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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GENERALS: A Mising Scene from the Episode, "The General Swap"

by

Candy Apple

When Hogan walked into the barracks, all the men at the table straightened, ready to snap to attention, assuming he would have General Barton with him. Instead, it was only Hogan himself, looking more than a bit defeated. When he did speak, his eyes didn't really connect with any of the men's.

"So much for that."

"He didn't play along?" Newkirk asked.

"He had no way to know what I was doing. He thought I was being insubordinate, or that I was stir crazy, I guess. We'll have to think of something else...and fast." Hogan turned and headed for his quarters. Apparently, whatever he was going to come up with, he expected to come up with it in the privacy of his office.

"If you were a general, and a colonel acted that way with you, wouldn't you think something was up?" LeBeau asked the others. Carter shrugged.

"Generals are pretty impressed with themselves. He was probably more concerned with throwing his weight around at Colonel Hogan."

"Yeah, and managed to miss the cue that he was trying to get him outta there," Kinch said, sighing. "Well, back to the drawing board, I guess. The colonel'll think of something."

********

When Hogan declined dinner and stayed in his quarters instead, LeBeau felt sure there was more to his encounter with Barton than he was telling. He'd kept to himself until dinner, and when LeBeau had tapped on his door and called to him that dinner was ready, he'd just said, "No thanks" from the other side of the door.

After dinner was cleared away and dishes done, LeBeau finally gave in to his own nagging unease about Hogan's solitude. He'd saved a piece of bread and a small portion of the stew they'd had for dinner. He put the stew in a bowl and filled a mug of coffee, and set the piece of bread on a small plate. He put it all on a tray.

"You takin' something in to him?" Carter asked.

"Oui. I don't know what's wrong, but he has to be hungry by now."

"Maybe the run-in with Barton was a bigger disaster than he's telling," Kinch opined, grimacing at the hand of cards he'd been dealt by Newkirk, who didn't look nearly as grim about his own fortune.

"The general might have been angry if he thought Colonel Hogan was trying to get him out of the fancy quarters for no good reason." LeBeau picked up the tray.

"Bon chance, amigo," Carter said cheerfully. Between his atrocious accent and Spanish ending, LeBeau cringed at the statement, but had to laugh.

"I'll need it," he said, going to Hogan's door, balancing the tray with one hand and tapping on the door with the other.

"Come in," came from the other side of the door. Conscious of the eyes on him, LeBeau slipped inside the office with his tray of food.

Hogan was sitting at his desk, a piece of paper in front of him and a pen in his hand, giving the impression to someone who didn't know him better that he was writing a letter rather than staring into space.

"I brought you some dinner. You must be hungry, Colonel," LeBeau said, setting the tray on the table as Hogan moved the blank paper aside to make room for it.

"Thanks, LeBeau. I just don't feel much like eating."

"Are you ill?" LeBeau didn't really think about the distance of their ranks as he reached up and felt Hogan's forehead. Hogan smiled at the gesture.

"No, I'm fine, Louis," he said. "The stew smells good. I'll have a little of it."

"Do you want to tell me what really happened with General Barton?"

"There's nothing to tell. He didn't know what I was up to, and he came on strong, and Klink believed him. I couldn't really counteract it. It was a hare-brained plan anyway. Somebody would have had to get word to Barton first, so he could play along."

"Colonel?" LeBeau waited until Hogan finally looked up, looking him in the eyes for the first time since he'd returned to the barracks. "What happened?"

"Klink couldn't have made me sound much worse if he'd planned it," Hogan said, disgust coming through in his voice. "Bragging about his no-escape record." Hogan let out a breath. "Telling Barton how cooperative and helpful I've been. Hell, if I'd been Barton, I'd have called me a traitor, too."

"He said that?" LeBeau asked, his eyes widening. "Of all the lousy–"

"He couldn't know the truth of what was going on. Besides, Barton never could stand me anyway, even before all this."

"You knew him before this?"

"We weren't really personally acquainted, but we've met in a couple of formal situations before. I cracked a couple jokes once at this strategy meeting Barton was in charge of, and he got pretty steamed up about it. Thought it was an inappropriate time for humor." Hogan shrugged. "I was shot down not too long after that, so I really never saw him again. His last impression of me was a bad one, and now he hears what a big help I am to the krauts in keeping a no-escape record after almost three years in this joint. I look like a crummy traitor no matter how you look at it."

"You said yourself he couldn't know... But he had no right to talk to you that way."

"He's a general. He can talk to me any way he wants."

"No, he can't." LeBeau started to leave, but Hogan caught his arm.

"Whoa. Where do you think you're going?"

"To have a little talk with that general!"

"And you have a plan for getting past the guards and into the special cell where they're holding him? Because if you do, I wish you'd share it with me so we could finish this mission."

LeBeau gave up on the idea of leaving as Hogan released his arm.

"I forgot about where they were keeping him." LeBeau was quiet a moment, then looked at Hogan, who was smiling a little.

"Not that I don't appreciate the thought."

"You are ten times the soldier he is! He couldn't do what you do. Day after day, month after month... No thanks, no glory... He has no right."

"Thanks, Louis," Hogan said, still smiling. "It's pretty silly to get upset over something he said when he didn't know the score." Hogan took a drink of the coffee and started taking a slight interest in the stew, poking at it with the spoon. "It was just..."

"Humiliating? That kraut, Klink. That's what he wanted. He shouldn't even be a colonel, so he has to...to...belittle you in front of this general to make himself feel important."

"Well, once in a while Klink manages to get the best of me, and this was one of those times."

"Before this is over, he'll be the one who looks like a fool."

"He usually is," Hogan said, grinning a little wickedly as he took a bite of the stew. "This is good. How'd you manage to save any?"

"I have my ways." LeBeau was relieved to see Hogan smiling again, and digging into the food with some enthusiasm. "The guys are worried about you."

"Why, because I skipped dinner?"

"Well, that...and you just didn't seem yourself, Colonel."

"Just a little bruised ego. I'm fine."

"When all this is over, you will be a general, too."

"You think so, huh?" Hogan said, pausing between bites of stew. "I'm not sure about that. If we just all get out of it alive, I'll be happy."

"The high command knows what you can do. What you have done. What you do every day."

"Thanks, Louis. I'm not in this for some extra fruit salad on my uniform, though."

"I know that, which is why you deserve it. Generals like Barton–they're so afraid of not getting all the privileges of their rank that they won't even listen. Won't even give it a chance. Why would you do something like you did today with Barton unless you had a reason?"

"He thinks I do. I'm a traitor."

"Think about this a moment. Why would you discredit him if you were in cahoots with the krauts? It doesn't make sense! You'd want to congratulate them on their capture, not try to talk them out of the idea they had a big fish. I can see him not going along with you too smoothly, but to think you're a traitor? He was too busy worrying he was going to be moved out of his fancy cell to really pay attention to what was going on. Underneath all those stars and medals, he's nothing but a coward. He's afraid of what the krauts would do to him if he couldn't hide behind his rank."

Hogan looked at LeBeau for a long moment, then wiped his mouth with the napkin LeBeau had put on the tray.

"I don't think anyone would agree that Barton is a coward."

"I think he's a coward because he was too afraid of losing his fancy cell to even want to know what you were up to. If you'd been him, what would you have done?"

"Watched for a signal, tried to figure out what the other officer was trying to accomplish. Unless I got too distracted by Klink painting him as a traitor."

"You would have had enough trust in one of your own men to try to find out why he was trying to get you out of the good quarters. I know you, Colonel, you'd have requested another meeting with him...something."

"Probably." Hogan had finished the food, and was sipping at the coffee, which he set on his desk. LeBeau picked up the tray.

"A lot of people know what you're doing here, Mon Colonel. You don't deserve to feel ashamed of anything."

"We still have to figure out a way to get Barton out of here."

"He can rot in a Gestapo jail for all I care."

"Well, London doesn't feel the same way, so we're stuck."

"You'll think of something."

"I will, huh?" Hogan asked, shaking his head. "Glad you're so sure."

"I am sure of you, Mon Colonel." With that, LeBeau left the office with the tray.

Hogan sat there a moment, letting those words sink in. Suddenly, Barton's opinion of him didn't sting–or matter–quite so much anymore.

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