The following story is a work of fiction by a fan for the enjoyment of fans. No money is being made.

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FRIENDS AND COLONELS: AN EPILOGUE TO "CUISINE A LA STALAG 13"

by

Candy Apple

It had been a long day, like so many other long days, and it seemed the best thing about it was that it was finally over. Well, maybe the second best thing. The best thing was getting those plans to England. //Wouldn't it be a joke if poor old Klink got the red stripe for his pants at the same time the Allies won the war?// That thought brought a slight ironic smile.

//Ah, who am I kidding? The best thing was sharing a champagne toast in the tunnel with good friends to celebrate a job well done...and a homecoming.// Hogan smiled, shifted a little in his bunk and relaxed, feeling himself doze. //Only a few hours 'til roll call...why do wars have to be run by morning people?//

"Colonel?" The distinctly French-accented voice was unmistakable, even in the darkness of the barracks on a moonless night.

"Louis?" Hogan rose up on one elbow, squinting at the small shadow that was moving into his office, closing the door quietly behind him.

"Sorry to wake you."

"I wasn't asleep yet. Something wrong?" Hogan watched as the figure lingered near the door.

"I just wanted to apologize."

"Apologize? For what?" After a slight pause, he added, "I *was* a little disappointed that we were out of caviar to go with the champagne, but I got over it."

"I wasn't talking about the hors d'eouvres. Or lack thereof," LeBeau added, a definite smile in his voice. The tone of the next words was serious. "I'm sorry for how I acted when I made the decision to join General DeGaul's troops in England. I know it must have sounded like I didn't care anything about the operation here."

Hogan thought about that a moment. He'd understood LeBeau's passion to fight for his country, to take a more active role in freeing France from the Nazis. He'd admired the other man's readiness to die for the cause, and at the same time, been disillusioned with his own inability to come to grips with that very concept. The thought of losing one of his small team to a bloody combat death had hit him harder than it should. The thought of never again hearing LeBeau emote over one of his culinary masterpieces, slip easily into whatever absurd area of expertise Hogan assigned to him for various schemes, or declare his outrage at the Krauts had been a desolate prospect. LeBeau's passion for everything from food to women to patriotism was one of the things Hogan admired most about him, and though he was loathe to admit it, was one of the things that added a sort of warmth and color to some otherwise drab days.

"Colonel?"

Realizing he'd been silent quite a while, Hogan sat up in bed and swung his legs over the side, climbing down from his upper bunk. He'd taken to wearing his robe and socks to bed, since his quarters were colder than the rest of the barracks, due to their distance from the stove. He groped for his chair and finally managed to sit in it. He reached for his desk lamp, but felt a restraining hand on his arm.

"Schultz."

"He's sound asleep by now, dreaming of apple streudel and the barmaid down at the Hofbrau." Hogan clicked on the small lamp, casting a dim glow around the desk. "Have a seat." LeBeau did, occupying a nearby stool. "I understood how you felt about joining DeGaul's operation. What we do here is vital to the war effort. I have to believe that," Hogan admitted, pausing a moment. "Still, you're not the only one who feels sidelined sometimes. It's hard to spend your days doing calisthenics and playing ping pong in the rec hall while it's all going on right outside the barbed wire."

"Oui, it is. Sometimes it's hard to see equal value in cooking dinner for Kraut generals and helping Klink buck for a promotion. Sometimes I feel like I'm spending the war cooking while everyone else is fighting. I can't imagine I'll whip up the crepe suzette that will free France," he added, smiling. Hogan had to smile back at that, and LeBeau was quiet a moment. "I do care about this operation. I know I said I didn't...I think I was trying to convince myself more than I was you."

"You chose to stay. That's enough said."

"When you were asking me to stay, it was very difficult for me to say no," LeBeau admitted, shrugging. "So I tried to get angry at you for wanting me to stay when I should be joining General DeGaul. I just got to thinking how it must have sounded. It was selfish."

"Funny thing about this place. Sometimes all I want to do is leave it, and other times, I wonder how I'm gonna feel walking through the front gates for the last time."

"Probably better than climbing out of the tree stump," LeBeau joked, and Hogan chuckled.

"That does put it all in perspective, I guess."

"Colonel?" At the question, Hogan raised an eyebrow. "When I wanted to go, you didn't stop me, and you didn't pull rank on me. You said you could, but you didn't."

"Keeping a man in an operation like this when he really doesn't want to be here and isn't 100% dedicated to it, like any other combat assignment, would be a mistake."

"That's true, I know." LeBeau was silent quite a few moments.

"Why don't you just say what you're thinking so we can get our beauty sleep before roll call?" Hogan prodded, smiling.

"I meant what I said when I thought I was leaving. It *has* been an honor to serve in your command," LeBeau began, then hesitated before continuing. "Tonight, when I couldn't sleep, I realized that you have also been my friend, and taken my part even when I went against your orders. And I know that you were letting me go because it meant so much to me. You let me have a choice." He looked at the somewhat beleaguered wood surface of Hogan's desk a moment. Then, still not looking up, he added, "And I thought about how unwilling I was to return that friendship when I got a better offer. I know you understood my patriotism, and my desire to fight for a free France. I'm apologizing less to my commanding officer than I am to my friend, whom I feel I betrayed."

Hogan was quiet now, letting the words sink in. LeBeau had found the thing that had nagged at him most, the part of this that was almost as difficult as sending one of his men to what he felt was an extremely risky do or die mission. Deep down, he'd been hurt by LeBeau's utter disdain for his entire experience at Stalag 13. It had felt like a personal rejection. He'd even felt a bit left out when good-byes were said and his farewell was marked by the distance in their ranks while the others were heartfelt good-byes to friends. //Guess you're no General Patton, Hogan,// he berated himself silently. //Too personally invested in your men.//

"Your friend accepts the apology," he said simply. "And your commanding officer orders you back to bed so he can get some sleep."

"Merci, mon colonel," LeBeau said as he got up and headed for the door. Pausing, he moved back to where Hogan was standing, about to switch off the desk lamp. After a slight hesitation, he reached one arm up to pull Hogan forward slightly, then kissed him quickly on both cheeks. "Dormez bien, mon ami," he said, moving back toward the door.

"Dormez bien, Louis."

LeBeau smiled at that and left the room, pulling the door shut silently behind him.

Hogan smiled as he turned off the small desk lamp and climbed back into bed.

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