter never would."

"You think Klink would actually be on our side with this?" Carter asked.

"He already told me he won't stand in my way if I do something. He tried to stand up to Von Gruner and he notified his superior officer. He's letting LeBeau use the guest quarters to recover... As much as I hate to give him credit, I couldn't have asked Klink for anything more than what he's doing."

"Can we at least see him?" Baker asked, inclining his head toward Hogan's office door.

"Let me go in first, huh?" Hogan headed for his office, opening the door quietly. LeBeau was still lying on the bunk in his office, shivering under the blankets covering him. He was wide awake.

"We've got you better accommodations, mon ami," Hogan said with a little smile.

"Where?"

"Klink's guest quarters. You can take a warm shower there and sleep in a warm bed."

"The others...they'll be asking questions."

"They'd like to see you. I haven't said anything about...they just think you were worked over."

"All right. I can see them now."

"Just for a couple minutes," Hogan said, going back to the door to motion the other three inside. Newkirk was the first one at LeBeau's bedside.

"How's my little mate, huh?"

"You okay, buddy?" Carter chimed in, hovering close by Newkirk. Baker, always a bit quieter, hung back a little, but caught LeBeau's eye and smiled with sincere concern.

"Take it easy, Louis. We'll take care of everything."

"Everything? Someone has to go out for mushrooms tomorrow night," LeBeau joked, managing a little smile. The other three laughed, relieved at the humor.

"You tell me where to find the ruddy things, and I'll go out and get your bleedin' mushrooms," Newkirk responded, smiling and shaking his head.

"It's a deal," LeBeau agreed.

 Hogan took in the pale coloring, and thought about what LeBeau had been through that evening. "I think we better get started. Do you think you can walk?" He rested his hand on LeBeau's blanketed shoulder.

"Oui, I'll try." LeBeau pushed up a little shakily, finally making it to a sitting position, unable to stifle a groan of misery.

"It's a long walk in the cold. Put your arm around my neck."

"What?" LeBeau looked up at him, confused.

"You heard me. Put your arm around my neck. Hogan's taxi service."

"You don't have to carry me. I will walk."

"No, you won't. That's an order. Understood?"

"Understood."

Hogan helped LeBeau wrap one of the blankets around himself, and then leaned down as LeBeau's arm went around his neck. He hoisted the smaller man into his arms, relieved that he didn't seem too heavy, though he was considerably more solid than the last woman Hogan had swept off her feet in a similar manner.

As Hogan made his awkward way into the main room of the barracks, Carter, Newkirk and Baker followed, stopping at the door.

"I'll talk to Klink about getting clearance for you guys to come and go from the guest quarters. Baker, radio London and let them know what we're dealing with here. Tell them I'll send another message later."

"Right, Colonel."

Klink's guest quarters were warm and brightly lit. When Hogan arrived with LeBeau, Schultz opened the door immediately, as if he'd been watching for them. He led the way to the bedroom, where Hogan finally deposited his armload on the bed. He felt his muscles protesting the long walk and the weight he'd carried, but seeing how miserable LeBeau seemed to be, he didn't regret relieving him of the snowy trek.

"Kommandant Klink ordered first aid supplies and some hot food. He told me if there is anything else you require, I should get it for you."

"Right now, Schultz, just hold off on the food and give us a little time to get him cleaned up and settled in bed."

"I'll be right outside the door, standing guard." With that, Schultz left.

Hogan sat on the edge of the large bed, which appeared to be at least queen-sized.

"You know we're going to have to get you cleaned up, and you should be examined by a medic."

"I'll be all right."

"Louis, don't make me do this in the form of an order. We don't know how badly you're hurt."

"I can't..." With some difficulty, LeBeau turned on his side, facing away from Hogan.

"Will you at least let me help you get cleaned up and into this lovely nightgown?" Hogan held up the white nightshirt that had been laid out on the bed, a devilish grin on his face as LeBeau turned to look at the garment. Unable to resist Hogan's smile, LeBeau had to smile a bit despite the horror of his circumstances.

"You would do that?" LeBeau asked, his smile fading.

"I'm here to help you as much as you'll let me," Hogan said, resting his hand on LeBeau's arm and squeezing gently.

"Won't be a pretty job." LeBeau looked away.

"Come on, let's get you clean and comfortable."

Hogan helped the other man stand and supported him on the short walk into the adjoining bathroom. Tossing his leather jacket and hat aside, he turned on the water in the shower and let it run, hoping it would warm up by the time LeBeau was ready for it. Meanwhile, LeBeau began peeling off his clothing and piling it on the closed lid of the toilet. When he came to the trousers and underwear, he reeled at the sight of his own blood there.

"Easy, Louis. Look at me. You're not gonna pass out on me, right?"

"I'm not so sure, Colonel."

"Focus on me, and on getting in the shower. Stay with me, now." Hogan felt some relief as LeBeau nodded, stepping under the warm spray of water.

There were darkening, finger-sized bruises on his arms and other splotches of bruising developing from blows Von Gruner had most likely delivered to his body in the process of subduing him. Welts on his back looked as if they'd been made by a wide leather belt. More of the finger-sized bruises peppered his buttocks.

"Feeling steady enough to finish on your own?" he asked, forcing his voice to remain calm and neutral. LeBeau nodded, seeming anxious to handle his own bathing needs. "Okay. I'll be in the bedroom, turning back the bed. Yell when you're done."

When Hogan walked into the adjoining bedroom and did as he said he would, then retrieved the nightshirt just as he heard the water being turned off. LeBeau gave himself something of a cursory drying with a large white bath towel before accepting help with drying his back and getting the nightshirt over his head.

"I can't believe I have to wear one of Klink's old dresses," LeBeau quipped, managing a faint smile.

"It's not a gown by Yvette, but it's clean and it's warm, which is more than I can say for anything we could come up with for you right now."

"I look like my grandmother," LeBeau complained, noting that the nightshirt nearly brushed the floor on his shorter frame. He rolled up the sleeves which were made to accommodate a man of Klink's stature.

"Louis, I need you to be honest with me." Hogan rested his hands on the other man's shoulders, waiting for eye contact. LeBeau looked up, nodding once. "Are you still bleeding?"

He averted his eyes to the floor, then answered, "A little, but not like before."

"You need a medic--"

"Colonel, do you really think Norton's training ever covered something like this? Why have a medic look at me when he probably won't know what to do for me anyway?"

"You have a point there." Hogan was quiet a moment. "You should be seen by a doctor."

"Colonel, please, I--"

"You know there's a risk of infection, or that something was damaged that could cause you more problems later. Look, I won't push it tonight, but soon, you need to be seen by a doctor. Do we have a deal?" Hogan asked gently, not wanting to make such a difficult issue an order.

"Oui, it's a deal," LeBeau said quietly, nodding.

"Into bed," Hogan said, trying to force a lightness into his voice he didn't feel. "I'll get Schultz to bring in something to eat--"

"I wouldn't keep it down. Not yet."

"Liquor might help dull the pain a little."

"Probably make me throw up again, putting it in there on an empty stomach."

"Okay. Try to get some rest. I'll be right outside the door in the sitting room."

"Think Klink'll let you?"

"I think so. If he doesn't, I'll come up through the floor anyway," Hogan quipped, his face splitting into a devilish grin. LeBeau smiled back at that. "Louis," Hogan began, crouching by the side of the bed, "we *are* going to nail Von Gruner. I give you my word on that."

"I know."

"Sleep well, huh?" Hogan straightened, squeezing LeBeau's shoulder before going to the door of the room. When he was partway through it, LeBeau's voice stopped him.

"Merci, mon colonel."

"Anytime," Hogan responded, smiling slightly as he pulled the door shut behind him. Schultz was just coming in with a tray. "He doesn't feel like eating," Hogan said flatly. Running a hand tiredly over his face, he dropped onto the couch, staring straight ahead.

"Maybe you could use a bit of the wine?" Schultz suggested, indicating the small decanter on the tray.

"Three glasses of schnapps didn't help, so I don't think the wine's going to do much."

"Kommandant Klink is very upset about what happened." Schultz appropriated a glass of the wine for himself and sat on the chair near the couch. "So am I. There was nothing we could do. Field Marshal Von Gruner had guards and--"

"I know, Schultz. Klink told me." Hogan stood up and started pacing. "It's not your fault. Truthfully, it's not Klink's fault."

"That's right. It's Von Gruner's fault."

"No, it's my fault." Hogan stood with his back to Schultz, staring out the window at the compound. He closed his eyes as the truth of those words hit him. "I didn't check out Von Gruner well enough. We figured it was a good way to score some extra rations with Klink. I should have known about him, known what he was like. I should have been here."

"You weren't invited. You couldn't come to dinner without an invitation."

"He's my man, Schultz. He's my man, and it's my duty to protect him from something like this. That's part of being the senior POW officer. Watching out for your men's safety and best interest. I sent him into this without knowing enough about it. Enough about Von Gruner."

"How could you find out what Von Gruner was like?" Schultz asked. Hogan smiled a little ironically and looked back at Schultz, raising one eyebrow. "On second thought, I don't want to know," Schultz concluded, taking the final drink of the glass of wine he'd been sipping. He rose from the chair and, leaving his glass behind, headed for the door. "I'm on guard duty," he said, and Hogan nodded, going back to staring out the window. "Colonel Hogan?"

"What?" Hogan didn't bother looking back at him this time.

"I have known many officers in my life. I've served in two wars. Many of them were only concerned with their own well-being, their own gain. Some were concerned with the welfare of their men." Schultz paused. "Of all the officers I've ever known, none of them cared as much about their men as you do about your men. What happened with Von Gruner, it was not your fault."

Hogan swallowed, fighting an unexpected wave of emotion the words evoked. He was relieved when his voice came out smooth and steady.

"Thanks, Schultz."

"Goodnight, Colonel Hogan." With that, Schultz returned to his guard duty, leaving Hogan alone with his thoughts.

He sat in the easy chair near the window and rubbed his forehead. He was so damned tired. The last several nights had been spent clearing an inordinate number of prisoners through their escape system. Another German kommandant, Weissmueller, was on his way to the Eastern front while Klink gloated over his no-escape record. The Stalag 13 operation had essentially cleaned house on the reputedly brutal new kommandant of the nearby prison camp, freeing a number of undernourished, abused prisoners to the point that the few who remained in the camp were now safe--or as safe as any POW's--under the command of a new and reportedly ethical kommandant. Klink himself had expressed admiration for the man they'd put in charge, and Hogan had felt a great sense of accomplishment at having spared so many Allied prisoners from abuse and brutality. If all went well, the last of Morgan's men would be moved out tonight.

And yet he couldn't even save one of his own men from being brutalized right within the confines of their very own prison camp.

********

LeBeau shifted his legs carefully, feeling the now familiar pain flare at the movement. The bed was comfortable, and despite his protests over his appearance, the nightshirt was warm and soft and kept away the chill of the winter winds outside. He'd struggled valiantly to court sleep, but every time he closed his eyes, Von Gruner's leering face--or clammy, beefy hands--seemed to be waiting for him.

He eased himself up to sit, and ignoring the expected pain, got out of bed. He hoped Colonel Hogan was still in the sitting room as he'd promised. Maybe they could talk about some strategy to nail Von Gruner. Maybe it would help chase a few of the demons away. Maybe seeing Colonel Hogan, a man he'd always loved to be near, who always had a gentle touch or a friendly word to give, would exorcise some of the horrible feelings of violation and fear that kept him tossing and turning.

He opened the door of the bedroom quietly, and stood still a moment, listening to a sound he'd never heard before. Colonel Hogan, sitting hunched in a chair near the window, was crying. With one elbow on the arm of the chair, his forehead in his hand, the colonel's entire body shook with the labor of crying. Feeling his own eyes fill that his superior officer...his *friend*...could feel this much for him and what he'd been through, LeBeau moved stealthily toward the hunched figure. If Hogan detected his presence, he'd stem the flow of emotion even if it seemed impossible to do so.

When he was at the side of the chair, he reached down, a bit hesitantly, and rested his hand lightly on the back of Hogan's head. He knew what was tearing at the other man's heart and soul, and tears rolled down his own cheeks to see him suffer for it.

"There was nothing you could have done, Mon Colonel. Don't blame yourself," he said softly, feeling Hogan jerk with surprise under the touch of his hand. He'd said those words to Hogan before, as he knew Hogan took responsibility for every glitch in every operation, and was most ruthless with himself when he made the simplest error in judgment or action.

"I was so preoccupied with the escape missions, I..."

"You were exhausted. You still are." LeBeau continued to stroke the soft brown hair, as his overture hadn't been rejected. "How many nights has it been since you slept?" There was no response. "How many Allied prisoners are safe in London now because of it?" he asked softly. Ignoring the painful objections of his body, he eased himself down on the padded arm of the chair and slid his arms around Hogan as he slumped against LeBeau's chest, his fatigue making him accept the comfort that everything in his military training and his normally resilient nature would have prevented him from accepting any other time.

"I let you down," Hogan admitted miserably. "All of those men we protected, got out of Germany, but you...right here under my nose and I let--"

"You didn't let anyone do anything. You are only one man, and there are times that you bear a burden that should be shared by a team of officers. Other men who have to share the responsibility for these operations."

"You guys are a great team."

"But we're under your command, not your equals. If a mission goes bad, you blame yourself. Or London blames you. Sometimes it seems like the whole Allied war effort is resting on your shoulders." LeBeau had to smile a little as he felt a little shudder of tears course through the body against him. Hogan might never again let his guard down, or permit anyone to see how exhausted and afraid he was sometimes. Maybe even a few moments of letting someone else be strong for him would help bolster him for the remaining days, months...or even years they might still have to fight. "You have a right to be tired, Colonel. And you have a right to miss something sometimes. No one can do all things."

"What happened to you...if I'd checked out Von Gruner--"

"You *did* check him out. London said as far as they knew, he wasn't involved in anything big at the moment. You told me to keep my ears open and get word to you if anything interesting was being discussed. How could you know he would do what he did?"

Hogan straightened now, pulling away and looking predictably embarrassed. LeBeau noticed a little hint of gray amidst the dark brown strands, and a few signs of age on their handsome leader. He remembered how very young Hogan had looked when he first arrived at Stalag 13. LeBeau had been there a few weeks before Hogan arrived, one of the very first captured and lodged in Klink's little hotel. Their first senior POW officer had been a strait-laced, unimaginative sort, an American major who was transferred to another camp shortly before Hogan was brought in, still a bit bruised and scraped from bailing out of his plane just before it crashed. He had orders, though, and before long, the most remarkable of operations was up and running right under the krauts' noses. From that day forward, Hogan had never truly rested, and never once asked more of his men--often not as much--as he demanded from himself.

"You should be in bed."

"So should you, before you fall down," LeBeau responded, smiling.

"Louis, I'm so sorry. I--"

"You don't owe me any apologies. But there is something you could do for me."

"Anything you need," Hogan responded readily.

"We've got at least one night with a comfortable bed in a warm room. The bed is huge. There's room. Come and get some real sleep."

"I can't just go to sleep and--"

"And what? You don't think Baker, Carter and Newkirk can take care of things for a few hours?"

"I know they can, but--"

"But what? Colonel, you need sleep, and so do I." LeBeau paused. "And I'm not having such great luck by myself," he admitted quietly.

"If it'll help you get some sleep, sure," Hogan said, smiling a little. When he rose, LeBeau thought Hogan didn't look as if he felt much better than LeBeau did himself. "Get back under the covers. You should stay warm, in case there's any risk of shock." LeBeau followed the instructions, then watched as Hogan toed off his shoes and removed his jacket, tossing it on a nearby chair. He stretched out on top of the covers.

"You'll be cold like that."

"I'm fine, Louis," Hogan said with a little smile.

"It's more comfortable under the covers," LeBeau prodded. Shaking his head a little, Hogan got back up and, still fully dressed except for his jacket and shoes, got under the covers.

"Happy now?" he asked in mock annoyance, his voice rising an octave.

"Delighted." In a few moments, he could begin to see Hogan's entire body relaxing, his expression changing almost instantly.

"Try to get some rest," Hogan said, shifting onto his side, facing LeBeau, who was resting on the side that wasn't bruised. Von Gruner had gotten a couple good blows in on the other side, and sleeping on the resulting bruises wasn't all that comfortable. With the security of the man he trusted most in the world just inches away, LeBeau soon lost his grip on consciousness and dozed off to sleep.

Hogan soaked up the comfort of the bed, and thought back on the brief moments when, just temporarily, the weight of the world that seemed firmly planted on his shoulders had been shared. A few stolen moments when someone else was strong for him. Savoring that thought, he let his guard down just a little, and let the exhaustion sweep over him. Moments later, he was sleeping soundly.

********

Hogan opened his eyes to moans and pleas for help. LeBeau was thrashing around on his side of the bed, apparently fighting off Von Gruner in his dreams. Hogan moved over a bit, managing to restrain the flailing arms by getting his own firmly around LeBeau and pinning the frantic limbs between them.

"Louis, snap out of it. Wake up. It's a nightmare. It's not real," Hogan continued, hoping that soon, it would get through to LeBeau that he was safe. At the moment, the restraint seemed to aggravate him even more. "LeBeau, snap out of it now! That's an order!" Hogan barked sharply, and to his relief, the tone of voice got through and the struggle lessened. "You're safe now. It's all over," he added, his tone much softer as LeBeau finally opened his eyes. "It's okay, I've got you."

Pulling another man into his arms as he lay in bed with him seemed unthinkable in one sense, and yet this had been an unthinkable night. He'd always felt close to LeBeau and protective of him, and that feeling had made him uneasy more than once. He'd told himself it was LeBeau's diminutive stature, and then he'd told himself it was because LeBeau fainted at the sight of blood. Some of that was true; when he saw a potential vulnerability in one of his men, he did his best not to endanger that man in a way that might prove fatal.

Beyond that, he knew he'd let LeBeau have more latitude than he'd ever given the others. Though he tried to be tolerant of his men's occasional straying from orders or bone-headed mistakes, he admitted, if only to himself, that there were times he gave a mild response to LeBeau for behavior for which he'd have had the others' heads.

What he'd finally admitted to himself was that it was LeBeau's passion, his intense patriotism, the giant spirit that was contained in such a small package. He was versatile, talented, and willing to do almost anything Hogan asked of him. He glowed with obvious pride when Hogan showed interest in one of his culinary creations–or even when he took top honors in a contrived basket-weaving contest Hogan had initiated. He made hot chocolate when there was nearly no way to do so, and shamelessly hoarded the biggest portion of it for Hogan–just because he knew it was Hogan's favorite. He accepted Hogan's physical gestures of affection and friendship not only willingly but enthusiastically. And when Hogan needed it most, LeBeau was there with a shave and hot towels, a neck rub, or just the comfort of a good friend to talk to who more often than not encouraged Hogan to forgive himself for being human and therefore, less than perfect.

LeBeau had an emotional warmth about him that Hogan had been sadly missing in his life since being shot down over Germany three years earlier. Maybe, in fact, he'd never had it. His parents were good parents, and his brother and he got along adequately, though he didn't consider them close. He'd never found just the right woman. The relationships he'd had were fleeting, and even now, the women he met were by necessity temporary figures in his life.

If LeBeau had come in a female package, Hogan had no question he'd have been in love with the petite, passionate, quirky little French woman. That was an unsettling thought as he held and soothed LeBeau back into a peaceful sleep. As he felt his heart expand and fill with love at the closeness, he thought back affectionately of the way LeBeau had overcome his own pain to comfort and reassure Hogan. To care if he was exhausted, when LeBeau's own misery was so much more acute.

But LeBeau was not a woman, and when he'd recovered from this...

When he recovered from this, he would still be the warm, loving, affectionate friend that Hogan had come to rely on emotionally more than he cared to admit. Somehow, he'd have to find a way to channel any more destructive emotions into the passion he needed to keep Stalag 13 up and running.

********

LeBeau resisted waking, feeling warm and comfortable, the steady beating of another heart close to his ear, relaxing him like the rhythm of a metronome. Slowly, consciousness was forcing itself on him, letting him recognize the scent and feel of the body against which he was pressed. The barest scent of leather clung to the fabric and a trace of familiar aftershave tickled his nose. Momentarily confused, he opened his eyes, and did indeed see the light khaki fabric of Hogan's shirt.

Careful not to disturb the sleeping man who had obviously held him a good part of the night, he eased back a bit and looked up at Hogan's face. The other man looked more peaceful than he'd ever seen him, the arm that wasn't around LeBeau resting on the pillow near Hogan's head, the hand palm up, fingers slightly curled. Hogan's face was turned toward him, as if to watch over him even in sleep. The face was still a bit pale and bore the shadows of exhaustion, the dark lashes a striking contrast.

Knowing he had seen a rare moment of vulnerability in their leader, and shared with Hogan probably the most intimately miserable moment of their lives at Stalag 13, he felt incredibly close to Hogan. He'd never kidded himself that he wasn't attracted to Hogan. Truthfully, most people who met Hogan were attracted to him. Hogan even had a knack of charming and manipulating Klink with remarkable skill and finesse. Because, underneath it all, Klink was drawn to Hogan. Drawn to his energy, his courage, his warmth, his humor and the handsome package it all came in.

Colonel Hogan was a textbook hero. Handsome, brave, clever, strong, and always able to save the day at the last minute. The one thing that had shattered all his defenses was his inability to protect one of his men. Hogan himself could have been hauled off and beaten, tortured, even killed, and they still wouldn't have broken his spirit. The thing that at the very least seriously wounded this incredible spirit was LeBeau's pain, not his own.

The sound of the outer door opening and closing startled LeBeau from his thoughts, and he moved out from under the sheltering arm that held him. Hogan stirred immediately at that, and surprising LeBeau with his ability to rally so quickly and be aware of his surroundings, moved out of the bed, smoothed down the blanket and sat against the headboard, a pillow behind his back. By the time Klink entered, it looked as if Hogan had been merely sitting atop the covers for the night, keeping watch over his wounded man rather than sleeping in the bed with him.

"I hope you slept well," Klink said a bit uneasily, directing his comments at LeBeau.

"Oui, kommandant. The bed was very comfortable."

"I'm glad. There's no need for you to report for roll call this morning. I can see for myself that you're here. Schultz will bring you some breakfast."

"Thanks," Hogan responded, smiling a little. "We appreciate the quarters and the special treatment."

"Corporal LeBeau, I want to express my apologies for what happened last night. I hope you know that is not the way I run this camp, and I do not condone the field marshal's actions."

"I know. Von Gruner's men were armed," LeBeau conceded. "You couldn't have stopped him."

"That's very gracious of you. If you require any...medical care beyond what your medic can provide, we will bring in a doctor from town."

"Merci, kommandant. I don't think that will be necessary."

"I'm glad to hear that. Colonel Hogan, I do want you to be present for roll call."

"I plan on it." Hogan rose. "I need to talk with the men, make sure order is kept. Emotions are pretty high right now."

"Despite my concern for Corporal LeBeau's welfare, I hope your men are not thinking I will be soft on any sort of escape attempts or other monkey business," Klink said sternly, his whole body taking on a rigid military stance. It was all LeBeau could do to stifle a smile. At least one thing was back to normal.

"I'm sure they know better than to challenge your authority, kommandant," Hogan responded, feeding Klink's ever-ravenous ego.

"I should hope so. Any escape attempts will be met with swift and sure action," Klink stated, wagging a finger in Hogan's direction before turning on his heel to leave, closing the door decisively behind him. Hogan looked over at LeBeau and smiled.

"I better head out for roll call," he said, stepping into his shoes before sitting on the edge of the bed to tie them. "How do you really feel this morning?"

"If I don't move, it's not so bad," LeBeau said, trying to force a little levity into his voice. Truth be told, he couldn't bear to think too much about the reason for the pain he felt, or to face the memories of how it had felt to be pinned under that oppressive weight, to feel his body protesting and his flesh tearing from the sheer brutality of it...

"Hey, it's going to take a while to feel better," Hogan said, resting a hand on LeBeau's shoulder. "About everything," he added, warm brown eyes looking right into LeBeau's soul. "I wish there was something I could do--"

"You already did, Colonel," LeBeau smiled genuinely then, reaching up to squeeze Hogan's wrist.

"Yeah, well, we're more than even," he responded, moving his hand away.

"You were exhausted." LeBeau paused. "And I can hardly fault you for being more moved by my pain than you would be by your own. You can ask no greater l--friendship from anyone than that." LeBeau cursed himself for not saying the word he wanted, and yet felt it might overstep a boundary and make Hogan more profoundly uncomfortable than he already was.

"Thanks," Hogan said, smiling faintly as he stood up and pulled on his jacket, then set his cap in place. "I better go out for roll call. I'll be back in a while to check on you."

"I should move back out to the barracks."

"When you're a little stronger. You need some more rest, and to get some decent food in you. Take advantage of Klink's hospitality as long as he's willing to extend it."

As Hogan left the room, LeBeau let himself drop back on the pillows and savored the feeling of a real bed supporting his achy body. Still, now that he was alone, rest didn't come easily. Even when Schultz brought a tray laden with hearty breakfast foods, he was barely able to eat more than a few bites. The jovial guard gobbled up the leftovers, and LeBeau was glad for the company. It was in the moments when he was completely alone that the demons came out to play. It was when he tried to close his eyes and relax that all the horrific sensations were back, as if they were happening all over again.

By mid-morning, Newkirk came in to play a few hands of cards, but his continued probing, gentle though it was, to get at the truth of what happened wore on LeBeau's nerves. In the process of losing his third straight hand, LeBeau looked over at his friend, who was sitting near the foot of the bed, the cards on the blanket between them. When Newkirk sensed the scrutiny and looked up, LeBeau quickly looked away–though apparently not quickly enough to avoid detection.

"Louis, why don't you just tell me what happened? Anybody with eyes can see there's something more than what Colonel Hogan is telling."

"Why do you keep asking me that? Colonel Hogan told all of you–"

"I know what he told us, and I don't buy it. You're not worked over bad enough to be gettin' the star treatment over here in Klink's guest quarters. One of us would have to be just about dead to get old Blood and Guts to give us the good accommodations."

"Is that it? You're jealous because I'm staying here?" LeBeau demanded, his eyes widening.

"You must be balmy if that's what you think."

"Then what is it?"

"The five of us...we're a team. At least I thought we were. Now all of a sudden something happens and it's like you're not part of the team anymore. For that matter, Colonel Hogan's not really part of it either. It's like the two'a you are over here on one side knowing the whole story and the rest of us are just...out here somewhere," Newkirk concluded, gesturing into space.

"I don't want to talk about this. It's your turn," LeBeau directed, nodding at the cards.

"Forget it." Newkirk threw the cards down on the blanket and stood up, heading for the door. "When you're ready to be honest with me, give me a call."

"Peter, wait," LeBeau said, stopping the other man as he was partway out the door. "It's not that I don't want to be honest with you. It's just...it's hard to talk about."

"Did the guy torture you? What?" Newkirk came back to sit on the foot of the bed. "Whatever it is, Louis, it can't be so bad you can't say it."

"Worse." LeBeau closed his eyes and swallowed.

"You're acting like the old sod buggered you or something," Newkirk tossed out with a slightly frustrated snort. The crude assessment cut deep, and LeBeau didn't open his eyes. He couldn't look Newkirk in the eyes and lie to him, and he couldn't face him when Newkirk realized the truth. "How could you let 'im do a thing like that to you? Some filthy kraut?!"

"Let...?" That made LeBeau open his eyes, to stare at his friend in horror.

"What's the matter, Louis? You couldn't take a little roughing up so you gave the old man what he came for?" Newkirk demanded, standing up and moving away again.

"You saw Von Gruner when he arrived yesterday. He's huge! What was I supposed to do?" LeBeau demanded.

"Not roll over an' give 'im your ass, that's for sure!"

"What's going on here?" Hogan stood in the doorway, looking back and forth between the two men, his brows knit. "I hope I didn't just hear what I think I heard, Newkirk."

"Seems LeBeau and I have a different idea about fraternizing with the enemy." Newkirk started out the door, knocking shoulders with his superior officer none too gently on the way out. Hogan was hot on his heels.

"Newkirk!" He waited until the other man stopped, almost to the door leading back out to the compound. "You'll stand at attention when I'm talking to you," Hogan barked in his best military tone.

"You've gotta be kidding–"

"AttenTION!" Hogan shouted, inches from the other man's face. This time, the order took. "Don't walk away when I'm talking to you. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir." Newkirk's tone was deferential, but his eyes were as defiant as ever.

"Now, what exactly was that exchange I walked in on?"

"Just an argument, sir," Newkirk responded, keeping his stiff stance.

"At ease. And let's try it again, Newkirk, only make it the truth this time."

"Do you know what he did with Von Gruner?" Newkirk challenged.

"What *he* did *with* Von Gruner? Do you care to elaborate a little more?"

"He took it up the ass from that kraut! Is that clear enough?"

"He's got bruises all over his body. Von Gruner is twice his size and he was armed. LeBeau didn't stand a chance, and you know it."

"I don't know it! Lousy kraut'd have to kill me before trying to do that to me."

"Look at LeBeau. How in the hell would he hold off somebody the size of Von Gruner? The son of a bitch raped him. He had no choices. Since last night I've been upset he didn't want to tell you guys, was afraid of what you'd think if you knew. I kept thinking that if it were just out in the open, everything would be so much easier. My God, Newkirk, *Klink* has more empathy for LeBeau than you do! How disgusting is that?"

"Not half as disgusting as what he did!" Newkirk shot back, pointing toward the door to the bedroom.

"I don't ever want to hear you say a thing like that again. Is that understood? Plan on giving LeBeau wide berth until you have a better grip on your emotions."

"Whatever you say, sir," Newkirk responded, his courtesy tinged with a bit of sarcasm.

"Dismissed," Hogan said curtly, turning and walking back toward the bedroom doorway as Newkirk left.

"That went well," LeBeau said sarcastically. "Where are my clothes?"

"Carter's washing them for you. He's going to bring them by when they're dry." Hogan paused. "I suppose you heard all that," he said, gesturing with a thumb toward the sitting room.

"Newkirk's right. I really don't belong in this operation. Not anymore."

"Newkirk is *not* right, and where did you get a crazy idea like that?" Hogan sat on the side of the bed.

"Colonel, look at me. That filthy Bosch general could do whatever he wanted and I couldn't stop him. It was like being pinned under a giant. It didn't have anything to do with the gun. I would have gladly been shot. If I could have gotten his gun I would have killed him myself. But he got me pinned to the bed and I couldn't move his weight off me and...and...Mon Dieu...the pain... I hoped he would kill me," LeBeau admitted, breaking down on the last words. Moved by LeBeau's anguish, Hogan moved forward and pulled the smaller man into his arms.

"I'm glad he didn't, Louis." Hogan closed his eyes and held on tightly. "I'm so glad he didn't," he repeated, admitting to himself that the embrace was as much a reassurance to him as it was to LeBeau. "I want you to listen to me, and listen good. This operation needs you. *I* need you to make this operation work."

"You need a chef who faints at the sight of blood?" LeBeau asked derisively.

"No. I need an accomplished chef, a top-notch tailor, a man who appears to be capable of mastering any task I give him–whether it's giving a presentation to German chemists or teaching Hochstetter to dance. I need a guy who can put wedding dresses together and fit them on chubby German frauleins and blow up safes. Someone who can be anything I need him to be to make one of my plans work. You're that someone, LeBeau. No one else in this operation has your versatility. Each one of the men closest to me in this operation has a special talent–something we need desperately to make things work. You're no exception to that, and if I've never told you how much I appreciate your willingness to do anything I ask of you, to learn anything I ask you to learn, to be anything I need you to be to make things work, then I apologize for that. And I'm thanking you now." The words seemed to make the tears come harder. "Most importantly, I need your friendship, Louis. And your hot chocolate," Hogan added, smiling. LeBeau managed a chuckle at that. Pulling back, he wiped at his eyes.

"I'm sorry. I thought I was okay about...everything."

"Newkirk's reaction didn't help." Hogan rested a hand on LeBeau's shoulder, rubbing gently. "I think I've got a pretty good idea of why he reacted the way he did."

"So do I. He was disgusted."

"He was scared."

"Of what? Me?"

"No, not of you. Of Von Gruner. Think about this a minute. Von Gruner came into camp, and despite all our safeguards and all our success at making the krauts trip over each other, he waltzes right into Klink's quarters and attacks one of us. He's a pal of Hitler's, and there's nothing Klink, or even Burkhalter, can do about him. So what's stopping him from coming back and targeting another prisoner the next time? The best way to avoid admitting that we're in danger–each and every single man in this camp–is to blame you. 'Well, that lousy kraut better not try that with me because I'd kill him' or 'I'd die before I let that lousy kraut do that to me'. It's easier for Newkirk, and I'd imagine a few other guys, too, to make it your fault. That way, they can say to themselves that it couldn't happen to them. They won't let it."

"It probably wouldn't. I'm the smallest man in the camp."

"For every one of us walking around, there's someone out there who could overpower us in a hand-to-hand combat situation. In case you didn't notice, Von Gruner's bigger than *I* am. Sure, I'd assume I'd have enough extra height, weight, and combat experience to hold my own, but there are no guarantees. I don't know that he won't decide on his next visit that attacking the highest-ranking enemy officer would be good for a few kicks. And if he did, there are no guarantees I'd come out of it any better than you did. You think that thought doesn't give me the willies? But if I told myself that it was your fault for *letting* him do what he did to you, then I don't have to be afraid anymore."

"You really believe all that? Colonel, what if he's just disgusted because I was with a man? I can't change that."

"I don't think that's what it is." Hogan patted LeBeau's face lightly. "Get some rest. I'll go have a talk with the men."

"I thought Peter was my friend."

"Maybe that's the part that hardest of all for him. He's so angry about what happened that he's taking it out on the wrong person."

"I'd like to think it was something like that."

"I'll be back in a little while to check on you. I've gotta go see Klink on some routine stuff and check on things in the tunnel. The last of the prisoners should have gone out last night, but with everything that happened, they didn't, so we've still got two men down there to get moved out on their way."

"I'll be all right here. Klink's actually got some decent books on the bookshelf," LeBeau said, nodding toward a stack on the night stand. "When do you think Carter will have my clothes? I feel like I should be helping get those prisoners moved out. Making uniforms or something."

"I want you to stay off your feet at least the rest of today. Take it easy and make sure the bleeding doesn't start up again. I think by tomorrow you can start being up and around more, provided you take it slow for a few days. I checked with a doctor. London patched me through."

"Baker already knows, too, then?"

"No. I did it myself. We officers do have one or two useful skills."

"I guess I really don't feel like doing all that much walking right now anyway," LeBeau admitted. "I suppose Newkirk's told everyone anyway, and Carter probably has a pretty good idea after washing my clothes, but I guess it's time to be honest. Like you said, Von Gruner could be a threat to more than just me, so I guess it's only fair to let everyone know what we're up against."

"I'm glad you feel that way. I agree. Would you like me to handle telling them while you're still here in the guest quarters?"

"I think it would be easier." LeBeau paused. "I'm just not ready to face them. Not now."

"Anyone who's got anything bad to say about this is gonna have to go through me first. And that's not a real smart move."

"You can't change how people feel, Colonel. You can change what they say, and you can make them be polite, but you can't make them forgive me for last night."

"There's nothing to forgive. Newkirk's not taking it well, but that doesn't mean none of the others will. Let me have a talk with them. You just concentrate on taking it easy for now."

With that, Hogan left the room, pulling the door shut softly behind him.

********

The men filed slowly into the barracks following the afternoon work detail, which had amounted to three hours of futilely attempting to clear the snow away from the front gates. Ordinarily, Hogan would have invoked the Geneva Convention to spare his men such back-breaking labor, but having the front gates sealed shut by the weather conditions didn't set any better with the prisoners than it did with the Germans. There was no way in or out for emergency vehicles should the need arise, and Hogan never knew for sure when the functionality of the front gates might figure into a plan he'd concoct to meet one of London's many assignments. The tunnel entrances were difficult to use with the risk of footprints on the snow being traced back to them, and Hogan had only authorized such a risk to be taken to get the final two men out of the tunnel who simply wouldn't fit in Schnitzer's dog truck.

"We better figure a way to clear the entrances to the tunnels, even if it disturbs the snow a bit," Baker said, pouring coffee for everyone. "I bet you can't even find the tree stump out there right now."

"Unfortunately, the minute we disturb that snow out in the middle of the woods, and one tree stump pops up in the middle of all that white stuff, even Klink's guards aren't dumb enough not to notice that's a little odd," Hogan responded, resting one foot on the bench, elbow on his knee as he drank a few swallows of his coffee. He'd done his fair share of shoveling, despite the fact the senior POW officer was rarely compelled to engage in physical labor with his men. "There's something else we need to discuss." The other residents of the barracks were within earshot, but Newkirk, Carter and Baker were gathered at the table with Hogan.

"Von Gruner," Baker spoke up immediately.

"Definitely Von Gruner. But there's something else you guys need to know."

"I think we already do, sir," Carter said quietly. Hogan's eyes immediately darted to Newkirk, but Carter added, "I knew before Newkirk told me. The blood on his clothes...and where it was... Him not wanting to see us last night..." Carter shrugged.

"This isn't news to anyone then?" Hogan confirmed, and the three heads around the table shook solemnly. A few more men gathered closer, listening, also appearing to know what the nature of LeBeau's assault was. "There's something I want to make very clear up front. You're all entitled to your own feelings about what happened to LeBeau, but under no circumstances–and I mean *no* circumstances–do I want to hear any insults, harassment or other grief directed at LeBeau over it. Is that clear?"

"Why would anybody want to give LeBeau grief over it?" Olson asked. He'd obviously heard the news via the grapevine, but minus Newkirk's personal feelings about it.

"There's no good reason to lay the blame on LeBeau for something that was forced on him. He had no choices, and if anyone here is thinking he 'gave in' to avoid being hurt in some other way or even to avoid being killed, guess again. He's expressed more than once that he'd have chosen being shot over this, given the choice."

"Von Gruner'd make three of Louis. He wouldn't stand a chance with that guy," Carter added.

"Exactly. And he didn't."

"How's he doing?" Baker asked.

"I spoke to a doctor in London via radio first thing this morning. He said if LeBeau stays off his feet for a day or so and then takes it easy for a while, he should be all right, provided infection doesn't set in. The long and short of it is that I'm going to work on Klink to convince him to let LeBeau stay in the guest quarters over another night, and then be excused from all work details for at least a week."

"There, um, there was an awful lot of blood, Colonel," Carter said, looking down at the table. "Can't believe he doesn't need a doctor in person."

"I'm going to talk to him about it again. He was right that our own medic really isn't trained to handle injuries of this nature, and I seriously doubt Klink's is either. If we can get those gates cleared, Klink has offered to bring in a civilian doctor if necessary. I would feel a lot better if he did."

"You're awfully quiet, Newkirk. You had plenty to say earlier," Baker said levelly, staring at the other man.

"I'm under orders to keep my opinions to myself," he retorted.

"Okay, look," Hogan began, "this thing has the potential to turn us all on each other, or to make us an even tighter unit. I'm hoping for the latter. I don't want LeBeau treated badly over this by anyone, but if someone's got something to say, now's the time and place to get it off your chest."

"I just don't see how he could let some stinkin' kraut do that to 'im, that's all. I always thought Louis'd die before he'd go queer with the enemy."

"What a lousy rotten stinkin' thing to say!" Carter challenged, rising out of his seat and lunging across the table at Newkirk. Baker and Hogan intervened in a flash, keeping the two men apart.

"All right, that's enough!" Hogan shouted, not relinquishing the restraint he had on Carter until Baker had Newkirk sitting calmly at the table once again. "Now sit down and cool it," he added, watching as Carter followed the order. "This hasn't got anything to do with being queer, at least not on LeBeau's part. Von Gruner's a pig who'll take what he wants from men or women and none too gently. He killed a prisoner at Stalag 5 who tried to defend the secretary he was hauling off to rape. This man is a cold-blooded killer and a rapist. He's a sadist, the worst kind of rotten, stinking Nazi who abuses his power–both his own physical strength and his clout with that nut in Berlin–to get anything he wants. What happened to LeBeau is all about power, sadism, cruelty, and torture. For Von Gruner, it might have had something to do with sex, but that's unlikely. With his power and position, he could have his choice of women and probably more than a few men who wanted to move up the ranks on the express plan. Him targeting a prisoner in this camp or any unwilling person is all about power and brutality. And if any of you are sitting around smugly thinking it couldn't happen to you, guess again. Von Gruner could have picked any one of us who were walking around out in the compound when he arrived, and chances are good he'd have gotten what he wanted one way or the other."

"Pretty hard to bugger a dead man," Newkirk growled.

"You don't think Von Gruner and maybe a couple of his goons could have subdued you? Or me? Or Baker or Carter or anyone else in this place? Hell, Klink, for that matter. You know what? If he'd screwed Klink in the middle of the compound, there wouldn't be a damn thing Klink could do to get at him for it. We're all at that bastard's mercy until we do something about him."

"You make him sound larger than life, Colonel," Carter said a little apprehensively.

"He's not. He's just a pig with a lot of power behind him. But that pig has heavy connections, and we all know Hitler doesn't have a whole lot of respect for people who aren't part of the master race. He's not going to discipline Von Gruner for assaulting a prisoner, or a dozen prisoners. Or even another German officer who is held in low regard by the top brass. He'd send Klink to the Russian Front before he'd punish Von Gruner for going after him. This is why we have to do this carefully."

"You have a plan, Colonel?" Carter asked.

"We have to discredit Von Gruner with Hitler."

"You don't want much, boy." Carter chuckled and shook his head, then quickly added, "Sir."

"Why can't we just arrange a convenient accident?" Baker asked. "The weather is giving us a great opportunity. Even if there was some suspicion–"

"We can't withstand suspicion at that level. If the last thing Von Gruner did was attack LeBeau, and forty-eight hours later, he's dead, victim of a convenient accident, how long do you think it'll be before the krauts'll rip this place apart? We have to do something that turns Hitler on him. Turn him into a traitor. We've done it before, we can do it again."

"Sure, but how?" Baker asked.

"That's the part I'm still working out, but it's got to happen fast. There's no telling he won't come back, but I'm sure Klink'll give me some warning. If he knows."

"Could we plant something on him?" Newkirk suggested, surprising everyone by finally participating in the discussion. "If I could get close enough to him, I could put something on him he's not supposed to have."

"That's a great idea, Newkirk, but I don't want any of you that close to him."

"I was thinking outside, you know, like out in the yard when he comes in sometime."

"Unless he flies, we know he won't be here until the snow is cleared off the roads, and away from the gates. Unfortunately, we can't bring in a doctor for LeBeau until those two things happen, so we're going to have to keep working with the krauts to get the mess from this storm cleaned up. And before there's a clear path into this camp again, we have to have a plan to nail Von Gruner."

"What about a disappearance? We could just grab 'im and throw 'im in the tunnel. If Klink's willing to look the other way–"

"Looking the other way and committing suicide are two different things," Hogan responded to Newkirk's suggestion. "He couldn't deny that Von Gruner had ever been here."

"No, but he could say he saw him leave, and if we dressed somebody up like Von Gruner and sent him through the gates in Von Gruner's staff car, Klink could say that without lying," Baker suggested.

"It still casts an awful lot of suspicion on this camp. The plan is great if we were dealing with just about any other kraut." Hogan exhaled loudly. "A tape," he said, snapping his fingers, his whole body going taut the way it tended to when he had a plan.

"A tape, sir?" Carter asked, frowning.

"We need to get a tape of Von Gruner's voice. We need to tap his phone. And then we can do some doctoring of that tape. Anyone can be a traitor if you've got enough feet of tape to work with. Newkirk, you up to being his British contact?"

"With pleasure," Newkirk responded. "I'm sorry about the things I said before," he said to the group. "I wasn't thinking straight."

"Just be sure to drop in and see LeBeau sometime. I think he'd like to hear that from you," Hogan said.

"I don't imagine he's speaking to me at the moment."

"You'd be surprised. Okay, Baker, contact the underground and let them know what we need to accomplish. Given the weather, it's not likely any of us can get out of here to do it. We need the help of someone with expertise with bugging and listening devices. If they can bug the phone and get us the tapes, we can do the rest."

"Right, sir." Baker left for the tunnel.

"Okay, guys, that's it. I'm going to go check on LeBeau."

"You, uh, mind if I tag along, sir?" Newkirk asked, rising.

"I hoped you would," he said with a little smile.

"Tell Louis I'll have his clothes for him in a little while. They're almost dry."

"He'll be glad to hear that. He's been stuck wearing one of Klink's nightshirts in the meantime."

********

LeBeau jolted awake when he heard movement in the sitting room. Propped up in bed, he'd spent quite a few hours reading and finally had dozed off to steal a couple hours of peaceful sleep. He could feel his heart thundering in his chest, not just at having been startled awake, but wondering who would be on the other side of the door when it opened.

Finally, the bedroom door opened and Hogan poked his head in, smiling. "Hope we didn't wake you."

"That's all right. I had a good rest." LeBeau frowned. "Who's 'we'?"

"You have a visitor," Hogan said, moving out of the doorway for Newkirk to walk into the room. "I'm going next door to have a talk with our lovable kommandant." Hogan left, and Newkirk stood near the door, a bit nervously.

"I came to apologize," he said stiffly.

"If Colonel Hogan ordered you to do it, don't bother. I'll tell him you did so he'll let you off the hook."

"He didn't tell me to do it. It was my idea."

"Why?"

"You're not making this easy, Louis," Newkirk lamented.

"You weren't very easy on me earlier."

"Look, I'm sorry about that. I was...I got mad and I said some things..."

"The important thing is, did you mean them?"

"I did at the time, but I don't see it the same way now." Newkirk moved over to sit on the foot of the bed, facing LeBeau. "I really am sorry, Louis. I didn't mean to blame you. I guess I wasn't thinking so clearly."

"I'm glad you didn't mean what you said. I've kind of gotten used to having you for a friend."

"Yeah, same here," Newkirk agreed, holding out his hand. LeBeau shook it with a smile. "How're you feeling? You don't look too bad."

"Thanks, I think." LeBeau's smile faded. "I don't feel so great, but I don't feel any worse."

"We've been tryin' to get the snow away from the gates. Klink said he'd bring in a doctor for you."

"I don't need a doctor. I'll be all right."

"Louis, if you let something go or you get some kind of infection–"

"We'll have to scrounge up some penicillin for me. I'll be all right. I don't want to see a doctor."

"Looks like you've been doing a bit of reading," Newkirk said, looking at the books on the bed.

"You gave up awfully easily."

"I'll leave it for Colonel Hogan. He can pull rank on you," Newkirk responded calmly, reading the dust jacket on one of the books. "Never pictured Klink as an intellectual," he said, setting the Shakespeare selection aside.

"He's been very nice to me since this happened. Of course, he's probably just afraid of Colonel Hogan making too much trouble for him if he isn't."

********

Hogan knocked on the closed door of Klink's office and then entered. The kommandant was hunched over his desk scribbling notes laboriously on an ominous stack of reports. The snowstorm had slowed everyone down, and apparently Klink was out of excuses to avoid the mundane paperwork on his desk.

"Hogan, I'm very busy–"

"This'll just take a minute, sir. It's about LeBeau."

"What about him?" Klink didn't look up.

"I'd like to request he be allowed to remain in the guest quarters another night and then be excused from all work details for an additional week."

"Granted," Klink said, still checking off boxes and filling in lines on the forms in front of him.

"Any word from Von Gruner?"

"Hogan, this entire part of the country has slowed to a halt with the snow."

"Guess the Russian Front is coming to you instead," Hogan quipped, grinning wickedly.

"I am not in the mood for your insolent American humor today, Hogan. Can't you see I have work to do?"

"When the snow is cleared away from the gates, I would like to take you up on your offer to bring in a civilian doctor to examine LeBeau. He doesn't want it, but I do."

"Very well, Hogan. When the roads are passable and the gates are functional again, I'll see to it that a doctor is brought in from Hammelburg."

"Thank you, sir." Hogan turned and headed for the door, then paused. "My men are willing to continue working on the snow removal effort, but–"

"Hogan, you're already getting an extra ration of white bread–"

"That was for LeBeau cooking Von Gruner's dinner."

"And an extra blanket per man."

"That was for the snow removal today, sir."

"No, that was for your men clearing the snow away from the gates, which they have failed to do thus far. When the gates are clear, your men will get their extra blankets, but that is all they're getting."

"Be a shame if you had to rely on just the guards to get us dug out. You know how fast Schultz is with a snow shovel."

"You know as well as I do that you and your men want that area cleared to bring in a doctor for Corporal LeBeau. I am confident you will continue working to clear it whether I give in to your incessant negotiations or not."

"I resent you holding that over our heads, Klink," Hogan said, all traces of good humor leaving his voice. "I could still write to the Red Cross and the Swiss Protecting Power over this whole incident."

"Your letter would be intercepted and you'd be shot trying to escape," Klink said calmly but dismally as he set another finished form aside. Hogan slapped a hand down firmly on top of the rest of the stack, leaning in close to Klink.

"Are you threatening to kill me, kommandant?"

"No, Hogan, I'm not threatening to kill you. But I will tell you that no one in this camp will survive making any sort of formal complaints against Von Gruner, including myself. You know what your complaint would do? Get me sent to the Russian Front or shot. Von Gruner wouldn't be touched. So you may consider it a warning. Now please let me get back to my work."

"What about the snow removal?" Hogan asked, straightening again.

"What do you want?" Klink asked tiredly.

"Some decent hot soup for the men after work detail, and the extra blankets now."

"All right, Hogan. That seems reasonable. Tell Schultz I granted your request."

"Thank you, sir." Hogan paused at the office door before opening it. "Colonel Klink?"

"Yes, Hogan?" Klink looked up, visibly exasperated.

"Thank you for your treatment of LeBeau. I appreciate that."

"You're welcome. I wish I could have prevented it. I hope you believe that."

"I do." Hogan nodded, then left the office.

********

When he returned to the guest quarters, the first signs of dusk were tinging the sky. He heard laughter coming from the bedroom, and smiled when he recognized the banter between Newkirk and LeBeau. He leaned on the bedroom doorframe and watched them a moment or two, playing cards and joking back and forth. The reconciliation with Newkirk had been good tonic for LeBeau, who looked more genuinely like his old self than he had since the previous night. His clothes were on a chair in a neat, folded stack, indicating Carter had been by for a visit as well.

"Klink okayed your stay here for another night," Hogan said to LeBeau as the two men noticed him standing there. "And we're getting our extra blankets tonight instead of after the shoveling job's done," he added.

"Klink's a real humanitarian, he is," Newkirk responded.

"Everybody gets hot soup after work detail tomorrow. It's not exactly a steak dinner, but it's the best I could negotiate." Hogan set the stack of clothing on a spare corner of the foot of the bed and sat in the chair. Baker stuck his head in the door.

"Is it clear?" he asked, gesturing around as if to indicate listening devices.

"I checked it again last night. We're clear."

"Got a message back from the underground. They can't access Von Gruner's headquarters–their exact response was, 'he sure knows how to ask'."

"Some people don't like challenges, I guess."

"What's up with Von Gruner?" LeBeau asked.

"I was trying to get his office wired, but that's not going to happen, apparently."

"His office is in Berlin. There's just no way they can get at it safely. But, he does have a country house just outside of Dusseldorf where he occasionally spends weekends. Local gossip is he keeps a mistress there. Apparently, a pretty young fraulein claiming to be Von Gruner's niece is hiring herself a maid. The underground just happens to have a female agent who is an expert with listening devices, and they're sending her out there to ask about the job. They said it's iffy at best, but it's the best they can do."

"Occasional weekends, huh?" Hogan's eyebrows drew together as he rubbed his chin. "That's a longshot for us getting anything good off a phone tap. Chances are he doesn't do a lot of telephoning from his love nest."

"We just have to hope he goes there sooner than later, and that he has reason to make some phone calls, I guess."

"It'll have to do for now. Tell them thanks, and to keep us posted." Hogan paused. "If we don't get results from this before Von Gruner shows up here next time, we'll go with sending a decoy out through the front gates and stashing Von Gruner in the tunnel."

"Right," Baker responded, heading off to deliver the message.

"I wonder how devoted the little fraulein is?" Newkirk asked.

"You have an idea?"

"I was wondering if we might make an ally of her."

"It's doubtful Von Gruner would put his mistress in his will, so she's probably better off with him alive," LeBeau added.

"Plus, any bad end he meets now will still direct suspicion on both us and the folks at Stalag 5, as well as the family of the secretary he attacked there. No point in endangering our operation or putting other innocent people in the line of fire with the Gestapo. The direct assault on Von Gruner is a last resort if we get backed into a corner."

"I don't want to be responsible for ruining this operation, Colonel," LeBeau said.

"Even if the operation went under because of this, it wouldn't be your fault. But I think if we play this carefully, we'll get through it just fine. The hard part is not making any sudden moves. The storm actually helped us because it's kept everyone immobile for a while."

"Well, I better be getting back." Newkirk gathered up the cards and stood. "Schultz'll only give me an escort back to the barracks if it doesn't conflict with dinner time."

"I think they're having sauerbraten tonight, so you better make it snappy," Hogan quipped. After Newkirk had taken his leave, Hogan assessed LeBeau's appearance. "You look tired."

"Oui, I am. I'm...more comfortable lying down," he said, averting his eyes.

"I'll take some of those pillows out from behind you so you can stretch out." Hogan moved over to the bed and did as he promised until LeBeau was able to rest comfortably on just two pillows. "Better?"

"Much better."

"Have you eaten anything today?"

"Schultz brought in a lunch tray, but I haven't had dinner yet."

"Did you *eat* anything on the tray, though?"

"Not much. I don't have much appetite."

"You're eating dinner. No arguments." Hogan watched as LeBeau shifted in the bed, wincing. "Pain getting worse?"

"My back hurts."

"How about a back rub?"

"I don't want anyone else seeing..." LeBeau's cheeks flushed a little at the quick, honest response. "I don't want the others to see the...the marks from the belt."

"I've already seen them, Louis. I give pretty decent back rubs...or so I've been told," he added, grinning. "Just turn on your good side."

"It's pretty sore, Colonel. Maybe I should just leave it alone."

"Let me see if Klink's got any ointments or lotions in the bathroom." Hogan went into the bathroom and opened the medicine cabinet, relieved to find some ointment there, as well as a small bottle of hand lotion. He took both items and returned to the bedroom. "Okay, I've got medicated ointment and hand lotion." He closed the bedroom door and then returned to his seat on the side of the bed. "You'll have your back to me if you lie on your good side. First, we have to get you out of the nightshirt."

LeBeau wriggled around a bit in the bed and eased himself into a sitting position, unbuttoning the neck of the nightshirt. A moment later, it was over his head and tossed aside on the bed. He shifted carefully onto his side, the blanket covering him from the waist down.

"Damn, these look sore," Hogan said quietly, more to himself than to LeBeau. The welts were a bright pink tinged with bluish bruising. "Son of a bitch had to be really putting his shoulder into it to do damage like this." Hogan rested his hand on LeBeau's arm briefly before opening the tube of ointment. "Let me know if I'm hurting you more than helping you."

LeBeau nodded silently, his muscles tensing a little.

Hogan's fingers worked gently and efficiently, spreading the soothing ointment over each of the swollen, angry welts. The initial application of the ointment seemed to cause pain, but judging by the relaxation in the taut muscles, the pain was easing as it began to take effect. Rubbing a little lotion on his hands, Hogan took on the task of massaging the sore muscles in LeBeau's lower back. He stopped when he felt LeBeau's whole body shaking under his hands. It took him a moment to realize the tremors were caused by tears.

"You want to talk?" he asked gently.

"It hurt so much," LeBeau said brokenly. "I just wanted to die so it would stop," he sobbed into the pillow.

"I know. I wish I'd known what was happening. We'd have figured something out to stop it."

"I tried to fight him, Colonel. I didn't want him to do it."

"I know that, Louis." Hogan pulled the sheet up to LeBeau's shoulder and then stretched out on the bed behind him, wrapping an arm carefully around him. "It's not your fault. You have nothing to be ashamed of," he reassured.

"I tried to fight him and when I did, he kicked me, and then he started whipping me and I couldn't get up. He threw me on the bed and then he was *on* me and I couldn't move and the pain was so bad I though he was going to tear me open." The words came out in a broken, sobbing flood.

"Try to relax. You're safe now. It's over."

"It's not over and you know it," LeBeau shot back through his tears. "He'll be back."

"It's over, Louis. He won't hurt you again. I give you my word as an officer...and as a friend. I won't let him get near you."

"Newkirk was right, you know. It's all my fault," LeBeau said miserably.

"That's ridiculous."

"I...I have to tell you something. You deserve to know."

"Nothing you could tell me would make me blame you for this."

"I passed out. I didn't fight him when it counted because I passed out. My...my mouth bled after he hit me, and I spit the blood out... It landed on the white sheets and I fainted. By the time I came to...he...I..."

"Shh. Slow down and take your time, Louis."

"My clothes were on the floor...and I came to because...because...he was...it was...happening."

"It's not your fault you passed out."

"It was just my own blood on the sheet, just a little that I spit out, and I passed out. Newkirk was right. I *let* him do it."

"You couldn't help it if you passed out. You didn't choose to do that."

"I...I needed to be...to be...honest with you..."

"And I appreciate that, but it doesn't change anything, and it doesn't make it your fault. You'd rather *not* faint at the sight of blood. The fact you do isn't your fault."

"It hurts. If it would just stop hurting then I could try to forget."

"The pain'll get better."

"I'm scared."

"I know. That'll get better, too. Probably when Von Gruner's dead."

"I'm sorry." The voice was almost slurred with fatigue and emotion.

"No more apologies. Just rest now. I'll be right here."

Hogan stayed close for a long time, until LeBeau's breathing was deep and even, and his departure wouldn't cause too much disturbance. He added another blanket to the bed, aware that LeBeau was now missing the extra layer of warmth from the nightshirt. Having promised to stay nearby, Hogan made himself comfortable on the empty side of the bed, sitting against the headboard and busying himself with one of the many books LeBeau seemed to have been using to keep himself entertained.

Life had dealt LeBeau some difficult cards. He was brave, strong, patriotic, and willing to do anything that was asked of him to further the Allied effort. Still, his height caused some people not to take him very seriously as a threat or an asset. His inability to deal with the sight of blood was more than a small liability on the battlefield. Both things had made him a sitting duck for a predator like Von Gruner. For that, Von Gruner was going to pay, and pay dearly.

LeBeau slept soundly, not even stirring when Schultz came in with a dinner tray. Hogan ate from the tray himself, and for the cost of handing over the piece of cake and two candy bars from his jacket pocket, secured Schultz's promise to bring some food back later when LeBeau was awake.

********

LeBeau opened his eyes, a little confused and more than a bit panicky at why he was feeling the sheets on his bare skin. Then he glanced to the other side of the bed and saw Hogan slumped there against the headboard, a book lying open on his lap, his hand still resting in the middle of it as if he'd fallen asleep trying to turn a page. Stretching a little hesitantly, LeBeau felt, to his relief, that the pain in his back wasn't as sharp. Unfortunately, areas lower still offered significant protest to the movement.

If someone had told him even a few days ago that he'd be spending so much intimate time with Hogan, he wouldn't have believed it. If someone had told him that Hogan would be such a gentle, attentive and willing care giver, he would have believed that, but at the same time found it hard to picture the resilient, slightly arrogant commanding officer falling so easily and naturally into the duty of nursing him back to health--both physical and emotional. Hogan was always quick to put an arm around someone's shoulders, touch them on the arm, move in close to talk with them--he was a toucher. He touched almost everyone he got close to--LeBeau had even seen him casually touch Klink on the arm or shoulder, despite the distance their circumstances placed between them. Truth be told, Hogan was one of the warmest people LeBeau had ever known.

Still, his heart warmed at the thought of how easily Hogan had set aside any barriers of rank or worries of keeping a tough, hard image and held LeBeau when he needed comfort, tended his physical wounds, and slept close by when he was afraid. The only time he'd ever seen a crack in Hogan's otherwise tough exterior was when the pain of LeBeau's situation moved him to tears, and when he blamed himself for not having kept one of his men safe.

"I'd offer you a penny, but those look like they're worth at least a dime," Hogan said, smiling. LeBeau didn't realize he'd been staring intently at Hogan--so intently that when the other man opened his eyes and stirred, LeBeau's mind had only recorded it as a piece of information rather than a cause to stop staring.

"Sorry, Colonel. I was just...thinking."

"Hungry? You slept through dinner."

"How long have I been asleep?"

"About four hours now, I guess. I don't think I was too far behind you, judging by the time," Hogan said, smiling as he checked his watch.

"Thank you for staying with me."

"Nicer here than in the barracks," Hogan quipped. Both men knew the nature of the accommodations had nothing to do with it. "You want your own longjohns for a change instead of Klink's nightie?" Hogan offered, and LeBeau nodded readily. Handing him the garments, Hogan busied himself putting away a couple of books on the shelf. "I'll ask Schultz to find you something to eat."

"If there was anything left over from dinner, I'm sure he ate it by now," LeBeau said, smiling and shaking his head.

"Better not have. I paid two candy bars to guarantee you a late supper." Hogan paused, looking at LeBeau, who was clad in his long underwear now, standing by the bed. "How are you feeling?"

"I think it's just going to take time to feel better. Right now, breathing isn't such a great idea."

"I've asked Klink to bring in a doctor as soon as we get the gates cleared."

"Colonel–"

"I don't want to hear any arguments on this one. I went along with not using one of our camp medics, but we can't be sure how badly you were hurt, and there's a risk of infection, and something like that going untreated several days if we got snowed in again could put your life in danger."

"No kraut doctor is going to care about patching me up."

"If you heard of a French general doing something like this to a German prisoner, would you condone it?" Hogan asked, and LeBeau looked a bit uncomfortable for a moment.

"No, of course not."

"There are some good people out there. We've worked with them. Right now, with the snow all over everything, it's risky to bring in anyone from the underground. We're trying to avoid the tunnel entrances as much as possible until things become passable again and our tracks can blend in with the krauts'. We could bring someone in via the dog truck once the gates are cleared, but quite honestly, if there's another way, we have to do it, because we're going to be using Schnitzer's truck for any prisoners or information we have to transport until the weather improves."

"I suppose you're right."

"Of course I'm right. I'm an officer," Hogan quipped, and LeBeau had to smile and shake his head at that as he eased himself back down on the bed.

"This problem I have with blood... It's nothing new in my family. My grandfather was killed in the Battle of the Marne because of it. A few of his friends who survived told my grandmother that he just...*froze* in the middle of battle, and seemed to be unable to go on. He was shot by enemy troops because he didn't take cover. It was as if he were dazed. My grandmother felt it was because of all the blood on the battlefield, because my grandfather would feel faint and disoriented by seeing even a small amount."

"Probably a hereditary thing then." Hogan sat next to him on the side of the bed. "I don't blame you for what happened, and I hope you know that I'm not just saying that to make you feel better."

"Oui, I know. Besides, if I thought you were just trying to make me feel better, it wouldn't have worked. I know you mean it–that's what matters." LeBeau looked up at Hogan, smiling, and their eyes locked for a moment before Hogan looked away and stood, heading toward the door.

"I'll see if I can find Schultz and get you some food." With that, he disappeared out the door, appearing as close to flustered as Hogan ever got. He didn't fluster easily, and it was rare to see him look anything but totally confident and relaxed. The man who took off out the door looked as if he were grabbing any excuse to escape.

To escape from that indefinable *something* that passed between them in that look. Something had flickered in that instant, like a spark in total darkness, but now it was gone. Feeling oddly depressed by the encounter, LeBeau stretched out on the bed, finding a supine position more comfortable than prolonged sitting. Whatever he'd seen in Hogan's eyes in that shared moment he doubted he'd be allowed to see again.

He wasn't sure which thought bothered him most: not seeing it again, or the fact he wanted to see it so desperately.

********

Hogan leaned against the outside wall of the guest quarters and ran a hand over his face, finding it was covered with a fine sheen of sweat. He cursed himself silently for letting every conflicted feeling he'd been having for LeBeau slip past his defenses in that instant. It was something in the way LeBeau looked at him, in the softness of his voice when he spoke...

//You got too close to him, Hogan. This isn't LeBeau's doing, it's yours. Not only is he a man under your command, but even if he weren't...there's just nothing about this that's right. What would you do with him if you could do anything you wanted? The same thing Von Gruner did? Is that what you want done to you? Some other guy's prick up your behind? That's just plain sick.//

"Colonel Hogan," Langenscheid's voice startled Hogan out of his thoughts. "If you are staying in the guest quarters, you should be inside, or return to the barracks. Prisoners aren't supposed to be outside now."

"I was looking for Schultz," Hogan responded, trying to remember exactly why he'd raced out of the guest quarters beyond escaping from a spark of something he neither fully understood or was ready to face.

"He's on a break. I'll tell him you want to see him when he returns."

"Thanks. I'll be at the barracks."

"I'll escort you. The tower guards are not very tolerant of prisoners being out after dark." Langenscheid was quiet most of the way to the barracks until he finally spoke again. "Corporal LeBeau...is he badly hurt?" he asked, the subject obviously awkward for him to broach.

"Badly enough. I think he'll be all right. Colonel Klink has agreed to bring in a doctor to see him once we clear the snow away from the gates and the road is passable."

"Ja, the clean up crews are working night and day. The roads in town are clear but not this far yet." He paused. "I hope Corporal LeBeau is feeling better soon. Colonel Hogan?" The words made Hogan pause before going into the barracks. "Some of the guards don't know what happened, and some who do think it's not important. Some of us are very embarrassed by the conduct of the field marshal, and regret what happened. I hope you will let Corporal LeBeau know that."

"Thanks, Langenscheid. I'll tell him." With that, Hogan retreated into the barracks, glad to shut out any more discussion of LeBeau or his situation for just a few moments. Mostly, he was relieved to have some distance between LeBeau and himself. Distance he should have guarded in the first place. Distance he never should have bridged. Distance that should have kept them on the opposite sides of a wall of rank. Distance that would have held back the feelings that were bubbling to the surface and demanding expression.

Feelings that would lead to nothing but destruction and ruin for him, for LeBeau, possibly for the whole operation. For the rest of their lives. For any hope of happiness after the war ended and they went their separate ways.

Separate ways.

Hogan knew someday the war would end, someday they'd all say their final goodbyes, and someday they'd all go back home to whatever it was they'd left behind before the war. The unit that had functioned like multiple parts of a single being would be reduced to Christmas cards and maybe an occasional visit from those who were in the same country. Newkirk and LeBeau both loved their native lands and would no doubt long to return there.

LeBeau would go home to France. Home to his family, his friends, maybe even one of the many girls who sent him scented love letters. He wouldn't be staying by the side of his former commanding officer, nor would Hogan be casting off everything he'd ever cared about before the war to follow LeBeau to France.

And even if they were both to do such an inconceivable and incredible thing, they would be outcasts from society. They would never leave children or grandchildren behind. They would be disowned by their families. Truly, they'd have no place to go and little hope of finding work. Beyond that, if they were to live as nomad beggars of some sort just in the name of staying together, what exactly would they do together? It was sick, it was wrong, it was unnatural...that's what he'd always been told. Men "doing things" together wasn't right. Growing up, he'd never really been taught just exactly what those "things" were...only enough to know they were considered vile and horrible.

If the condition LeBeau was in now was any indicator, they were.

But then, that was rape. Women who were raped didn't like it either, but plenty of women like sex. What would lovemaking be with a man? Would LeBeau see a difference now? And what was sex without softness and breasts and perfume and slippery wetness?

"Colonel Hogan?" Carter's voice startled Hogan enough that he physically jumped a bit, not realizing he'd come in the door of the barracks, leaned against it, and proceeded to stand there with a blank expression on his face while the entire dismal course of thought had unfolded in front of him. "Is LeBeau all right?"

"He's fine. He's resting," Hogan added uneasily, moving toward the coffee pot and pouring himself a cup. "He slept through dinner, but I paid Schultz off with a few candy bars to get him something when he woke up."

"How's he doing?" Baker asked, looking up from the book he was reading.

"Physically I think he's getting better. It'll take time, you know, after what happened."

"Are you all right, sir?" At Hogan's quizzical look, Carter added, "You look a little pale."

"I do? I'm fine," he said, hoping his hand wasn't shaking as he raised the cup to his mouth for another drink. It was strong and bitter. Not like the coffee LeBeau made.

//Great. So much for escaping a while.//

"Got a message from London. They want to know if we're planning any action against Von Gruner," Baker said, putting his book aside. "I told them about the Underground's effort to get something on him, to tap his phones."

"What'd they say?"

"Direct quote," Baker said, opening a small piece of paper to read, "Do not under any circumstances jeopardize the Stalag 13 operation."

"I don't suppose they offered to help us out."

"They didn't volunteer anything, no."

"That's just great." Hogan sat at the table. "Don't they realize that he's a threat to the operation *and* all the men in it?"

"They seem to feel that he's a threat to LeBeau, not to the operation. It's not the operation he's looking for, or even interested in. LeBeau told you Von Gruner never really interrogated him. Because of that, London feels we should let it pass because doing anything more will cause undue suspicion."

"Are they ordering us to terminate the Underground operation?"

"No. Just to tread carefully, and not make any direct assaults on Von Gruner that can be traced back here."

"Tell 'em 'thanks for the tip'," Hogan said sarcastically. At Baker's raised eyebrow, he made a dismissive gesture to negate that insincere order. "Tell them we are affirmative on that and no direct move will be made against Von Gruner *unless* he somehow poses a direct threat to this unit or our operation."

"Right." Baker was about to head for the tunnel when the door opened and Schutlz lumbered in, brushing snow off the shoulders of his coat.

"What a terrible night it is!" he complained. "If it keeps up like this, we'll never get those gates cleared. Langenscheid said you wanted to see me, Colonel Hogan?"

"LeBeau's awake and needs something to eat," Hogan responded. "I was just out there and it wasn't snowing at all," he added, getting up to go to the window. "But it sure is now. Terrific."

"I'll get the cockroach his dinner. Are you coming back to the guest quarters?"

"No, I'm staying here, Schultz. Thanks anyway."

"All right. You could spare maybe a little of the coffee?" he asked, pointing at the pot and smiling hopefully.

"Help yourself, Schultz," Carter responded amiably. "I made it myself."

"I wouldn't brag about that if I were you, Andrew," Newkirk said, looking at his own cup with dismay. "I think LeBeau puts something in it but I can't remember what it is."

"A little schnapps, maybe?" Schultz suggested, taking a sip before his eyes bulged a little.

"Schnapps we'd remember, Schultz," Hogan said, smiling.

********

LeBeau pushed the food around on the plate with his fork. Schultz had delivered him a tray, and when asked about Hogan's whereabouts, had told him the colonel wouldn't be back that night. He was staying in the barracks.

Finally satisfied that he wouldn't be eating anything substantial, LeBeau set the tray aside and got into bed. It was unlikely he'd do much sleeping, either, but his body was protesting the sitting position, and he still seemed to require what seemed like an undue amount of sleep. Despite that, he couldn't seem to relax. He was alone, unguarded, in a camp controlled by Germans. Controlled by people who were ultimately controlled by Von Gruner.

More so than that, he was troubled by Hogan's decision not to return. He knew that with the gates still blocked and more snow falling, Von Gruner was not about to don snow shoes and hike across the frozen landscape to come after him. Still, the irrational part of his mind and heart that were just plain afraid didn't like being alone. He'd thought Hogan understood that, and he'd counted heavily on him to be there. To watch over him. He'd only slept peacefully when he'd felt secure and protected.

Hogan knew that, so why had he fled and then refused to come back?

The answer was there, but it hurt too much to contemplate right now. Hogan had seen what LeBeau felt clearly in the moment they'd looked into each other's eyes, and he'd been repulsed and disgusted by it. Disgusted enough to stay away even though he would know that LeBeau so urgently wanted and needed him there.

He was, in the final analysis, disgusted by LeBeau himself. LeBeau closed his eyes and felt hot tears burn his lids at that thought. //Why should that come as a surprise? You were used by that stinking kraut for his pleasure. Why would Colonel Hogan, even if he could feel something for you before, want anything to do with you now? Least of all, why would he want to touch what Von Gruner had pawed and had for his own already?//

Resigning himself to a long, painful, sleepless night, LeBeau curled on his side and stared out the window at the falling snow.

********

Hogan stared at the stained ceiling of the barracks, giving up on the pretense of keeping his eyes closed. There had been a leak up there which Klink had taken his usual sweet time in having fixed. Despite having fallen off the roof trying to avoid lightning strikes in the past, LeBeau had gone up there himself and fixed it. He hadn't said a word about it to Hogan, he'd just done it.

//So much for getting away from LeBeau.// Hogan finally sat up and smoothed his hair, though it had barely moved out of place from the short time he'd been in bed. Ditching LeBeau as he had when the other man probably most needed a friend nearby wasn't something that made Hogan proud of himself. He'd bolted out of that room like a Victorian virgin whose virtue was threatened, and all LeBeau had done was look at him.

With open adoration in his eyes.

//Shit.//

There was no denying what he'd seen, and what was more disconcerting, there was no denying that he'd returned it, full force. //How do you go on as a commanding officer when you're in love with one of the men in your unit? How do you treat that man equally, make him shoulder an equal share of the risk, give him an equal share of the dirty and dangerous jobs? How do you keep yourself from expressing what you feel in an unguarded moment? In a touch, a look, a gesture?//

//You've always touched LeBeau without hesitation, and no one's ever thought a thing of it. Why would they now? Or does it matter what they think? It's what you think that's keeping you up nights.//

//Or maybe it's just that continuous, almost paralyzing need to kill Von Gruner with your bare hands that won't let you rest.//

********

The snow didn't end up adding much accumulation to the already considerable volume virtually crippling the area. The men worked tirelessly most of the day, and by dusk, the gates were functioning again. The road to town was hazardous but passable, and Klink issued the order to Schultz and Langenscheid to make the trip into town to pick up a Dr. Brauner to examine and treat LeBeau. According to Klink, the doctor had a good reputation and was very dedicated to his patients in Hammelburg and the surrounding countryside. The man had agreed in a telephone conversation with Klink to make the trip out to camp and was very willing to treat a prisoner.

Shortly after Schultz and Langenscheid started out, Klink summoned Hogan to his office.

"As you know, I've sent for the doctor," he said as Hogan sat in the chair across from the desk behind which Klink was seated.

"Yes, sir. We do appreciate that."

"Bringing a civilian into this...*sensitive* situation carries a degree of risk. I've had to tell him a story that isn't entirely truthful."

"Such as?"

"I told him LeBeau was assaulted by one of our guards, and that that man has since been transferred and disciplined. Brauner won't check the story, and if he does, Corporal Richter was transferred out of here just yesterday on another disciplinary matter."

"You could have told him prisoners were responsible," Hogan said, surprised Klink had laid the blame on a German.

"I could have, that's true." Klink smiled slightly. "Though I doubt you'd have sat still for that."

"You're right on that score. I'm just surprised you blamed one of your own."

"I didn't blame anyone by name. If someone connects it to Richter, it's of little consequence. He's en route to the Eastern front for stealing camp funds. His reputation is hardly a concern of mine at this stage. I wanted to be sure you would--"

"Stick to the story? Don't worry, kommandant. I have no reason to sell you out on this. Bizarre as it may seem, we're on the same side in this situation. Von Gruner's a predator who's just as likely to take over this camp for his own personal playground. Then where would you be? Joining Richter for a snowball fight somewhere outside Minsk." Hogan watched as Klink stiffened a bit in his chair. Though Klink had been on their side and helped with LeBeau's care and treatment, Hogan still felt the need to pinpoint why it was in his best interest for Von Gruner to be eliminated or at the very least, neutralized. Klink wasn't known for his iron backbone, and there was nothing like the threat of a move Eastward to bolster him.

"Someone of Von Gruner's rank would never take over a POW camp."

"Not officially or permanently, maybe, but he might play with it for a while, and that's all it would take."

"I'm curious about something, Colonel Hogan. You haven't been to see Corporal LeBeau all day, and yet before this, you were insistent on staying with him in the guest quarters."

"Why would you be curious about that, sir?" Hogan asked, trying to keep his tone level and neutral. Klink could be an incredible bubblehead at times, and at others, he could be quite observant. Apparently this situation had caught his interest.

"I thought perhaps you'd had a falling out of some sort."

"No, sir. I was more concerned with getting the gates cleared. LeBeau's safe for the time where he is."

"The guard watching the guest quarters reported that every time he checked on LeBeau, he was awake."

"He's been through a lot, kommandant. It's not unusual he'd have some problems sleeping," Hogan responded, feeling a new stab of guilt at having bailed out on LeBeau so completely when he needed him the most. Still, Klink was on a fishing expedition, and it made Hogan more than a little uneasy.

"He hasn't moved back to the barracks yet."

"I can see to it he does if--"

"No, he's fine where he is for the moment. The doctor will be here soon anyway. Now that the roads are becoming passable, I think it's best he move tonight, though. If we receive a visit from General Burkhalter, which I feel is likely under the circumstances, it would be best if he found LeBeau in his usual bunk. He doesn't have the same level of compassion I do," Klink added, a tinge of self-aggrandizement in his voice.

"You're a tough act to follow, sir," Hogan responded, playing along. Klink smiled smugly. "I'll make sure LeBeau is back in the barracks after the doctor leaves."

"Thank you, Hogan. That will be all."

Hogan left the office, still mulling over why Klink was so interested in how much time he spent visiting LeBeau. Feeling guilty over his failure to do that very thing, he made his way to the guest quarters and was admitted by the guard there. He found LeBeau in a chair in the sitting room, head drooped in sleep, an open book in his lap. Dressed in his usual clothing and with only slight swelling visible around his mouth, he looked as if nothing of note had happened to him. //How deceiving looks can be,// Hogan thought. He was about to leave again when the other man jerked a little and looked up at him.

"Colonel...I didn't expect to see you."

"I've been tied up pretty much all day. We got the gates cleared. Schultz and Langenscheid are on their way into town for the doctor."

"Magnifique," LeBeau muttered dismally.

"I know it's not pleasant, but it's necessary. We can't take chances with your health."

"Oui, I know."

Hogan finally moved from his spot near the door and sat on the end of the couch.

"How're you feeling today?"

"Better. Still hard to...get around very fast."

"After the doctor's finished, Klink wants you to move back to the barracks. He's worried Burkhalter's going to show up now that the roads are cleared, and he figures the general wouldn't be too happy to find prisoners in the guest quarters."

"Pleasing kraut generals seems to be my new job," LeBeau muttered, not meeting Hogan's eyes.

"Louis, I'm sorry I took off on you that way last night." Hogan waited until LeBeau looked up again. "Something happened...and I wasn't prepared for it."

"You don't have to apologize. I have no right to expect you to feel the same way about me you did before...before the other night."

"That's not it at all, and I think you know it. You're right, I don't feel the same way about you, but--"

Just then, the door opened, and Klink entered, followed by an apple-cheeked, snow-dusted Schultz and a stocky older man with a medical bag.

"Dr. Brauner, this is Corporal LeBeau, the prisoner I told you about," Klink stated, gesturing toward LeBeau, who looked positively miserable at the doctor's arrival.

"Corporal LeBeau," the doctor said, nodding, his English badly broken by his German accent. "We may use the bedroom?" he asked Klink, who nodded. LeBeau looked at Hogan a little helplessly, as if he were being sent to a fate worse than death.

"I'll be right outside the door if you need me," Hogan said, ostensibly offering to protect one of his men from being one on one with a German operating under Klink's orders.

Without further protest or discussion, LeBeau rose with a little difficulty from the chair and made his way slowly to the bedroom, followed by the doctor.

"That will be all, Schultz. Dismissed," Klink said, sending the portly guard on his way.

"Schultz--thanks for getting Brauner her so fast," Hogan said, realizing the icy drive on the treacherous roads had been no picnic for Schultz, and yet the aging sergeant had made the trip in good time under nearly impossible conditions. Schultz saluted Klink, then smiled a little in Hogan's direction.

"You're welcome, Colonel Hogan." With that, he left the guest quarters. Klink looked at Hogan as if he were really evaluating his appearance.

"You look tired, Hogan," Klink said, moving to the table that held the decanter of schnapps and two glasses. He poured two and handed one to Hogan.

"It's been a tiring few days, sir," Hogan responded, accepting the glass.

"LeBeau seems to be progressing nicely. Perhaps we can get things back to normal around here now."

"Things will never be normal here again, and you know it."

"Stalag 13 is the most secure prisoner of war camp in Germany. As soon as we have cleared up this problem, there is no reason life can't return to the strict, efficient routine--" Klink paused, looking at Hogan, who was sitting on the couch now, rubbing his forehead tiredly. Hogan was no longer the arrogant, young-for-his-rank pilot/officer who'd been brought to Stalag 13 just a few years earlier. He was as weary of the war as any German, as Klink himself was, and God knew, he was plenty weary of it. "There's no reason to assume Field Marshal Von Gruner will ever have the inclination to come back here."

"Believe that if it helps you sleep at night, kommandant. He'll be back. He's a predator, and he's found prey that appeals to him here."

"Colonel Hogan," Klink began, taking a seat on the opposite end of the couch, "you have, in the past, had...*ways* of dealing with...awkward situations. Isn't there some way you could..."

"Believe me, if there was, it would be done by now," Hogan said, feeling it was best to maintain their security and not let on to Klink that a plan was in motion. As heavily as the situation weighed on his mind, there was a terrible temptation to share the burden with another officer. Klink might not have been Hogan's idea of a great leader of men, but he was of equivalent rank, even Hogan's senior because of his age.

"There is one thing I have learned over the years, Hogan--and that is that these things have a way of working themselves out given time. Men like Von Gruner...they disregard all rules of conduct and take all they can from their rank and their position. In time, a man like that makes the men above him uneasy. The best way to assuage one's superiors is to give them the impression you have little power, that they are all powerful. A man like Von Gruner may have done what was necessary to rise to his current status, but he's forgotten that very important rule of survival in the German Army. Especially in the Gestapo." Klink drained his glass. "Von Gruner will most likely not survive his own sense of self-importance."

Hogan was a bit surprised by Klink's insight, as well as his candor. There was real wisdom in his words, and for a moment, he wondered if Klink were really as dense and easily led as he seemed. If he believed his own advice, his empty-headed dingbat routine would keep men like Burkhalter happy and off his back most of the time.

"I hope you're right," Hogan admitted. "Couldn't happen to a nicer guy."

A few moments later, the doctor emerged from the bedroom, his medical bag tucked under his arm as he made notes on a prescription pad.

"You should see that he receives these medications and takes them according to my instructions." He handed the slip of paper to Klink. "I hope the discipline inflicted on your guard was significant. This was nothing more than a barbaric act of brutality. He barely escaped serious internal injuries."

"Doctor, is he going to be all right? How bad was the damage?" Hogan asked.

"He should stay off his feet for the next few days, and avoid strenuous activity for an additional two weeks. He is healing on his own, though I would have preferred to see him when this happened, so I might have...placed stitches. The prescriptions are largely for pain--tablets and an anesthetic ointment. He is in a great deal of pain, though I must say he's taking it quite well."

"Thank you, Doctor," Hogan said, and Klink chimed in.

"Yes, thank you, Dr. Brauner, for making the journey on such a horrible evening. I would be happy to offer you my hospitality for the night if--"

"I would prefer your guard take me back to town. I have patients to see in the morning, and I would rather not linger."

"Of course. Right this way," Klink escorted the doctor toward the door, and Hogan made his way back to the bedroom. LeBeau was buttoning his shirt, which still hung outside his pants. His hands were shaking badly with each gesture.

"The doctor left prescriptions with Klink. I'll make sure we get them filled," Hogan said. "He said you were healing up, but you needed something for pain."

"Oui, he told me," LeBeau said quietly, still fumbling with the same button he'd been working on when Hogan entered the room. Hogan closed the space between them and covered LeBeau's hands with his own, stilling the trembling.

"Want some help?"

"I want to die. Can you help me with that?" LeBeau asked, his tone soft and strained with tears.

"I won't help you with that." Hogan felt an ache in his chest at the pain in LeBeau's words and in the silent tears that rolled down his cheeks. "Everything's going to be all right." Hogan gathered the smaller man into his arms and held him close. "I give you my word."

"I don't even care anymore. I just want it to be over. I look in the mirror and I make myself sick. I should have died. I shouldn't have survived it. I passed out and just...just...let him--"

"You didn't let him do anything. And it's not your fault you passed out."

"I can't face the others. They all know, Colonel."

"You can face me, and I know." Hogan pushed back a little, holding onto LeBeau's shoulders.

"It's different with you," LeBeau said, then looked away as his cheeks colored at the response.

"I know. I feel differently about you, too." Hogan watched as LeBeau's head snapped up at that statement. Wet eyes searched his face urgently. "We can't talk about this here. We'll find a way later, in the barracks. For now, let's get you dressed and head back there. Think you can walk that far?"

"If we go slowly," LeBeau responded, still staring at Hogan in response to his earlier remark.

Hogan finished buttoning the shirt and helped LeBeau into his well-worn sweater. He located LeBeau's overcoat and held it for him while he slid his arms into the sleeves.

"It's not snowing anymore, but it's bitter cold out there." Hogan wrapped the long burgundy scarf around LeBeau's neck as he spoke. LeBeau put on his beret, and pulled his gloves out of his pockets, putting them on as well.

They started out from the guest quarters, and LeBeau shivered at the onslaught of icy night air as they stood on the porch.

"Easy does it on the steps," Hogan cautioned, getting an arm securely around LeBeau and a hand under his elbow to be sure he didn't slip. They hadn't made it twenty feet across the compound when the barracks door opened and Newkirk, Carter and Baker headed in their direction.

"Welcome home, Louis," Newkirk greeted cheerily, patting him on the back.

"The old place hasn't been the same without you, pal," Carter added.

"Yeah, the food's been terrible," Baker joked, evoking a laugh from the whole group.

"Thanks, guys," LeBeau said, smiling. Hogan gave him a reassuring squeeze as they made their way back to the barracks, surrounded by friends.

********

"General's car just came through the gates, Colonel," Baker reported from where he was peering out through the faucet-periscope.

"Klink's been expecting Burkhalter," Hogan said, not looking up from the hand of cards he held. Baker put the faucets back in place and straightened up, joining the group at the table.

"Probably be sending for you before long," Baker opined.

"Yeah, probably." Hogan spread a full house on the table, grinning as Newkirk groaned miserably. "Sorry, old man," Hogan said, completely insincere and totally unrepentant. "Hey, you better get off your feet for a while," Hogan said to LeBeau as he filled Hogan's coffee cup. "It's almost time for lights out anyway."

"Oui, mon colonel. I am tired." LeBeau had made a pot of coffee and taken stock of his food supplies since returning to the barracks, but now his little burst of energy seemed to have disappeared.

Just then, Schultz walked in, looking as if his nerves were strung as tight as a bowstring.

"Achtung!" he announced, almost casting a look of regret in Hogan's direction. "Field Marshal Von Gruner," he announced, stepping back as the large man swirled into the room, black coat accented with wide white lapels, red, white and black swastika emblems on his sleeves. His large hands were covered in black leather gloves, his hat tilted at a slight angle. His prominent nose and somewhat chiseled features were perfect companions to ice blue eyes that held no trace of human emotion.

Hogan was standing straight, but not truly at attention. His first move was to step in front of LeBeau so Von Gruner had no trouble discerning the message he was being given.

"You must be Colonel Hogan," Von Gruner said, moving toward Hogan until the two men stood nearly toe to toe. "I must say, you don't look as legendary as your reputation would indicate," he said, smiling slightly. The smile never made it to the eyes.

"Sorry to disappoint you," Hogan retorted, his voice icy and tinged with sarcasm.

"You are protecting the little one. He is yours?" Von Gruner taunted, leering in LeBeau's direction.

"I didn't know slavery was legal these days, even in Germany, Von Gruner. He's not anyone's. You'd do well to remember that."

"You presume to threaten me, Hogan? Do I have to remind you that I could shoot you right here, on the spot, for that kind of insolence?"

"You could, but I doubt you'd want to get your uniform soiled. Shooting enemy officers is explainable, but it's messy and generates a lot of annoying questions."

"That is true," Von Gruner said, chuckling at Hogan's unruffled responses. Two guards bearing machine guns appeared in the door behind Von Gruner. "The little one is coming with me," Von Gruner announced, not sparing a glance for LeBeau but keeping his eyes riveted to Hogan's, as if he were purposely forcing a battle.

"Over my dead body, you bleedin' kraut swine," Newkirk snarled angrily, moving forward. The armed guards turned in his direction, but Hogan shouted at him.

"Stay put, Newkirk! That's an order."

"Sergeant, that man insulted me," Von Gruner said to Schultz matter-of-factly. "When I am finished with the little one, you will bring him to the guest quarters."

"You're not taking LeBeau out of here, Von Gruner," Hogan said levelly, though in his heart he knew they were teetering on the edge of a bloody disaster of mass carnage and possibly the end of their operation and their lives.

"No, Colonel, I will go," LeBeau said, touching Hogan's arm. "You can't stop him. Not like this."

"What's wrong, Von Gruner? Most you can handle is a corporal half your size? I'd like to see you take on a colonel a foot taller. Most of you overfed desk generals couldn't hold your own for five minutes with an active duty officer."

"You think not?" Von Gruner snickered, then became serious. "Very well, Colonel Hogan. Perhaps we should continue this conversation privately.

"Colonel, no--"

"LeBeau, stay here. All of you, just...stay put. That's a direct order." Hogan looked around at the stricken faces of his men, and then at Schultz, who looked as horrified as the others. Taking in a deep breath, Hogan made his legs carry him forward. "Schultz, make sure they stay put, huh?" he whispered as he passed Schultz, who just closed his eyes briefly, nodding.

When Von Gruner and his entourage had left with Hogan, the barracks erupted in arguing and protests. Schultz easily intercepted LeBeau as he moved toward the door.

"You heard Colonel Hogan. Nobody move," Schultz commanded, aiming his rifle at the prisoners.

"You'd have to keep that thing loaded for us to take it seriously," Carter challenged. "Where's Klink, anyway?"

"The field marshal ordered him to remain in his office."

"True to form, good old Klink is hiding under his desk and saving his own sorry hide," Newkirk stated grimly.

"Okay, we've got to be calm and handle this rationally. Running after them and all getting shot isn't going to help Colonel Hogan," Baker reasoned. "Schultz, you don't really expect us to just stand here while Von Gruner does God-knows-what to our commanding officer?"

"Colonel Hogan told me to keep you all here, and that's what I am going to do."

"He doesn't want us to get hurt. He'd rather...he'd rather let Von Gruner have what he wants than to have us get killed trying to save him," LeBeau said sadly, lowering himself gingerly onto the bench at the table.

"Schultz, if you don't leave us right now, you're going to see some things you don't want to know about," Baker stated firmly. "We're not waiting here until Von Gruner's finished with whatever he decides to do."

"Yeah, Schultz, if you wanna keep seeing nothing, you bloody well better look the other way," Newkirk added.

********

Hogan moved into the middle of the room and watched as Von Gruner took off his gloves, removed his belt and then his overcoat. The two armed guards stood just inside the door.

"This is a real fair set-up, Von Gruner. But I don't know why that surprises me. I guess you don't go anywhere without your goons."

"You're trying to provoke me, Colonel," Von Gruner surmised, smiling a bit as he regarded Hogan with a look that was both appraising and leering.

"It's just a little hard to take you seriously when you won't stand in the same room with me without back up. Klink's more of a risk-taker than that."

"You are dismissed. Wait in the car," Von Gruner barked at the two guards, who quickly left the room. "Happy now?"

"What do you really want, Von Gruner? You don't need to come to a prison camp to get your jollies. Big man on Hitler's staff, probably have access to a nice stash of goodies to entertain the frauleins--or the nice young German boys who might strike your fancy. So why Allied POW's?"

"Acquiescent little frauleins who will sell their souls for a pair of nylons hold little lure after a time. As for nice young German boys, as you put it, young boys don't appeal to me. Dalliances with men under your command can become unpleasantly complicated. You would be wise to remember that," Von Gruner concluded, grinning wolfishly.

"Meaning what exactly?"

"I see the way you are with the little Frenchman. You came here, with me, in his place."

"It's an officer's duty to protect the men in his command. It's my duty to protect them from predators like you, Von Gruner."

"Of course, you are merely doing your duty." Von Gruner chuckled. "And if sampling a little...*French pastry* here and there helps ease the burden of that duty, well, I suppose that is territory worth protecting."

"I doubt you wanted me here just to trade insults," Hogan said, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I like my food and liquor strong and spicy." Von Gruner took a few steps toward Hogan. "I like my sexual partners the same way." He drew his handgun and ran the barrel of it along Hogan's jawline in the mockery of a caress. Hogan didn't shrink away, nor did his gaze ever waver in its intensity as he stared down his enemy. Von Gruner backed off then, pacing a little. "Truthfully, I was a bit disappointed in our little Frenchman." He chuckled. "Leave it to me to choose the one who faints at the sight of blood."

"Then you won't be disappointed to back off and leave him alone."

"Truthfully, no. Besides, what do I need with him? As you pointed out, a little corporal is nothing in comparison to a full-sized colonel. Just how far will you go to protect your men, Colonel Hogan?" Von Gruner leered. "A man like you has no doubt bedded a number of women, but I would hazard the guess that you still have a nice, tight, virgin ass. That is the price of your men's safety from me, Hogan. If I have their commander, why should I lust after the underlings?"

"I'm supposed to believe that if I entered in that kind of a perverse bargain with you that you'd keep your word? I may have a virgin ass as you call it, but I wasn't born yesterday."

"You do realize that you really have nothing to say about this, don't you? I hold the cards. You and your men are prisoners. You are powerless. You are chattel of the Third Reich." Von Gruner moved closer again. "However, there is a level of struggle that makes the conquest more trouble than it's worth, which is why I'm offering you a choice, Colonel Hogan. You can walk out the door right now, and I will select one of your men--possibly your little Frenchman--for my pleasure. Or you can meet my need so I needn't look elsewhere."

"You don't leave me much choice," Hogan said, assessing his chances against a man Von Gruner's height and weight. The man was solid, muscular, and considerably larger. Still, letting him turn the camp into some sort of sick meat market was out of the question. Risking him ever getting near LeBeau again was unthinkable, and ran contrary to every promise Hogan had made to LeBeau. He didn't back off when Von Gruner moved forward, standing close enough so they breathed each other's air.

"You won't be needing this," Von Gruner said, removing Hogan's hat and tossing it on the coffee table. "Or this," he said, using his free hand to lower the zipper on Hogan's jacket, still keeping the gun aimed at him with the other hand. "Take it off." Hogan complied, figuring the hat and jacket were small victories for Von Gruner. He'd accepted he'd have to engage in a life and death struggle with the man, for better or worse. It would possibly mean his own demise in front of a firing squad, but hopefully it would save his men, and maybe the operation.

And it would save LeBeau from being brutalized again for Von Gruner's amusement.

"Now take the rest of it off," Von Gruner ordered, seating himself in an easy chair, crossing his long legs, gesturing at Hogan with the handgun.

"Excuse me, Herr Field Marshal," Klink's voice startled both men as he entered, slamming the door behind him. "I am sorry, sir, but I can't let you engage in this type of activity with my prisoners. It is against the Geneva Convention and every principle of civilized warfare."

"Sex and comedy all in one night. More than I could have expected. Get out of here, Klink, or I'll order my men to shoot you. Or have you on your way to Russia by dawn. And if you're here to get a piece of the action, you can forget that, too. What you do with Colonel Hogan after I'm finished is your affair, but I like my...*encounters* private."

Out of the corner of his eye, Hogan noticed the stove move slightly away from the wall. A slight noise accompanied it, so he began talking, keeping Von Gruner focused on anything but the noise of what he assumed was his cavalry approaching.

"Klink's right, Von Gruner. You can't keep this up--torturing prisoners and shooting camp kommandants. Somebody's gonna get wise to you."

"I must insist that you release Colonel Hogan at once. He has committed no offense and he is still my prisoner."

"Dead men have no prisoners," Von Gruner snapped angrily, swinging the gun in Klink's direction. The momentary distraction gave Hogan the opening he needed. He lurched forward, grabbing Von Gruner's shooting arm with both hands, pushing upward.

Klink sprang into action to help him, their combined strength easily disarming the irate officer. Hogan felt a bit disconcerted that Klink was the one who wound up with the gun, but the kommandant didn't show any signs of collusion with Von Gruner, and absolutely no sign of relinquishing the weapon.

"Tell your men to come up," he said to Hogan.

"What?" Hogan was still attempting to cover for the operation, and for the entrance under the stove.

"I know about the stove, Hogan. Tell your men to come up. We need their help."

Hogan moved toward the stove and stomped on the floor twice, signaling the men to come up into the room. Baker, Newkirk and Carter all emerged from the opening, armed, looking a little stunned to have been called up in front of Klink.

"I suppose you think you can shoot me and my guards will not come to my aid," Von Gruner said angrily. "They will hear the shot--"

"That's the nifty thing about silencers, Von Gruner," Hogan said as Newkirk moved to the foreground, aiming his gun at Von Gruner.

"Just give me permission to let 'im have it, sir."

"Easy, Newkirk. He's going to do some time in an Allied prison, and then answer for his crimes," Hogan said. "Baker, tie him up, then you guys get him down in the tunnel."

"What about...?" Carter inclined his head in Klink's direction.

"Hogan, I told you I wouldn't stand in your way in this matter. I will keep my word," Klink said.

"Go ahead, do it," Hogan ordered, taking Baker's gun while he approached Von Gruner, rope in hand.

"You will not hogtie me like some animal!" Von Gruner stood, and Hogan released the safety on the gun he held, aiming it more directly.

"I'd like to see you answer for your crimes, Von Gruner, but right now, I would feel just fine about putting a bullet right between those squinty little pig eyes of yours. The choice is yours. Now stay very still if you want to keep on breathing."

"Klink, I promise you, you'll hang for this!"

"Better to hang for this than to stand by and allow you to further soil the dignity of the Third Reich."

"When you get him down there, get his uniform," Hogan said to Baker.

"What is this? Revenge, Hogan?" he demanded.

"Just cooperate and don't try anything and you might live through this. Okay, Baker, tie him up. Take the uniform to Warren in Barracks 6, have him change into it and then bring him back here through the tunnel."

"Right, Colonel," Baker responded, tightening the ropes around Von Gruner's wrists. "Move," Baker said, nudging the large man forward. "There are three of us up here, but if you're thinking about trying anything, there're more where we came from down under. Just do as we say and you'll stay alive."

"This won't work, Hogan," Von Gruner snarled as he was hustled to the stove and began an awkward climb down the ladder into the tunnel.

"What will you do with him?" Klink asked.

"We're not murderers, Klink," Hogan paused. "As appealing as that option is in his case. Why did you come in when you did? Not that I have a problem with your timing."

"Corporal LeBeau came to me and asked for my help." Klink laid Von Gruner's weapon on the table next to the hat. "He was really quite desperate. He said your men were going to attempt a rescue, but he felt they would be walking into an ambush, and probably wouldn't stand a chance against Von Gruner's guards. I saw they were in his staff car, and truthfully, that concerned me more. I felt he would dismiss his men before he..." Klink seemed unsure how to phrase it. "Before he engaged in any more inappropriate behavior," he finally concluded.

"You know that if anything goes wrong, you're going to be facing a firing squad right along with us."

"Yes, I know that." Klink sat on the couch, and Hogan sat in a nearby chair, unaware until then just how shaken he was by the whole incident. He had no idea how far he'd have been forced to go with the encounter either to save the operation and his men, or because of Von Gruner's size and strength. His heart ached again for the unspeakable terror and helplessness LeBeau must have felt. "Hogan?" Klink's voice startled him back to the present.

"Thank you for what you're doing. I know what you're putting on the line for us here tonight."

"I couldn't change what happened the first time, but this time, I could do something. If I did nothing, then I would be no better than Von Gruner."

"What does this mean, exactly?"

"It means I've done what I had to do to stop Von Gruner. If you're worried about your tunnel, I don't plan to throw everyone in the cooler over it. I've never deluded myself that you didn't have a tunnel. Why you haven't put it to more active use, I don't know. Honestly, I don't want to know. I only ask that you not use it to blemish Stalag 13's perfect record of no escapes. Officially, I am ordering you to fill it in at once."

"Corporal Warren reporting for duty, Colonel Hogan," a voice interrupted them as a tall, well-built prisoner came up through the opening in the floor. In his mid-twenties, Warren was a blue-eyed blond with a ready smile. Dressed in Von Gruner's uniform, he looked startlingly like the perfect Aryan type.

"The only way this plan is going to work is if Von Gruner goes back out through those gates," Hogan said. By now, Baker was coming back up into the room. Hogan moved over to where he stood and pulling Warren and Baker aside, whispered, "Baker, we need to get in touch with the Underground. Have them rendezvous with Newkirk and Carter to assist in intercepting Von Gruner's car and dealing with the guards. Warn them they're heavily armed. Once they've overpowered the guards, Newkirk and Carter should take their places and drive the staff car to Von Gruner's country house. Our best chance of pulling this off is to make it look as if Von Gruner disappeared from his house. Leave the motor running and the back door open. Also tell the Underground to have their female agent at Von Gruner's place ready to clear out of there before the car arrives. Got it?"

"Got it."

"Corporal Warren, you just got promoted," Hogan said, patting Warren on the shoulder. "Leave the hat on the ground near the car when you get to Von Gruner's place."

"Yes, sir." Warren put it on and adjusted it, then froze. "You want me to get in the car with those goons?"

"You're going to go out there and get in Von Gruner's staff car. You'll bark an order at the guards to take you to your country house."

"Wait a minute, sir. I'll do *what*?"

"You're the only one of us big enough to pass for Von Gruner. I know you can do a good kraut accent when you have to." Hogan paused. "I won't order you to do this, but the fate of this operation hinges on it."

"Then I don't have a choice, sir."

"You always have a choice. I'm counting on you to make the right one."

"I'll do it."

"Thanks," Hogan responded with a little smile. He found Von Gruner's white scarf and tucked it around Warren's neck, filling in the open part of the topcoat. "Keep your hat low and your head down. It's dark, and they're expecting Von Gruner. There's no reason for them to question it."

"Right, sir."

"This is a pea shooter compared to what they've got, but it might help in a tight spot," Hogan said, handing him Von Gruner's gun. "Just don't pad your part and we should be fine."

"Don't worry, sir."

"Von Gruner calls his country estate SchÖnes Haus. It mean's 'beautiful house' in German. If you order the guards to take you to SchÖnes Haus, they'll know the way, and it won't sound suspicious," Klink said.

"Thank you, sir," Warren said, looking more than a little puzzled to be receiving help from Klink. With that, the younger man squared his shoulders, pulled his hat down a bit, and strode out the door with all the bluster and bearing of a field marshal.

Baker was already on his way back into the tunnel to orchestrate his part of the operation. Hogan paused, knowing he had to join his men in making this plan work. He extended a hand toward Klink.

"Thanks," he said simply. Klink shook the extended hand.

"You and I have managed to reach a civil compromise in the running of Stalag 13, Colonel Hogan. I value that."

"So do I, sir," Hogan said, smiling slightly. "I have to go." He slid into his jacket, donned his cap and headed toward the stove.

********

When Hogan arrived in the tunnel, he found Newkirk and Carter dressed to leave for their rendezvous with the Underground. Baker was on the radio, communicating with the Underground unit that was to notify the agent in Von Gruner's house as well as provide the assistance in overtaking Von Gruner's staff car. An irate Von Gruner was sitting in a chair in his long underwear, ankles and wrists bound, rope wound around his body tying him to the chair. He was also gagged.

"Got sick'a listening to his filthy mouth," Newkirk explained, checking his weapon. "What's with Klink?"

"We didn't have a choice. He knows about that tunnel entrance for better or for worse. In any event, we've all got enough on each other to ensure our respective silence. Get moving, and be careful."

"What about him?" Carter asked.

"He's not going anywhere. We'll move him when it's safe. In the meantime, we'll keep a guard posted down here. If he makes any attempts to escape, he'll be shot," Hogan said, looking pointedly in Von Gruner's direction. The captive man rewarded him with a murderous glare.

With Carter and Newkirk en route to the rendezvous, Hogan approached Baker as the other man finished transcribing the message that was coming through.

"The Underground said they made contact with Hannah," he said, referring to the agent posing as Von Gruner's maid. "She's going to take the bug out of his phone and his study, and then she's going to make her escape. Von Gruner's mistress isn't too sharp, so Hannah didn't think getting past her would be much of a challenge," Baker said, smiling a little. "The Underground will still get us the tapes from the phone taps and the bug, in case we need them."

"Great."

"What's the story with Klink?" Baker asked. Out of Von Gruner's earshot now, Hogan went into more detail in his explanation.

"Klink said LeBeau asked for his help, figuring you guys were walking into an ambush."

"That's what we get for making him stay in the barracks, I guess," Baker said, grinning a little and shaking his head. "We figured all the climbing and running around...he probably wasn't up to it yet."

"Good call. But one thing you have to realize about LeBeau--if you're not putting him front and center in a mission, you better make sure he has something to do, or he'll find something on his own," Hogan said, returning the smile. "Klink isn't going to make trouble for us on this as long as we maintain the status quo."

"There has never been a successful escape from Stalag 13," Baker announced, mocking Klink's voice.

"Exactly. All he knows is that we're figuring out some way to dispose of our friend over there, and that we have a tunnel. He doesn't support what Von Gruner is or what he does, and he's willing to look the other way on this because of it. I think as long as we don't rub his nose in what we're up to here, he's not going to go looking for it. Besides, he's thrown in on this one mission with us, and that's enough to get him shot by his own people. He won't talk."

"I never would have pictured old Blood and Guts having the...well...*guts* to do something like this. I didn't think he'd pass up the chance for those general's stripes to save one of us."

"Klink may be a lot of things, but he's got a conscience, and he likes to talk a good game, but he's not a sadist. Not like Von Gruner. His idea of torturing us is cutting off the electricity an hour early or closing down the Rec Hall." Hogan chuckled, then became more serious. "If all the krauts were like Klink, this would be a civilized war."

"It also would be a short one," Baker added, smiling devilishly.

"Like it or not, Klink saved our operation. And he saved my life."

"You'd have figured something out, sir." Baker set his pad and pencil aside.

"Maybe. Maybe not. Plus, we had his guards to contend with. Speaking of guards, where's Schultz?"

"Walking his post, seeing *nothing*," Baker responded using Schultz's tone of voice on the last word. "He tried to keep us in the barracks, but you know Schultz. When we started mobilizing, he wasn't about to shoot us, so he left."

"We can always count on Schultz," Hogan said jokingly. "I'm going up for a few minutes. Keep me posted if you hear anything from the Underground."

"Will do."

Hogan climbed the ladder to the entrance under the bunk in the barracks, and tapped a few times sharply to signal he was ready to come up, in case they had any unwanted company. A moment later, the entrance opened, and LeBeau was peering down at him.

"Are you all right, Colonel?" LeBeau backed off slightly, but hovered close by as Hogan came up through the entrance and then closed it.

"I'm fine," he said, looking around the barracks at the other men who watched him anxiously from their bunks or from a spot where a few of them stood near the table, having gathered when the tunnel entrance opened. "Von Gruner is tied up in the tunnel. We'll be shipping him off to London as soon as it's safe, and they can send a sub or plane to pick him up. Everybody just try to relax and stay calm. Baker is waiting for word from the Underground that Warren, Newkirk and Carter have completed their end of the mission and are safe."

"How come Von Gruner's still alive?" Olson asked, anger tinging his voice.

"Because he's a valuable prisoner to Allied Intelligence, and because we're not murderers. He can do the most good for our cause as a live prisoner. He's most concerned about saving his own hide. It's a good bet he'll sing like a canary once he's in a British POW camp."

"We're keeping him down in the tunnel?" LeBeau asked, looking a little horrified.

"He's hogtied to a chair with an armed guard watching him. Furthermore, we have tapes en route from the Underground. I still think we need to discredit Von Gruner as a traitor, so even if he does make contact with an ally at any point during the process of moving him out to England, *they'll* shoot him. Besides, if he's branded a traitor, he's much more likely to give up information to *stay* in England." Hogan moved toward his office. "LeBeau, I need to talk with you. Olson, if Baker gets any news, come and get me."

"Right, sir."

Hogan walked into his office and waited until LeBeau entered, his slightly labored, slower gait a constant reminder of just what an animal Von Gruner was. Hogan closed the door behind LeBeau and motioned to him to sit on the bottom bunk. Hogan sat next to him.

"Louis, I have my reasons for sending Von Gruner to England."

"You're sparing him. I don't understand."

"I'm not sparing him at all. I'm just sending him to a different fate, and it's still not a good one. If we set him up as a traitor, then his ties to Germany are cut forever. He'll be on Hitler's most wanted list. Escaping from the Allies will be his *last* goal. In the process, a man who has been that close to Hitler has got to have some vital information that could change the course of history. As much as I want to plug him right between the eyes and dispose of the body rather than transporting a live prisoner, I can't in all good conscience deny our side the chance to get their hands on information like that."

"I know you're right," LeBeau said softly.

"Hey, did you take any of your medicine yet? Schultz did bring it back for you?"

"Yes, he brought it, but with all that was happening, I forgot to take it."

"Stay put. I'll get it for you. Where is it?"

"Under my pillow on my bunk."

Hogan went out to the bunk and retrieved the bottle of capsules, pausing to pour LeBeau a small cup of water from the sink. He returned to the office and dumped two of the capsules in LeBeau's hand, giving him the water as soon as he'd tossed them in his mouth.

"I'm sorry about going to Klink. I didn't know what else to do," LeBeau said, handing Hogan the cup, which he set on his desk before sitting down again.

"That could have been the end of our whole operation."

"I know what he is, Colonel, and I knew what he'd do to you. I know you went in my place. I had to do something. Unfortunately, there is very little *I* can do. I am weak right now, and he would overpower me anyway. I thought you might need Klink's help to get rid of the guards, but I guess you had done that already."

"Klink was a big help. You made a good judgment call, enlisting his help in all this. I'm not thrilled you took that kind of risk on your own, because if it had gone wrong, we would have all been finished."

"If you hadn't gotten help, I know what Von Gruner would have done. He didn't do anything, did he?" LeBeau asked, panicked now.

"Klink has great timing, I'll give him that. He showed up at the perfect time. Baker, Newkirk and Carter weren't far behind. It could have turned out a lot uglier than it did, no question. But he didn't do anything more than threaten me and make a few dirty remarks at me. I'm fine."

"Before everything happened tonight, in Klink's guest quarters, you said something to me--"

"I remember." Hogan turned sideways so he was facing LeBeau's profile. "Louis, you know this can't go anywhere."

"What? The way we feel about each other?" LeBeau looked at him, more than a little surprised.

"I should have never brought it up, never admitted it. You know we can't... I'm the commanding officer of this operation. It has to be my first concern."

"What would this have to do with that? I wouldn't ask you to jeopardize the operation--"

"You already defied orders and exposed the operation to Klink to save me from Von Gruner. It's that kind of thing, no matter how it turns out or how much I might appreciate it on a personal level, that comes from my being too personally involved with someone under my command."

"You don't think I would have done the same thing anyway? If you're afraid of being personally involved with me, I hate to tell you this, but it's too late already. I can't change how I feel, even if you order me not to ever mention it again. You can't order me to not love you. It doesn't work that way."

LeBeau's words hit Hogan hard. He hadn't expected the word "love." Infatuation, confinement-induced lust in which even Frau Linkmeyer starts to look good, or maybe a feeling a little too intense to be simple loyalty to the commander. He hadn't expected love. Even though deep in his heart, he knew that's exactly what he was feeling himself.

"I wouldn't try to order you to feel any certain way, Louis." Hogan stood and walked to his desk, trying to focus on the battered surface, to find consolation in familiar objects. "It's no good. It can't happen. It doesn't matter how I feel about you, or how you feel about me. We have a job to do here, and even when it's over, we have lives to go back to."

"You plan to return to the States and never see any of us again?"

"I don't know that yet. That's the point. I don't even know that I'll live to go back to the States other than in a box with a flag over it. Every time we do one of these missions, we know it could be the last."

"Isn't that all the more reason for us to find love where we can? To feel what we feel and to not worry so much about tomorrow?"

"Do you need me to spell it out?" Hogan said angrily. "If I do anything about this, *I* can't be objective anymore, all right? And I...I wouldn't be able to leave, turn my back and go where duty calls, if I give in to this."

"Could you now?" LeBeau asked, regarding Hogan with eyes that were bright with unshed tears. He'd seen LeBeau face a lot of things in the years they'd known each other, and this was the first time he'd seen fear that deep in those eyes. Death did not seem to hold as much threat for LeBeau as Hogan's impending answer. There was no denying those eyes. He realized then he'd never been very good at denying LeBeau much of anything that truly mattered to him.

"No," Hogan admitted softly. "But that still doesn't change anything."

"What are you most afraid of, Mon Colonel? What loving me would mean to your command...or just loving me at all?" LeBeau paused, standing a little unsteadily and moving closer to Hogan. "Loving a man?" He looked down. "Loving a man who's been with someone like Von Gruner?"

"Louis, you know that's got nothing to do with it. If you'd been some high-ranking kraut's kept lover, sure, it would change how I felt about you. But what he did to you...it doesn't change anything about how I feel about you." Hogan couldn't resist nudging LeBeau's chin up with a gentle finger. "I just...can't take that chance. It goes against everything I stand for, and everything I owe this command. It's not fair to the others, and--"

"Oh, Colonel, please! There are so many things in this filthy war that are not fair! It is not fair what those stinking krauts are doing to people all over the world. In their dark, rotten Gestapo jails! In France where they have seized the country, raped it like Von Gruner raped me and hold it hostage like their own kept whore! In light of that, how giant an injustice is it really if you love me and I love you? If in the middle of the hate, and the violence and the ugliness, we find something beautiful? I have no abhorrence of love with a man. I've never really sought it out, but I don't find the idea repulsive. I know I could love you that way. I know that I do love you that way, and you can't change that, even if you want to deny it."

"This has nothing to do with what I want. Very little has to do with what I want. It has to do with the mission, with why we're here. That's my number one concern. This operation is my wife, mistress, best friend and number one priority. It has to be that way. When the day comes that I can't sacrifice one of my men for the greater good because I'm too in love with him to watch him die, or that I can't turn my back on his wishes and do something I know will hurt him for the good of the operation, then I'm no good as the commanding officer. When one of my men means more to me than the whole operation, than the prisoners we're helping, or God help me, than the whole damn war, it's my duty to contact London, tell them I've been on the job too long and that I need to serve elsewhere where my focus is on what it should be."

"If the day comes that my life has to be sacrificed to save this operation, and you have to be the one to make that decision, I would die loving you and I would forgive you, because you know that every one of your men stands ready to die for their country or for this cause if that is what is asked of him, and I am no exception. It might hurt you more than it should, but I know you. You would go on. You would lead what was left of our unit on to victory, and you would mourn for me when it was over." LeBeau paused, looking as if he did not really have strength enough to say another word, but he continued anyway. "The only thing that can hurt us more is that day when we are separated by death or the war or duty, and we realize that we have no more chances. That we must say goodbye without ever having known how it felt to love each other. That one of us went to his grave and left the other without ever having shown how we felt. I cannot live with that. If I have to lose you because of the war, I would know you were doing what you felt was right, that you didn't begrudge the sacrifice, anymore than you've begrudged all the sacrifices you've already made to stay here all this time and help others escape while you stay behind in this rat hole. But if I have to lose you without every having the chance for us to have what we could have together...I don't know if I could survive that."

"You better sit down, Louis. You're not looking so good right now." Hogan ushered him back to the lower bunk and waited until he sat there. Then he sat next to LeBeau, pulling out his handkerchief and wiping the other's forehead. LeBeau was still weak from his injuries and the pain medication was undoubtedly strong. The combination made every move an effort. With his hand lingering on LeBeau's cheek, their eyes locked.

Everything in Hogan's mind screamed at him to stop, to move away, to adhere to his decision. And yet he moved closer and closer until his lips brushed against LeBeau's, until the brushing turned into pressure, and the pressure turned into a kiss. A kiss that lingered and deepened until Hogan felt he would drown in it. The beauty of it, the love in it, frightened him more than facing down a whole battalion of armed krauts single-handedly. The weak battle he'd fought against this feeling was now lost, and he pulled LeBeau into his arms, letting the passion of the moment guide him. LeBeau's arms came around him, and though LeBeau was smaller than he, they were still the strong arms of a man holding him. Arms strong enough to give him comfort, a lover who could fight by his side, both protect him and be protected by him, someone who felt his pain, looked after his needs, and loved him in defiance of everything--including Hogan himself.

When he pulled back, he couldn't stop himself from smiling, and he reveled in the smile that earned him from LeBeau. He couldn't remember ever seeing such a depth of love in anyone's eyes directed his way, and he only hoped he was conveying his feelings as well.

"You need your rest. We better cool it for now," Hogan said, cupping the back of LeBeau's head gently and kissing his forehead.

"Rest and the medicine will help." LeBeau reached up and caressed Hogan's face gently. "I will be fine, mon amour," he said softly, looking into Hogan's eyes with a smoldering expression. Hogan captured the hand and kissed it, closing his eyes and holding it against his face. The sound of LeBeau's native tongue wrapped around an endearment for him stirred something inside him, and it was only the sharp knock on the door that stifled that feeling and made him rise quickly and a little awkwardly from his seat on the bunk.

"Come in," he responded. Olson poked his head in the door.

"Baker just got word from the Underground. Warren, Newkirk and Carter are on their way back here, and they're bringing Hannah and the tapes with them."

"That's great news!" Hogan responded, smiling to the point of nearly laughing. The relief was enormous.

"Magnifique," LeBeau said, smiling happily but not looking as if he had the energy to do much else.

"Hey, you're not looking so great, Louis. You ever take that medicine Schultz brought?"

"Oui, I did, a few minutes ago."

"How'd they get Hannah out of there?" Hogan asked.

"Baker didn't have all the details, but I guess she was already out of the house, and flagged them down as they were leaving."

"I'm glad. I didn't feel good about leaving her there on her own, even if she is one of the best."

********

Newkirk, Carter and Warren made their entrance into the barracks to a flurry of backslaps and congratulations. Hannah, an attractive brunette clad in a dark top coat, came up with them. Hogan greeted his men enthusiastically and thanked Hannah profusely for the risks she'd taken to get them the tapes and to remove the bugs from Von Gruner's house before escaping herself. She would be sent to England, ironically, about the same time Von Gruner was, only under more pleasant and congenial conditions. Carter escorted her back into the tunnel to a safe, comfortable spot to rest, well away from where Von Gruner was still tied awaiting his own transfer. Warren made his return to his barracks via the tunnels as well.

"We left Von Gruner's car in front of his house, motor running, door open," Newkirk explained. "Warren left the hat on the ground not far from the car. Looks like a kidnaping any way you look at it," he concluded, pouring himself coffee. "I can't help thinking that's going to put more suspicion on us, or the Underground."

"Once a well-meaning, loyal German citizen anonymously mails some doctored tapes to the Gestapo that frame Von Gruner as a traitor, its going to present them with a tangled up mess to figure out. Did he escape or was he kidnaped? And if it's a kidnaping, why would it be us or the Underground if he's on our side? More likely, it'd be some branch of the Gestapo trying to get rid of a high profile traitor while making it look like a kidnaping." Hogan shrugged. "There's no way to avoid suspicion falling on everyone in the area. We just had to make it look as if the scene of the crime was there instead of here. Better they investigate there than here."

"Where's LeBeau?" Carter asked, looking around the room.

"He's resting on the spare bunk in my office. He just took some of that medication, and I think it's putting him to sleep. It's pretty strong stuff. If he dozes off, he can stay put and get some rest."

"Colonel Hogan, I know you have your reasons for keeping that stinkin' kraut monster alive, but look what he's done to Louis! He deserves to pay for that."

"And he's going to. You think London is going to throw him a tea party when he gets there? He's too valuable a prisoner to kill for revenge. It's got nothing to do with what he deserves, or with what I'd like to do."

"What's gonna happen with Klink? You think it's safe he won't sell us out to Burkhalter?" Carter asked.

"He as much as said he wouldn't as long as we didn't mess up his no escape record. Besides, he's in this with us up to his neck." Hogan paused. "Actually, it may be easier with him knowing something's up, but not wanting to know the rest."

"I better head back to my barracks before the next bed check," Warren said, checking his watch. "That new guard is a little more on his toes than Richter used to be. A pack'a cigarettes or a little American money used to satisfy him," Warren added.

"Yeah, good guards like that are hard to come by," Carter joked.

"Easy for you to say. You guys have Schultz. That guy'd sell his soul for a candy bar."

"That's a terrible thing to say, Warren," Hogan scolded, his tone stern. The impishness was back in his eyes again. "For his soul, you need at least *two* candy bars. With nuts."

********

With some of the excitement fading from the evening's activities, and the lights finally out, Hogan retreated to his office, which was dimly illuminated by the little lamp on his desk. LeBeau was sleeping soundly in the bottom bunk, the pain medication obviously having granted him some relief. Hogan changed into his pajamas somewhat mechanically, his thoughts moving at the speed of light. They had to move swiftly with doctoring those tapes Hannah had brought from Von Gruner's house. Newkirk and Carter were slated to begin that project as early as possible the next morning. Everyone was too tired--and a bit too emotionally charged--to concentrate on doing an expert job tonight.

Leaving the dim light on the desk, which never incurred the guards' wrath after lights out because it was barely, if at all, visible from outside, Hogan assessed his options of reaching the top bunk without disturbing--or stepping on--his roommate. As if reading his mind, LeBeau stirred a little and opened his eyes, blinking a time or two.

"What time is it? What's happening?"

"It's almost two a.m." Hogan sat on the edge of the bunk and rested a hand on LeBeau's shoulder. "Go back to sleep."

"What about bed checks?"

"The guys all know where you are, so if the krauts are doing a headcount, they'll look in here. Pain pills helping any?"

"I'm not sure. They make me too sleepy to care," LeBeau said with a little smile.

"Good. Try to go back to sleep. The rest'll do you good." Hogan hesitated a moment, still not accustomed to the shift in their relationship. Then he leaned forward and kissed LeBeau lightly on the mouth. "Come on, close your eyes," he said softly, his hand moving gently back and forth across LeBeau's shoulders.

"Any chance you'll do that again when I can stay awake and enjoy it?" LeBeau asked, yawning widely and closing his eyes again.

"First chance I get."

"I kind of like it. I wasn't sure what it would be like."

"You kind of like it?" His voice rising slightly, Hogan crossed his arms over his chest in mock indignation. "Well!"

"Okay, I like it a lot," LeBeau admitted, his speech slurring a bit with impending sleep.

"That makes two of us," Hogan agreed, leaning down to plant a purely innocent kiss on LeBeau's cheek. "Get some sleep, Louis," he said gently.

"You're sure the ropes are tight enough?" LeBeau asked, his voice muffled a bit by the pillow where he'd buried his face to sleep. It took Hogan a moment to interpret the statement, but when he did, it twisted something inside him. He swallowed hard, and nodded, though LeBeau couldn't see him through closed eyes.

"I'm sure, mon ami. I checked them myself." He rested his hand on the back of LeBeau's head. "I'm right here. Everything's going to be all right now. Just sleep and feel better."

Long after LeBeau was sleeping deeply, Hogan kept watch over him, sitting there on the bunk. Hogan was unsure, when he awoke himself just before dawn, how he'd ended up sleeping curled around LeBeau's back, sharing the narrow bed. A combination of his own frayed nerves, fatigue, and the spark of their new feelings for each other had obviously been too much for his sleep-fogged brain to resist, and he'd sought out the comfort of the closeness. Now he moved stealthily and carefully to disentangle himself and at least make a show of sleeping in his own bunk. LeBeau mumbled and turned over, and it was all Hogan could do not to stay and soothe the slight wrinkling of the brow and look of distress that passed over LeBeau's features at finding himself alone in bed.

Finally resting on his own bunk, Hogan knew roll call was only a short time away. For a moment, he wished he'd checked Von Gruner's restraints one more time.

********

Immediately following the morning roll call, Klink summoned Hogan to his office. The kommandant was pacing nervously, still holding onto his swagger stick as if it were a necessary defense weapon.

"You wanted to see me, Kommandant?"

"Come in and close the door." Klink finally lit behind his desk, though he looked no calmer sitting than he had pacing. "It's only a matter of time before the Gestapo shows up here."

"That's a fair statement." Hogan sat in the chair across from the desk and crossed his legs.

"You can't afford to be this calm about the situation we're in."

"We have to be calm, Kommandant. If the Gestapo smells fear or panic, they won't buy anything you tell them. They'll probably send Hochstetter out here, and he knows you. If you start sweating and fogging up your monocle, he's going to know you're lying, and then the fun starts with interrogations and visits to Gestapo headquarters. You can't afford to *not* be calm."

"What are we going to do? This was the last place Von Gruner visited."

"Sure, and what does that prove? That he stopped by here on his way to his country house, which is just a few miles up the road?"

"Twenty."

"Okay, twenty. Still, Stalag 13 is on the way between town and his house, right?"

"That's true."

"Before he decided to...to do what he did to LeBeau, he enjoyed the meal, right?"

"He raved about the cooking, the menu, even the wine. LeBeau certainly did a remarkable job on that meal."

"All right then. Wouldn't someone like Von Gruner feel upstaged if a lowly colonel, a prison camp kommandant, at that, had a French gourmet chef at his disposal for entertaining, while Von Gruner himself, right up the road, had to rely on the awkward culinary skills of some local fraulein he hired for a cook?"

"I never thought of that."

"So it's simple. Von Gruner thought about it, it nagged at him, and he stopped by here to make an arrangement with you to use LeBeau's services as a chef whenever he entertained at his country house."

"Some of the guards may talk about seeing him going into your barracks."

"Schultz was the only guard inside the barracks who heard what was said."

"What about Von Gruner's guards? Hogan, what did you do with them?"

"Do you really want to know?"

"No, I suppose I really don't."

"Trust me when I say they won't be a problem." Hogan paused. "Von Gruner came out to the barracks to speak to LeBeau about his plans for an upcoming dinner event--"

"But Hochstetter would know if Von Gruner had invited anyone to such a function."

"Not if he hadn't sent out invitations. Maybe he was just planning something, and he wanted to discuss it with the chef. I wasn't immediately convinced that I wanted to share LeBeau's services with a kraut field marshal, so Von Gruner and I met in the guest quarters to discuss it. We reached an agreement involving some extra rations...oh, say, an extra serving of meat per week per man, and an extra shower per week per man, on weeks LeBeau cooked for him... Von Gruner left, I went back to the barracks, and you really weren't involved in the discussion at all, as Von Gruner asked to meet with me alone."

"You've given this a great deal of thought."

"There's no perfect story here, Colonel. Von Gruner came here to attack one of my men, and we stopped him. There's no good way to dress that up for the Gestapo. Whatever we tell them, we can't give them something that sets us up as having a motive for doing away with him."

"What if Hochstetter knows about the doctor's visit and the story I told about Richter?" Klink paled at the next thought. "Hogan, Burkhalter knows what happened with LeBeau."

"First of all, if Hochstetter can find Richter dashing through the snow in Stalingrad, good luck to him. Besides, Richter's a thief anyway who was sent to the Russian Front as punishment for stealing camp funds. Now even though Hochstetter may not be crazy about you, who is he going to believe, even if he does track Richter down? And wasn't Burkhalter the one who told you not to mention what happened to anyone? I'll talk to LeBeau, make sure he understands what his story has to be if Hochstetter questions him. I seriously doubt Burkhalter is going to want to be in the middle of this if he can avoid it. After all, once the Gestapo got done with you, guess who'd be right behind you on the way to the Eastern Front or a firing squad–the general who oversees your camp and should have had better control of it."

"You think this will work? It's insane, Hogan! We kidnaped a field marshal. Well, technically, *you* kidnaped a field marshal."

"Don't even try that. You helped, and you know it."

"But I could say I didn't."

"And Hochstetter would believe that for about thirty seconds before he packed us both off to Gestapo headquarters for an all expense-paid weekend in Berlin, complete with recreational activities in a dark basement somewhere. Topped off with a firing squad."

"This is a disaster," Klink fretted.

"You do realize you did the right thing?" Hogan asked, pinning Klink with an intent gaze. "There was nothing about what Von Gruner was doing that was acceptable by any standard of civilized warfare. He was a disgrace to his country, and eliminating him was no disservice to the Third Reich, if that's what you're worried about."

"I'm worried about something a bit less esoteric, Hogan. Like being executed."

"If you do as I say, and keep your cool, you won't be executed and neither will I. Besides, if you can just be patient, the Gestapo will have something else to chew on soon enough."

"You can't do anything else, Hogan. This is it. I won't allow it."

"It doesn't work that way, kommandant. You don't stop in the middle of a mission because it's scary. Once you get started, you see it through to the end, for better or worse. All you have to do is play your part right, and the rest will work out." Hogan smiled a bit mischievously. "Trust me."

"Oh that makes me feel *much* better," Klink responded, slumping in his chair with a definite sulk.

********

"Message from London, Colonel," Baker said, poking his head up through the tunnel entrance under the bunk. Hogan was just walking out of his office, and picked up his pace to join Baker at the table as he sat down there with the transcript. The two men were alone in the barracks as the others were out on their daily work details. Most of the men were cleaning up around the compound or doing other routine repair and maintenance work while LeBeau had been given a simple assignment with no significant physical demands helping Hilda stuff envelopes. "They're sending a sub for Von Gruner, but they're none too happy about it. They asked a lot of pertinent questions about how immediate the threat was, how comprehensive, if what we did was really necessary..." Baker shrugged. "I told them in my opinion it was a matter of life and death for more than just one or two of us, but I also said I'd tell you they wanted to talk to you. They made it clear my opinion wasn't sufficient."

"I wasn't about to sit back and let Stalag 13 turn into Von Gruner's own personal meat market. If Allied Command wants to court martial me for that, I'll face it happily as soon as we win the war and get out of this rat trap."

"What exactly happened between you and Von Gruner last night?"

"I thought you were probably listening in."

"We couldn't listen in and plan a rescue at the same time. We didn't hear anything past the first few words." Baker hesitated. "If the question is out of line, I--"

"No, it's not out of line." Hogan shrugged. "It's pretty much what I expected. Von Gruner made some sick remarks, and offered me a deal. Either he'd take his choice of my men--probably starting with LeBeau again--or I could give him his jollies instead to save my men."

"With all due respect, sir, you didn't buy that, did you?"

"That he'd honor the deal?" Hogan asked, and Baker nodded. "No, I didn't. Von Gruner likes to flex his muscles. He needs to be in control, to be powerful. The one in charge. Letting me step in for my men would put me back in control in a sense. I might not like what was happening, but I'd be calling the shots." Hogan paused, feeling the same chill creep up his spine at just how close he'd come to knowing first hand what LeBeau had endured. He'd needed Klink's help to overpower Von Gruner and disarm him, and left strictly alone with the field marshal, his chances of escaping unscathed were iffy at best.

"Colonel Hogan?"

"Hm?" Hogan looked at Baker, confused. The other man's tone had sounded a little sharp.

"Are you all right, sir? You just stopped talking. You were...staring into space."

"Sorry. Guess I'm just tired. Like I was saying, the ultimate thrill for Von Gruner would have been to sell me on that bargain and then go back on it after...well, to prove he had power over everyone, including the prisoners' commanding officer."

"We move Von Gruner out tomorrow night to get him to the usual pick up point. You think Newkirk and Carter can handle him on their own?"

"We'll put Olson and Warren on it with them. I don't want any mistakes. Before that, though, we've got to get those tapes to the Gestapo. And we'll have to have a little private listening party for Von Gruner. Once he knows he's been branded a traitor, that they're after his head, he probably won't even toy with trying to escape. He'd be shot on sight by the krauts, so he's better off with cooling his heels in a British POW camp."

"They *will* try him for his crimes? They're not going to make some deal that lets him off the hook, are they?"

"I can't directly control what London does about him, but I doubt they're going to let him deal his way out of paying for what he's done. If I thought that, I'd have shot him myself."

The barracks door opened and Carter came in, looking more than a little nervous.

"We got trouble, Colonel. Hochstetter just drove in."

"Oh great," Hogan muttered, rising from his seat as Baker did the same. "Coffee pot," he said, leading the way to his office.

"Colonel, if they really tear this place apart--" Baker's statement was cut off by Hogan's summation.

"We're all dead men, so let's just hope this little visit from Hochstetter goes smoothly and Klink plays his role like a good little kraut."

"You think that's possible?" Carter asked.

"I don't know. Let's just sit tight and listen." Hogan connected the coffee pot, and the three of them huddled around Hogan's desk.

********

"Ah, Major Hochstetter. It's always a pleasure to--"

"Shut up, Klink," Hochstetter interrupted, slamming the door behind him. "You will not think it such a pleasure when I have finished with you."

"Is there a problem?" Klink asked, the picture of innocence. Inside, he felt his stomach twist into a knot. //Dear God, this could be it. Hochstetter knows. Somehow, he knows...//

"Field Marshal Von Gruner has mysteriously disappeared," Hochstetter began, "and the last place he was headed was here to this camp!" he concluded, pointing angrily at the floor. "So, what do you have to say to that?"

"The field marshal did visit us last night, but he left shortly thereafter."

"What was the purpose of his visit?"

"Our humble little stalag is a short drive from the field marshal's country home. He very much enjoyed the gourmet meal we served him on his last visit. One of our prisoners is really quite an exceptional chef, and--"

"I don't need the menu, Klink. The field marshal visited rather late at night for dinner, did he not?"

"He said he was on his way to his country place, and stopped by to see if I would consent to loaning him Corporal LeBeau to cook for him and his guests on occasion. Of course, you can imagine there are a number of security concerns with such a request. We have never had a successful--"

"Ja, ja, so you have told me," Hochstetter dismissed with a wave of the black leather gloves he held in one hand. "That was all he came for?"

"Well, yes. He visited the barracks, and then met with Colonel Hogan briefly. I consult Colonel Hogan on matters such as these merely as a military courtesy, as he is the ranking POW officer."

"All of that to have a prisoner cook a couple of meals?"

"Yes, that was the purpose of his visit." Klink hoped he sounded more convincing than he felt. Oddly enough, Hochstetter didn't seem to be questioning him too stringently.

"Get Colonel Hogan in here. I want to hear it from him first hand."

"Of course, Major." Klink picked up his phone and called Schultz, ordering him to bring Colonel Hogan to the office.

********

"Okay, fellas, that's my cue. Wish me luck," Hogan said, zipping his jacket and disconnecting the coffee pot in anticipation of Schultz's arrival.

"Klink did okay," Carter said, sounding surprised.

"It's amazing how fast the kommandant can talk when his neck's on the line," Hogan concluded, smiling a little.

********

Hogan entered Klink's office, his usual relaxed demeanor undisturbed by the presence of the Gestapo.

"You sent for me, Kommandant? Major Hochstetter," he greeted.

"Sit down, Hogan. We have a few questions for you," Hochstetter announced.

"That's right, Hogan. We have questions--" Klink fell silent as Hochstetter shot him a withering look. Hogan sat down and watched Hochstetter pace.

"You spoke with Field Marshal Von Gruner last night, did you not?"

"Yes, I did."

"What was it regarding?" Hochstetter persisted.

"He wants to have Corporal LeBeau visit his country house from time to time to prepare meals for dinner parties and gatherings."

"What was your reaction to this request?"

"I wasn't crazy about it. Nowhere in the Geneva Convention does it say prisoners of war are compelled to serve as cheap labor for kraut dinner parties."

"Colonel Hogan, you will show some respect for the major," Klink interjected, and Hogan merely looked at him, as if to indicate that wasn't likely.

"So you refused to cooperate?"

"Initially, yes."

"Something changed your mind?"

"Von Gruner offered me a deal. I accepted it."

"And that deal was?"

"Every time LeBeau cooks for him, all the prisoners will receive an extra ration of meat that week, and an extra shower per man. Those are two things that come at a premium around here, so I figure the good it'll do for the men outweighs my initial objections to it."

"What else did you talk to the field marshal about?"

"Nothing, really. Once he had what he wanted, he left. I went back to the barracks. It was almost time for lights out anyway."

"That was all there was to your conversation?" Hochstetter persisted. Hogan frowned.

"I don't understand...should there be more?" Hogan asked, looking confused.

"The field marshal has disappeared. He may have been kidnaped from his country home last night. The Gestapo is investigating."

"I'm sure you'll get to the bottom of it, Major. Is that all? I promised the guys I'd keep score for the ping pong contest in the Rec Hall, and recreation period is almost over," Hogan said, checking his watch. "Good luck finding the field marshal, Major. He offered us a pretty good deal. I'd hate to see my men lose out on those extra rations and showers."

"That will be all, Hogan," Hochstetter said distractedly with a dismissive wave of his gloves.

"Yes, Hogan, *dis*missed," Klink added, as if needing to reaffirm his position in command. Hogan executed a slightly sloppy salute and strode out of the office, calm as any other time he'd been summoned there.

The snow in the compound was getting more and more beleaguered, having been pounded by so many pairs of feet since it first fell. Crossing from Klink's office to the Recreation Hall was not nearly the trial it had been when the snow was at its deepest. Hoping Baker and Carter had listened in again after he'd left with Schultz, he entered the building and found that his men were, indeed, playing ping pong, while a few other prisoners amused themselves with card games, checkers and the phonograph. He was concerned not to see LeBeau there.

"Thought we better rack up a score for you to keep," Carter whispered, after a successful lob from Baker that sent the ball skittering to the floor.

"Good thinking."

"You think things went well with Hochstetter?" Baker asked.

"So far, so good. How's Newkirk doing with the tapes?" he whispered to Carter.

"I just checked on him. He said he was almost done, and that it was some of his best work."

"It better be. The lives we save may be our own." He paused. "Where's LeBeau?"

"He wasn't feeling good so he went back to the barracks. Langenscheid okayed it," Carter responded.

"I think I'll go check up on him. Think you can get by without an official scorekeeper?" Hogan asked, grinning.

"I think we can manage, sir." Carter snorted a little laugh

Hogan left the Rec Hall and made his way back to the barracks, noting with some relief that Klink was out on his porch watching Hochstetter descend the steps quickly and get into his car. Hoping the kommandant would know enough not to head straight for the barracks before Hochstetter was even out of camp, Hogan watched a moment until he saw Klink turn and go back into his office. Sighing with relief, and thinking there might be some hope for his unlikely conspirator after all, he went into the barracks to see LeBeau. Noticing he wasn't in his usual bunk, Hogan checked his office, and found LeBeau curled up under a blanket on the lower bunk.

"Carter said you weren't feeling so great," Hogan said, sitting on the edge of the bunk.

"I got sick to my stomach after lunch. It's probably the pills."

"It could have been lunch," Hogan said, curling his lip a bit as he thought back of the slop they'd had for that meal. LeBeau was still doing his best to rise to the occasion of cooking dinner, but Hogan had discouraged him from keeping up with breakfast and lunch as well. The krauts were actually being quite considerate of LeBeau's condition, and the last thing Hogan wanted to see was his own men running him ragged. "How're you feeling now?" Hogan asked, laying a hand on LeBeau's back and rubbing gently.

"Better now," he said, smiling affectionately. "How'd it go with Hochstetter?"

"The guys didn't tell you?"

"I was sick to my stomach while he was here. The guys stayed out of my way, mostly," he added, still smiling a little.

"It went fine. I gave him the story we discussed, and I think he bought it. Klink played his part pretty well, too."

"Good." LeBeau was quiet a moment. "I know I probably should have used my own bunk, but...with Von Gruner in the tunnel..."

"A little too close for comfort, huh? Yeah, I know. But he's on his way out tonight. Besides, Newkirk's down there working on the tapes. I have the feeling he'd love the excuse to shoot Von Gruner trying to escape, so I don't think he'd make it up here alive."

"Do you really think this plan is going to work, Colonel?"

"I hope so," Hogan responded honestly. It was a relief not to be putting on a front to bolster the others. LeBeau always had been good at bolstering *him*, whether it was through some special food or recreating a barber shop shave and hot towel experience, or being the first one to encourage Hogan not to blame himself when something did go wrong.

"If you had sacrificed one man, it might have deflected trouble from the whole operation."

"Even if it had, I wouldn't sacrifice someone to that kind of fate without a struggle."

"You went with him in my place," LeBeau said quietly.

"It was part of the plan to–"

"Colonel, there *was* no plan. We weren't expecting Von Gruner, and when he did show up and you went with him, Baker, Newkirk and Carter were just making things up as they went along, trying to figure what to do. I panicked and went to Klink. I know I probably shouldn't have, but I didn't know what else to do. But there was no plan."

"No, there wasn't a plan," Hogan admitted. "He'd already hurt you so much. I couldn't stand there and let that happen again. I couldn't stop him the first time–"

"You didn't even know about it the first time, and if you had, trying to stop him would have been suicide. Look what happened to that prisoner in Stalag 5."

"The important thing is that he's on his way to a nice, cozy prison in London."

"The important thing, to me, is what you did for me. What it could have cost you. You knew that and you still went in my place."

"It was my duty–"

"Would London agree? They wanted us to stop Von Gruner without endangering the operation. Their attitude from the start has been that one man was dispensable to protect the operation, and they're right. This operation would go on just fine without me but it wouldn't last a day without you."

"You're not quite that dispensable, Louis."

"I know good French chefs don't grow on trees, but you can do a lot of missions without a chef."

"We've been through this. You know you're more than that to this operation."

"Is it so hard for you to admit that you did what you did because you love me and not because of duty or some plan or some other reason?"

"It scares me a little. It scares me for the day when I do that and we can't figure a way out of it."

"You've always watched out for our safety. Even when it was risky, you've done what you had to do to keep your men safe. When Newkirk, Carter and I were picked up by the Gestapo, it never occurred to me that you wouldn't rescue us. I didn't know if the rescue would work, but I knew you'd try. And not because of what we might say under torture, but because you cared enough about us not to want us to die or suffer if you could stop it. You know what? Carter and Newkirk never questioned it either. It was more a matter of wondering when and how you were going to try it. 'If' never entered the conversation."

"I suppose I've never been good and looking at my men like commodities and determining how many it was acceptable to lose."

"One of the reasons I love you like I do."

Hogan leaned forward then and caught LeBeau's mouth in a kiss, lingering there until their tongues finally met and mouths opened to deepen the contact. Hogan wrapped his arms around LeBeau and pulled him up, feeling LeBeau's arms go around him tightly. Another warm body against him, a hot, wet, responsive mouth locked to his...Hogan felt his body responding and he groaned into the kiss, increasing the pressure and tipping back until he found himself nearly lying atop LeBeau in the bunk.

The sound of the outside door slamming startled them both, and Hogan jumped up so fast he smacked the top of his head on the upper bunk.

"Damn it," he muttered, adjusting his cap. "Don't even think about it," he admonished LeBeau, who was barely restraining laughter. "That's an order," he added, indignant, which only sealed LeBeau's fate as the laughter bubbled forth. "I could have you court-martialed for laughing at your superior officer," he added with a grin, genuinely happy to see LeBeau's good humor restored enough to laugh a little. "Now I know why they call it 'French kissing'."

"We wrote the book on it, mon amour," LeBeau responded, his voice dropping to a more suggestive tone as he reached up and ran his fingertips along Hogan's lips.

"We can't chance this in here," Hogan said, kissing the probing fingertips and taking a hold of LeBeau's hand.

"This is the first time I've regretted you saying your door was always open for your men," LeBeau said dismally.

"Get some rest. We'll think of something." Hogan patted LeBeau's cheek and then stood, heading over to his desk. Just as he did, there was a quick knock before the door opened and Newkirk entered, carrying a small box and wearing a smug expression.

"This is my best work, if I do say so myself," Newkirk boasted, taking out a small tape machine. "Carter's watching the door," he added, turning it on. "This was a phone call from Von Gruner's tailor letting him know his new dress uniform was ready. I took out the tailor and replaced him with yours truly, and then I did a little...editing with Von Gruner's part. Listen." He turned up the volume. The first voice they heard was Von Gruner's, speaking English with a distinct German accent.

"Von Gruner here."

"I have the package," a raspy, German-accented voice replied. "But it's going to cost you."

"Marvelous. What is the final price?"

"A thousand marks."

"That's not the price you quoted to me last week," Von Gruner protested.

"Information like this doesn't come cheaply. Of course, I could just call the Gestapo..."

"No, no, I need it by the end of this week, before I return to Berlin," Von Gruner said, sounding annoyed. "All right, I'll send a messenger to pick it up."

"You want to entrust something like this to a messenger?" Newkirk's German voice demanded, outraged. "I'm not facing a firing squad because you were too lazy to make a trip into town."

"You will bring it to my country house. It's only twenty minutes--"

"I don't deliver," Newkirk informed him flatly.

"I'll come and pick it up myself. But this is the last time I'll do business with you!"

"If your little plan doesn't work on your next trip to see the fuhrer, I imagine it'll be the last time you do business with anyone, Mein Herr."

"I think sometimes you forget who I am," Von Gruner blustered.

"No, but for an additional five hundred marks, I will."

The last statement was followed by an loud hang up by Von Gruner and a dial tone.

"Well?" Newkirk asked.

"It's a thing of beauty, Newkirk."

"That was really just a phone call from his tailor?" LeBeau spoke up, having risen from his rest and joining the other two where they stood by the desk.

"Yes. His tailor finished his dress uniform, apparently charged him more than they agreed on, and when Von Gruner said he'd have a messenger pick it up, the tailor insisted he come in and try it on. Apparently our friend downstairs is very persnickety about the fit of his trousers."

"It's just vague enough to have the Gestapo chasing their tails for a good long time," Hogan opined. "It certainly should deflect the suspicion from us for a while. Before we take Von Gruner out tonight, have Carter take this into town and leave it in the locker at the train station. Then we'll place the call to Hochstetter as soon as you all get back from delivering Von Gruner to the Underground."

"Why wait? Shouldn't we call before you take Von Gruner out?" LeBeau asked.

"If we do that, the krauts'll be even more obsessed with searching for him, and the woods are liable to be lousy with Gestapo men. This is dangerous enough as it is. We don't want them in a fresh panic until all of us are back undercover and Von Gruner's en route to the sub."

"I played it for Von Gruner like you suggested. He's a bit angry with us at the moment."

"He's been tied up nearly 24 hours. I don't think he was in a good mood to start," Hogan responded, crossing his arms over his chest. "I don't need to tell you guys to be careful tonight."

"The four of us can handle him, sir. Be easier than handling the roll call."

"We may not be able to use Warren. Probably have to choose another man from our barracks. According to Warren, the new guard on Barracks 6 is a real stickler who doesn't take bribes." Hogan checked his watch. "Get word to Warren we're not going to chance it with him, and tell Metcalf to plan on it for tonight," Hogan instructed, referring to one of the men in their own barracks.

"Right, sir." Newkirk paused before leaving the room. "You're looking fit as a fiddle, Louis," he said cheerfully to LeBeau.

"I'm feeling much better than earlier. I might even make us all something for dinner."

"Music to my ears after that slop we had for lunch," Newkirk said, heading out of the office with his assignment.

"You sure you're up to making dinner?" Hogan asked, resting a hand on LeBeau's shoulder. That much he could risk. He was always touching LeBeau in friendship, so there was little reason to stop himself from indulging the urge to make some physical contact.

"Oui, I'm sure. I'd like to feel like things were getting back to normal again."

"Understandable. Just remember not to overdo it."

"I won't. A little cooking never hurt anyone." LeBeau smiled then, and Hogan returned it.

"I want to spend some time with you once this whole mess with Von Gruner is cleared up. We'll find someplace."

"It'll be tough finding a place safe from *both* sides."

"Where there's a will, there's a way," Hogan concluded, patting LeBeau's shoulder and grinning devilishly.

********

Newkirk and Carter held guns on Von Gruner while Hogan tossed a pile of civilian clothes at the man who had been clad in his long underwear for his time in captivity. Olson undid the ropes, freeing him from the chair.

"Is this the humane way the Allies treat their prisoners? Tied to chairs for days on end?" Von Gruner spat as the gag was removed.

"At least we don't render them helpless and rape them for kicks," Hogan retorted. "Put on the clothes and don't give us any problems, and you'll get through this alive."

"You'll never get away with this. You have no idea who you're dealing with here."

"When you went after LeBeau, you had no idea who *you* were dealing with," Hogan responded. "You high-ranking krauts are all alike. You think everyone who isn't part of your little master race isn't worth anything. Let me tell you something, pal, when the Allied tanks come rolling into Berlin, a lot of your buddies are going to be on the first thing smokin' heading back to England and the States to stand trial for war crimes. You're just getting a head start."

"You won't be so cocky when the Gestapo has you strung up in a cell for interrogation, Hogan." Von Gruner was pulling the clothing on angrily, obviously having decided to at least follow the directions backed up by the guns held on him.

"You might not be so happy to bump into the Gestapo yourself once Hochstetter gets his hands on that tape," Newkirk taunted, smiling smugly.

"It's a phony, a fraud! No one will take your word over mine."

"It won't be our word, Von Gruner," Hogan said calmly. "It's all there on tape, and it's a funny thing with the Gestapo. They don't always take your word for it when you say you're innocent of plotting against Hitler."

"This won't work, Hogan. When I get back to Berlin, I will make you pay for this, and pay dearly, starting with that little French weasel who quite frankly wasn't worth the effort!"

Von Gruner should have expected a violent reaction, but the backhand blow from Newkirk's gun-bearing hand seemed to shock him. He staggered a little, dabbing at the blood that trickled from the corner of his mouth.

"You say one more word about LeBeau and I'll blow your lousy kraut brains all over the wall," Newkirk said, aiming the pistol at Von Gruner's head.

"Back off, Von Gruner," Hogan said. "I'm not in much of a mood to restrain my men at the moment."

"So, when the war is over, you are going to ride off into the sunset with your little Frenchman?"

"I don't tolerate the abuse of any of my men by the Germans, Von Gruner. I know protecting your men is probably a foreign concept to you."

"Enlisted men are a mass commodity, Hogan. You must learn to use them much the same way you would use money, munitions or other resources. Not that I owe you the benefit of my wisdom and rank, but I can tell you that you'll never rise above the rank of colonel--and I do wonder how you attained even that--by being so soft when it comes to your men."

"The only army you could rise to power in would be one that was run by a maniac like Hitler," LeBeau said, his voice startling all of them as he moved out of the shadows into plain view. "Colonel Hogan would be a great leader in any army, because he respects his men and they respect him. When your men hate you, you can only achieve so much, because they are waiting for their first chance to stick a knife in your back."

"With the enforcement of strict discipline, you can achieve a great deal. But the concepts of discipline and order are lost on Americans, I'm afraid," he said, looking pointedly at Hogan.

"As much as I've enjoyed this little chat, Von Gruner, I think it's time for you to take your leave. Gentlemen," he nodded toward Newkirk and Carter, who, with Olson and Metcalf backing them up, started for the tunnel exit, nudging their unhappy prisoner along each step of the way. Baker headed for the opposite exit which would lead him back up to the barracks. It was risky having so many men out at once, and someone had to be a lookout for any impending trouble with the guards. When they'd gone, Hogan turned back to look at LeBeau.

"You think they'll make it?" LeBeau asked.

"Von Gruner's blowing a lot of hot air. He knows what was on that tape and he knows what it sounds like. He's better off going to England than staying here and going through rigorous Gestapo interrogation sessions." Hogan frowned. "How did you get down here?"

"The same way you did, why?"

"You probably shouldn't be going up and down ladders just yet, that's why. What happened to taking it easy?"

"I wanted to see him."

"Why?"

"Maybe to prove to myself he was just a man and not some...*monster*. In my nightmares, he's larger than life. It seems like he gets bigger and uglier every time until he barely appears human."

"He's gone for good, Louis. You don't have to be afraid of him anymore." Hogan took a hold of LeBeau's shoulders. "Thanks for what you said."

"That was easy. I meant it." LeBeau smiled, and Hogan leaned forward until their lips met, then lingered and allowed himself to savor the experience. All their previous kisses had been tinged with the fear of discovery, but at this moment, they were safe. They would hear the approach of anyone who came down into the tunnel long before he saw them.

LeBeau's mouth was soft and responsive at first, but then the pressure was returned and for a few moments, they wrestled passionately for dominance of the kiss. Used to being the aggressor, Hogan softened his approach a bit, and relished the new experience of his partner taking the lead. No matter how assertive or aggressive the women he'd been with were, they had all ultimately let him take the lead when it came to lovemaking. It was clear that LeBeau was every bit as used to being "in charge", and there was something electric in two aggressors coming together.

"How long can we stay down here?" LeBeau asked a little breathlessly as they finally separated.

"Not long." Hogan guided LeBeau with a hand on his back toward one of the cots used by men they sheltered in the tunnel prior to sending them safely on their way to England. Both sitting on the edge of it, they regarded each other for a moment before LeBeau pulled his sweater over his head and tossed it aside. "Louis, are you sure about this? After what happened the other night--"

"I need to feel something good and positive. When I think about...when I think about making love, the last image I have is of what he did to me, and that's not love."

"This is," Hogan responded.

"Do we have long enough?" LeBeau asked, unbuttoning the top buttons of Hogan's shirt.

"If Baker hollers down, I'll have to go up right away, and you can't be far behind me."

"Oui, I know. But until then?"

"Until then..." Hogan took off his jacket and sent it to join LeBeau's sweater.

They kissed again, fumbling awkwardly with buttons and garments until one by one, they removed every barrier between them. Still mindful that LeBeau was favoring bruises, Hogan eased them both down gently until they lay together on the cot. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been skin on skin with a lover, and more than that, he couldn't remember the last time he'd been skin on skin with someone he truly loved. He knew he had a knack of charming the ladies, and he could usually charm his way into a woman's bed if he worked on it long enough. Still, he had to admit most of those women didn't mean to him what the man he was with now meant to him.

The feeling of another man's semi-hard cock against his stomach was a new sensation, but he was finding it was not at all an unwelcome one. LeBeau was kissing a path down his neck, warm lips eagerly moving over his skin while hands roamed up and down his back as they embraced. His own hands explored warm flesh, moving gently over the abused back that still bore the marks of Von Gruner's belt. LeBeau was small but he was strong, and he put the same passion into making love that he put into everything else from cooking to patriotism.

LeBeau's mouth moved lower, finding a nipple and licking over it, then sucking it into his mouth, smiling around it as Hogan gasped in surprise, then moaned with pleasure. Then his thumb took over flicking and rubbing the hard, wet nub as he moved to the other. Hogan didn't struggle for supremacy or control; he was too busy enjoying the work of LeBeau's mouth and the response of his needy body. It occurred to him then that as usual, LeBeau was doing something for him. He was lying there enjoying it, doing little or nothing for LeBeau.

He reluctantly dislodged the hot mouth from his chest and moved down for another long kiss before kissing and licking his own trail down LeBeau's neck, finally reaching a nipple, curious to feel the sensation of sucking on one that was not attached to the softness of a woman's breast. It was different, but as LeBeau arched into it and gasped, muttering something in French, it was no less wonderful.

"Oh God," Hogan gasped as he felt LeBeau's hand close around his cock, pumping gently at first, then more forcefully as Hogan began thrusting into the delightful hand that was giving him so much pleasure. Finally he thought to return the favor, hesitantly wrapping his own hand around LeBeau's stiff member, until they were pumping each other almost in perfect unison.

Hogan felt his climax coming, and he buried his face in LeBeau's neck and muffled his cry of pleasure there. LeBeau's more frequent, almost staccato gasps and cries of pleasure were harder to stifle, so Hogan covered LeBeau's mouth with his own and kissed him, swallowing what would have been a shout of ecstasy that most likely would have carried all the way to the tunnel entrance.

Hands sticky with each other's come, bodies covered with a fine sheen of sweat, both men lay there, breathing heavily, wrapped around each other. For a moment, Hogan was totally still, unsure what to do with a man in his arms instead of a woman. With a woman he would hold her, kiss her a little more, maybe flatter her a little, especially if he wanted to continue the relationship. LeBeau had fallen completely silent and still in his arms, but when Hogan looked down, he could still see dark lashes moving with the waking motion of blinking. Following his instincts, he kissed LeBeau's forehead, then his cheek, and rested his head against the soft, dark hair.

"Are you okay?" he asked, suddenly wondering how LeBeau was coping with all this so close on the heels of such a traumatic encounter with Von Gruner. It even occurred to him he might be hurting LeBeau more than soothing him with the hand that wandered lightly over his back.

"Ever since the war began, I've wanted it to end. I still want that, to see France liberated, to see Hitler and his animals defeated." He paused. "But as much as I want it to happen as soon as it can, I dread the day when it does."

"Dread it?" Hogan frowned, looking down at LeBeau, who pulled back enough to look him in the eyes.

"I want us to have a little time before...before it's over."

"Before the war's over?" Hogan paused a moment, then the meaning came to him. "You think this is going to be over as soon as the war is, is that it?" He watched as LeBeau nodded.

"I know it can't last after we leave here, so as much as I want to see the war end, I know it will be a difficult day."

"Do you want it to be over as soon as the war's over? I thought this meant more to you than that."

"Oh, it would be wonderful if it could go on," LeBeau said, smiling a bit sadly. He paused a moment, then asked, "We should be going back up, don't you think?"

"I don't want to lose you when leave this place," Hogan said honestly. "I don't know how it'll all work out, but I know I won't let this end with the war." Hogan pulled LeBeau closer to him.

"I know we've been stuck here a long time, and there's not much chance to spend time with women. Are you sure--"

"That I want you and not just someone to make my stay at Stalag 13 a bit less lonely?"

"Something like that."

Hogan covered LeBeau's mouth with his and kissed him deeply, lingering until they were both breathless before he pulled back.

"That answer your question?"

"Not completely, but if you do it again, I might be able to figure it out."

"I wish I could," Hogan said softly, resting his forehead against LeBeau's. "We better get back up top pretty soon."

"I know. I just want to save this moment in time."

"So do I. But we'll have more moments if we play it safe." Hogan reluctantly sat up, grabbing LeBeau's clothes and handing them to him before gathering up his own. They were mostly dressed when Baker called down from the barracks that Schultz was making the rounds.

"That's our cue," Hogan said, sliding into his jacket. "Go up ahead of me, and go slowly."

"If Schultz is making the rounds--"

"Good point. I'll go up first, and then if the coast is clear, I'll call you up. Either way, take it easy on the ladder, got it?"

"Right, Colonel."

"Seems a little formal, doesn't it?" Hogan asked, smiling.

"I say it with as much love as if I were calling you 'mon amour'. Remember that."

"I do. I can hear it in your voice." Hogan stole a quick kiss before they moved to the foot of the ladder, and then headed up toward the barracks.

********

Hogan checked his watch for the third time in as many minutes. Newkirk, Carter, Metcalf and Olson had been gone for hours, and dawn wasn't far from the horizon. The prisoners, including Hogan, were making a show of being tucked in their beds in case Klink decided on another of his surprise early roll calls. Since he'd become an unlikely and somewhat reluctant accomplice in the demise of Von Gruner, Klink was much less likely to spring surprises on them in the name of security. There was a shaky alliance there now–Hogan wouldn't use the tunnel to evacuate Stalag 13, and Klink wouldn't expose what he knew of their operation. Thankfully, that knowledge was missing numerous details.

There was a light knock at the door and a moment later, LeBeau poked his head into the room.

"It's almost five, and no word yet," he whispered.

"That's not good." Hogan sat up and climbed down from his bunk. "I don't like it. I should have gone out with them myself."

"That wouldn't have solved anything, Colonel," LeBeau responded. "You can't blame yourself for this even if something goes wrong."

"This whole operation wasn't well thought out. It's not secure. Hell, Burkhalter knows what really happened to you."

"You said yourself you didn't think that would be a problem–that he wouldn't want to drag this out with the Gestapo any more than Klink does."

"I don't like it. It's bad enough to count on Klink's loyalty to hold the plan together, but relying on Burkhalter to keep quiet is just a little too risky."

"We don't have much choice, though."

"No, we don't. But I had a choice and I should have gone with them tonight in case something did go wrong."

"So you could sacrifice yourself?"

"It's not that, Louis. If they end up being outsmarted by Von Gruner or the krauts, then it's my fault for not being with them. That's what being a commanding officer is all about."

"If something happened to you on that mission, and things heated up here at camp, how long would it be before the rest of us left behind would be lined up and shot by the Gestapo?"

"Not long. I was worried about leaving this base uncovered, and I need to be here to orchestrate our cover story. Klink did well on round one, but he wouldn't hold up through intensive interrogation, and there's always the risk Burkhalter shot off his mouth, but I doubt that. If he told the Gestapo that something ugly had occurred here before Von Gruner disappeared, they'd tear this place apart, and if they find something, it wouldn't go easy with Burkhalter either. Klink wouldn't be the only one stocking up on winter clothes and snowshoes. Or ordering his last meal." Hogan looked at LeBeau, taking a moment to really notice that the man who was now his lover still looked pale and tired. "How're you doing?" he asked, his hand going to LeBeau's shoulder.

"I'm okay. Nights are hard," he added softly.

"I know. I wish you could stay in here with me. There's just no way to explain it."

"Everyone's in their bunks, pretending to be asleep in case the krauts come in," LeBeau said, then a little hesitantly, asked, "Would a quick embrace be taking too big a chance?"

"It's worth taking," Hogan responded, smiling as he pulled LeBeau into his arms and held him close, drawing as much comfort from the contact as he gave. "Does your back still hurt?"

"Not too much. Having your arms around me could never hurt me."

"What happened earlier was pretty special," Hogan said, knowing it wasn't much to say about what they had shared, and what they had become to each other, but it was the most he felt he could chance when they could be interrupted at any moment.

"Did you really mean what you said about after the war?" LeBeau asked, pulling back to look Hogan in the eyes. "If you're having second thoughts, I would understand. Sometimes the promises you make in a moment of passion are hard to keep in the cold light of reality. If you--"

"Louis, would you let me get a word in here?" At LeBeau's embarrassed little smile, Hogan added, "I meant everything I said, and before you came in, along with worrying about the mission, I was thinking about all of it, and thinking about what it would be like. I liked it. I had no regrets and no second thoughts."

"I can't wait to show you Paris when we're not there with Schultz and Langenscheid as tour guides," LeBeau said anxiously. "There's so much to see and so many places to go."

"I love you," Hogan stated simply, the declaration an honest expression of the feelings that were welling up inside him and demanding escape.

"That's the first time you said the words," LeBeau said, smiling.

"I said them when we were together in the tunnel."

"No, you didn't. I would have remembered. Even if I did have other things to think about at the time," he added, grinning a little lecherously, nudging Hogan with his elbow.

"I thought them and I felt them, even if I didn't say them."

"Oui, I know. You showed me."

A sharp knock at the door startled them both. A moment later, Newkirk walked in, followed by Carter, Olson and Metcalf.

"Where have you guys been? We thought the Gestapo had you for sure!" LeBeau exclaimed.

"It was close," Olson said, shaking his head. "We spent two hours in the bushes hiding from patrols."

"I didn't think we'd ever get outta there," Carter added.

"What about Von Gruner?"

"Safely in the hands of the Underground. They'll get him to the sub," Newkirk responded. "'Course he was muttering all the way. He's going to be liberated when Hitler takes England, you know, and then he's going to come back and deal with all of us," he added sarcastically.

"Is that so?" Hogan smiled. "The only thing he'll be liberated to is a war crimes trial. Okay, everybody, we don't have long before roll call. Let's turn in for now, and we'll talk about all the details after we fall out."

The prisoners were in their bunks less than an hour when Schultz came in to roust them out for roll call. Making an adequate show of being roused from sleep, they hurried to don their coats, hats, gloves and boots to trudge out into the cold winter morning.

It wasn't snowing, the sun was shining, and despite the cold, it was a perfect day. Hogan hoped that was an omen than things were beginning to get better. Klink was a man of few words at this roll call, simply accepting the report from Schultz and dismissing the men. He looked preoccupied and more than a little tired. Hogan imagined the kommandant had gotten no more sleep than he had. Just as they were all dispersing from the assembly, the gates opened and Burkhalter's staff car drove up to Klink's office.

"We've got company," Hogan said to LeBeau, resting a hand on his back.

"Coffee pot?"

"Better tune in to make sure our favorite kraut doesn't blunder his way to a firing squad for all of us."

Once inside the barracks, Hogan motioned to Carter, Newkirk and Baker to join them in his office. He indulged in their huddled situation to keep an arm around LeBeau, who seemed very content to take up his frequent position closest to Hogan.

"...you had a visit from the Gestapo yesterday," Burkhalter was saying, the radio coming to life mid-sentence.

"Major Hochstetter was here asking questions about Field Marshal Von Gruner's visit to camp."

"I assume you took my advice?"

"Ja, Herr General. I said nothing of the unfortunate incident that occurred last week."

"Unfortunate incident," Newkirk parroted. "There's a bloody nice name for it."

"Good. There is no need to arouse undue suspicion." Burkhalter was silent a moment. "It *is* undue suspicion, right Klink?"

"Of course, sir. Field Marshal Von Gruner merely stopped by the camp that night to ask for LeBeau's services as a chef at his country estate."

"As a chef?" Burkhalter asked, his voice rising slightly. "Interesting term for it. Colonel Hogan approved of this? I find that hard to believe."

"Actually, he didn't approve of it, and we had a rather unpleasant encounter with the field marshal."

"Be careful, Klink," Hogan said, tensing.

"But you told Hochstetter that a deal was made?"

"Yes, Herr General, I did. If I were to tell him that we'd had not one, but *two* confrontations with the field marshal, I thought it unlikely he would ever let it rest. As we are innocent of any wrongdoing, I felt it was pointless to arouse that suspicion."

"You keep saying 'we', Klink."

"Myself, my guards, Colonel Hogan and his prisoners," Klink clarified. There was a silence. Hogan could envision Burkhalter's slightly raised eyebrow at the sound of solidarity among enemies in that statement. Still, with the exception of the Gestapo, silence was in everyone's best interest.

"Very well. We will consider the matter closed, then. He didn't bring up the incident with Corporal LeBeau at all?" Burkhalter probed.

"No, sir, he didn't, and I made no mention of it. My assumption is that such an incident would be of little concern to the Gestapo." Klink's statement was greeted with another prolonged pause.

"It is unlikely he will attempt to locate Richter, and if he does, the man is a disgrace to his uniform and was lucky we sent him to the Front instead of to a firing squad. He's a cheat and a thief." There was the sound of movement, as if Burkhalter had stood and pushed his chair back. "I do not advocate lying to the Gestapo, Klink. In this case, though, I must agree. Providing Hochstetter with all the details would serve no useful purpose to us or to his investigation."

"That is exactly what I was thinking, sir," Klink enthused.

"I may stick with the plan anyway," Burkhalter retorted before opening the door and striding out of the office.

"After Burkhalter leaves, I better go check on our fearless leader and make sure he's not on the verge of a nervous breakdown," Hogan said, unplugging the pot.

"Klink seems to be holding up all right," LeBeau commented.

"So far, so good." Hogan let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding, his body losing the bowstring quality it had while Klink conversed with his superior officer.

"You think Burkhalter bought it that nothing happened here?" Carter asked.

"I don't think he's got any idea *what* happened, but I doubt he's totally convinced we're as innocent and Klink is making us out to be," Hogan responded. "Now if the Gestapo is satisfied and gets distracted enough by this new piece of evidence--the tape--we should be in the clear. We still need to lay low on any sabotage activities until the air clears."

"It's not a good feeling knowing Klink knows as much as he does about our operation," Newkirk said, shaking his head. "It's no good having to trust a kraut with our lives."

"Klink is as dead as we are if he ever says anything. One thing the kommandant will do anything to save is his own neck," Hogan said. "Not that I'm thrilled with the idea he knows. There's nothing we can do about that now. He knows what he knows, and hopefully the fact he'd have to implicate himself as a traitor will keep him quiet."

"Unless some of Hochstetter's boys decide to drag him back to their headquarters and put the questions to him there," Newkirk persisted. "He knows too much."

"Next you'll suggest we bump him off," Carter joked, smiling widely. His smile faded when Newkirk's expression remained dire.

"Wouldn't be a bad idea."

"Hold it," Hogan interjected. "Klink stepped in for me with Von Gruner. He responded when LeBeau went to him for help, and he's covered for us with the Gestapo and Burkhalter. We're not going to reward him for his help by blowing his brains out. He's a security risk we're going to have to take."

"Never thought I'd hear you protecting Klink," Newkirk challenged.

"He protected us, Newkirk. That's something I think you're losing sight of. Which is probably easy because you weren't the one taking on Von Gruner one on one."

"We'd have taken care of him, Colonel. We were on our way up," Baker added.

"Look, this isn't about whether or not we could have taken down Von Gruner without Klink. The point is that he *did* help us, and has put his life on the line to cover for us. He challenged Von Gruner face to face rather than let him do what he wanted with the prisoners here. It doesn't matter if we could have done it without him. The fact is that he did help, and he *is* turning his head to the tunnel and the fact that we eliminated Von Gruner and his guards, and set him up as a traitor."

"And he treated me very well after what happened with Von Gruner," LeBeau said. "I asked for his help, and begged him to stop Von Gruner from doing what he did to me, to anyone else. He listened to me, and he helped us. I'm not soft on the krauts anymore than anyone else in this room is, but we've had a lot of German people help us along the way, and Klink is just one more of them. I wouldn't agree to shoot him anymore than I would Oscar Schnitzer or anyone else who helps us just because they know too much."

"Oscar wanted to help. Klink got dragged into it," Baker said. "The people involved in the Underground are working for a cause. I still think Klink ultimately works for himself."

"If he does, he should have let Von Gruner do what he wanted and courted the man's favor, not stepped in and defied him," Hogan said. "I agree that ultimately Klink's number one concern is still Klink and that concern is best served by silence. I also think he has a conscience. So there's no good reason to shoot him in return for his help. Discussion closed."

"But Colonel--" Newkirk objected, but was silenced by Hogan holding up a forestalling hand.

"Discussion closed, Newkirk. Klink, like all the other Germans who know what we're up to here, is a risk we have to take. It's the price of doing business, so to speak."

"Some of those people I'd trust to hold out if they were captured, but Klink..." Newkirk shook his head. "It's no good, I say."

"If any one of us were captured by the Gestapo tomorrow, there's no guarantee they'd get nothing out of us. Sure, we all would do our best not to give them anything, but who knows what people say under torture? Or if they're drugged? Or brainwashed? Every single person who knows about this operation is a walking risk factor. Every single one of us has the potential to give something up to the enemy if captured. Even if we have the most honorable of intentions. That, gentlemen, is reality. So if you're feeling smug and safe because only people you personally admire or trust to hold out know what's happening here, think again. Any one of them, including any one of us in this room, could be the goons' way through our front door. The very person you figure as being the weak link in the chain is liable to hold up better than the one you expect to take your secret to his grave."

"You trust Klink?" Carter asked.

"I trust Klink's intentions at this point, because we've made our best interest his best interest. I trust the intentions of everyone in this room, and all the people in the Underground who make this operation work. Do I trust completely that none of them will crack and give the information that will lead to disaster for us? No, I don't."

********

After Burkhalter left, Hogan made a trip to the kommandant's office. He found Klink hunched over his desk, scribbling away at his paperwork. Whether he was truly that engrossed in it or just trying to occupy his mind to avoid panicking was hard to say.

"How'd it go with Burkhalter?" Hogan asked after he'd closed the door.

"He seems as anxious to put this behind him as we are. Hopefully, we've heard the last of it. I'm very busy, Hogan."

"I can see that, sir." Hogan sat down across from Klink's desk. The kommandant looked up, puzzled.

"If you can see that, then what are you sitting there for? Dismissed."

"I've never seen you fill out forms so...compulsively before," Hogan commented. Klink leaned back in his chair with a sigh.

"There is some comfort in the trappings of normality." He tossed the pen on the desk. "Sometimes I sit here and I wonder how it came to this. I've never had anything serious to hide in my entire military career. The worst thing I've had to hide from Burkhalter or the Gestapo was an extra case of champagne or a nice stash of caviar."

"Or a few marks pilfered out of the camp budget."

"Thank you for reminding me, Hogan."

"What's an enemy for?"

"Is there some purpose to this visit or are you just here to harass me?"

"Actually, I was thinking about something when I saw Burkhalter leave, and I came here because of it." Hogan paused. "No one on your side knows the truth. Almost everyone on my side does. It's rough keeping a secret when you're the only one who knows."

"You were concerned about my state of mind? Or simply concerned that I'd talk?"

"Maybe a little of both. The truth is, you were under no obligation to help us out. To help *me* out with Von Gruner. I just realize the risk you're taking has to weigh heavily on your mind, that's all."

"Thank you for your concern, Hogan, but I assure you, I will keep my part of the bargain. I have no desire to face a firing squad."

"Why did you help me?" The question had nagged at Hogan since Klink had shown up at an extremely fortuitous moment to confront Von Gruner.

"Because Von Gruner is a swine. Because Corporal LeBeau can be very convincing when he wants to be. Because I don't believe in torturing prisoners for amusement. Take your choice. They're all true."

"Our goal isn't to make any trouble for you, either, Kommandant. I know that you know certain things about what we did...about what we're capable of doing..." Hogan stood up, pacing a little. "We don't have any plans to launch any mass escapes or to discredit you or your command here. I just thought you should know that. We're still on opposite sides in this war, and we're still enemies, but you've dealt with us in an honorable fashion, and I guarantee you the same courtesy."

"Thank you, Hogan. I can't lie that it isn't a concern...knowing about your escape tunnel. Or whatever it really is. If you are ever found out, I know nothing about it."

"That's understood, sir." Hogan headed for the door. "Oh, I hope one of those forms you're filling out is a requisition for more blankets. My men never did get those extras they were promised for clearing the snow away from the gates. Schultz said there weren't any spares to hand out."

"In case you haven't heard, Colonel Hogan, there's a war on. Supplies are expensive. New blankets don't grow on trees."

"You wouldn't know that to look at the supply of them they've got in the guard's quarters."

"What do you know about the blankets in the guards' quarters?" Klink demanded, then closed his eyes briefly. "On second thought, don't answer that. The fact remains that we are currently over budget, and General Burkhalter frowns on stalags going into the red with their expenses. The blankets will have to wait."

"Until when? Spring? We won't need them this summer."

"I will order the blankets when we can afford them. Meanwhile, your men will simply have to endure a little hardship like the rest of us."

"Are you short of blankets?"

"Hogan!" Klink's tone was one of warning.

"We had a deal, Kommandant."

"I said they could have extra blankets. I didn't say when."

"Yes, you did. Immediately. While the job was still being done. Despite the fact you didn't get us the blankets as you promised, we still did the work in good faith. Now we want to be compensated."

"You cleared the gates because you wanted the doctor brought in, which I did at my own personal expense."

"Clearing the gates was necessary for both of us. All I'm asking is for my men to get what's coming to them. In case you hadn't noticed, the barracks are considerably colder than your quarters."

Klink sighed, staring at the forms in front of them. From what Hogan could see, they were routine supply requisitions, nothing superfluous. Still, a deal was a deal, and if he started collaborating with Klink too closely on day to day camp business, he'd very easily lose his edge and his negotiating power.

"Well, I don't suppose it's essential that we replace the mattresses in the guards' quarters immediately. As you've pointed out, they are not short on blankets. All right, Hogan, your men will get their blankets as soon as supplies are delivered, but I warn you," Klink said, shaking the pencil he was holding in Hogan's direction, "don't come to me for any more favors until Spring!"

"Wouldn't dream of it, sir," Hogan responded, grinning as he saluted Klink and headed for the door.

********

Several days passed with no word on the Von Gruner investigation. The Underground hadn't gleaned any worthwhile information, Klink had received no more visits from the Gestapo, and the single visit he received from Burkhalter was a simple chewing out for going over budget for the operating expenses. Hogan figured he should feel guilty for putting the screws to Klink for the blankets, but dismissed that idea as he and his men enjoyed the warmth that made sleeping in the ice cold barracks at night bearable. Unfortunately, the last several days had offered little in the way of opportunity to spend any alone time with LeBeau, and the most they'd managed was a couple of stolen embraces in Hogan's office, and a few furtive kisses in the tunnel.

It was another dreary, cold evening with wet snow falling outside when Baker emerged from the tunnel, looking excited about his report for the first time in days.

"Word just came in from the Underground, sir," Baker reported, coming up through the bunk into the barracks. He closed the entrance behind him. "The Gestapo just closed their investigation into Von Gruner's disappearance," he began, reading from a small sheet of paper, "claiming the field marshal was the victim of an enemy kidnaping/murder."

"What?" LeBeau froze where he stood, holding a pan of soup he was about to serve to the others as they gathered at the table for dinner. "But we sent him to England."

"The Underground figures the situation with the tape was too hot for them to handle, or too embarrassing for the fuhrer since Von Gruner was one of his closest friends and advisors," Baker explained.

"Or maybe they're just pretending not to investigate so his contact will get sloppy," LeBeau suggested, going ahead with serving the soup.

"And I thought *I* was suspicious," Hogan responded, smiling in LeBeau's direction, trying not to let too much show in his eyes. He fought the urge to touch him as he served the soup. "LeBeau's probably right," Hogan said, forcing his attention back to the issue at hand. "If Von Gruner had a contact in town, and that person thought the heat was off now, he might get careless or start operating again, business as usual. Besides, the Allies won't be able to keep his capture a secret forever. The krauts are up to something."

"You think this is a phony then?" Carter asked regarding Baker's message.

"Most likely. In any event, the focus of their investigation is on finding Von Gruner's connection now. That deflection is what we wanted. So our plan worked, gentlemen. Von Gruner's discredited enough at this point that he'd never survive being returned to Germany."

"I just hope Allied Headquarters doesn't get sloppy with their security. A lot of top-level krauts would like to spring Von Gruner," LeBeau said, taking a seat next to Hogan, as usual. His movements still weren't smooth and he was still lowering himself carefully when he sat. Still, he'd insisted on getting back to the routine of cooking and participating as part of the unit as soon as he was physically able. Hogan admired his strength for that, and for the way he'd coped with the unthinkable. He had no doubts LeBeau still carried demons inside him that would take years to truly heal, but he had tapped into an impressive inner strength to somehow put the incident behind him.

"I'm sure the Allies will keep Von Gruner under top security. With the suspicion of treason surrounding him, nobody's going to want to show their allegiance to him by trying to spring him anyway," Hogan said. Under the table, he patted LeBeau's knee. LeBeau's left hand, which had been resting in his lap while he ate, closed around Hogan's. Regretfully, both men relinquished the contact and to the others present, nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

"We still have the matter of Klink knowing what he knows," Newkirk stated grimly.

"That couldn't be helped," Hogan stated flatly.

"Louis, what were you thinking going to him?" Newkirk asked. "We were going to get the colonel out of there--we were on our way!"

"Look, there's no use going back over this and analyzing it," Hogan spoke up, forestalling any further argument between his men. "We all did the best we could in a bad situation, and it looks like we're going to get through it all right. That's the important thing. There's nothing to be gained by pointing fingers at each other after the fact."

"You think we've heard the last of this?" Baker asked, gesturing with the message before tucking it in his pocket and concentrating on the soup in front of him.

"That would be my guess." Hogan shrugged. "I'm as sure about that as I am that we've heard the last of any of the jobs we've done. There are a lot of loose ends out there. If we're lucky, the krauts won't tie them together until the war's over."

********

Hogan opened his eyes, hearing the stealthy movement near the door of his office. The familiar shadow made its way from the door to the side of the bunks as Hogan began climbing down to meet LeBeau.

"You wake anybody up coming in here?" Hogan asked, putting his arms loosely around LeBeau as they stood there.

"I could shave off Hitler's moustache without waking him up, and you know it," LeBeau countered, smiling.

"Then it would be his loss. You give good shaves." Hogan leaned down and covered LeBeau's mouth with his, deepening the kiss, allowing himself to become submerged in the sensation for just that few moments. It was rare his men disturbed him during the night, and Klink had tapered off his tendency to pop in for inspections since their uneasy alliance had been put into so many words.

When their lips parted, Hogan kissed the end of LeBeau's nose, then his forehead. He smiled as he fingered a little mussed hair on LeBeau's forehead.

"I wish we could go somewhere, just for a night, where we could spend it together in a real bed," LeBeau said, kissing the part of Hogan's neck and upper chest that was exposed by his pajamas.

"Without listening for someone at the door," Hogan added, angling his head down for another kiss.

"With room service," LeBeau continued, smiling as he pulled back.

"Maybe we'll luck out and get another mission that takes us to Paris."

"Don't toy with me, mon amant," LeBeau responded, pulling Hogan down for another kiss.

"'Mon amant'?" Hogan asked.

"My lover," LeBeau translated, grinning. "Unless you'd prefer 'Colonel' when we're making love," he teased.

"That won't be necessary. Just don't forget to salute me afterwards," Hogan joked.

"I'll salute you, all right, but not the way you think," LeBeau countered.

"You're a wicked man," Hogan said, chuckling.

"Coming from you, I'll take that as a compliment."

"You do that," Hogan responded, kissing LeBeau again, his hands roaming over the other's back until they slid down to caress his buttocks. The lurch and separation of their mouths took Hogan off guard and caused him to stumble just a bit. "Talk to me, Louis. What's wrong?" Hogan encouraged. He had a sick feeling he knew what was wrong, but in that passionate moment, it hadn't occurred to him to be careful of where his hands were. "Did I hurt you?"

"It isn't that. The pain's mostly gone." LeBeau sat on the bottom bunk, elbows on knees, resting his face in his hands for a moment before straightening and looking at Hogan, who sat next to him. "I was fooling myself if I thought I could...let anyone touch me there without remembering... I hate Von Gruner!" LeBeau shouted angrily, the loudness of his voice startling Hogan and echoing in the quiet room. It was doubtful his outburst wouldn't disturb the others. "Why didn't you kill him when you had the chance?" he demanded angrily, the question taking Hogan by surprise even more so than the shouting. "Think about what he did to me! Think about it and then tell me how you could let him walk out of here!"

"I do think about what he did to you! God help me, I think about it every day, every time I slow down long enough to think about anything. It's always there! And there's nothing I can do to fix it, and if I'd slit Von Gruner's throat, it wouldn't have solved anything."

"It would have let me sleep better at night!" LeBeau shot back. Predictably, there was a knock at the door. Carter opened it a crack.

"Everything okay, Louis?"

"Just give us a minute," Hogan snapped. He wasn't sure if it was Carter's question directed at LeBeau that grated on his temper, or if they were both just too angry and emotional to be rational.

"With all due respect, Sir, you might want to keep it down a little. You'll wake Schultz," Carter added, smiling a little uncertainly.

"We'll keep it down," Hogan said, his tone milder but still less congenial than usual.

Carter nodded and withdrew, closing the door.

"Do you really think I wanted to let Von Gruner walk out of here alive?" Hogan asked LeBeau, kneeling in front of him where he sat on the lower bunk. He took both LeBeau's hands in his.

"You could have killed him. Even Klink wouldn't have asked too many questions."

"Do you have any idea the kind of information Von Gruner has? Louis, we're an escape, sabotage and *intelligence* operation. In my heart, I wanted him dead. The part of me that hated him for what he did to you wanted to put a bullet in his brain right down there in the tunnel. But the part of me that wants to see this damn war end, and Hitler fall from power, and all these men able to go home again realized what value he'd have to our side *alive*. Killing him wouldn't have changed what he did to you--"

"I just wish he was still down there in the tunnel, because I'm so angry at him I just want to kill him with my bare hands!" LeBeau shouted bitterly. "I don't care about his information! The Bosch pig deserved to die for what he did!" LeBeau pulled his hands away and grabbed the front of Hogan's robe. "You had the chance to make him pay! It meant more to you to send some big important prisoner back to the Allies!"

"You know what? You're right!" Hogan shot back, his voice rising as he stood abruptly and dislodged LeBeau's grip. "Killing Von Gruner wouldn't have done a damn thing to change what happened, but keeping him as a live prisoner, sending him to the Allies to interrogate, that might mean something good for our side! Out of all the horror and the pain and the...the...*violation* that happened here, something good might come! I won't spend any more time defending my choices with Von Gruner to anyone--not even to you!" Hogan added, pointing a finger in LeBeau's direction.

"I'm sorry. I forgot you are in charge here!" LeBeau shot back.

"That's right, I am. And there are gonna be times you don't like one of my decisions, but that's too damn bad! I'm responsible for this unit and every man in it, and for making it an asset to the Allied war effort, and as long as I am, that has to come first!"

"Then we're clear on where we stand," LeBeau said, an icy levelness in his voice as he headed for the door.

"If you're forcing me to make a choice, then I guess we are." Hogan cursed himself for letting it go this far, and matter this much. So much that he was barely able to make the choice, and even less willing to voice it.

LeBeau stared at him for a long moment and then headed for the door.

"Louis, wait," Hogan said, catching his arm.

"Let go of me."

"Listen to me a minute." Hogan took him by both shoulders.

"I said, let go of me!" He pulled away abruptly, then stormed out the door, slamming it behind him. Hogan stared after him a minute, not sure if he should go out and explain the whole incident to his men, or if he should simply go back to his bed on the pretense of sleeping and let the whole thing cool off until morning. His internal query was answered when a tap on the door was followed by Schultz walking in, light from the main part of the barracks spilling into the shadowy room.

"It is supposed to be quiet after lights out, Colonel Hogan. I heard arguing."

"Things are a little rough for LeBeau right now. Sorry we made such a racket, Schultz."

"The Gestapo is closing the investigation into the field marshal's disappearance," Schultz confided in a whisper.

"Is that so?" Hogan shrugged. "They give any reasons for it?"

"They said it was a kidnaping and murder." Schultz looked a little uneasy. "It wasn't a kidnaping and murder, was it?"

"If that's what the Gestapo says, who are we to question it?"

"Oh, I *never* question the Gestapo," Schultz insisted.

"That's a healthy attitude, Schultz," Hogan said, smiling slightly. "We'll keep things down to a dull roar in here. Sorry we woke you."

"That's all right. I'll go back to sleep," Schultz said agreeably before he realized what he'd said.

"Don't worry about it. Your secret's safe with us."

After Schultz left, Hogan walked out into the main room of the barracks. The men were in their bunks, but he could sense multiple pairs of eyes following his movements. LeBeau, for his part, was turned toward the wall in his bunk, his back to the room.

"Sorry for the racket, everybody," he said quietly. "Get some sleep. Roll call in a few hours." Feeling distinctly uneasy in the presence of his men for the first time since assuming command at Stalag 13, Hogan retreated to his office, relieved to close the door behind him.

********

LeBeau never realized how difficult it could be to avoid Hogan. Not only was Hogan very accessible and given to spending his free time with his men, but he was very tactile. Almost immediately, it came crashing back to LeBeau just how tactile he was, and how much of Hogan's warmth and friendship was directed at him. Now that he'd given the man who was both his lover and his commanding officer an ultimatum to choose between those roles, he missed the friend he'd seemed to lose along the way. No matter what else Hogan ever was to him, he'd always been his friend. Hogan defended his behavior even when it ran counter to orders or sometimes even good sense, made allowances for his moods, and most importantly, made him feel as important–sometimes more–than any other man in the unit. He could always depend on Hogan no matter what situation he got himself into, and while Hogan bartered for clemency anytime his men were facing disciplinary action from Klink, LeBeau knew his personal track record of actual days served in the cooler was probably lower than anyone else's.

Hogan had resisted him from the start when it came to changing their relationship, and LeBeau admitted to himself now, as he worked on finishing a bucket of laundry for Carter to hang on the line, that Hogan had made no promises about choosing love over duty. He'd made it clear his role as leader of the Stalag 13 operation came first. Still, LeBeau knew he'd rushed in where angels feared to tread and challenged Hogan to reveal his true feelings. Now he had, and they'd given physical expression to those feelings.

Maybe that was at the heart of it: where those physical expressions would ultimately go. Maybe he should have accepted when Von Gruner attacked him that he'd never be any good to Hogan as more than a man in his unit, or the cook, or the guy who gives good shaves. Von Gruner was handled with kid gloves compared to what he'd put LeBeau through, and there was no way to make him pay. There was no one to punish, no one to vent his anger on...

No one but Hogan.

LeBeau stole a look at the object of his thoughts. Hogan was reading, sitting on a crate, his back against the barracks exterior wall. Since their argument a week earlier, he'd become visibly more reserved and introspective. Various prisoners approached him with the usual questions and camp business, but otherwise, the gregarious officer sat silently with his nose in a book of some sort, or retreated to his office to "catch up on some paperwork." No one could have that much paperwork, even if he were on active duty.

LeBeau didn't believe he'd seen him turn a page in over an hour now. Further, he couldn’t remember ever seeing Hogan in one place and silent for that long since he’d known him. Hogan was everywhere at once, it seemed. He might be in Klink’s office hatching some new scheme or joining in a ball game or visiting some unlucky soul stuck in the cooler. During the past week, it seemed as if most of the life had drained out of Hogan and left a shell in its place. A shell that did his duty but lacked the passion, humor and vitality that made Hogan such a popular and successful leader.

"Hey, Louis, you gonna wash that shirt or marry it?" Carter's voice startled him from his thoughts, and he went back to the task at hand. While Hogan stared at his book, LeBeau had been essentially soaking his hands in soapy water, staring straight ahead. Spring was finally officially here, and though it was still cold, the sunshine was warm enough to bring the prisoners voluntarily out of the barracks again.

"Almost finished," LeBeau responded, wringing the water out of the piece and handing it to Carter, who pinned it to the clothesline.

"I don't think I ever saw Colonel Hogan so quiet," Carter probed. The poor guy had no face or finesse for playing intricate intelligence games, and this was no exception. The pointed remark was little more subtle than a direct question about the argument that had disturbed everyone several nights earlier, and yet had never been discussed again. LeBeau said nothing.

"Klink didn't even get a rise out him at roll call this morning," Carter continued, referring to Hogan's uncharacteristic silence and disinterest in Klink's raving over the latest conquests of the illustrious Luftwaffe. Hogan nearly always countered those soliloquies with something, and it had the effect of keeping his men's spirits up despite the predictions of victory for Germany the Germans were so found of propagating.

"Maybe he has other things on his mind," LeBeau retorted cryptically, handing another piece of soggy laundry to his friend. Realizing that Carter was his friend, and as much as he was curious about Hogan's behavior, he was also concerned about LeBeau. "We were arguing about Von Gruner the other night. I just wish we'd... I don't know," LeBeau shrugged, wringing out another piece of long underwear.

"Killed him? Beat him up a little?" Carter nodded, pausing with a thoughtful expression on his face, the laundry in his hand dripping as he stood there holding it. "Yeah, I thought about that myself. You know, when we were taking him to the Underground, Newkirk and I really thought about giving him a little something to remember us by and telling the Colonel that he was trying to escape."

"It just seems like he should pay for what he did, and I know he never will. Our side doesn't do to their prisoners what the filthy Bosch do in their Gestapo jails."

"At least not officially," Carter added. "You never know what kind of accident somebody like that might have when guys find out what he did." Carter hung a pair of longjohns on the line. "I think those things have a way of working themselves out so things even up in the end."

"Maybe," LeBeau responded, his tone still skeptical.

"You're still mad at Hogan for what he did with Von Gruner?"

"We had him right here. In the tunnel!" LeBeau said in an elevated whisper. Though Hogan was well out of earshot, LeBeau could feel those penetrating brown eyes on him as soon as he became animated. Hogan was nothing if he wasn't observant, and the change in LeBeau's demeanor didn't go unnoticed. "And then we hand him over to the Underground who takes him to London for Intelligence to question him. He's a field marshal. They'll give him every courtesy. Even the krauts treat Colonel Hogan better than they do us because he's an officer. Picture how the Allies are going to treat a field marshal!"

"We haven't gotten word that he's talked about anything valuable yet. It's been a week."

"Exactly. And we're never going to hear it because he isn't going to talk and all they're going to do is keep him in decent style in a British POW camp until the end of the war."

"He'll stand trial for war crimes, Louis. Torturing prisoners is a crime."

"He'll probably end up in Switzerland living the good life." LeBeau tossed a piece of laundry angrily toward Carter, who made a face as a wet sleeve slapped his cheek.

"Hey, cut it out," Carter said, smacking LeBeau in the face with the same wet sleeve.

"You did that on purpose!" LeBeau challenged, his real anger morphing into a good-natured, mock anger as he fished another wet garment out of the bucket and swung the dripping leg of a pair of longjohns at Carter, who ducked just in time for it to hit Newkirk in the face as he approached the two men.

"You little twerp!" he chided LeBeau, laughing at he grabbed a wet shirt and swung it at his attacker. Before long, the three men were putting the laundry to good use, laughing and smacking each other with wet sleeves and pantlegs and drawing a crowd of other prisoners.

********

"Your men are acting like a bunch of children." Klink's voice startled Hogan as he watched the laundry fight unfold. Klink sat on a nearby crate. "What an absolutely perfect day," he opined. Hogan stared at him as if he'd sprouted a second head. Klink was not a man who mingled with the prisoners and waxed poetic about the weather.

"It's about time we got a break from the snow," Hogan said, still watching his men, who were now tiring of their activity which had only succeeded in dirtying up the laundry again and amusing Schultz and Langenscheid to no end. LeBeau and Carter were bickering over who should re-wash the clothes, and the rest of the participants were scattering before they could be called upon to help clean up the mess they'd all helped make. "I know you didn't come out here to talk about the weather."

"They know about Von Gruner," Klink said quietly.

"Who knows what about Von Gruner?" Hogan turned his attention to the kommandant now.

"German Intelligence knows that Allied Intelligence has him."

"What are they doing about it?"

"There's only so much I can overhear at a dinner party, Hogan."

"You overheard information like that?"

"Quite accidentally. I was attending a party at General Rechsteiner's home, and I'd excused myself from the festivities downstairs to use the facilities. Hochstetter was reporting to General Rechsteiner in the library. I happened to walk past the door, which was slightly ajar, just as they were discussing Von Gruner. I couldn't linger in the hall any longer than I did, so all I heard was that his whereabouts were known and that the Allies had him for questioning."

"We just have to be sure now that our side doesn't make a prisoner swap of some kind," Hogan said grimly. "As long as he's in Allied hands, he won't be a threat."

"Assuming we have no agents or intelligence at work at whatever headquarters have him."

"There's always that possibility. We knew this wasn't a risk-free operation."

"I think it would have been wisest to eliminate Von Gruner when we had the chance. Now there's no telling when this will come back to haunt us."

"It was a judgment call. Whether it proves to be a good one remains to be seen."

"If Von Gruner gets word back to our side about what happened–"

"We're all dead. I know. The most important thing here is not to panic. Leave it to me. If we have reason to panic, I'll let you know."

"That's very reassuring, Hogan."

"Sorry, kommandant, but it's the best I can do." Hogan pushed himself up off the crate and went into the barracks. He knew Baker was down in the radio room checking the equipment, and it was essential to radio London immediately with the news.

********

With the men gathered around the table in the barracks, Hogan explained the situation with Von Gruner.

"It was a matter of time before the krauts found out. Baker radioed London earlier, and they have assured us that Von Gruner is under maximum security guard, and there's no reason for us to be concerned about the enemy getting to him for information." Hogan paused. "They also assured us that if a threat exists, they'll notify us to evacuate Stalag 13."

"That's bloody marvelous," Newkirk replied, shaking his head. "And what if they don't find out before we do? The hard way?"

"This was a high risk operation from the outset. There was no good way to handle this mess. We did the best we could. We'll just have to play it by ear–"

"If we'd finished Von Gruner when we had the chance, we wouldn't be in danger now," Olson spoke up. "I'm sorry, sir, but keeping him alive was a big mistake."

"Has he given our side *anything*?" Carter asked.

"Nothing substantial yet," Hogan admitted, massaging his left temple unconsciously. His head felt like it would split open at any moment. "For now, we just carry on, business as usual. Let London worry about Von Gruner."

"London isn't gonna be in front of a firing squad if somebody gets to Von Gruner and he talks," Carter said.

"Carter's right, Colonel. Maybe we should think about evacuating Stalag 13 anyway. Our security is so compromised now that London's barely sent a decent assignment our way since this all happened," Baker said.

"London's slapping my hands for going against orders, that's why we're not getting any decent assignments. They don't want to pull us out in case we'd be useful for something, but they want to make a point by taking us out of the action for a while."

"If they're so upset with you going against orders, why don't they transfer you?" Baker asked. "We didn't have a choice. We had to take on Von Gruner."

"We're viewing this in terms of individual lives. LeBeau's, mine, and anyone else's Von Gruner might have targeted. London plays percentages. That's command thinking. We save two or three, maybe even ten, guys here in this camp, and jeopardize an operation that helps save how many lives or could shorten the war by who knows how long. London doesn't see that as a successful or sound decision."

"You're awfully quiet, Louis," Newkirk said, looking at LeBeau.

"What would you like me to say? Our side doesn't think my life, or yours, or Colonel Hogan's is worth jeopardizing the operation here. You want me to agree with that thinking?"

"I'll give it some more thought. Clearing out is an option, but not if London doesn't support it. We do still have an assigned mission here, and I intend to follow it through until I have orders to the contrary." Hogan rose from his chair, and ignoring the pounding in his head, made his way back to his quarters, doing his best to keep his gait as strong and purposeful as ever.

********

LeBeau finished taking stock of his culinary supplies and making a list for Schultz. Food was getting harder and harder to come by, and Schultz was coming back with only part of the goodies most of the time now.

Hogan hadn't emerged from his quarters since their discussion about Von Gruner. Even at dinner, he'd told Carter he wasn't hungry and declined to join them. Carter had mentioned that Hogan was stretched out on the lower bunk in his quarters at the time, and didn't open his eyes to answer him.

He was no longer sure why he'd started punishing Hogan for his handling of the Von Gruner situation. The more he analyzed it, the more it seemed as if he'd merely put the brakes on their relationship in a harsh, cruel manner. He'd lashed out at Hogan simply because he could, and Von Gruner wasn't there.

Quietly, he approached the door to Hogan's quarters and tapped on it.

"Come in," came a strained, fatigued reply. LeBeau entered and closed the door behind him. Hogan was lying on the bottom bunk, one arm over his eyes, not turning to see who was there.

"Colonel?" LeBeau said softly. At the sound of his voice, Hogan moved his arm and turned to look at him. "Are you sick?"

"It's just a headache. Probably spent too much time reading earlier. I think I need glasses." Hogan pinched the bridge of his nose, blinking a few times.

"I've always been pretty good at getting rid of your headaches," LeBeau ventured, moving slightly closer to where Hogan was resting.

"You always were," Hogan responded, his tone sounding more forlorn than he'd probably wanted, the sadness in it twisting LeBeau's heart.

"I still am," he countered, approaching the bunk. "Raise up a little." LeBeau sat on the bunk and put the pillow in his lap. "Lie back. Close your eyes."

"Louis, look, I'm sorry about how things are turning out with Von Gruner–"

"Shh. Quiet. Just relax and let the great master do his work." LeBeau smiled as he watched Hogan's mouth turn upward at the corners into a grin. He concentrated on massaging the pressure points that usually brought relief, and before long, Hogan's expression had softened enough that he knew he was achieving his goal. The lines of tension were gone from around his eyes, and his breathing had evened out to a near-sleeping state. Hogan wasn't sleeping, though, and soon his eyes opened and he focused on LeBeau.

"It's working."

"Was there ever any doubt?" LeBeau responded, smiling. "It was the best way I could think of to say I was sorry."

"*You're* sorry? For what?"

"For the awful way I've treated you. You did the best you could with Von Gruner, and you went with him in my place. I don't know what else I wanted from you. Something no one can give me, I guess–the chance to make him pay."

"It's my fault he didn't. I insisted we send him to London–"

"Shh. Your headache will be back." LeBeau had long stopped massaging and now was just caressing Hogan's forehead with a gentle hand. "You did what you thought was best for the war effort, and that's your duty. You told me what had to come first and I thought I was prepared for it, but when it happened, I took it out on you because you did your duty."

"I don't know if it was such a great decision. Maybe I didn't kill Von Gruner because I wanted to so badly."

"And you were trying so hard to do your duty and deal with him as the head of an intelligence unit and not as my lover." Hogan closed his eyes again and nodded.

"All I wanted was to make him suffer for what he did to you. So I made a point to do the opposite. I ended up making a bad decision anyway, because I was too much in love to see the right way to handle it."

"I, too, am in love. And I've made some bad decisions for it. Like the way I've treated you."

"Louis, you have nothing to be sorry for," Hogan said, reaching up and taking one of LeBeau's hands in his. "What you went through–"

"Was awful, but it wasn't your fault. And you are right about one thing. Killing Von Gruner wouldn't have made it go away. I think..." LeBeau swallowed, finding it much harder to admit in so many words what was really bothering him. "I think I was afraid of what was going to happen between us, and that I would find out that I really couldn't take a male lover after... So it was easier to blame you for Von Gruner not getting his just punishment than it was to face the fact that I might never be able to...to get over what he did."

"If it makes you feel any better, I'm a little scared of that myself. I haven't exactly done anything like this before."

"You mean...?"

"That's exactly what I mean. I never did that with anyone before. I'm not too sure I even want to, so there's no hurry on my account."

"You don't want to do it to me or you don't want me to do it to you?"

"Right," Hogan responded, a little tinge of panic in his voice.

"Ever?"

"Well, okay, maybe someday, but I'm not exactly sure where to go with this, or what I'm going to like or not like. What I'm trying to say is that you're not alone in being nervous. And I'm in no particular hurry."

"What happened between us in the tunnel was pretty good," LeBeau opined, smiling.

"Pretty good?" Hogan rolled his eyes. "What do I have to do to earn a 'great' or 'fantastic'?"

"Tell me you forgive me for being so cruel to you for no good reason."

"Already forgiven."

"And that your headache's better."

"Much better."

"And that you'll quit being so hard on yourself for how this situation with Von Gruner is going?"

"I thought he'd sing like a canary. We set him up as a traitor, we handed him over to the best interrogators our side has. I really underestimated how damn stubborn he'd be about talking. I thought he'd do what he could to win points for himself with the Allies. I thought he'd rat out his buddies in a heartbeat to cut a good deal for himself."

"Maybe he still will. You did the best you could, Colonel. Like you always do. And like you always do, if it doesn't go well, you blame yourself." LeBeau moved his hand down to caress Hogan's cheek. "You don't deserve so much blame all the time. You are too hard on yourself." He could feel Hogan leaning into the caress. "Rest now. I'll stay with you."

"What if someone comes in?"

"I gave you a massage to get rid of your headache and you fell asleep on me. I didn't want to disturb you right away, so I stayed."

"Always ready with a story," Hogan said, smiling and leaning against LeBeau's caressing hand as he began drifting off to sleep.

"Les rÊves doux, mon amour," LeBeau whispered, wishing his lover sweet dreams before leaning down to kiss Hogan's lips lightly.

********

The next day was the first normal day they'd spent in a long time. With a volleyball game in full swing, Hogan in the middle of the action with his men as usual, Schultz pilfering samples from the apples LeBeau was cutting and placing in a bowl for apple streudel he would make later, all seemed back to normal at Stalag 13. Klink had made his usual rounds, lingering a bit longer than usual in the compound, watching the game. The Von Gruner situation obviously weighed heavily on his mind, and ironically, his partners in crime were his prisoners, and he seemed to feel increasingly at ease in their presence more so that he did with his own countrymen.

Hogan barely missed being hit with the flying ball when he saw Baker emerge from the barracks, motioning to him. He hurried out of the action to where Baker stood.

"What's up?"

"Message from the Underground, Colonel. Our favorite kraut is singing like a canary."

"What?" Hogan wasn't sure at first if that was good news–it depended on what Von Gruner was saying and to whom he was saying it. Beyond that, he'd given up hope on vindicating his decision to deliver Von Gruner to the Allies as a live source of information.

"He's given all kinds of information that appears to be valid. Intelligence is treating it all very carefully until they can verify it, just in case he's setting traps."

"What made him crack?"

"Apparently they convinced him that he's wanted for treason in Germany."

"Last we heard from the Underground, the Gestapo wanted him for questioning, and what Klink overheard was pretty ambiguous."

"They don't have confirmation that he's officially considered a traitor, but they talked him into the idea, and rather than get sent back to the Hitler crowd, he started talking and hasn't shut up yet."

"That's great news, Baker." Hogan smiled widely. "Come on, let's go show these ballerinas how to play volleyball." Hogan spotted LeBeau laughing and talking with Schultz, finally slapping a fat hand as it made another voyage to the apple bowl. "Go on ahead. I'll be right there," he said, moving in LeBeau's direction as soon as Schultz had ambled off, satisfied he wasn't going to enjoy any more hand-outs.

"Here, have some apple. I made sure Schultzie didn't get all the extra."

"Thanks," Hogan responded, grabbing a wedge of the sweet fresh fruit and popping it in his mouth. "Von Gruner talked."

"What?" LeBeau's eyes widened. "About Stalag 13?"

"No, about information the Allies can use. They managed to convince him he's been branded a traitor here, so he finally cracked. Allied intelligence is treating the information cautiously, but so far, I guess it's tested as good."

"Magnifique!" LeBeau smiled at Hogan. "You were right all along."

"That's not important. What's important is that he's cooperating with the good guys, which means he's irrevocably closed the door with his own side. Which puts us as much in the clear as we can possibly be."

"We've got this wonderful little wine aging in the tunnel. We should celebrate."

"Right after exercise period." Hogan smiled. "This is the first time I've felt good about things in a long time. It feels like this giant dark cloud has been hanging over us."

"His name was Von Gruner."

"Right," Hogan responded, chortling. "You want in the game?"

"No, I better go bake these before they turn brown. Besides, I owe Schultz a streudel for that poker game he overlooked last week."

********

"London says 'job well done'," Baker quoted, reading his transcription of the radio message.

"It's about time," LeBeau grumbled.

"It was dicey which way it was going for a while there," Hogan said, accepting the cup of homemade wine LeBeau passed to him as they all stood around the radio in the tunnel, celebrating Von Gruner's change of heart. "To give London their due, I went against orders with confronting Von Gruner and taking him prisoner."

"What else could we have done, besides kill him? And that was against orders, too," Carter objected.

"There was no other alternative I found acceptable for my command here, but we all know the high command and I differed on that point."

"Well, I think we should celebrate getting out of this one with our necks," Newkirk said, raising his cup.

"And putting Von Gruner out of business for good," LeBeau chimed in.

"And providing the good guys with a lot of top secret information," Hogan added. They all tapped their cups in a toast and drank the wine, which had been aging in the tunnel since late the previous autumn.

"Ah, November was a very good month," Newkirk rhapsodized, prompting laughs all around. The guys enjoyed their first relaxed evening in a long time, playing cards, drinking the wine and celebrating a victory for the good guys.

********

LeBeau started as he felt a hand cover his mouth and a weight on the mattress beside him. His eyes flew open to see Hogan hovering over him. The hand was moved from his mouth so Hogan could press a finger to his own lips and then motion to LeBeau to follow him. LeBeau rose and moved stealthily behind Hogan until he was in the colonel's office, the door closed behind them. Hogan's quarters were lit with three small candles, and Hogan carefully wedged three homemade doorstops under the door.

"I thought we should celebrate," he said, rising from his crouch by the door.

"The candles are nice," LeBeau commented, taking in the cozy glow they cast over the room.

"When this is over, we're going somewhere really nice. With read beds and real candles and room service."

"And check in as Mr. and Mrs. Smith?" LeBeau quipped, chuckling. "I don't know as we'll have much chance to stay in the honeymoon suite."

"Well, a nice two bedroom suite in a luxury hotel shouldn't be a problem. Which bedroom we use is our business," Hogan said, grinning devilishly as he slid his arms around LeBeau. "I've missed you," he whispered before leaning down for a kiss. "There just never seems to be a chance."

"It's pretty hard. We could use the tunnel, but we'd wake everyone up trying to get to the entrance in here."

"I can't risk the rest of the guys not knowing where I am even if we could get down there."

"You think this is safe?" LeBeau asked, nodding toward the door stops.

"It's not perfect, but we'll hear anyone coming before they can get the door open. Schultz is usually napping pretty soundly about now, and Klink's not too interested in checking up on us now that we have as much on him as he has on us."

They moved to the lower bunk and Hogan pulled out a bottle of champagne.

"Gift from the kommandant."

"What?" LeBeau's eyes bugged.

"Well, he doesn't know it, but I'm sure he'd want us to have it," Hogan responded, chortling as he filled two cups with the bubbly liquid, handing one to LeBeau. "I want to propose a toast."

"To us?" LeBeau offered, smiling.

"Well, that, too. But to you, first."

"Why to me?"

"I know what you went through, Louis. I know it was horrible...beyond words." Hogan paused, finding this more difficult to articulate than he'd expected. "I've served under a number of officers, and commanded a fair number of men, and I've see a lot of courage and cowardice in both circumstances. When the war's over, and I'm no longer Colonel Hogan...when I'm Robert Hogan, civilian again...the example I'll remember that defines courage is you."

"Me?" LeBeau snorted a little derisively. "I fell apart, I was a mess. And then I blamed you for doing your duty instead of making a grand romantic gesture on my behalf with Von Gruner. I appreciate the thought, mon amour, but I don't deserve it."

"Are you gonna make me pull rank on you again?" Hogan asked, his voice raised a bit in mock anger. "Yeah, you were a mess the way anybody would be a mess. I know it's still hard for you sometimes, and I know you still have sleepless nights...terrible memories. I just can't believe how you've gone on from there, put yourself together somehow and kept going. I came very close to having a similar experience with Von Gruner." Hogan shook his head. "Of all the threats I've faced, all the tight spots, all the Nazi goons I've encountered...those few moments with Von Gruner just before Klink showed up scared the hell out of me. Ever since then, I've been amazed by how well you endured it and moved on."

"I haven't moved on entirely. It's still there when I close my eyes at night, and it's still there in the fear I feel about taking the next step between us. I know you wouldn't treat me that way, but I'm afraid I'll remember it for the rest of my life associated with...with that kind of...activity. At a point I decided that if I didn't go on with my life, Von Gruner really did win. This way, he may have violated my body, but I am not going to let him run my life."

"I'm still going to toast you, whether you want it or not, and you can say whatever you like. I still think you're one of the strongest men I've known."

LeBeau stared at him mutely, fighting back emotion, as they tapped their cups together, then sipped the champagne.

Hogan set his cup on the floor, and accepted LeBeau's to set his there as well. Falling in each other's arms, they stretched out on the bunk, mouths sealing together in passionate kisses. Clothing was clumsily removed, landing in a pile near the bunk. Hearts pounded from passion as well as fear, both men knowing they were risking everything for this stolen moment together.

Hogan's hands skimmed over LeBeau's back, finally venturing to grasp the firm mounds of buttocks, ever so gently stroking and massaging, moving slowly to be sure the advances were being accepted. LeBeau moaned low in his throat and rubbed against him, the feeling of their rapidly hardening cocks brushing together sending little electric sparks of pleasure through both men.

LeBeau's hand found its way to Hogan's balls, rolling and massaging them gently. Hogan buried his face in the blanket to stifle his cry of pleasure. It was easy for LeBeau to maneuver him onto his back and move down near the straining cock that begged for attention. After grasping the base gently and looking at it uncertainly for a moment, LeBeau engulfed the head in his mouth. Hogan stuffed the blanket in his mouth to stay quiet, the intensity of the stimulation unlike anything he had felt for years. He'd managed a few interludes with women since his confinement, but the majority didn't make it this far, and if they did, the women involved weren't willing to do something so...naughty. This was like a forbidden pleasure, an incredibly hot, wet, intense stimulation that left him breathless.

His whole body arched involuntarily as he came, one fist pounding the thin mattress, the other clenching the blanket he kept stuffed in his mouth to reduce what would have been shouts to quiet cries of ecstasy.

LeBeau choked a little as the fluid gushed from his lover, and he pulled back, taking in the amazing sight of Hogan totally lost in the throes of his orgasm. And then he smiled, licking at a little of the escaped fluid on his lips.

"What?" Hogan panted as he lay there like a runner who had just completed a marathon: sweaty, breathless and sated. He craned his neck to look at LeBeau.

"I was thinking that the only other time I ever saw you look like that was when you play the drums."

After all his careful stifling of his pleasure-induced shouts, Hogan had to cover his mouth with his hand for the laugh that emerged.

"I *never* got that charge out of the drums, trust me," he responded, still chuckling, reaching out to take LeBeau in his arms again. "God, Louis, that was... Where'd you learn to do that?" He looked down at his lover, who just grinned wickedly.

"I'm just naturally sexually gifted." He chuckled as Hogan snorted a laugh. "I know what I like, and what the girls usually won't do. Once in a while, a willing one comes along, but not often."

"I guess they don't get much out of it that way."

"Oh, I don't know. I enjoyed myself."

"Which reminds me..." Hogan reached down and grasped LeBeau's cock gently, starting to pump. "I don't know if I can do it as well as you did it."

"You don't have to do that, mon Robaire."

"I want to. I love it when you speak French." Hogan kissed him thoroughly, still pumping his cock.

"Alors me montrer avec votre bouche," LeBeau whispered against Hogan's mouth, a smoldering look in his eyes.

"What...?"

"Then show me with your mouth," LeBeau invited, leaning back and spreading his legs a bit to give open access to his cock.

"How do you say 'I love you' in French?"

"Je vous aime," LeBeau responded softly, reaching up to stroke Hogan's cheek.

"Je vous aime, Louis" Hogan repeated, capturing the hand and kissing it.

"Je vous aime, mon Robaire."

Hogan approached the erect cock with some hesitation. It was sturdy and thick and very male, and giving these marvelous sensations were far different from receiving them. But this was the man he loved, and if they were going to learn to make love together, there had to be a first time for everything. More than anything else, he wanted to give LeBeau those moments of wanton abandon and pleasure he'd enjoyed.

Wrapping his hand around the base, and using his other hand to gently roll and massage the heavy balls, he took the head into his mouth. LeBeau managed to contain the beginnings of a cry of pleasure, employing Hogan's trick of stuffing a corner of the blanket into his mouth to keep from waking the whole camp. His body undulated under the hot suction, the intense pleasure almost too much to bear after so long without it. One hand wandered down to stroke Hogan's hair, while the other took a wad of the blanket in a white-knuckled grip.

Hogan worked diligently at sucking and licking the firm, salty flesh in his mouth, loving the reaction it was evoking in his lover. LeBeau was breathing heavily, his eyes heavy-lidded but not quite closed, his mouth wrapped around a wad of the blanket to stifle his moans and cries of pleasure which still came out as quiet whimpers. A sheen of sweat covered his body as it writhed on the bed, and then he arched and let out a guttural moan as he came. Though Hogan had resolved to try to swallow, inexperience was his enemy as it had been for LeBeau, and he had to withdraw, wiping at the corner of his mouth as he watched LeBeau ride out the last waves of his climax.

They cuddled together, resting in each other's arms and relaxing until their labored breathing returned to normal. Then their mouths found one another again and the tastes and scents of their lovemaking mingled in prolonged, deep kisses. Hogan didn't worry about the fact LeBeau was a man or how he should react to a man in bed instead of a woman. LeBeau was his lover. His skin was soft, his mouth willing and his body eager and responsive. More than any of that, he loved Hogan in a way Hogan couldn't remember being loved before. It was a combination of passion and nurturing and loyalty and friendship that he'd never experienced all from one person.

He loved LeBeau's passion, his flair, his courage and his talents. And he loved the way LeBeau loved him.

"You're awfully quiet, mon amour," LeBeau whispered, his head pillowed on Hogan's chest.

"Just thinking."

"About?"

"Our Red Cross packages," Hogan responded sarcastically, grinning. "About you, dummy." He kissed LeBeau's forehead.

"They're late, you know," LeBeau commented.

"What is?" Hogan had already forgotten the joke, reveling in the feeling of warm bare flesh pressing against his, evaluating their chances for another round of lovemaking before the inevitable separation for appearances' sake. LeBeau's leg was sliding between his now, and he shifted to accommodate it, loving the feel of the warm, hairy thigh against his balls.

"The Red Cross packages. How are we supposed to bribe Schultz if we don't have any supplies?"

"LeBeau?"

"What?"

"Shut up." Hogan pulled his lover on top of him and kissed him soundly, resolving to risk everything for one more chance to make love before the sun rose.