********

Newkirk fell into step with Hogan as he headed back toward the barracks.

"Sanders is using a fake name and passport. His real name is Sandburg. His mother's having an affair with Count Heydrich, and he doesn't want to leave Germany without her."

"That's lovely, that is. How are we supposed to spring a count's mistress, too?"

"One thing's for certain. If we don't get her out of Germany at the same time he goes, the Gestapo would grab her and give her a pretty good going over. I wouldn't leave my mother behind, either. But it puts us in a tough spot. You can believe if the count is messing around with an American woman, he–or the Gestapo–are already keeping a close eye on her."

"Maybe we could get word to her. She probably has some freedom to come and go as she likes," Newkirk suggested.

"We'll have to get word to her, but it would be least suspicious coming from her son," Hogan stopped near the door of the barracks, crossing his arms over his chest as he pondered the problem. "I don't like bringing them here, but I don't see another way. If she came to visit her son...she'd probably need the count to get her past Hochstetter and his goons." Hogan rubbed his hand over his face tiredly. "Tell Kinch to radio London. We need a photograph of the count, and all the information they can dig up on Blair and Naomi Sandburg, as well as Nadine Sanders, Heydrich's mistress. We also need all the intelligence they have on the count. I'm not sure how all this is coming together yet, but we need to know all we can before we can figure out a plan."

"Colonel, it's not that I don't want to see us help this guy if he's on our side, but is he worth all this? I can understand going through all this for somebody developing new rocket guns, but what he's doing is kind of..."

"Useless to the war effort? Yeah, I've thought about that, too. But he's an American, he's been tortured by the goons, and they'll probably kill him eventually. If we can get him out, I want to do it. But there's a degree of risk I can't justify for the benefit it'll bring about, so we've got to develop a plan that doesn't put the Stalag 13 operation on the line any more so than any other routine escape does."

"That's going to be tricky, bein' Hitler's watching his work."

"Nobody ever said this job was gonna be easy," Hogan responded, smirking.

"Kinch got another message from London about the film."

"I know. We'll send it out tonight. The goons are pretty relaxed. The Gestapo is more worried about making sure Sanders doesn't get out than they are watching the prisoners. This is a good chance to send Ellison out with someone, let him learn the ropes. Plus, if his hearing and night vision are all he claims they are, he should be able to spot patrols even faster than one of us."

"You think we should send a new man out with security tight as it is, sir?"

"Ellison's a good intelligence officer, he's experienced." Hogan paused. "I do think there's something to his acute senses. Might as well put them to work for us."

********

"I want you to focus on those two prisoners over there, next to Barracks 6?" Blair said, pointing in that general direction.

"Okay. What about them?"

"Can you hear what they're saying?"

"You're kidding, right?" Jim asked, smiling. The men were a good fifty yards away.

"No, I'm not. If you're a Sentinel, Jim, you could probably do that. You might be able to do more than you think. At best, we aren't going to have long to figure this thing out, and I want to learn as much as I can from you before...before we have to end the tests."

"Okay, Chief, you're the doctor." Jim sighed, watching the two prisoners, making a conscious effort to hear their conversation.

"Forget that you're not supposed to hear it, and just listen to them, Jim. Open your mind to the possibility that you can hear them."

Jim glanced at Blair, and saw nothing but sincerity and confidence in the deep blue eyes. He turned back to watching the men, and for a moment, let himself believe he could actually tune into their conversation. Just then, something upset the guard dogs, and they began to bark vociferously. Jim covered his ears, their barking slicing into his brain relentlessly, nearly crippling him with the pain of its resonance in his head.

"Jim, what is it?" Blair asked, panicked. As the dogs were assuaged by some food being placed in their pen, and their barking quieted, Jim cautiously removed his hands from his ears and blinked a couple times, shaking his head.

"That barking. It was so loud. I thought it was going to deafen me."

"Have you had that happen before?" Blair asked. Jim hesitated, knowing he was probably saying more than Hogan would approve.

"Noises, sometimes lights... It feels like they're...attacking me."

"That's what it felt like just then?"

"Yes."

"Feel up to trying again?"

"Not really, but I will." Jim tried not to worry about any other painful noise incidents and focused his hearing on the two prisoners. To his amazement, as long as he kept focused on them, he could hear bits and pieces of the conversation, but they were mingled in with so many other conversations that he found himself pulling back. It was like uncontrolled chaos; a symphony of conversation and laughter and shouts and even the clicking of Hilda's typewriter from the office nearby. "I hear all of it. It's like the whole camp is just...alive with noise."

"Okay, pull back. Just concentrate on my voice, and on retreating to normal."

"It's getting better."

"Good. You could really hear them, though?"

"Yes, I heard part of their conversation, but I couldn't concentrate on it because of all the other noise."

"So we need to figure out how to help you filter the other sounds and concentrate on what you want to hear."

"I guess so. How do you propose to do that?"

"I don't know yet. I've got to do some more reading. And thinking." Blair was nearly vibrating with energy as they walked around the compound. "Your hearing has to be way beyond anything I've encountered before. I didn't think you'd actually be able to hear those guys."

"Surprise," Jim responded, smiling. Then he became serious again. "Do you think you can help me with this?"

"Do you have a lot of instances where it seems like your senses are attacking you?"

"More than I'd like." Jim hesitated, then added, "That's why I bombed the guard towers here. The noise, the flashes...the noise from the bombing was overpowering. I don't know if I blacked out or what happened, but I have no clue how I ended up bombing guard towers in a POW camp. God, I'd never bomb our own people."

"I'll do as much as I can to help you in the time we have," Blair said, laying a hand on Jim's arm. "There's so much more testing we need to do with your taste and touch and scent yet. But I've never run into anyone with hearing as acute as yours."

"Maybe, after the war, we could...get back in touch somehow. Go on with the tests."

"I'd like that," Blair said, smiling. "I hope...I know whatever Colonel Hogan's planning is probably risky. I shouldn't ask for anyone's help. It's not going to matter what happens to me in the big picture of things."

"It matters, Blair," Jim responded, touching Blair's shoulder. "I'm not going to stand by and let you get hurt...or worse. We'll get you out of this somehow."

"Why does it matter to you? Hogan isn't even sure that I'm not a collaborator."

"I'm sure."

"How? Why? You've only known me a few days."

"I'm a good judge of character. You're no more a Nazi than Klink is a great leader of men." Jim smiled as Blair actually laughed at that.

"Burkhalter and Hochstetter don't think too highly of him, that's for sure. But that's not necessarily a bad thing in my book. I'd be more worried if they liked him."

"From what I've observed, he's more pompous than he is sadistic."

"If you have the kind of hearing to pick up on a conversation that far away, you wouldn't even need listening devices in a lot of situations."

"The background noise would get to me, and if something loud comes up...like the dogs barking...it's really painful."

"Does Hogan know how much you can do?"

"He doesn't know as much as you do. I figured if he knew about the problems I had with my senses, he wouldn't want to use...he'd limit the kind of assignments I got, and I'm the second in command here."

"Hogan does more than dig tunnels, doesn't he?" At Jim's silence, Blair nodded. "I know, you're under orders to be careful what you say to me. I shouldn't have asked." 

"Orders are orders," Jim said. "Just trust me. We'll get you out of this somehow."

"I do trust you. I just hope you know you can trust me. I won't betray you, Jim. I won't hand you over to them, no matter what. I promise. I haven't even been taking notes on the test results that were really extraordinary. It's all up here." Blair tapped his temple.

"They don't suspect anything?"

"No, not yet."

"Let's keep it that way."

********

Hogan's inner circle, now expanded to include Ellison, met in the main tunnel after the final roll call that night.

"Congratulations, Ellison. Tonight's your big night. I'm sending you out with LeBeau to deliver the roll of film the Underground needs."

"What about the Gestapo, sir?"

"They're complacent enough not to concern themselves with the area near our tunnel entrance in the woods. They're concentrated inside the camp, watching Sanders' quarters. Schultz is patrolling in the area of the tunnel entrance tonight, so this is the time to move."

"Yeah, if Schultz doesn't sit on our tree stump and fall asleep there," Carter groused.

"It's happened before," LeBeau explained to Jim, nodding.

"Barring such a disaster, we're all set to move. LeBeau will be in charge on this mission, because he knows the route and the procedures. This is a good chance for you to see how it works, and meet a couple of our key contacts."

"We'll rendezvous with our contact at a farm a few miles from here, give him the film, and pick up a couple radio parts from him that Kinch needs," LeBeau explained. "You'll like Otto, he's a good guy."

"Nothing fancy–just swap the film for the radio parts. They're small ones, they'll fit in your pockets," Hogan explained. Carter will be watching the tunnel entrance through this periscope right here. Have a look," Hogan invited, gesturing toward it. Ellison took a hold of the two handles and looked into it, raising it slightly, finding he was looking at a tree stump and the surrounding area.

"Quite a surveillance system," Jim said, amused.

"Better pull down. Never know who might be sneaking up behind your lens," Hogan advised, and Jim followed the suggestion. "If Carter sees any sign of trouble, we'll do our best to create some kind of diversion so you can get back in. Lay low if you see something that looks too risky. Whatever you do, though, get back before morning roll call. I don't know if we can bribe Schultz into a phony all-present. Langenscheidt is guarding your barracks, Ellison, and he's a little harder to sway than Schultz, though it can be done if push comes to shove."

"We should be back by then, Colonel," LeBeau said, heading for the ladder. Both men were dressed in all black, with black stocking hats, their faces blackened for further camouflage. Their similar outfits seemed to make their vast difference in size even more obvious.

Hogan fought the urge to send Newkirk on the mission instead. That was silly. LeBeau knew the route, and he had no problem giving orders to an officer, and making them stick. Maybe it was just the side of him that seemed to feel more sentimental toward LeBeau since John's death, and LeBeau's kindness and concern for his grief. Or maybe it was that protective streak he felt toward LeBeau. Or maybe it was what Ellison said that still nagged at him.

"LeBeau," Hogan said, and when the other man turned, he felt a little foolish even saying what he was about to say, since it was a principle they all lived by. "Be careful. We still have the Gestapo with us."

"Right, Colonel," LeBeau said. He paused though, and smiled briefly before continuing up the ladder, Ellison close behind him.

********

"What possessed you to give Sanders permission to test an American? That is what I want to know."

Major Hochstetter watched uneasily as his immediate superior, Colonel Detweiler, paced his office. He was a hard, cruel man with an angular face, sharp features, ice blue eyes, and a jagged dueling scar marring his left cheek. Hochstetter had watched him hand out more than a little torture in the last couple of years, on occasion, to men who disobeyed him, as well as the enemy. Detweiler had personally watched as Sanders was whipped ruthlessly for some minor transgression–for arguing with him--and actually laughed while he did. Men who enjoyed torture as a recreational activity unnerved Hochstetter. He had given a few orders for information to be extracted from prisoners at any cost, but truth be told, he'd usually declined actually watching the procedures.

Detweiler looked on torture as relaxation; a recreational activity that served as a diversion from the stress of war.

"I felt it would be wise to determine if one of the Americans had any type of exceptional talent that could help the Allied cause. If he does possess such abilities, he must be neutralized. Or convinced to use his abilities for our side."

"And Sanders has been testing him for days now?"

"Just a few days, sir. The standard tests he has given to the German officers."

"He has the rest of this week to conclude his testing of Captain Ellison. If his findings are positive, both Ellison and Sanders will be brought back here so I may interrogate them personally. If the findings are negative, you will bring Sanders back here to report personally. At that time, I will punish him for wasting our time trifling with an American." Detweiler smiled ferally. "I believe the young professor needs help maintaining his focus."

"Jawohl, Colonel," Hochstetter said, rising. "I have summarized everything in my written report."

"Very good, very good," Detweiler said, nodding as he perused the pages. "I don't mind telling you, Hochstetter, that I think our little professor is wasting our time. He has tested some of the most brilliant military minds in the German army and found nothing. The Fuhrer is not pleased. And when he is not pleased, Himmler is not pleased. And when Himmler is not pleased," Detweiler added, his voice rising, before lowering back to its usual volume, "well, I am not pleased, either. We need results from the good professor."

Any suggestions on how I might force nonexistent results out of an academic who can talk circles around me and leave me wondering what he said?

"After we settle this issue with the American," Detweiler continued, "we will give him an additional week to test a few of our remaining top candidates. If he does not identify a Sentinel we can take before the Fuhrer in that time, we will persuade the professor to confess that he is a fraud, and have him shot and be done with it. Is that clear, Major?"

"Perfectly, sir. I will report back to you as soon as he has concluded his tests on the American."

"And see to it he does so promptly." Detweiler paused. "Wasn't Ellison the one who accidentally bombed the guard towers?"

"Ja, he said it was an accident. There is no way to determine from the wreck of his plane whether or not the equipment malfunctioned. We have no reason to believe he'd bomb his own people, and General Burkhalter was satisfied to let the matter drop."

"German soldiers died at the hands of an American. That should not drop, Major. We will see to that subject, as well, when you bring Ellison and Sanders here for questioning."

"Jawohl. Heil Hilter," Hochstetter said, by way of farewell, and after being dismissed, strode out of the office. As he got into his staff car, he tried to mentally count the number of death orders he'd carried out for Detweiler. Watching the lights of Berlin pass by the car window as it carried him home for the night, he wondered how many more he would have to execute before the war was over. And how many ghosts would follow him to the end of his days.

********

"I thought you said you heard guards approaching," LeBeau said, annoyed. They'd been crouched behind a thicket of bushes for nearly fifteen minutes since Ellison had pulled him down and warned him to be quiet.

"They're not far away."

"They must be traveling here all the way from Berlin, then. Colonel Hogan expected us over an hour ago," he protested.

"I can hear krauts, I'm telling you. Now be quiet."

"We spent two hours hiding from the last imaginary patrol on the way to drop off the film. It takes some getting used to, traveling around in the woods at night. Knowing you could get picked up–and if you did, and you had something like that film on you, you could end up dead for your trouble. But we can't spend this kind of time hiding every time you hear a twig snap."

"You don't hear anything?"

"No, Capitain, I don't hear anything. I didn't hear anything on the way, and I don't hear anything now."

"I don't know how far away they are. I know I hear them. There are patrols in the woods."

"There are always patrols in the woods!" LeBeau protested in a breathy whisper. He paused for a moment, exasperated. "Have the sounds moved any closer?"

"No. Actually, they're a bit quieter, as if they might be moving away."

"Good. Then we have to make a run for it. The entrance to the tunnel is only a few hundred yards from here."

"I guess Hogan did put you in charge, so lead on."

"There's never a time when it's completely safe. We just have to pick a time and go. I think we should go now." LeBeau rose cautiously, only a bit, and scanned the area with his binoculars. Ellison also scanned the shadowy forest, without benefit of the binoculars. He did his best to channel his ability to see a great distance, much the way Blair had coached him to listen to the conversation of the prisoners in the compound.

"They're moving in the other direction," he said to LeBeau. "It's safe for us to move now."

"I don't see anyone." LeBeau was still checking with the binoculars.

"They're East of us, but they're moving farther East, not back this way. We should go now."

LeBeau stared at him a moment, then looked at the binoculars, then looked to the East. Completely confused now, he led the way back to the tree stump that concealed the tunnel entrance. It was nearly dawn, and they were just barely making it back to camp before roll call.

********

Hogan paced at the foot of the ladder leading up to the tree stump entrance. He'd been up top most of the night, just in case the krauts did a surprise bed check. With stuffed dummies replacing LeBeau in their barracks and Ellison in the officer's quarters in Barracks 5, having someone as high profile as the Senior POW Officer missing might have blown the whole thing. If Hogan was where he was supposed to be, Schultz was usually satisfied that all was right with the world. Even Klink wasn't known to poke and prod the men in every single bunk when he made a surprise bed check.

Now, though, it was nearly time for roll call, and LeBeau and Ellison weren't back yet. He checked his watch again, just as he heard movement at the tunnel entrance. In a moment, LeBeau was climbing down, followed by Ellison.

"What happened?" Hogan demanded, his voice rising. "Roll call is in less than half an hour."

"It was my fault, sir. I heard patrols. They weren't as close as I thought, so we wasted some time hiding when we could have been moving."

"How far away were they?" Hogan asked, frowning.

"I couldn't see them with the binoculars," LeBeau said. "And I never did hear them, but Captain Ellison could see them. Without the binoculars," LeBeau added, his eyes widening a bit.

"You're assuming they were really there," Hogan added, an edge in his voice. "You actually saw these patrols, with the naked eye, out there in the woods at night, when LeBeau couldn't see them with binoculars?"

Ellison hesitated, looking at Hogan for a long moment, then to LeBeau, then back to Hogan.

"Yes, sir, I saw them, and heard them. I wasn't sure how far away they were. As it turns out, they wouldn't have been a danger to us." Ellison sighed. "I'm not always accurate judging distances. I know what I can see and hear, but I'm not always sure how far away they are. Blair was working on that with me a bit earlier..." He shrugged.

"We'll talk more about this later. Meanwhile, get over to Barracks 5 and be in position for roll call."

"Yes, sir." Ellison hurried down the tunnel to the branch tunnel that led to his barracks.

"Let's go," Hogan said to LeBeau, leading the way to the ladder which came up under the bunk in their barracks.

"I did the best I could to get us back in time, Colonel. He was really insistent about those patrols."

"I shouldn't have sent him out a mission. It was too risky. I thought if he was the hot shot London said he was, we should get him going in the operation."

"If he really did see those patrols, then he's got some abilities that could win the war for us. I never did see or hear any of them, but I don't believe he was lying."

"He could be off balance, suffering from some sort of battle fatigue or hallucinations."

"Colonel, I don't think he's crazy. I think he really saw and heard something I couldn't."

"Then Sanders is really onto something with him, and if the goons find out, they're both dead."

********

Kinch came up from the tunnel, his expression grim. Morning roll call was over, and he'd slipped below to check the radio. While he was there, a message came in from London.

"Message from London, Colonel," Kinch said, handing Hogan the paper bearing his transcription of the coded message. Hogan was keeping one ear on the Ellison-Sanders encounter on the coffee pot while working on the next week's work assignments.

"Doesn't look like good news," Hogan said, scanning the paper. "The Underground can't get close to Nadine Sanders," he summarized, sighing. "We figured it was a long shot."

"Maybe so, but how are we supposed to get to her if they can't?"

"We won't be able to. We'll have to get her here."

"Won't it be risky to have both Sanders and his mother disappear from here?"

"Can't happen that way. I'm not sure yet how it's going to happen, but we can't do anything unless we can get word to her what's going on with her son. The only way to do that is to bring her here."

"You think Hochstetter'll allow that?"

"He won't like it, but the count can throw his weight around and get past him." Hogan paused, frowning at the odd sounds the listening device was picking up. "What the..." It dawned on him what he was hearing. "I don't believe this." He got up and stormed out of the office, leaving Kinch puzzled, staring at the coffee pot.

********

Blair barely looked up when Jim entered the lab. He continued making notes from a book open on the table behind which he sat. Jim sat in the chair on the other side of it and watched him a moment.

"You're quiet this morning."

"They're sending me back to Berlin at the end of the week if your tests are negative. If I can't find a Sentinel within about a week after that..." Blair said, his voice strained. He finally looked up, taking off his glasses. "They'll kill me, Jim."

"No, they won't. I won't let that happen."

"Well, just for your information, they'll probably kill you, too." Blair laughed bitterly. "I should have known better. This was just temporary."

"What happened? Who told you they were taking you back to Berlin?"

"Hochstetter. It was orders from his boss. They're taking me back there...his boss is the one who..."

"Whipped you?"

"The first time, yes. Among other things," Blair said quietly, nodding.

"What other things?" Jim demanded angrily. "They beat you that way more than once?"

"It doesn't matter now. I just wanted you to know that I'm probably going to have to wrap up our testing together this week. Hochstetter has a list of officers for me to test... I don't know if he wants to have something to take to Hitler, or if he's actually trying to help me in some weird sort of way. He didn't seem happy to deliver the news about Detweiler's orders."

"Detweiler? He's the guy?"

"Colonel Detweiler. He supervises most of the interrogations. And he really, really loves his job. He's been known to torture or execute his own men on trumped up charges if they don't obey him. Hell, if they just displease him enough."

"We have to get you out of here now."

"Not without my mother. I already told Hogan I wasn't going anywhere without her."

"Maybe you can't save her, Blair. Do you have to die, too, because of that? She chose to be a Nazi's mistress."

"She didn't choose that, Jim. She chose to be a rich aristocrat's girlfriend. She chose fancy parties and jewelry and pretty clothes and being treated like a princess. My mother's never had a great head for politics. She thinks war is silly and disgusting and a game for men who haven't grown up enough to see how useless it is."

"She's right."

"Possibly, but when you say things like that...about her choosing a Nazi... Jim, she didn't mean anything by it. She doesn't have any concept of what goes on in the Gestapo's jail cells. What men like Detweiler do for entertainment."

"My point is that if you stay, you're both in trouble anyway. If they execute you, do you think she'll stay safe for long? I'm only saying that saving your own life probably won't change what happens to her. Staying here and dying with her isn't going to solve anything."

"I won't leave without her. That's final. You can tell that to Hogan." Blair stood and began pacing.

"He knows. The room's bugged, remember?"

"Oh, right," Blair said as an afterthought. "I'm really scared, Jim."

"I know. It's going to be all right. You're not going back to Berlin. I promise." Jim rose from his chair and walked around to where Blair stood, resting a hand on Blair's shoulder. "I won't let that bastard hurt you again."

Blair turned and moved into Jim's arms, wrapping his arms around Jim's body, holding on for dear life. Jim's arms closed around him, gently, always aware of the healing welts on Blair's back.

"Do you want to tell me about the rest of it?" Jim asked gently.

"No. I don't even want to remember it."

"Okay. It's okay, Chief. Trust me. Don't worry about it anymore."

"If something goes wrong, and I don't make it through this..." Blair pulled back enough to look Jim in the eyes, though still remaining in the circle of his arms. He spoke in a low whisper even the best listening device wouldn't pick up. "I think you're the real thing, Jim. Be careful, and don't be afraid of what you are. You're capable of so much, but you're vulnerable, too, because of your abilities. I've made a lot of notes. I want you to take them, and give them to Hogan." Blair smiled. "Hey, he even read Eli Stoddard's book on tribesmen in Borneo. I think he can handle this."

"You're going to help me, Blair. You're going to be fine, and we'll get you out of Germany."

"If you don't, give the information to Hogan. He's a good man, and he's smart. He'll protect you, and he's ethical enough not to let you turn into some kind of...lab rat, even for the good guys. I've written down everything I know about Sentinels. I want you to take it, along with Burton's monograph, and give it to Hogan today. Promise me."

"Won't Hochstetter notice your book is missing?"

"He doesn't pay any attention to my books and materials. I have a lot of books. All he wants are my notes about you. I've got a fake set I give him, and I have the real set, and that's what I want you to take with you today. When we walk the compound doing tests, we'll head for Hogan's barracks."

"Okay. Whatever you say. But you're not going to die here, Blair." Jim looked into the deep blue eyes, and his eyes settled on the full, slightly parted lips. Before he realized what he was doing, he was pressing his own lips against them, feeling their softness, feeling Blair's mouth yield to his, Blair's body relaxing in his arms. He probed Blair's mouth with his tongue, kissing him more deeply, more passionately, than he could ever remember kissing anyone in his life. Some tiny part of his brain screamed that Hogan was smart enough to know what they were doing when things fell silent this way, when the listening device only picked up movement of fabric as their bodies pressed together and the little moan from deep in Blair's throat.

But he didn't care. All that mattered now was Blair, the taste of his mouth, and his heart beating against Jim's. When he broke the kiss, he had to return to the reddened lips for another, and then another, until Blair pushed away.

"I'm sorry," Jim said immediately, realizing the smaller man couldn't have fought off his advance if he'd wanted to.

"I'm not," Blair said, licking his lips. He pointed to the spot under the table where the listening device was located. Jim reached under the table and disconnected it.

"Come here," he said, pulling Blair to him and claiming his mouth again, sitting in a chair and bringing Blair with him so he straddled Jim's lap, their groins making awkward contact with one another while hungry kisses and heated caresses swept them both away. Jim's hand tugged impatiently at Blair's shirt, pulling it out of his pants so he could run his hand up the trail of silky chest hair until he could tease and pinch a nipple.

"Oh, God," Blair moaned, arching into the touch.

"I want you like I never wanted anyone else in my life," Jim admitted, breathless, both hands buried in Blair's soft curls. Then he froze. "Someone's coming." He nearly threw Blair off his lap, and Blair rushed to tuck in his shirt and resume his seat behind the table. Jim tried to catch his breath as he sat in the chair across the table from Blair. The door opened and closed. Hogan strode in, looking none too happy.

"What the hell is going on in here? Do you have any idea the diversion I had to come up with to get the goon away from the door so I could get in here?"

"Everything's under control, sir," Jim said evenly.

"Why is the listening device disconnected?"

"Is it?" Jim asked.

"Don't try that with me, Ellison. I may not be one of these Sentinels, but I wasn't born yesterday. I heard you disconnect it, and I know what you were doing before you did. What you do on your own time is entirely up to you, but on my time, and under my command, you'll act within the confines of military protocol, is that clear?"

"Perfectly, sir, but I'm not sure what you're referring to."

"Don't insult me by denying it. You might not have lipstick on your collar, but I still know what kissing sounds like over a listening device, even if I haven't had much practice lately. Do you have any idea what that goon outside would have done if he'd walked in on you two doing that? People get shot for things like that in Germany. They don't get a hero's welcome in the States, either."

"It was my fault, Colonel Hogan. I started it," Blair said.

"I don't care who started it, but I'm finishing it, right here, right now. Ellison, that listening device stays on, and you stay on topic. You've got enough trouble you need his help with that you don't need to be doing whatever the hell it is you planned on doing instead of working. If the krauts catch you doing something like that, they'll shoot you both on the spot, and not even the Allies would object."

"We got carried away, sir. It won't happen again."

"This is an escape mission, not a dating service. We've laid everything on the line for this, long before I thought we should, and I'm not going to have it screwed up now because you two have some kind of perverted little tryst going on. Is that clear?"

"Crystal, sir," Jim retorted, his jaw twitching. If it hadn't been for Hogan's superior rank and the fact he held the key to Blair's life and freedom, Jim would have decked him for that remark. And yet, he had to admit, Hogan was right. This was no time to be thinking about romance, let alone thinking about having sex with a captured male scientist with a Gestapo guard right outside the door.

"You're going to have to get your mother here to the camp," Hogan said to Blair.

"They won't let me have guests."

"You have to do it, Sandburg."

"Don't call me that. If they knew, they'd kill me."

"Then you know how serious this is. Call her and invite her here. Tell her to make the count think it's her idea. Can you make a phone call without being caught?"

"I think so. There's a phone in the guest quarters."

"They'll punish him if they catch him, Colonel."

"They're not going to give me a dinner party, Ellison. If any of us get caught, we're dead. If we're lucky they'll just shoot us." Hogan paused. "We can make sure the line isn't bugged. I'll have Kinch check it out. Wait for word from us that it's safe, and then make your call. Tell your mother it's vitally important, and that she must make it seem like her idea. Even if they want to deny you a visit from your mother, the count can get past Hochstetter and make it happen."

"How are you going to get her out?"

"I don't know that yet, but we need to get her here. We've checked, and there's no way to get a message to her."

"What about the Underground?" Jim asked, and Hogan shot him a look. Jim trusted Blair completely, but Hogan trusted no one that completely, that quickly, with his life or the lives of his men.

"As I said, we can't get close enough to her to get her a message. This is the only way."

"Isn't it dangerous to bring her here now? They're talking about taking me back to Berlin soon if the tests don't yield anything."

"There's risk involved with all of this. If we don't bring her here, we've got no way to control what happens to her when you drop out of sight."

"Just tell me when to make the call," Blair said.

"All right. Wait to hear from us. Meanwhile, I don't want any repeats of what just happened in here. Understood?"

"Understood, sir," Ellison confirmed.

"Colonel Hogan, I want you to have these notes. Just in case something happens. Put them somewhere safe, in case..."

"We all get shot at the same time?" Hogan asked, nodding as he accepted the stack of papers. He carefully hid them inside his jacket.

"Well, since you put it that way...yes." Blair looked Hogan in the eyes. "I trust you. I think you'll handle them ethically. I believe Jim has a real gift, but it's one that could be exploited." Blair paused. "I think you care about your men, and I think you'll protect him from that."

"I'll do my best. You really think Ellison's abilities are more than just a couple of sharp senses?"

"Much more. I think he could be all that Burton talked about in this book." Blair rested his hand on the aged book. "I don't think you can sneak this out of here, but you should have it to go along with the notes."

"I'll send someone for it tonight. We have a way into the guest quarters."

"Wow," Blair said, chuckling a little. "That's incredible."

"Expect to see one of us sometime tonight to get the book from you. I'm hoping we can make all this work to get you out of Germany safely, and you can have your book back."

"I just want to be sure that Jim isn't exploited, and that he gets help dealing with is abilities. I've written down everything I can think of to try to make the best use of them, get them under control and make them work to his advantage. If you think the notes are in danger, burn them. Someone unethical could really control give Jim a bad time if they had that information."

"They'll be kept with our confidential papers–the stuff that gets burned if there's any question of the safety of our operation. This makes it even more important to get you out of Germany safely. If you can help him channel this, the potential for the Allies is staggering."

"Assuming I want to spend the rest of my life in the military, or in a lab somewhere being studied and tested, " Jim spoke up.

"Something tells me that if it's the professor here who's studying you, you'll survive," Hogan concluded, the barest hint of a smile in his voice.

"I really am sorry about what happened before," Blair said.

"War does strange things to people. Just don't let it happen again, and for God's sake, don't get caught by the goons. That's one mess I can't get you out of."

********

Hogan turned up his collar and trudged across the snowy compound. What Ellison and Sanders were up to was not only inexcusable under the circumstances, but just plain...sick. They hadn't even been confined long enough to make it marginally understandable because of the utter absence of women. Even then, there were plenty of guys in camp who had suffered the utter absence of women for quite a while, and they weren't chasing each other around the barracks.

Well, at least, not that I know of. That thought nagged at him as he entered the barracks and poured himself a cup of coffee, surprised to notice his hand shaking slightly as he raised the cup to drink. Sanders is facing torture and probably death within the week if he's hauled back to Berlin. That can have a staggering effect on someone. He's scared to death and Ellison is stepping in to play protector. Sometimes when you're facing something enormous like that...like your own impending death...or the death of someone close to you...feelings come out that you don't expect.

Like the feelings of closeness you've had toward LeBeau ever since John died. Then again, it seems like those feelings were always there, and now they're just stronger...

What's the matter, Hogan? A little uneasy because Ellison was doing with Sanders what you've thought of doing with LeBeau?

Hell, no. There's friendship, and then there's...whatever that is between men that makes them want to do things they should be doing with women. He took another gulp of coffee. Whatever he was feeling for LeBeau, it had nothing to do with what Ellison and Sanders were up to. Just because you like being close to Louis, like the sound of his rich, French-accented voice, his indomitable spirit and courage, and the obvious way he feels about you, the way he looks at you...the nice things he does for you...

Maybe Ellison's just a bit more honest with himself than you are...and a bit less inhibited. That thought made him choke on his coffee.

"Everything okay, Colonel?" Carter asked, looking up from his game of solitaire. Kinch was listening in on Ellison and Sanders now via the coffee pot in Hogan's office. Hogan had recruited Newkirk and LeBeau out in the compound to help with his plan of distracting the Gestapo guard while Hogan slipped into the laboratory. They were just now returning, laughing among themselves about their success in luring him over to break up their staged fight over a fake gambling debt.

"More or less. Sanders is going to call his mother and tell her she needs to visit. But the visit has to seem like her idea. He's in the hot seat now because he hasn't come up with any worthwhile results for old bubblehead. So his request probably wouldn't hold water. When he makes the call, we're going to have to make sure it runs through our switchboard and not the main switchboard."

"Shouldn't be a problem," Newkirk said, smiling. "Our operators are on duty 24 hours a day to take your call," he joked.

"That's what I like to hear," Hogan retorted, smiling as he took another sip of his coffee. He watched LeBeau removing his coat, hat, scarf and gloves, then rubbing his hands together briskly. He thought about what Ellison said. More pointedly, he thought about what Ellison had done with Sanders. He made a conscious effort not to look at LeBeau while those mental images danced across his mind.

"Schultz said the supply truck is supposed to come today," LeBeau said. "Not a moment too soon, either. I am out of most of my supplies, and with the Gestapo sniffing around, I can't even get outside the fence for a decent batch of mushrooms."

"One of the great tragedies of the war," Newkirk needled.

"You'll think it is a great tragedy when you pull up for dinner and there is nothing there but that slop the krauts serve," LeBeau shot back, indignantly checking his dwindling supplies hidden in a locker in the barracks. The majority of his goodies were in the tunnel, but even those shelves were pretty barren now.

"Things are rough all over," Hogan interjected. "As soon as we get all this business with Sanders settled, and the goons quiet down, we'll stage a midnight mushroom run," Hogan said, smiling at LeBeau. "Meanwhile, I'm sure you'll come up with something." You always do, no matter how lousy the conditions or sparse the supplies. And it has flair, and it tastes good, like the food people on the outside eat routinely without giving it a thought. Having you here is like living in Technicolor. Losing you would make everything black and white again...

"I'll do my best," LeBeau said, somewhat placated, assessing the options for lunch, apparently oblivious to the course Hogan's thoughts were taking.

********

"I thought those patrols were close enough to be a threat. We wasted hours on the return trip trying to avoid patrols that couldn't see or hear us," Jim explained. Blair nodded sagely, writing it all down on a notepad as they strolled the compound.

"Okay. When did you actually look for the patrols?"

"As soon as I heard them, I told LeBeau we needed to hide. We did, and I didn't want to be spotted, so we stayed down, and I never did look. But they sounded like they were right there, nearby, and I figured if we made any sudden moves, they'd see or hear us."

"So we need to work on your ability to separate what you can hear from what you need to hear and focus on, and you need to learn the difference in sounds that are really nearby, and those that are just in your range somewhere."

"I know that, Darwin. I just don't know how to do that."

"Visual cues are obviously the best. If you can scope out the area, get a feel for how far away things are."

"Even then...I can see them, so why can't they see me? And how do I know the difference between something that anyone can see, and what I can see?"

"Most of the time, you see and hear things at a normal level, right?"

"Right."

"Then you have to assume when you hear or see something, that it's nearby, in normal range?"

"Exactly."

"There's years' worth of work to be done getting your senses under control. I can't even scratch the surface."

"Is there anything about this in your book?"

"Nothing this detailed. We'd need to experiment, like we did with having you listen in on the prisoners, only more extensively, and with visual stimuli, too. So far, we've done limited testing on all of your senses except touch, but we haven't deeply explored any of them. I have to verify a heightened sense of touch before I know for sure that you're a Sentinel like Burton spoke of, and not someone with four acute senses."

"I thought we were testing touch this morning," Jim quipped, smiling a little.

"Yeah, and if we try it again, I have a feeling Hogan's going to shoot us himself. He was right. We got carried away, and the way things are..."

"We might not get many more chances. I can't go with you when you escape."

"What?" Blair stopped dead in his tracks, a horrified expression on his face.

"Hogan hasn't said anything, but the whole Stalag 13 operation is based on never having a successful escape. They need Klink here, and the way they keep him here is by letting him maintain this perfect no-escape record. So even if they get you out, I can't come with you, because they'd notice me missing. They can't just slide another guy into my place."

"Who's going to help you with your senses?"

"You'll be leaving your materials with Hogan. I'll just have to make do the best I can, and try to make my abilities work for the Allies until the war's over."

"I thought they'd get us both out. I don't want to leave you here with no one who can help you."

"There's no choice in the matter, Chief. Hogan will do all he can to get you and your mother out of Germany. But there's no way I can just take off. Klink, Burkhalter, the Gestapo...they know me on sight now. There's no way to cover my escape."

"This is so wrong. So wrong." Blair shook his head, and they resumed walking.

"War puts us in some bad situations, but all we can do is the best we can with the time we have."

"What happened earlier...I wanted it to go on. I didn't want to stop," Blair said, looking up at Jim, who smiled in response to the sentiment.

"Did I act like a man who wanted to stop?" he asked, and Blair laughed.

"Not really." He paused as if he were going to say something else, then didn't.

"What is it, Chief?"

"Why do you call me that?"

"I don't know. Someone called me that once--someone who meant a lot to me. I fits you. But you're worried about more than a nickname."

"I never did anything like that with a man before."

"Welcome to the club."

"Why me, then?"

"I don't know that, either. I'm attracted to you in a way I haven't been attracted to anyone before. Male or female."

"Is that all it is? Just a physical thing? If so, that's all right. I'll understand. I just..." Blair hesitated. "It's more than that to me. I think I'm falling in love with you. I wouldn't blame you if you laughed at me."

"Why would I do a thing like that?" Jim stopped walking, and after going a few steps alone, Blair retreated to where he stood.

"It sounds so dramatic. We haven't known each other that long, and you don't know anything about me..."

"You know my history for your little project here, but you don't know me all that well, either, Chief."

"All the more reason it sounds crazy. But when I saw you that night in Klink's quarters, when you were helping serve the meal...something inside me just...felt drawn to you."

"Probably because I'm one of these Sentinels you're looking for."

"It had nothing to do with that. I didn't know you'd test positive for any of this stuff. There was something about you...when I looked in your eyes, heard your voice. I wanted to get to know you better. Whether you were a Sentinel or not."

"I can't explain how I feel, Blair. I just know that I feel it. It was more than physical this morning. It was...you. I wanted you. Not just somebody to make me feel good. I know how I feel about losing you, saying goodbye..."

"It's got to be love if the thought of that hurts like this."

"Couldn't have said it better myself," Jim agreed. "The war can't last forever. Even if we're apart for a while, you have to know I'll find you as soon as I get out of this place."

"I want you to."

"Good, because I'd hate to travel all that way and not be welcome." Jim patted Blair's shoulder in a very platonic-looking gesture for the benefit of anyone who might be watching, but to Blair, his eyes spoke volumes more.

********

Hogan sat on the bottom bunk in his quarters, feet up on the bunk, back against the wall. Sanders' notes in his lap, he began reading. If even half of what Sanders thought Ellison could do was true, Ellison was probably the greatest secret weapon of the war–at least from an intelligence standpoint. There would be so many ways to use his abilities that Hogan's mind dizzied at the possibilities. Spying was a given. The man didn't need listening devices! Recognizance...he could save countless lives with surveillance and scouting abilities that exceeded what the best lookout man could accomplish with binoculars.

But there were serious problems, and for those problems, Ellison needed Sanders. Hogan had no clue how he would begin to teach someone like Ellison to sort out what stimuli was truly close to him and what was out of normal range. He had no idea how to teach him to screen out stimuli that would cause him pain, or how to overcome it in a battle situation.

Or how to overcome it when flying a night bombing mission among the noise flashing lights of anti-aircraft batteries... Suddenly, Ellison's little bombing raid on the guard towers made perfect sense, which meant his gifts came with some potentially fatal flaws. Sanders seemed to have some kind of grip on how to deal with these issues, and he certainly had a better chance of doing it than Hogan did. Ellison and Sanders were a set. They had to work together if Ellison was going to be of any real use to the Allies. It would be best to move them as partners, but there was little way to do that.

Hogan rubbed the bridge of his nose, stacking up the notes and hiding them in his footlocker for the moment. They would be moved down to the tunnel and stashed in a safe place. It was almost time for lights out, and time to send someone through the tunnels to Sanders' quarters to get the book. Sanders was right about one thing–if he didn't make it out of this alive, anything he had with him at the time would be in the hands of the Gestapo. Including Ellison himself.

There was a knock at the door.

"Come in," Hogan responded, standing up as the door opened. LeBeau entered, closing the door behind him.

"Is there anything you need, Colonel?"

"That I need? No, not really. I was just looking over Sanders' notes. Why do you ask?"

"You've been in here a long time. I thought maybe you could use some coffee, or maybe you were hungry..." LeBeau shrugged. "Maybe you could use some company," he added a bit hesitantly.

"Ellison isn't going to be much good to the Allies without Sanders. You know how he had you two hiding from patrols that were miles away? Well, that's the kind of thing that makes what he can do almost useless. Unless someone can help him channel it and use it."

"Sanders could do that?"

"Better than I could. Besides, I have a command here that needs my attention. Even if I wanted to take on that responsibility, I couldn't devote that kind of time to teaching Ellison how to tell the difference between something right next to him and something fifty yards away."

"You were just going to get Sanders out and keep Ellison here, wasn't that the plan?"

"For now. That may still have to be the plan for the time being. But it's becoming crystal clear that whatever he can do isn't going to be any good to us unless we can harness it. Sanders is the logical choice to do that. We'll have to get him to England, and then find a way to spring Ellison."

"No wonder you've been in here all evening. Not a simple plan you're cooking up."

"No, not much of a plan at all, honestly. I think Sanders better make his call to his mother tomorrow. Newkirk can man the switchboard and get him a clear line. I'll send Ellison over there tonight to check the phone for bugs and pick up the book."

"You think sending Ellison is a good idea? What if he has trouble with...hearing or seeing things?"

"He just has to take the tunnel between Barracks 5 and the guest quarters. I don't think he can get into too much trouble between here and there." Hogan wasn't exactly sure why he was sending Ellison to Sanders that night, but a part of him knew that he would want to have a chance to see LeBeau one more time if they were on the brink of a life and death mission.

"How do we get Sanders out of here?"

"We'll have to use the tunnels. I don't like it, because every kraut from here to Berlin is going to be hunting for him, but I don't see another way."

"Would they let him out of camp? To go somewhere with his mother?"

"They might. Especially if the outing included the count, and was his idea." Hogan smiled, an idea dawning on him.

"I don't know what you're thinking, but I already like it," LeBeau said, in response to the expression.

"We've got a bridge job we need to do in the next week or so. This has real possibilities. Imagine the consequences if that bridge just happened to blow while the count's car was crossing it, carrying Sanders and his mother? They would be presumed dead in the explosion–"

"But the Underground could intercept them before they reached the bridge and get them out?"

"Exactly. Let's round up the others and have a little strategy session before lights out."

With the men gathered around the table, Hogan outlined their plan of action.

"Sanders will make the call tomorrow morning, before he starts his work with Ellison. Newkirk, I need you on the switchboard. I'm sending Ellison over tonight to make sure there are no listening devices in the phone itself. It's not foolproof, but it's the best we can do to ensure he's not being recorded by the krauts. He'll tell his mother it's urgent she get here, but she must bring the count, and it must be her idea."

"Wouldn't it be better if she didn't bring the count?" Carter asked. "Then we'd just have Sanders and his mother to worry about."

"The count is necessary to get her past the Gestapo to visit with her son. He can get her past Hochstetter's goons, and he may be key to the second phase of the plan, too, which is getting all three of them out of camp."

"Hochstetter's never going to let Sanders leave here unguarded," Kinch said.

"No, but he will probably let him go with the count, assuming he is under a much higher guard. Besides, the count is also a general, and can pull rank on a major. While they're on their little outing, the Underground will stop the car, get Sanders and his mother out, and then send the car on its way. A bridge between here and Hammelburg will be wired to explode–we'll figure a way to direct them on a specific route. Everyone will assume they were all killed, while we get Sanders and his mother back to England."

"I've got just the stuff for the job, boy," Carter said, enthused. "I mean, sir," he added, smiling a little self-consciously.

"I knew I could count on our resident pyromaniac to come through in a pinch," Hogan responded, smiling back. "Get your goodies together. We'll wire the bridge tomorrow night."

********

After evening roll call, Hogan sent LeBeau down to the tunnel to make the trip over to Barracks 5 to share the information on the plan with Ellison and send him on to Sanders' quarters to get the book and give him instructions for making the phone call.

LeBeau wasn't terribly happy to make the long crawl through the small branch tunnel, especially considering the instability of those tunnels since Ellison bombed the guard towers. A little of the dirt had already been displaced, making it a dirtier, more unpleasant journey than usual. He was relieved to finally arrive at Ellison's quarters, and brushed himself off with a wrinkled nose when he was once standing above ground again.

"Colonel Hogan wants you to go get the book from the professor tonight," LeBeau said. "Tell Sanders to make the call to his mother early in the morning, before he starts his work for the day with you. The colonel also wants you to check the telephone for listening devices."

"What if the phone his mother uses is bugged?"

"Good point. I don't know if the colonel thought of that or if he was assuming she was in right enough with the count that it wouldn't be."

"Maybe he'd better figure out a way to lead her into coming up with the idea, even on the phone, just in case."

"You're probably right," LeBeau agreed. The ground rumbled a bit beneath them.

"Maybe you shouldn't take the tunnel back."

"I have to. There's too much open ground between here and my barracks, and some of the guards are even more trigger happy now that the main towers are under construction. I could get shot wandering around out there."

"What should I do with the book?"

"Bring it to the radio room down below. We've got a safe place to stash it there."

"Right. If I don't get buried alive on the way back," Ellison added. "I've been feeling tremors all evening, LeBeau. I'm serious about you finding another way back."

"I can't. Look, this branch tunnel is one of our most solid. It's withstood a lot of disturbance over the years. Your route to Sanders' quarters is mostly stand-up tunnels, well braced. We should be okay as long as–" LeBeau paused as the foot locker covering the entrance moved, and Hogan's head popped up.

"Have you got all the information you need to deal with Sanders tonight?" Hogan asked Ellison.

"Yes, sir, LeBeau briefed me on everything. We were discussing the tunnels. I've felt tremors, heard noises...all evening. I'm telling you, sir, I don't think you should go back the way you came."

"We don't have a choice, Ellison." Hogan looked at him for a long moment.

"I really can see and hear and feel things, Colonel. I'm not lying about that."

"Then all the more reason for us to get a move on. You should be safe once you get through the branch tunnel into the larger tunnels. Go on, you go first and keep moving. I want that book in our hands tonight, and we need to set up the phone call with Sanders."

"Yes, sir," Jim responded, not agreeing with the order, but following it anyway, crawling down into the tunnel and then moving on his hands and knees as fast as possible in the confined space.

"Go, LeBeau. I'm right behind you," Hogan said, pulling the foot locker back into place and following LeBeau along the little passageway, feeling every bit like a rat scuttling through the underground maze.

LeBeau was moving as fast as he could on his hands and knees, Hogan close behind him. Another ominous rumble filled their ears, the ground beneath them vibrating. LeBeau drew comfort from Hogan's presence nearby. He wasn't sure what he thought Hogan could do about a cave-in, but it was rare for Hogan not to come up with something, even when the situation seemed impossible.

"Keep moving, Louis!" Hogan said emphatically, giving him a little push. "This tunnel isn't going to hold much longer!"

Hogan had no sooner gotten those words out of his mouth when there was yet another rumble, and the tunnel began caving in on them. LeBeau felt himself pressed immediately under substantial weight, but he quickly realized it was not dirt or rock. Hogan's body was effectively blanketing him from that, though he could feel the earth shaking and felt sure debris had to be pummeling Hogan.

When everything went still, LeBeau swallowed, not sure if he was pinned beneath the weight of a dead man, or if Hogan was just waiting to move until he was sure it was safe. Or maybe Hogan was unconscious.

"Colonel?" LeBeau ventured, his heart pounding, reverberating in his ears.

"Ow," was the eloquent reply.

"Are you hurt?"

"Damn it."

"Colonel?"

"I'm all right," Hogan snapped. "More than I can say for the tunnel."

They were in total darkness, and now, LeBeau sought the flashlight. Turning it on, the yellow beam confirmed what was a very grim situation. Everything ahead of them was filled in, and everything behind them was solid dirt and rock. They barely had room to move, only enough for LeBeau to turn over on his back so he was not breathing in dirt. The two men were almost nose to nose with very little option to move. LeBeau could feel Hogan's heart pounding against his own. He hadn't fully panicked until he'd caught a glimpse of a fleeting moment of terror in Hogan's eyes as he assessed their predicament.

"How far do you think we are from the main tunnel?"

"Not far. If that didn't collapse," Hogan added.

"Merci, mon Colonel. I needed that."

"Sorry, Louis," Hogan added, smiling despite the potential horror of their situation. "I should have listened to Ellison about the tremors, I guess. I was worried about getting that book from Sanders, and getting the plan underway."

"The others will know what happened. When we don't come up for roll call, they'll be searching for us."

"Right," Hogan confirmed, not saying anything more.

"What are you thinking, Colonel?"

"You don't wanna know."

"Oui, I do." LeBeau waited as Hogan hesitated.

"Turn off the flashlight. We might need the light, and I don't want to waste the batteries." LeBeau followed the order, but shuddered a bit at the sudden blackness. He felt one of Hogan's hands squeeze his arm reassuringly. "We'll turn it on in spurts, but we don't know how long we'll need it."

"The batteries will last longer than the air," LeBeau said, voicing his deepest fear. It was easier to admit in the dark. He was afraid of dying, and dying horribly. And yet, at least he would not die alone. Neither of them would. He took comfort in that thought.

"I'm thinking that might not be the end of the cave-ins, and if things get worse, we could be completely buried alive in here."

"You were right. I didn't want to know that."

"Told you."

"The others will get us out in time. They know where we are. I have to believe the whole central chamber didn't collapse."

"Even if it did, they can still reach us from Ellison's quarters. It would just take a little longer and it would be harder getting around the krauts," Hogan said, his breath warm against LeBeau's face. "We just have to stay as calm as we can. The more we panic, the more air we use." Hogan was silent a moment. "I hope Ellison made it out to the main tunnel."

"Assuming it didn't collapse," LeBeau added.

"Well, yeah."

LeBeau was aware of Hogan's body against him, the scent of his leather jacket and aftershave, and the irrational calm he felt when he concentrated on those sensations. Hogan was just a man, a thin safeguard of flesh and bone between him and a fatal press of earth and rock. But Hogan had provided that safeguard instinctively, putting himself between LeBeau and harm.

"Are you hurt?" he asked Hogan. There was a brief silence.

"I don't think it's anything more than a few bruises. My leg's pinned under something, but it doesn't feel broken. A broken leg would be a little tough to explain."

"Is there anything I could do to ease the pressure on your leg?"

"I don't know, but I wouldn't recommend moving anything. I might be able to pull it free, but if something's propped up on it, and I move..."

"Are you in pain?"

"Not much. It's starting to go numb from the pressure, but it's nothing I can't handle. How about you?"

"You covered me when it happened. I'm not hurt at all."

"Good." Hogan had a definite smile in his voice. "You shouldn't be down here. I should have gone myself."

"You didn't know this would happen."

"The branch tunnels have been unstable ever since the bombing." Hogan sighed. "I should have gone alone."

"I wouldn't have let you go alone if it was that dangerous, Colonel."

"You wouldn't, huh?" Hogan asked, a smile in his voice again. Then he became serious again. "Think about what you're saying, Louis," Hogan said. "We might not make it out of here."

"No one should be trapped like this alone." LeBeau was quiet a moment. "No one should die like this alone."

"We're not going to die."

"If we were, what would be your biggest regret?" LeBeau asked.

"That I got us into this stupid mess."

"I meant besides this."

"I'm more worried about right now than I am about the past," Hogan said, moving slightly. A few more pebbles skittered about, enough to quell Hogan's motion.

"Your leg is hurting."

"It'll be fine."

"I am not so afraid to die, if it must happen."

"We all know it's a possibility. Every day we run this operation under the krauts' noses, it's a possibility."

"Let yourself relax, Colonel. I can take a bit of weight."

"I'm fine."

"You're holding yourself up to give me more room. Relax and be comfortable. We might be here a while."

Hogan did relax a little then, his body pressing more firmly against LeBeau's as he gave up on trying to keep his distance. Decorum and courtesy had no place in what might be a shared grave.

LeBeau thought back of a time when he and Hogan had traveled to France among the luggage on top of Klink's staff car. At the time, they'd been about this close, body to body for the entire journey. It was a light-hearted trip, though. Despite the seriousness of their mission, to rescue a captured Underground agent from the Gestapo, they had passed their time under the tarp and among the suitcases swapping stories and telling bad jokes.

While Hogan had the respect of his men, and the ability to flex his commanding officer muscles when need be, he wasn't so consumed with his rank and superiority that he couldn't have fun with his men. He praised them for their strengths and forgave their weaknesses. He demanded they give 110% to the operation, but he always gave as much or more himself. And he cared. A lot. Their safety was important to him, and he never used them like disposable commodities.

LeBeau thought of all the times Hogan had put an arm around his shoulders, or handled a moment of insubordination with understanding rather than censure, and how many times he'd negotiated LeBeau's expedited release from the cooler. Hogan might have been his commanding officer, but he was also LeBeau's friend. LeBeau strongly suspected it was his friend who had shielded him from the rubble, not his commander.

There were times he lingered close by for those touches, leaned into the solid warmth of that body, and felt something stir inside him that wanted more. Wanted more from a man in a way he'd never thought he could. Louis LeBeau loved women like any self-respecting Frenchman. But he couldn't think of a single one he would prefer to crawl into a tunnel and die with rather than escape to safety alone. It was crazy, but he honestly felt relief that he was here, sharing breath with Hogan, living possibly the only moments he ever could in the arms of the man he'd grown to love. The man whose sparkling brown eyes had always shone with something special when he looked at Louis, the man who looked at the little French chef as if he were the most important man in the entire Allied war effort.

"Louis?"

"I was just thinking."

"Don't overdo it. It might use up too much oxygen," Hogan quipped.

"I don't have to die with regrets. The one thing I would regret is that there is someone I love, very much, and I never told that person how I felt." LeBeau felt more fear at what he was starting than he'd felt during the cave in. Hogan was silent, but his closeness was reassuring in the total darkness.

"I don't understand. You won't get a chance to tell anybody anything if we don't get out of here."

"I'm not alone here." He paused, and he could almost feel the questioning gaze he'd be getting from Hogan. He half expected him to grope for the flashlight and turn it on, but he didn't move. "I would rather be here with you, now, than to be out there, safe."

"But that's crazy."

"Oui, it is, I know. But...I..." He was surprised when a hand covered his mouth gently.

"You can't say it, Louis. Trust me. You don't want to say what I think you're going to say." Hogan seemed to be breathing more heavily now, and LeBeau moved the hand from his mouth.

"If we are to die in here, I must say it."

"But we might not die in here."

"Then would it be so terrible to know? To know that...that I love you?"

"We've been in this camp a long time together, been through a lot of narrow escapes..."

"This has nothing to do with that. Oh, maybe in some way it does. I felt that kind of love for you a long time ago. The love of comrades. The love I feel for all my friends. This is...not that kind of love. It's the kind that makes me happier to die with you than live without you."

There was a long silence. A moment later, something else lightly brushed his lips, but it was not a hand. Then pressure was there. Hogan's mouth was against his, their lips parting, tongues sliding together lazily, as if they had all the time in the world to drown in that kiss. If they'd spiraled into the abyss, out of this world and into the next, it wouldn't have mattered to LeBeau as long as that kiss could continue.

The flashlight flooded their little niche of the universe with light. It seemed intrusive, and the kiss ended.

"I had to know if it would be as magical with the light on," Hogan admitted, smiling self-consciously.

"Well?" LeBeau asked, feeling as if Hogan were dangling him over a cliff as he waited for the reply.

"It's real with the light on. Real and insane. This can't happen. It's because we think we're dying. We're not going to die in here."

"Even if we don't, why is it so wrong?"

"Why is it...? Good God, Louis, I can list about ten thousand reasons why this can't happen. For one thing, you're a man, I'm a man. We're both men!"

"The oxygen shortage is already affecting you, Colonel," LeBeau said, smiling sappily. He could die happy now, and nothing Hogan said could erase the sensation of those lips against his, or take the taste of Hogan out of his mouth.

"Men don't do things like this."

"I hate to break this to you, but they do. They have for centuries. The Greeks did it all the time."

"Does this look like the Parthenon? Besides, this isn't ethical. I'm your commanding officer."

"Sorry." LeBeau saluted Hogan, who stared at him for a long moment before breaking up into laughter. "This is not a disaster, mon Colonel. It's love. And we French wrote the book on it."

"I shouldn't have kissed you that way."

"No, you should not. You should have done it this way." Louis pulled Hogan's head down, claiming his mouth passionately, this kiss lasting longer, probing deeper, even than the first.

The ground rumbled and a few more pebbles were sprinkled down on them. Then something shifted and they found their lower bodies covered in a fairly heavy pile of dirt. Hogan groaned as the support that had once bolstered the tunnel pressed more aggressively on his trapped leg.

"If you don't move your leg, the pressure will probably break it," LeBeau said, worried.

"And if I do, the rest of this might come down on us even faster than it's doing now." Hogan kept the flashlight on an extra moment to look Louis in the eyes. "I love you, too."

"And if we weren't going to die?"

"I'm not convinced we are, so it stands, either way. It has for a long time."

"Sometimes when you'd look at me, or you'd smile at me like you do, I thought I saw something more in your eyes." LeBeau glanced away, smiling. "Then I thought it had to be wishful thinking. You thought it would be a dangerous trip through the tunnels, didn't you? That's why you came to get me."

"I thought there might be a cave in, and I wanted to get you moving along faster. I was worried." Hogan paused. "Hard to believe sometimes that this is all so wrong," Hogan said grimly, turning off the flashlight. "I don't feel like a degenerate."

"Maybe it isn't wrong."

"Back home, there was this guy who lived with his mother. He was about the age I am now, back then, when I was a kid. Rumor had it he dressed up in his mother's clothes, and he liked men. I think she finally put him in a home."

"That's an interesting story, Colonel, but what does it have to do with us?"

"He was the town pervert. Nobody wanted to go near that house. As kids, my mother threatened us to stay away from that house, to cross to the other side of the street and not walk near it. She was always afraid Fred would pop out a door and grab one of us, I guess."

"Did he?"

"Never gave him the chance. I crossed the street. Well, except for that one time I looked in the windows on a dare."

"What'd you see?"

"Fred, as big as life, all dolled up in a house dress and heels." Hogan started laughing. "I remember thinking it was a waste of time to cross the street to get away from him, because he couldn't have caught anybody in those heels. He could hardly walk around the living room." A few moments of silence followed. "But that's what we'd be, Louis. Freaks. Perverts. I guess that's what we are, already."

"Do you really believe that?"

"I just know that I don't want to end up like Fred, the town pervert, eventually put in a home someplace to put everyone's mind at ease that I won't jump out and attack their children."

"Did you ever feel like wearing your mother's clothes? It's not the same thing."

"No, the only time I ever dressed up like a woman was when we had to get those three girls out of camp."

"You didn't look like you particularly enjoyed it," LeBeau responded, chortling. "I know it'll be a long time before you catch me in a skirt and heels again."

"Okay, so Fred was an extreme example."

"Do you think you know for sure what everyone you know really likes to do in their bedrooms?"

"Who said anything about the bedroom?" Hogan turned on the flashlight again.

"Isn't that the ultimate goal when you're kissing a woman like we were kissing a minute ago?"

"There are no women here, Louis."

"Oui, I noticed." Louis ran his hand over Hogan's shirt, slipping beneath his jacket. "I don't miss them at the moment."

"Neither do I," Hogan said emphatically, turning off the flashlight and giving in to the sensations he knew, with every part of him, had to be wrong, but that felt so...right.

********

"Ellison! What happened?" Kinchloe, Newkirk and Carter were all in the main chamber of the tunnel as the cave in spilled dirt and rock fragments onto the floor from the branch tunnel leading to Barracks 5.

"Hogan and LeBeau are still in there," Jim explained, breathless. I felt the vibrations, and I called back to them, but I don't think they heard me. I just kept moving. I thought at least I could help get them out if one of us made it."

"You've got a mission from Hogan, to get that book and set up the telephone call," Kinch said. "You better go. We'll get started here."

"I should be helping to get them out."

"Sir, with all due respect," Newkirk began, "if Colonel Hogan were here, he'd be tellin' you the same thing. Go see the little professor and get his book. We'll do the digging. We're good at it," he added, smiling.

"Roll call is in three hours," Carter said, checking his watch. "You know Schultz is gonna be looking for all of us."

"We'll have to go up top long enough for roll call," Kinch said. "Once they know two prisoners are missing, they'll confine us to the barracks anyway, and we'll have more time to dig."

"We'll pass the word at roll call that we're having a digging party down here for as many as can come," Newkirk added, nodding.

"I'll be back as soon as I can," Ellison said, starting in the direction of the tunnel leading to the guest quarters.

"When you get finished, meet us down here, and you'll have to come up through our barracks for roll call. We'll try to move you back to stand with your own group. Create a diversion or something," Kinch said.

"Right."

********

Jim carefully moved the stove aside, and came up through the floor into the guest quarters. The room was dark, and Blair was most likely in bed, making some vain effort at sleep. It couldn't be easy to sleep with kraut guards everywhere, and the knowledge that Hitler's eye was up on you to come up with results.

Stealthily, Jim tiptoed into the bedroom, and paused to take in the sight before him. Blair was indeed asleep, long curls contrasting with the crisp white pillowcase. The moonlight streamed in through a crack in the curtains, bathing the room in a bluish glow. Blair lay on his back, all but his head and one hand that lay palm up on the pillow, tucked safely beneath the blankets.

God, you're beautiful... Jim thought, approaching the bed so quietly that even if Blair had been the Sentinel, he probably wouldn't have heard his visitor. His eyes traced the full lips, perfect nose, high forehead, and frame of long hair. Resisting the urge to kiss Blair awake, Jim instead clamped his hand over Blair's mouth, hating to scare him, but wanting to ensure his silence. He was greeted with bugged eyes and a look of pure terror until Blair saw who was hunched over him. Jim pressed a finger to his own lips to gesture for silence.

"I came for the book, and to check your phone and give you instructions," Jim whispered, removing his hand from Blair's mouth. "Where is your guard?"

"He's patrolling out front," Blair whispered back. "There's no back door, so he concentrates on that. Hochstetter had the windows nailed shut, so I couldn't get out without making a lot of noise."

"When this is over, remind me to deck that guy."

"Get in line." Blair slid into a sitting position. "I'll get you the book."

"I have to check your telephone for listening devices." Jim made his way stealthily to the living room while Blair pulled the treasured book out of a drawer in the bedroom. The phone contained one bug, which was to be expected. Jim motioned to Blair to join him. "This just sets in like so," Jim said, demonstrating. "Take it out when you make your phone call, and just pop it back in when you're finished."

"What if my mother's phone is bugged?"

"You'll have to call her, and do whatever it is you have to do to get her interested in coming here."

"If I sound upset or worried or depressed, she'll want to come and check it out. I don't have to really fake it much on this one."

"Okay. Just make sure she's the one who brings up a visit. Do it tomorrow morning before you start work with me."

"That's earlier than I'd normally call her."

"All the better. She'll be worried that you're calling her at that hour."

"True." Blair nodded. "What's the plan when they get here?"

"Hogan's got some plot cooked up to fake your deaths, but I'm not sure how it's going to work yet. He didn't give me all the details. The Underground will get you to England."

"Without you?"

"I can't leave, Blair. Klink's no-escape record is a key part of Hogan's operation here. They'll know if I leave. If I can get away, it'll be later. It has to happen this way."

"They'll interrogate you. The Gestapo. You know they will."

"I'm a big boy, Chief. Besides, Hogan's not going to just sit back and let them haul me off. But we can't go together."

"This might be our last time alone together."

"We'll be together in the lab, like usual," Jim said, smiling reassuringly.

"That's not what I mean." Blair took Jim's hand in his and pulled. "Just once, in case...in case there isn't another chance."

"There's something I didn't tell you. There was a cave in, and Hogan and LeBeau are trapped in a tunnel. The guys are digging to get them out. I should help."

"How many are digging?"

"I imagine all of Barracks 3 by now. Fourteen guys, probably."

"No more than that can get at the mouth of a filled in tunnel at once. Jim, everything could be over with one just change of plans from Hitler or his henchmen."

"Have you ever been with a man before, Blair?"

"No, but it doesn't matter. I want to be with you, now."

"We'll be rushed. We should wait. Until we're together in London, maybe after the war..."

"After the war? You'll forget about me by then and find some beautiful woman and get married. Or we won't live to see the end of the war."

"I won't forget you, Blair. And if there's any way possible, I'll find you again after the war." Jim framed Blair's face with both hands. "It's crazy, how fast this happened..." Jim smiled, looking into Blair's troubled eyes. "All I know is that if I have to go to the ends of the Earth to do it, I'll be with you when the war is over."

"Then be with me now. I love you, Jim."

"I'm a Sentinel. How long have you been looking for one of those?" Jim asked, smiling affectionately.

"This isn't about that. It's what brought us together, but it isn't what makes me love you."

Unable to resist temptation any longer, Jim pulled Blair into a fierce embrace and kissed him hard, their mouths opening and closing around each other, hands grappling with clothing as they moved back toward the bed, falling together, finally feeling the heat of skin on skin.

At first Jim thought the feel of soft chest hair, the absence of breasts, and the slight roughness of a five o'clock shadow might seem odd when it came time to touch each other this way, but it was all Blair, and it felt inexplicably right. In just a few short weeks, his ideal of beauty had shifted from curves and long legs to everything Blair: his smile, his striking blue eyes, his kindness, his concern for Jim, and that impossibly soft, long hair that twined around his fingers like a thousand silk scarves as he buried his hands in it.

Blair's hand slid down to Jim's hardening cock, tentatively squeezing and pumping it. Jim stifled a cry between Blair's neck and shoulder, Hogan's words haunting him just a bit as he sank into the swirl of erotic sensations–there would truly be nothing Hogan or anyone else could do for them if they were caught doing this. They'd be pariahs on either side, a common enemy of Germans and Allies alike. Degenerates. Perverts.

Pushing those thoughts aside, Jim reached for Blair's own rapidly hardening shaft and they pumped together, settling for the intimacy of the shared hand job. There was no time for anything more, and even if there had been more time, the risk was far too great.

Both men having been deprived of these sensations way too long, their climaxes were fast and frantic, their cries stifled in awkward kisses. As they lay there together, breathing heavily in the moonlit room, Jim pulled Blair closer and kissed him again, slowly and deeply this time.

"No matter what happens, Blair, I'll find you again after the war. There won't be anyone else."

"I don't want to leave without you. The Gestapo–"

"You have to. I'll be fine. I've got too much to live for not to make it through this war in one piece." Jim held up his hand, and Blair pressed his palm against it, their fingers twining.

"Just say the word, Jim, and I'll stay. If there's any reason that my staying is better, if I can divert the Gestapo from you, tell them you're not the real thing..."

"That won't be necessary, sweetheart. I want you out of Germany as soon as possible. Hogan and I will figure something out to keep me out of trouble." Jim leaned in for another kiss. "I have to go."

"No matter what happens, I want you to know one thing."

"What?" Jim asked, smiling softly, nudging Blair's nose with his own.

"I'll die loving you. If it's tomorrow or fifty years from now. Even if...if this is the only time we have."

"I feel the same way, Chief. But let's shoot for the fifty years, huh?"

"It's a deal."

They sealed the bargain with another kiss before Jim hastily dressed and returned to the tunnel to help the other prisoners in their rescue efforts.

********

"We're using up our oxygen faster than we should," Hogan said, knowing the statement would fall on deaf ears. Only the pain in his pinned leg reminded him of the grimness of their predicament. At the moment, in this dark, dank, horrible little niche in the earth, he was melting into passionate kisses and the long-absent feeling of a warm body moving against his, eager and responsive, lips traveling down his jawline to his neck, and back again.

"Would you rather stop what we're doing and save oxygen?" LeBeau asked, completely insincere. His voice held no real intention of stopping.

"Never," Hogan said, an affection in his voice that momentarily cooled the physical lust they'd been so frantically trying to sate. "If we're going to die in here, why shouldn't we do it with big smiles on our faces?" he added, smiling. LeBeau chuckled, and Hogan felt the rumble of it throughout his own body.

"What if we weren't going to die?"

"I don't believe we are, so it doesn't change anything," Hogan responded. "Do you believe we'll get out of this?"

"I don't know. I'm not as sure as you are that we will, but either way, I have no regrets for this."

"Then shut up and kiss me again." Hogan covered LeBeau's mouth with his own, and when they pulled back, he groped for the flashlight and turned it on, making them both squint a bit. "Just wanted to see you."

"I'm glad you want to see that it's me. I want to see you, too. It's been a long time since I was with someone this way, but that's not what matters most to me. No matter what happens, I'm glad you know how I feel. And nothing can take this away from us."

********

"Any progress?" Jim asked, returning to where about ten prisoners were working feverishly to re-open the collapsed tunnel.

"Nothing yet," Newkirk responded, visibly frustrated at the slowness of the progress.

"Is there any way to get in from overhead that would be faster?" Jim asked. "Judging by how far behind me they were, they've got to be about ten feet back in there."

"It would be nearly as deep as it is far to dig," Kinch said. The ceiling of this tunnel is a good ten feet underground, and the little tunnel is about another six feet down from that ceiling," he said, gesturing at the entrance. "Besides, I don't think we could just walk out in to the middle of the compound and start drilling without arousing Klink's suspicion."

"We could close this off, and give up the tunnel from Ellison's quarters," Carter suggested. "Get Klink and his men to help us."

"You think they'd do that to save prisoners?" Jim asked.

"Don't know. Might be worth a shot, much as I hate to say it," Newkirk said.

"Colonel Hogan would hate the idea," another prisoner, Olsen, spoke up . A dark-haired American sergeant, Olsen was a bit younger than Jim.

"I think he'd hate the idea of dying in a pile of dirt, too," Kinch said. "We don't even know they're alive in there."

"Is there a way I can get back to Barracks 5? Maybe I can do something from that end."

"They were closer to this end than that end," Newkirk said, wiping his forehead on the back of his grimy hand.

"Let's stop talking and start digging. We have better than an hour before roll call," Kinch said. "We'll let Klink think a few more of the men are in on this big escape with Hogan and LeBeau, and leave some guys down here digging non-stop."

"Count me in," Jim volunteered.

"Not you. Not with the whole plan to get Sanders out of here going on. You have to show up at roll call," Kinch said.

"We're moving forward with the plan?"

"It's what Colonel Hogan would tell us to do if he could," Kinch said. "Now let's get to work."

********

"Blair, sweetie! What a wonderful surprise!" Nadine Sanders, a.k.a., Naomi Sandburg, effervesced at the sound of her son's voice. "I've been so worried about you since you disappeared from the University."

"I'm fine, Mom," Blair lied, but he purposely let his fatigue and fear seep into his voice. "I'm doing some special research involving German officers. I can't say anymore."

"You're doing secret government work?"

"Something like that. I just missed talking to you. I'm probably not supposed to be calling, but I wanted to let you know I'm all right."

"You don't sound all right. I want to see you, learn more about what you're doing."

"Mom, I can't tell you about what I'm working on, or even where I am."

"That's ridiculous. I'm not a spy, for heaven's sake!" There was a pause, and Blair heard a man's voice, and his mother answering. "Konrad will get to the bottom of this, anyway, so you might as well tell me where you are. I won't rest until I know."

"Let's just say that I'm someplace safe from Allied bombing. At least that should make you feel better."

"Not really. What kind of work are you doing?"

"I told you, Mom. I'm not allowed to say."

"Allowed? Are they forcing you to do this?"

"I'm under orders from the Fuhrer. Well, more directly, from the Gestapo, but the project is one Hitler's interested in."

"Are you sure you're all right? You're eating and getting enough rest, and you have a good place to stay?"

"Yes, all that's fine, Mom. Really. I'm in a really secure location."

"I won't be happy until I see for myself, you know that, right?"

"I know, Mom. I have to go. Give my best to the count."

"I will. Love you, sweetie."

"I love you, too, Mom."

After Blair hung up, he smiled. Naomi was nothing if she wasn't persistent, and he almost pitied poor old Konrad Heydrich for the paces she would put him through until he found out where Blair was and took her there for a visit.

Mission accomplished. Blair hoped the digging was going well. Hogan and LeBeau were good men, and they didn't deserve to die in a caved-in tunnel.

********

"I beg to report, Herr Kommandant, six prisoners are missing!" Schultz reported, dreading Klink's reaction.

"Which prisoners?" he demanded, then his eyes widened. "Where is Hogan?"

"Colonel Hogan and Corporal LeBeau are both missing," Schultz blurted. "And Madison, Olsen, Stevens, and Newkirk!" he added, eyes wide.

"Sound the alarms, let loose the dogs!" Klink ordered. "You will find them if you have to search every inch of those woods personally!" Klink exclaimed, wagging his finger at Schultz. "Prisoners are confined to the barracks until further notice! Dismissed!" Klink turned on his heel and strode back toward his office, leaving Schultz amidst the chaos in the compound.

Colonel Hogan, what have you done this time? Schultz thought, shaking his head and hurrying off to do his duty as sergeant of the guard, organizing the search effort.

********

"All right men, let's get digging!" Newkirk shouted, motioning to the others to head down to the tunnel with him. They'd been dying a thousand deaths, standing there through roll call when they knew Hogan and LeBeau were still trapped somewhere between their barracks and Barracks 5, and only a handful of men had been able to stay down there and keep working.

A few men remained to watch the door and cover for those who were rejoining the digging effort. Jim, much to his frustration, had to go to the lab. The armed guards wouldn't let him go to his barracks, even though prisoners were restricted there. After checking in with Hochstetter by phone, the Gestapo guards made sure he was delivered to Sanders' lab as usual.

"How long has it been?" Carter asked, not pausing in his frantic digging.

"About three hours now," Kinch said, grimly.

"Let's just hope they had enough air to keep 'em going," Carter responded, fear plain on his face. None of them wanted to pull two bodies out of the tunnel.

********

"How's your leg?" LeBeau asked.

"The pressure's getting worse, Louis," Hogan said quietly. "I think whatever's bearing down on it is going the rest of the way before too much longer."

"The others will get to us. They have to."

"When they do, you get out of here as fast as you can. When I move my leg, the whole thing could cave in. I'm not sure what's resting on it. I just know the pain and pressure are getting worse."

"I'm not leaving you in here."

"It's not the same thing. If you can get out safely, do it. I can probably get out, too, but don't look back or stop. Somebody's going to have to move whatever's on my leg, so you'll have to get out of the way."

"Once they get us more air...they can dig around us until it's safe for us both to get out."

"Can you get any air? We're pressed together pretty tight here."

"Isn't it terrible?" LeBeau said, grinning in the dark, and Hogan chortled.

"I guess that answers my question. You're fine."

"It will be nice to be close like this when we aren't under twenty feet of dirt."

"At least we've got a good excuse and not much chance of someone walking in unannounced," Hogan quipped. After a brief silence, he said, "I'm most worried about my mother. After losing John, this would kill her. I accept the risk of doing these things...it goes with the territory."

"We'll get out of it together."

"Or we won't get out of it at all, is that what you're saying, Louis?"

"I'm not going to move until I know they can get us both out safely."

"This is a weird thing to say trapped in a cave-in, but a part of me is glad it happened."

"Me, too. If we hadn't thought we might die, we probably never would have said anything. I don't think we ever would have kissed like that."

"Probably not." Hogan paused. "Have you ever thought about it before? Not with me, but with men in general?"

"A little. I have a friend who moved to Paris to pursue his art. He took a 'good friend' with him, but among his friends, we knew they were lovers. I thought about it because of him, wondered what it was like, why a man would want a man instead of a woman. It never made much sense to me until I met you, and I realized one day that I was feeling that way for you."

"Your friend didn't happen to dress up in his mother's ruffled aprons, did he?" Hogan asked, smiling as LeBeau laughed.

"Not that I know of, though he did have a fondness for jewelry that raised a few eyebrows."

"Great. I am not getting my ears pierced, and that's final."

"I'll settle for a nice string of pearls and a skirt that shows off your legs," LeBeau quipped.

"You don't seem too bothered by all this."

"I have everything I ever wanted. Even if we never see the light of day again."

Hogan didn't respond with words, but with a kiss.

"Let's hope we get both this, and the light of day again."

********

Blair watched Jim pacing, having given up on getting him to participate in any tests. He finally removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes. His body remembered the feeling of Jim's hands, of their skin on skin lovemaking in the pre-dawn hours. It was hard enough to discipline his mind to focus on mundane sensory tests with those memories replaying continuously, but corralling Jim to sit still when he felt he should be helping with the rescue effort was impossible.

"I'm sure they're doing everything they can," Blair said.

"There might be something I could do. I just can't get near the action. There's no way to there from here, and the guards expect me to be here."

"I can fix that. Go get the guard," Blair said.

"Why?"

"Just do it, Jim. How you get over to Hogan's barracks is your problem, but I can get you out of staying here. Now go."

"Okay, Chief."

As Jim walked out the door and motioned to the Gestapo guard, he heard the sounds of retching from the lab. When he returned with the guard, Blair had left a very convincing mess on the tabletop.

"I'm feeling very ill. I can't work anymore today. Please, escort me back to my quarters," Blair said. The guard looked a bit nonplused, as if he weren't quite sure what to do, but given Blair's performance, he appeared convinced that the illness was real.

"I will need permission from Major Hochstetter."

"Look, I'm sick. If you don't get me back to my quarters, I may very well vomit on your nice, polished boots."

Stiffening with irritation at Blair's implied threat, the young corporal controlled his temper and nodded.

"Come. You will rest in your quarters, and I will inform Major Hochstetter."

"Danke," Blair said, rising with feigned weakness from the stool where he'd been sitting, giving a brief show of unsteadiness on his feet before falling in step with the guard.

"You, back to your barracks!" the guard barked at Jim.

"The prisoners are restricted to their barracks. He could be shot. May I ask Sergeant Schultz to take him back to his barracks?" Blair asked. The guard hesitated, but then apparently considered the Luftwaffe Sergeant of the Guard to be a trustworthy escort. The three men walked to where Schultz was giving orders to a new search party of privates and corporals, on their way out to look for Hogan and the other "missing" prisoners.

Once the search party had been dispatched and Schultz was escorting Jim back to his barracks, Jim produced two candy bars from his leather bomber jacket, handing them to Schultz.

"I'd really like to be escorted to Colonel Hogan's barracks instead."

"Nein. I must take you back to your own barracks. It would be worth my life," Schultz confided, reluctantly handing the candy bars back to Jim.

"You're on opposite sides, but you like Hogan, right?"

"He is the enemy."

"Oh, right. I've seen you two joking and laughing it up. You don't think of him as an enemy, and you know it."

"Colonel Hogan is a nice man, but I am not a traitor," Schultz protested, looking around nervously.

"Look, I'm not Gestapo, and I'm not trying to get you in trouble. Hogan's in real trouble and he needs my help. It could be life or death. Please, Schultz, take me to his barracks. No one's going to notice."

"All right. But if you get caught, I know nothing!" Schultz concluded, seizing the candy bars and hurrying toward Hogan's barracks.

Once Schultz left, the men in Hogan's barracks who were in charge of watching the door ushered him to the tunnel entrance, where he hurried down under to assist with the rescue effort. The men had made substantial gains in the last couple hours, working frantically to clear out the dirt between themselves and their comrade and commanding officer.

"Looks like things are coming pretty well. Look, I've got a strong pair of arms. Let me help with the digging for a while."

"How'd you get away from the goons?" Kinch asked, frowning.

"Sanders faked being sick–threw up all over the lab table–so the guard would take him back to his quarters and I'd be out of the tests for the day."

"That Sanders guy is all right," Carter said, chuckling. "You can take over for me, Captain. We're rotating the digging so nobody gets too tired. I'll do dirt removal for a while."

"Right." Jim crawled into position, noticing as he went that the dirt was all being gathered up into containers–buckets, bags, boxes–ready for transport out of the tunnel.

"We have to keep the area as clear as we can, and the dirt has to go up top eventually," Kinch explained. "If we let it all lie here, this part of the tunnel could be partially blocked, and we never know when we'll need it in a hurry."

"I figured there was a reason. Nobody's that neat in a crisis without a good reason." Jim froze. "Shh!"

"You hear something?" Newkirk moved closer.

"I hear heartbeats. They're alive!" Jim announced, overjoyed.

"You hear their heartbeats?" Carter stared at him as if he'd just said he was the Easter Bunny.

"We must be close." Jim and Kinch kept up their frantic digging while the others removed the dirt. No more than two of them could fit in the branch tunnel to dig. "Wait. The ground's vibrating again," Jim said, laying a hand on the soil. "We don't have much time, and when we get there, it could cave in on them. This is really unstable."

"Just keep digging. We can't leave 'em in there," Newkirk said, anxious.

"Newkirk's right. Colonel Hogan would dig us out himself if he had to, if we were in there," Carter said.

"I'm not suggesting we don't get them out. I'm just saying we have to be careful. I hear moaning. One of them might be hurt or pinned, and if so, our digging could make it worse. We just have to take it easy the closer we get."

"Suffocating won't do 'em much good, either," Newkirk argued.

********

Hogan felt the intense pressure on his leg, and the pain was too much. He moaned, fighting his instinct to pull at the trapped limb.

"Squeeze my hand," LeBeau said, taking one of Hogan's hands in both of his. The return pressure was tight, almost painful.

"God, it hurts like hell right now," Hogan said, between gritted teeth.

"Could you move it at all, get some relief?"

"I don't know. I don't think so."

"Maybe I could slide down farther and figure out a way to ease the pressure. Maybe I can use the flashlight and see what it is that's pressing on it."

"Don't. Don't move. It could shift things too much," Hogan said, his voice strained. The grip on LeBeau's hand tightened a bit more. LeBeau slid one hand under Hogan's shirt and t-shirt and rubbed up and down his back.

"The pain is much worse than you've been telling me. They will reach us soon, mon amour."

Hogan smiled at the endearment, soaking up the love and comfort LeBeau was giving him.

"They better. I don't think London'll let me keep this operation with one leg."

"You won't lose your leg, Colonel."

"Better that than both of us being crushed in here."

LeBeau refused to acknowledge the nightmare image of some kraut sawing off Hogan's mangled leg without regard for the possibility of saving it.

"It always works out somehow. It has to."

"Guess your image of me didn't include a missing leg," Hogan said shakily. The pain and decreasing hopefulness of their situation was making him morose, and yet making him seek assurance that if the worst happened, he would still have something to hold onto.

"It doesn't matter. If it happens, no one can question us being together after the war. I would be there to help you around the house, nothing more–at least, as far as others would know."

"You'd still want me like that?"

"I want you, not one of your legs. Your heart and soul isn't in your leg. Your beautiful smile isn't in your leg. Why would that make me not want you?"

"Because I'd be an invalid. An out of work cripple."

"Are your feelings for me that fragile that something like that happening to me would end them?"

"No, no, of course not–"

"Then why think less of my feelings for you?"

"I don't. I just..." Hogan sighed. "Maybe I'm not as ready to die as I thought I was."

"Neither of us are." LeBeau was quiet a minute. "I'm scared, too."

********

Jim was carefully monitoring the vibrations in the ground as he and Kinch continued to dig. The heartbeats were getting louder as they got closer, and Jim wasn't surprised, though he was ecstatic, when his hand broke through and brushed what felt like a warm, living human head.

"Colonel Hogan's leg is pinned. We can't move!" LeBeau shouted.

"I think something's resting or balancing on it," Hogan managed, still keeping his grip on LeBeau's hand. Seeing the faces of Kinchloe and Ellison looking in through the newly displaced dirt gave him the strength to overcome the pain and concentrate on getting them both out safely.

"LeBeau, can you slide out, and we'll get in there and work on getting Colonel Hogan out?" Jim asked.

"No. If I move, it could dislodge whatever is on his leg. I won't move until we can both get out."

"We've dug this far. Let's try to dig down to where the problem is," Kinch suggested.

"And we might end up with four of us buried alive in here. We should get LeBeau out, and I'll go in after Hogan."

"He's right, Louis," Hogan said, supporting Ellison's plan. "You have to go."

"You're in our way, LeBeau," Jim said firmly. "If you stay, it could make things worse."

"Louis, please. I want you to go." At LeBeau's inaction, Hogan closed his eyes and swallowed hard. "LeBeau, get out now, and that's an order," Hogan said sharply, mustering all the strength he had left to issue an authoritative command. LeBeau looked wounded, and he held Hogan's gaze a long moment before allowing Kinch and Jim to carefully pull him out of the tunnel. To their immense relief, nothing shifted, and Hogan's situation was no worse.

"Which leg, sir?" Jim asked, crawling as far as he could into the tunnel.

"My left."

"One of the braces is across it. That's what's pressing on it." Jim thought for a moment. "Any way we can get a jack in here? I need something to push up on this a little so we can ease his leg out."

"I'll get one," Carter volunteered. "I can get to the motor pool and get it without getting caught."

"Do it, Andrew, and watch your step," Newkirk said. Carter hurried off on his mission.

"What are you doing down here? Shouldn't you be working with Sanders?"

"Probably, but I wanted to help. Blair threw a real performance of being sick so he could rest in his quarters for the day. I bribed Schultz to bring me here instead of my barracks."

"I told you keeping a couple candy bars on hand at all times was a good idea," Hogan said, smiling. Just then, the ground rumbled ominously, and the brace pressed even harder on Hogan's trapped leg, eliciting a strangled moan from the officer.

"Shit. This isn't going to hold much longer," Jim said.

"Wait outside with the others, Ellison. No point in the two senior POW officers dying in here. Go on. If Carter gets back with the jack in time, you can try it. But get out here for now."

"He'll be back soon."

"Can't any of you follow a simple order anymore? I mean it, get out, and keep LeBeau away from here. Don't let him back in."

"Yes, sir. Hang on, Colonel. We'll get you out of there," Jim said, reluctantly sliding out of the narrow space, feeling like a weasel for leaving his commanding officer alone and in danger of dying a horrible death. Still, he knew the order was the right one. Killing both ranking officers, or the enlisted men, wouldn't serve any purpose.

"What are you doing out here?" LeBeau demanded, not having overheard the officers' conversation inside the tunnel.

"Colonel Hogan ordered me to wait out here, in case there was a cave-in." Jim caught LeBeau's arm and pulled him back before he could climb back in the opening to rejoin Hogan. "And he doesn't want you back in there, either. Carter's on his way with the jack, and when he gets back, I'll go back in and see if I can get the pressure off his leg enough to pull him out."

"I'll get a good hold on him and pull when you give me the word," Kinch said.

"Good plan."

"You probably shouldn't go back in there. What if something happens? How do we explain that one to the krauts?" Newkirk asked. "So far, it's just a prisoner escape, on Klink's head. But if they thought you escaped? The Gestapo will be all over this camp, tearing everything apart."

"Newkirk's right," Kinch said.

"Look, I didn't want to say this to Hogan, but I don't know that even with a jack I can move that brace. It's got a lot of dirt behind it, pressing it down. But I think I've got the best chance of budging it," Jim said. Stripped down to his undershirt, as most of them were, it was obvious he had the most developed muscles in the group.

"You're right, and isn't Colonel Hogan worth the risk?" LeBeau demanded.

"We all want him out of there alive, and in one piece, Louis," Newkirk said. "I was just worried about the Gestapo, and what Colonel Hogan would think about it if he could think of everything right now."

"Sorry I took so long," Carter gasped, running up to them with the jack in hand. "Krauts were using it. I had to wait for them to go do something else so I could swipe it."

"Great job, Carter," Jim said, smiling as he took the jack and crawled back through the narrow passage they had dug to reach Hogan and LeBeau. "Kinch! Grab hold of his wrists and be ready to pull. Colonel, just hold on and let Kinch do the pulling. I'm going to work on the brace."

"Right," Kinch agreed, crawling into position and grasping Hogan's wrists tightly.

"You better be ready to move pretty fast yourself, Ellison," Hogan said. "When that jack gives way, the whole thing'll probably give way."

"I'm not planning on lingering. I'll be right behind you."

Jim moved the jack into position and began pumping until it made contact with the wood. He exchanged a confirming nod with Kinch before starting to pump in earnest, his muscles straining to their capacity to achieve any sort of movement in the broken wall brace pinning Hogan's leg. With an ominous creak, the wood eased upward just a bit, but it wasn't enough. Kinch pulled Hogan's arms, but the brace wasn't about to let him go just yet. Jim put all his strength into the next downward push on the handle of the jack, grunting with the strain. Kinch pulled again, and this time, Hogan slid forward, his leg free of the trap of wood. Kinch kept pulling as fast as he could, and as soon as the opening was clear, Jim lurched forward and crawled rapidly through the passage just as the brace gave way, sending the jack clattering aside, and all the earth pressing on the wood filled in the tunnel.

The men helped Jim out the end of the collapsed tunnel, amid cheers and backslaps. Hogan was already laid out on a cot, LeBeau solicitously hovering around him while Kinch carefully cut away the tattered pant leg, and eased off the shoe and sock.

"I can't tell if it's broken," he said, trying to carefully probe the bloodied leg.

"Without twenty feet of dirt and a board pressing on it, it doesn't feel as bad now," Hogan responded.

"Let me try," Jim said, and at Kinch's puzzled look, he added, "I have medic training."

At that, Kinch moved aside and let Jim take over, all the men watching with concern while Jim ran his hands over the injured leg in a manner they hadn't seen used before to check for a break.

"The bone's not displaced. There's deep bruising that's causing a lot of pain in the muscle tissue, could be torn tendons or ligaments. There's no way to hide this from the krauts. This leg should be X-rayed, and he won't be walking around on it normally for a while."

"Guess I won't make the jitterbug contest next Saturday, huh?" Hogan quipped.

"I think you might want to postpone it," Jim said, smiling.

"Louis, you have any aspirin on hand?" he asked LeBeau, who was holding his hand. Hogan considered pulling away in front of the others, but since he was in pain, and he could feel the tremors in LeBeau as he hovered close by, he maintained his grip. They had a good excuse for touching, and both of them seemed to need it now. "How did you explain us not being at roll call?"

"Klink thinks six of us escaped--you, LeBeau, and four others who stayed down here to dig," Newkirk explained.

"Did anyone bother to slip out and cut the wire to make it look good?"

"I did that before dawn, sir," Carter responded.

"Good man," Hogan said, sighing. "Okay. I need an excuse for being off my feet, or foot, for a while, and we need to bring six guys total back into camp."

"You should rest, Colonel," LeBeau said.

"I hurt my leg. That doesn't stop me from thinking. The other five of you who supposedly escaped are going to give yourselves up, and you're going to do it while carrying your injured Colonel who bravely struck out after you to bring you back before Killer Klink and his ruthless guards recaptured you."

"So you didn't escape, but you went after us to bring us back?" Carter asked.

"Exactly. Klink's going to be more suspicious that something big's in the wind if he thinks I was part of this escape, and if I'm even going to get a medic or some consideration for being injured--even if they don't agree to any kind of X-rays--Hochstetter and his goons can't get wind that I escaped. He could pressure Klink into throwing me in the cooler untreated."

"We better get you into some cleaner clothes--both of you--if that story's going to fly," Kinch said, indicating the mud and dirt the tunnel had left behind on Hogan's and LeBeau's clothing.

"Do the best you can with the jacket. I've got a clean shirt in my quarters, but leave the pants. I'm supposed to have fallen, and one of you probably would have checked out my injury and torn the pant leg. I'll have to figure out where I took this tumble."

"There's a lot of hilly territory about a mile from camp, in the woods. It'd be easy to slip and loose your footing there. And it was snowing again last night," LeBeau said.

"Okay, I found you guys, was bringing you back to camp, and I fell."

"We checked your injury, couldn't tell how badly you were hurt, and decided to abort the escape attempt because you ordered us to, and you needed treatment," LeBeau embellished, and the others nodded.

********

"You don't have a fever, Professor, and you appear quite healthy to me," the doctor said cheerfully through a thick German accent, putting his stethoscope back in his medical bag where it sat on the beside table. Blair, who was in his pajamas, sitting propped up in bed, regarded Hochstetter carefully, trying to gauge his reaction.

"What would have caused his...illness earlier?" Hochstetter asked, his eyes never leaving Blair, though he spoke to the doctor.

"Oh, anything could have caused such an episode. Stomach upset, nervousness...but he is in good health and should be able to return to work tomorrow."

"Why not today?" Hochstetter asked, making eye contact with the doctor now. The older man looked a bit uncomfortable, but he replied promptly.

"Usually when my patients experience symptoms like vomiting or diarrhea, even if it appears to be an isolated occurrence, I recommend they rest at least a few hours before returning to their regular activities. It is already one o'clock."

"Yes, yes, of course," Hochstetter said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Thank you for your time, Doctor."

"Get some rest and eat mild foods for a couple of days, young man," the doctor added, patting Blair's shoulder before taking his leave.

"What are you really up to, Sanders?" Hochstetter demanded.

"I'm not up to anything, Major. You're the one who called a doctor. I threw up. That's all. I wasn't feeling well. I'm still a little tired, but I feel better now."

"I warn you, Sanders, if you are trying to hamper this project, or get out of doing your work, you will answer for it," Hochstetter said sternly, wagging a finger at Blair.

"I couldn't help being sick. If you want me to go back to the lab now, I will."

"You will be there at the usual time tomorrow morning. And we had better start seeing some meaningful results!" With that, Hochstetter strode out the door, slamming it behind him.

Just then, Blair heard a commotion outside, alarms going off, dogs barking. He got out of bed and went to the window, where he could see guards gathering around a group of prisoners being let in through the main gate. Klink was hurrying across the compound to the scene, and Hochstetter wasn't far behind him.

********

"I recaptured the prisoners, Herr Kommandant!" Schultz reported, bursting with obvious pride at his achievement, which actually amounted to unlocking the gate and letting the men into the camp.

"What is the meaning of this?" Klink demanded, ignoring Schultz's boast as he often did. Five escaped prisoners stood before him, two of them on either side of the sixth man, Hogan, holding him up as he favored his left leg.

"I went out last night to follow the men who escaped and talk them out of it. The escape committee never approved this operation in the first place," Hogan said, feigned admonition in his tone. Hogan's reference to their mythical "escape committee" never ceased to annoy Klink. The kommandant didn't seem sure if the group truly existed, or was simply one more of many things Hogan created to needle him on occasion.

"When he caught up with us, the Colonel tried to talk us out of going on, but we decided to turn back when he took his little tumble and hurt his leg," Newkirk explained.

"You expect me to believe that you went running through the woods at night to recapture your own men?"

"There's never been a successful escape from Stalag 13," Hogan said by way of explanation. "I knew you'd hunt them down ruthlessly until every last one was recaptured. I didn't want anyone getting hurt."

"Thirty days in the cooler for these...tourists!" Klink ordered. "Colonel Hogan, you are confined to the barracks."

"He needs a doctor, sir," LeBeau ventured. "We don't know if his leg is broken or not."

"Maybe he won't go out on so many late night excursions that way," Hochstetter said, joining the group. LeBeau shot him a venomous look, but wisely said nothing. The doctor who had just examined Blair had not been allowed to leave during the commotion of the returning prisoners, and he now approached the group.

"With your permission, Kommandant, I would be happy to examine this man's leg, and treat him if necessary."

"You two," he instructed LeBeau and Carter, who were supporting Hogan, "take Hogan back to his quarters. Schultz, escort the doctor back to the barracks, and see to it he has any supplies he needs from the dispensary."

"Jawohl, Herr Kommandant."

"Hogan, you and I will discuss this little excursion of yours later," Klink said.

"Thank you, sir," Hogan said, nodding in the direction of the doctor.

"A civilian doctor for an escaped prisoner? Bah!" With that, Hochstetter turned on his heel and strode angrily back to his staff car.

********

Blair smiled as he left his window, happy to see that Hogan and LeBeau were both alive and mostly well, except for whatever was wrong with Hogan's leg. He sat on the foot of the bed, relieved to have seen Hochstetter's car go out the front gate, which was now almost completely reconstructed. He was also relieved that whatever Jim had been doing to help with the rescue efforts, he apparently made it through unharmed. There was no commotion about him being out of the barracks.

When the bedroom door opened, Blair jumped a little, until he saw Jim peer around the corner.

"You're taking an awful chance coming here like this," he said. Jim smiled, closing the door behind him.

"Schultz relieved the guard who was watching your quarters, and he's having a snack, sitting on a stool by the side of the building. He won't look in on you. The excitement was the returning prisoners."

"Is Colonel Hogan all right?"

"I'm sure he'll be fine. He might have a fracture in that leg. I couldn't tell for sure. The bone wasn't displaced, so it should heal quickly. Was the doctor for you?"

"Hochstetter wanted proof I was sick."

"You weren't. He's not...they didn't do anything to you, did they?" Jim asked, sitting on the bed next to Blair.

"No. The doctor examined me, said I was okay, but that I could have thrown up for any number of reasons, and just said I should take it easy the rest of the day and then go back to work tomorrow. Hochstetter wasn't happy with it, but he accepted it."

"The doctor's going to take a look at Hogan's leg. It was trapped under part of the wooden brace when the tunnel they were in collapsed. I think he should be X-rayed."

"Maybe Klink will okay that."

"Maybe." Jim sighed. "Thanks for putting on that little performance earlier. I was able to help, and it kept the krauts busy so the guys could get out through the tunnel and show up at the front gate."

"Good. I talked to my mom. I'm sure she'll come here, but I hate involving her in this."

"There's no other way to get to her. We have to bring her here." Jim reached up and tucked a loose curl behind Blair's ear. "I love your hair loose like this."

"Most people think it's strange for a man to have hair that long."

"It is, but I still like it. You have no idea what it feels like..." Jim carded his fingers gently through the long strands, pausing to let a few curls cling to him. Then he leaned forward and inhaled deeply. "I can feel every strand, see it reflect the light. It glows with a deep reddish bronze in the sun. And it smells like the woods on a perfect summer day, after the rain makes everything fresh."

"Here I was thinking I should probably cut it," Blair said, smiling uneasily at the praise.

"To please the krauts?"

"No, but maybe before they shave my head or something, just to be spiteful."

"Did they threaten you with that?"

"More than once. I don't know why they didn't do it. Maybe they were saving it in case I didn't cooperate. Maybe it was easier to pull me around by it with it long."

"Blair, what else did they do to you?"

"It doesn't matter now. Other people have endured a lot worse. I'm lucky to have gotten through this as well as I have."

"We'll get you out of Germany, I promise. You and your mother."

"Why can't you come with us?"

"I'm a prisoner, Chief," Jim said, smiling. "They wouldn't let me out of camp to go sight-seeing."

"I can't go, Jim. What's going to happen to you?"

"Nothing. I'll be right here, working with Hogan and the Underground, and when the war's over, I'll find you and we'll pick up where we left off."

"If I'm presumed dead, they'll never know what my results were. They might keep testing you, or worse, think you really are what you are, and kill you to eliminate evidence that an Allied prisoner has the abilities Hitler is convinced can only be present in a German."

"You've got to put a little faith in Hogan and his operation. I'm valuable to the Allies, so he's going to do his best to protect me as a resource for the good guys." Jim pulled Blair into his arms. "You're supposedly resting, and no one's going to be looking me up for a while." Jim unbuttoned Blair's pajama top and pushed it off his shoulders.

"Hogan ordered you not to."

"Do you see Hogan here anywhere?"

"Hochstetter could come back?"

"He just left. I saw his staff car go out through the gates." Jim tossed his own jacket aside, and took off his shirt. "This is probably our last chance before your great escape. I know I shouldn't be here, and we shouldn't chance it, but I had to see you again. Like this." Jim tossed his t-shirt aside and reached for the drawstring on Blair's pajama pants.

"I'll lock the door. At least we'll have some warning if someone comes."

"Someone better come," Jim countered, and Blair grinned, locking the door. Then he took a quick detour to the adjoining bathroom and returned carrying the hand lotion, setting it on the bedside table.

Jim was stepping out of his pants and underwear when Blair returned, Jim's semi-erect cock rising impressively out of its nest of brown curls. Blair couldn't help staring as Jim reached down and stroked the large shaft a couple times. He followed the curve of Jim's arm to the impressive display of muscles across his shoulders and chest.

"You're amazing," he said, a little breathless.

"You're overdressed," Jim said, reaching for the drawstring on Blair's pants, opening it and letting the loose garment fall to the floor. He drew Blair into his arms and kissed him deep and hard, hoisting him by his buttocks and depositing him on the bed, following him down with barely a pause between kisses.

Jim's mouth moved from Blair's lips to his chin and his jaw, then down his neck to the hollow of his throat where his tongue swirled the beginning of the soft chest hair. He licked a path to a nipple and sucked it into his mouth, drawing hard on the little nub until Blair moaned, his hands skimming over Jim's shoulders and sliding into his hair to hold him there.

"You're in every sense, baby," Jim whispered, moving up to whisper in Blair's ear. "Your arousal and the scent of your body and your hair is all I can smell, your skin is all I taste, your voice is in my ears, you're all I see, and I feel your body against me...there's nothing else. This is everything." With one more intense kiss, Jim moved down Blair's body and engulfed the rapidly hardening cock in his mouth, making Blair stifle a scream with his fist hastily stuffed in his mouth. His other hand was on Jim's head, his legs spreading as he thrust upward into the hot mouth around him.

Jim groped toward the bedside table and grasped the bottle of hand lotion. Awkwardly squirting some on his fingers while he kept up the suction on Blair, he slid his slippery fingers along the cleft of Blair's ass, rubbing over the satiny skin of his perineum until one finger found the tight pucker it sought, circling around it with the lotion.

"Please, Jim. Put it in me," Blair gasped, pulling his knees up and apart. Jim abandoned the slick, hard shaft and tongued Blair's balls, sucking on them one at a time as he eased his finger into the tight opening. Blair gasped and arched his back, and Jim wasn't sure if it was pleasure or pain that made Blair's heartbeat skyrocket.

"How's it feel, Blair? Talk to me," Jim urged.

"You're in me," Blair responded, smiling.

"Just one finger."

"Make it work, Jim. I know it's going to hurt, but that's okay. When it's over, as long as it hurts, I have something left of this...of us."

"I don't want to hurt you. Just relax a little." Jim moved his finger around inside Blair, engulfing Blair's cock in his mouth again, licking and sucking on it, hoping the stimulation would relax Blair's muscles.

Taking them both a little by surprise, Blair stifled a cry as he came, the work of Jim's mouth too much for his body to resist. Jim gagged at first, but recovered enough to drink down some of Blair's seed.

"I'm sorry," Blair gasped. "I didn't...I couldn't hold back. Nobody ever did that to me before."

"It's relaxing you, sweetheart. Just give in to it," Jim said, stretching Blair's channel more aggressively now. "Roll over on your belly, Chief. You'll be more relaxed if you're not holding your legs up in the air." Jim moved away and Blair complied, then pulled his knees under him, lifting his ass in the air.

Jim took in the sight before him, from the sweat-damp curls clinging to Blair's back, to the swell of his smooth buttocks and the heavy balls hanging between his spread legs, and the small pucker that was slightly stretched now and slick with lotion. Jim put more lotion on his fingers and carefully eased two into Blair, pausing when he groaned and shifted on the bed. Keeping the pace slow, Jim probed deeply, finding a little nob inside Blair's body that made him jerk violently and scream into the mattress.

"Do that again!" Blair demanded, and Jim complied, watching Blair's body shudder in reaction. His lax cock was taking interest again, hardening despite the recent orgasm. Jim rubbed over the little nob again and again until Blair was writhing, wiggling his ass wantonly, burying his face in the bedclothes to stifle his cries of pleasure. When Jim finally withdrew his fingers, Blair was fully erect again, and his opening seemed well stretched and too inviting to resist.

Jim coated his own shaft with the hand lotion, and pressed the head of it against Blair's hole.

"Take a deep breath and relax, baby. I'm going to push it in. Tell me to stop if it hurts."

He pushed past the ring of muscle, and with a strangled cry from Blair, the head was inside.

"Wait," Blair gasped, moving up from his elbows until he was on all fours. "Ow."

"I can pull out, Blair–"

"No, just wait." Blair dropped back down to his elbows again, and spread his knees a bit wider apart. "More."

Jim pushed in further, ignoring the fact Blair managed to remain silent, watching instead his white-knuckled grip on the sheets, listening to his heartbeat, and watching the sheen of sweat coating his body. He stopped, waiting to feel Blair's body relax more to accept him. For a moment, he thought maybe this really had to be evil, sinful, and wrong, because it felt too damn good. No woman was this tight. He'd never felt pressure on his cock like this before, and never seen anything quite as sexy as Blair on his elbows and knees, ass in the air, open and offered to him.

Maybe a man wasn't meant to have pleasure like this on Earth. Maybe this was something reserved for Heaven, if you'd lived a perfect life and denied yourself everything waiting for it...

He slid the rest of the way into Blair, his balls finally making contact with the curve of Blair's buttocks.

"Everything okay, sweetheart?" Jim managed, finding it harder and harder to talk. He rubbed Blair's chest and belly, his hand closing around the neglected cock that had softened during the difficult part of the penetration. He stroked it firmly, reviving its interest in their lovemaking.

"Feels huge," Blair said, a smile in his voice. "Move a little." Jim did, and Blair let out a groan that was definitely pain, not pleasure.

"Relax, baby. Concentrate on the feeling of my hand on you." He kept stroking Blair's cock, keeping it hard. He pulled back again and thrust forward carefully, making Blair groan again.

"More," Blair finally said, and Jim complied, starting a gentle pace of pulling back and thrusting forward, trying not to lose himself in the sight of his cock sliding in and out of Blair's tight channel, of Blair willingly giving him what most men would never give another man. He was taking Blair's virginity in a way no one else had, and no one else would.

Blair's moans were turning to pleasure now, and Jim picked up the pace of his thrusting, allowing himself to concentrate on his own sensations, sliding in and out of Blair, using all his self control not to scream out in pleasure at the feeling of the tight passage that was squeezing him and pleasuring him the way nothing else ever had.

He was riding Blair hard now, their cries restrained but audible now as the bedsprings creaked and groaned under the pace of their lovemaking. Jim felt his climax approaching, but tried to resist it, wanting to prolong the incredible sensations of their sex. When Blair started coming, Jim had no choice. The spasms in Blair's body milked him and he came, trying to stifle the cry of Blair's name as his strokes became rapid and erratic, both of them shuddering with the force of their shared climax.

Slumping over Blair's back, Jim pulled the soft, damp curls aside and kissed Blair's flushed cheek.

"I love you."

"I love you, too," Blair whispered. "I always will, no matter what."

"Me, too, sweetheart. No matter what." Jim kissed Blair's neck, and carefully eased out of him. Blair moaned a little, shifting to bring his legs back down on the bed, lying flat on his stomach. "You must be sore, baby." Jim rubbed Blair's behind, then parted his buttocks to look at the well-stretched opening. It looked raw and sore, but he saw no signs of blood, much to his relief. He'd done everything he could to avoid hurting Blair, but the first time was bound to leave some soreness in its wake.

"You'd never hurt me. I just won't sit down any more than I have to for a while," Blair added, grinning over his shoulder at Jim. "Don't look so worried, love. I'm fine. I loved you inside me."

"It was the most amazing thing I ever felt, Blair. I never knew anything could be that intense." Jim planted a kiss over Blair's tail bone and moved up to gather him in an embrace.

"I wish we could be together again before the soreness fades."

"As soon as I can, sweetheart...as soon as I can. I don't want to be away from you a minute longer than I have to be."

"I'll wait as long as it takes. You know that, right?"

"I know." Jim held Blair close, soaking up the feeling of their warm, damp bodies pressed against each other. "I wish I could put a ring on your finger and marry you."

"It's enough that you want to. I want that, too. If it could happen, and you asked me, I'd say yes."

"It's enough to know that you'd say yes," Jim responded, smiling and kissing Blair gently. "I need to go soon."

"We were lucky to have this time. I know it has to be quick."

"I want to stay here and make love to you all night, every which way we can think of." Jim hugged Blair tightly and the pressure was returned. They shared another long, deep kiss before Jim tore himself away and got out of the bed. He handed Blair his pajamas. "You better put these on."

"Okay." Blair eased up to sit, wincing as he did, moving gingerly to stand. "I think I need to exercise more. I need stronger muscles in some places."

"Don't exercise those muscles again until we're back together," Jim admonished, reaching back to lightly smack Blair's behind.

"I was talking about my back and legs. You know, bicycling or something?" Blair chuckled as he put his pajamas back on. "I think I need to clean up a little."

"Probably a good idea." Jim finished buttoning his shirt and tucked it into his pants, then sat down to tie his shoes. He was surprised when Blair knelt by his feet and did it for him, then looked up at him with a smouldering sensuality in his eyes, his still-flushed face framed by his bed-rumpled curls.

"Stay safe, and remember what you have to come home to."

Jim pulled Blair to his feet, and then close to him until Blair straddled his lap. They kissed again, the spark of passion threatening to send them right back to the disarrayed bed regardless of any threat to their lives or safety. Jim gave in to the urge to cup Blair's buttocks in his hands, rubbing the cheeks through the thin fabric of the pajamas. Blair's lips brushed Jim's ear with hot, moist breath.

"I wish you could pull down my pants, bend me over, and slide in and out of me long and hard until I screamed, so I would feel you inside me for weeks," Blair whispered.

"You would want to do that again, sore as you are?"

"I feel big and empty there. Like you should be in me."

"God, Blair. I have to go." Jim's words ran counter to his actions, and he found himself pushing Blair's pants down, rubbing his bare bottom while their tongues slid against each other in hungry, wild kisses.

"We have a little time, don't we?" Blair gasped, pulling back.

"Enough," Jim confirmed, watching as Blair slid off his lap, kicked his pants aside again, and bent over the bed, bracing his hands on it. Jim unzipped his fly and tugged his pants and underwear out of the way just enough to free his erection. He coated it with the hand lotion, and slid carefully into Blair's still-slick hole.

"Oooh," Blair groaned, wiggling a little and gripping the sheets. Jim reached beneath him and pumped his cock, feeling it coming to almost full hardness. Even if Blair was sore, he was enjoying this, and judging by the way he pushed back against Jim, he wanted it.

Jim began thrusting hard, repeatedly rubbing over Blair's prostate, their stifled cries mingling as he claimed Blair again. It had been years since he'd had really good sex, and he'd never felt anything this good. He'd never loved anyone this much, and wanted them this much at the same time. Love and lust and passion had never come together this way, and it was explosive.

Having come once already, he made it last longer this time, teasing and stimulating Blair, bringing him to the edge and pulling back, and then finally giving in to their shared desire, picked up the speed and force of his thrusts until they were coming again. When it was over, Jim carefully eased himself out, and wiped his lax cock with his handkerchief before tucking it back in his underwear and zipping his pants. Blair straightened, turned, and pulled Jim down for a fiery kiss.

"I love you always. Be careful."

"I will, baby. Look what I have waiting for me when I get home."

********

"Without an X-ray, I cannot be sure of the damage to your leg, Colonel," the doctor said. "You can put some weight on it, so it is probably not broken. I will recommend to your kommandant that you be brought to my office for the X-ray. Meanwhile, the guard is getting you crutches from the infirmary. Until your X-ray, use them. The leg is immobilized in the splint for now, just in case."

"Thanks, Doctor. I appreciate you volunteering to work on me. That probably didn't score any points with Hochstetter."

"I have been called by Major Hochstetter before. I have no real desire to win favor with him. Although, I suppose the fact he calls a doctor at all is something to his credit."

"For his prisoners, you mean?"

"I've said more than I should have now. I also know that injury was not caused by a fall, and I saw the marks on the young man he called me here to examine."

"From the whipping?"

"Whipping, yes, and other marks. Old bruises, old burns. He was tortured a few weeks ago."

"Damn."

"I've seen them put men's legs in devices that do this sort of damage, Colonel."

"Klink and Hochstetter had nothing to do with this."

"I didn't suspect Colonel Klink. I've known his family for years. They have always been military, never terribly influential or famous, but never fearsome or cruel, either."

"Probably why they weren't influential and famous," Hogan responded. The doctor simply smiled and shrugged.

"I won't ask more about the injury, Colonel. If you are permitted to have the X-ray, I will see you in my office in the next couple of days. If you are not X-rayed, keep the leg immobile for a few weeks to allow it to heal in case it is broken, and then slowly start putting some weight back on it."

"Right. Thanks again." Hogan sighed as the doctor left, waiting impatiently for Schultz to show up with the crutches. Crutches. Terrific. How in hell am I supposed to get in and out of the tunnel on a pair of friggin' crutches?

Hogan moved his leg a bit, and the pain flared again, but it didn't feel broken. He remembered breaking his leg when he was ten, falling out of a tree John had dared him into climbing. He couldn't help but smile as he recalled his older brother's ongoing remorse over the broken leg, and the way he'd assigned himself as little Robert's personal assistant until the cast came off and he was fully recovered.

The memory of John was a sweet one, but wholly unwelcome with the grief it brought to the surface. The wound was too fresh to be reminiscing. Swallowing and resolving not to spiral down into dwelling on his brother's death, Hogan swung his legs over the side of the cot, and groaning a little at the motion, annoyed with the awkwardness of the splint, he held onto the framework of the bunk to pull himself up on his good foot. Just then, Schultz arrived with the crutches.

"Be careful, Colonel Hogan," he admonished, hurrying over and handing Hogan the crutches.

"Thanks, Schultz." Hogan tried them tentatively, and then nodded. The wooden crutches were a fairly good fit, though not perfect.

"What did the doctor say?"

"He was going to recommend to Klink that I go into town for an X-ray. I don't think it's broken. It hurts like hell but I can step on it if I have to."

"The kommandant will approve you going into town," Schultz said, nodding. "You should prop it up on a pillow and put ice on it."

"I should, huh?"

"Ja. That is what I did when I sprained my ankle before the war. It swelled up and turned purple."

"Thanks, Schultz. I'll look forward to that. I need to see Klink."

"The kommandant is very busy. He won't want to see you now."

"Thirty days is too stiff a sentence. The guys gave themselves up, and I brought them back."

"Kommandant Klink is very angry that your men escaped while the Gestapo is watching the camp. It makes him look bad in front of the bully boys," Schultz said confidentially, lowering his voice.

"All right, I'll leave him be for now, but I still want to visit my men in the cooler. Let them see I'm in one piece."

"You shouldn't walk so far."

"I'm not walking on it, Mom," Hogan teased, smiling. "I'll put ice on it later."

"I will bring you some from the kitchen."

The two men made their slow journey across the compound, and as they approached the cooler, Hogan noticed Ellison walking toward Barracks 5, looking a bit furtive, coming from the general direction of the guest quarters. Making a mental note to pay the captain a visit on his way back, Hogan continued his awkward and tiring journey to the cooler.

Schultz exchanged a few words of explanation in German with the young private on guard duty, and then led Hogan back to the cells where his men were being held.

"Which one is LeBeau in?" Hogan asked, and Schultz took him to the second metal door and unlocked it. LeBeau was sitting on the bunk, looking as if he were vibrating with barely restrained nervousness. He was on his feet immediately when Hogan entered. "Schultz, give us a few minutes, huh?"

"Of course. I will be right outside." He closed the door behind him.

"With one ear to the door," LeBeau added, shaking his head. "How is your leg?"

"The doctor wants to X-ray it, but I don't think it's broken. I broke it when I was a kid, and it was worse than this. I couldn't step on it at all. Look, I'm going to do what I can to get you out of here sooner than thirty days."

"You always do," LeBeau said, smiling. "Sit down." He waited while Hogan awkwardly accepted the invitation, laying the crutches on the floor.

"About what happened in the tunnel–" Hogan whispered.

"It was magical," LeBeau retorted softly, cutting him off.

"It can't happen again, not above ground. You know that, right?"

"I don't understand."

"Come on, Louis. We thought we were dying. We said...and did...things that...that we'd have never done otherwise."

"You're saying you don't feel that way about me now that we're not trapped in a tunnel?"

"I'm saying that thinking you're going to die makes you feel and think and do things that...that don't make sense if you're going to live. You're a good friend and a good man in this operation, and that won't ever change. You mean a lot to me that way. But what we did in the tunnel...it was a mis–"

"Don't say that!" LeBeau shot back, loud enough for Schultz to hear if he truly was listening on the other side of the door.

"Keep your voice down, Louis."

"You make love to me in the dark and then reject me in the light, is that it?" he whispered bitterly, sitting on the edge of the bunk.

"The last few weeks have been difficult. I wasn't thinking clearly. I let my emotions get away from me."

"But were those emotions real, Mon Colonel?" Louis asked, his voice soft and strained, barely audible to Hogan, and certainly not loud enough to carry beyond the door.

"Yes," Hogan admitted softly, unable to go through with the rejection he'd started. He didn't want to hurt LeBeau or take advantage of him, or put either one of them in a no-win situation for the rest of the war, and the rest of their lives. But faced with the love in Louis' eyes, and the fear, and the hurt, too, he was unable to follow his better judgment.

Probably the same way Ellison can't follow orders when it comes to Sanders...

"You are afraid of what will happen to us."

"No. I know what will happen to us if anyone finds out. I'll be court-martialed, divested of my rank, probably thrown in military prison for the rest of my natural life, not to mention branded a pervert and a disgrace to my country. You'll be lucky if you aren't shot by the krauts before your own people ever deal with you. Hell, we'll probably both be shot if the krauts catch us. If our own people catch us, we'll probably only be beaten to death with crude implements available in a prison camp."

"You don't really believe that our friends would do that."

"First of all, not all of the three hundred or so men in this camp are our close friends, and second, our close friends aren't necessarily going to be our close friends if they find out about this. I'm not even touching the issue of our families."

"We can never tell anyone. But why do we have to? We'll be careful."

"God help me, Louis, if all I wanted was the physical part of this, I might risk it." Hogan glanced at the door, and satisfied it was still closed tightly, he reached over and laid a hand on LeBeau's cheek. "I love you too much to risk your life. I won't do that."

"I have a say in this. In everything else, you are my commanding officer. But in this, you are my lover. I want you to be that. And in that, you are my equal and I am yours. And I say that loving you, touching you, being with you...it is worth any risk I must take to do it." LeBeau punctuated his words with a hand laid over Hogan's heart.

"You have it, you know." Hogan laid his hand over LeBeau's. At LeBeau's puzzled expression, he smiled, pressing a little. "My heart. I don't think it's been mine for a while now. I think you got hold of it pretty early on."

"You have had mine for years, mon amour. I just never dared say it, show it."

"You did show it, and I felt it. I didn't know what it was or what it meant, maybe I didn't want to know. But I knew who cared about me, who worried about me, who I wanted close to me when things went wrong..."

"This is worth our lives, Robert," Louis said, Hogan's name coming out somewhere between the American "Robert" and the French version, "Robaire." "This is our lives."

"I have to go. I'll get you out of here somehow, I promise. I'll try to get you all out."

"Whatever happens, I know you did your best. I will survive in here," LeBeau added, smiling.

"No longer than you have to." Hogan kissed LeBeau's forehead quickly and then was struggling to his feet, LeBeau handing him the crutches. "I'll see what I can do, LeBeau, but Klink's pretty angry," Hogan said, loud enough for Schultz to hear.

"We came back on our own. That should be worth something," LeBeau replied, playing along.

"All I can do is ask."

LeBeau grasped Hogan's jacket and pulled him forward, planting a fast, stolen kiss on his lips.

"I can do much more than that," he whispered.

Hogan finished his visits in the cooler, spending a few minutes each with Newkirk, Carter, Kinch, and Olsen. As he headed for the barracks on his crutches, he wasn't sure what kind of scheme he was going to cook up to get them out, be he had to think of something. Not only did he owe them for saving LeBeau's and his lives, but with his main team all incarcerated, the mission to rescue Sanders and his mother and get them out of Germany was going to be a lot more difficult. Plus, there was the issue of whether "Nadine Sanders" really wanted to be rescued. Sanders might take his mother's loyalty to him for granted, but Hogan was not quite so trusting.

********

"You asked to see me, Captain?" Schultz asked, sticking his head in the door of Jim's quarters.

"Someone should be looking after Colonel Hogan's injury. I have medic training," he added. "I'd like to see him."

"He is going to the doctor tomorrow for an X-ray, and I took him some ice after dinner."

"That was good of you, Sergeant. I'm sure he appreciated it. I still would like to see him. I'm his second in command, and if there are any assignments he has for me, like making up work details, things like that, I should see him about it tonight."

"Ja, that is true. I'll take you there now. It will have to be a short visit. Lights out at nine o'clock."

"Right. Thanks, Schultz."

When Jim arrived in Hogan's barracks, it was unnaturally quiet. A few men played cards at the table, a few others read or napped on their bunks. Hogan's door wasn't closed tightly, just to the frame.

"I will be back in fifteen minutes," Schultz said, pointing a pudgy finger at his watch.

"I'll be ready." Jim tapped on Hogan's door and pushed it open a bit. Hogan was sitting on the bottom bunk, his injured leg packed in ice bags and propped on pillows.

"I was planning on paying you a visit tomorrow," Hogan said, putting the book aside he'd been reading.

"Looks like you got someone to help take care of your leg. I thought I should check on you." Jim lowered his voice then. "I thought we should talk about how this operation to get Blair out of here is going to work with all your key men in the cooler."

"How is the good professor today, anyway?" Hogan asked, a knowing smirk on his face.

"He faked illness so I could help get you and LeBeau out of the tunnel. I wanted to be sure he was all right after the doctor was here."

"The doctor's a good man. I'm sure he didn't inflict any damage."

"No, Blair was fine. But how is tomorrow going to work with everyone in the cooler?"

"I don't know yet. If Klink gets a visiting dignitary, like the count, he'll want a decent meal. I can probably negotiate them out by having LeBeau cook a gourmet dinner for the guests. It's all in the timing. We have to wait for them to get here. We have no real solid proof they'll be here tomorrow at all."

"Blair thinks his mother will come right away."

"Yeah, well, she won't be going very far without the count, and he may not be as urgent to visit her little boy as she is." Hogan shifted on the bed with a wince, flexing the toes of his stockinged foot.

"You think there's a fracture? I couldn't feel anything."

"I broke it when I was a kid, and it hurt worse than this. I think it's probably bruised and maybe sprained." Hogan paused. "I thought I told you to cool it with Sanders."

"You did, sir."

"How did you rise to the rank of captain and end up with high-level security clearance with this inability of yours to follow orders?"

"You know how I feel about Blair. There's not much hiding that."

"Doesn't take a Sentinel to figure that out. Which is what worries me. If I can spot it a mile away, an observant kraut will, too."

"I had to be sure he was all right. And I had to see him one more time. If things don't go right with this operation, or if something happens to me after he leaves Germany...I might never see him again."

"Desperate situations lead to some ill-advised actions, no question about it," Hogan said, his mind wandering back to his own tryst with LeBeau in the tunnel. As much as he now admitted to himself that he loved LeBeau, giving in to it was potentially disastrous, ruinous, and deadly for both of them.

"Sounds like the voice of experience, sir," Jim said, and Hogan was silent a moment.

"Let's just say that I might be your commanding officer, but that doesn't mean that I can't understand how you feel, or why you keep doing what I tell you not to do. War stinks, and so does all the death and separation that goes with it."

"The real problems with my being in love with Blair have nothing to do with the war."

"No, you'll be in plenty of danger from both sides, and even after the war."

"Is that why you're worrying about your feelings for LeBeau?"

"Excuse me?" Hogan retorted, angry.

"I'm a Sentinel, Colonel. I never really understood what that meant until I met Blair, but I can sense things other people can't. When we pulled you both out of the tunnel, I could smell more than fresh dirt, if you get my drift."

"You're out of line, Captain."

"I'm not trying to be out of line or to threaten you or be insubordinate. I can't help what my senses pick up, and I know desire when I smell it. But we're both in the same boat, sir."

"Up a creek without a paddle would be more appropriate." Hogan tossed the book he'd had in his lap onto the bed with frustration.

"Did you ever think you'd fall in love with a man? I've been trying to figure out what's wrong with me. Why I feel the way I do about Blair. All my life, I've only heard people whisper about the kind of things we did–" Jim stopped, looking embarrassed.

"What? Did you think I believed you went over there to check on his health?"

"Everything we did is supposed to be dirty, sick, perverted. But it was so right. It was better than anything else...than anything I'm supposed to want."

"You shouldn't be telling me this. And if you think I'm telling you anything, you're nuts."

"Are you denying it yourself or just denying it to me?" Jim smiled. "I know that has to be a rhetorical question."

"I'm denying it because the answer could cost someone his life. You know that as well as I do."

"I never knew anyone else who was...who didn't..."

"Captain, you've never had the urge to wear your mother's house dresses, have you?" Hogan asked, and Jim stared back at him, a bit stunned.

"Uh...no, sir, I can't say I have," Jim replied, deadpan.

"Neither have I."

"I guess that's something to be grateful for, right, sir?" Jim prodded, the corner of his mouth twitching upward slightly. He was rewarded with the barest grin and sparkle in Hogan's devilish brown eyes.

"Among other things, yes." Hogan became more serious then. "I need you to send a message to London. Tell them what happened, and that we're still going to attempt to proceed with the plan as soon as Sanders' mother and the count arrive. Kinch showed you how to radio them, right?"

"Yes, sir."

"Contact them with the same information, and tell them to stand by. We'll be in touch when we know for sure."

"Right."

"And Ellison?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Stay away from the guest quarters. In case you didn't recognize it, that's an order," Hogan added, the slight grin on his face taking the edge off his words.

********

Hogan hadn't bothered to advise him on how to radio London when Schultz was about to pick him up, and the tunnel was caved in between his barracks and the radio room. Jim polled the men in the outer room of the barracks and found a few who were willing to donate candy bars for bribing Schultz. He found one man who was adept with a few sleight of hand tricks, though he definitely was not of Newkirk's stature in that department. With instructions to them to keep the guard busy, Jim went below to the tunnel and sent the radio messages as ordered. Meanwhile, the men strung a clothesline in front of the bunk that concealed the entrance to the tunnel and hung a few blankets there so Jim could make his return trip without giving anything away to Schultz.

When Jim came back up top, he ducked between the blankets, ready to play along with any story they'd made up to assuage Schultz.

"Now I must take you back to your barracks, Captain. I told you fifteen minutes," he said, shaking a finger at Jim.

"You got your candy, Schultz. What more do you want?" Hogan spoke up, making his entrance on his crutches, flashing a conspiratorial look at Jim. He'd given Jim a tricky assignment spur of the moment with no guidance on how to make it happen, and Jim had managed and trusted Hogan not to give an order that couldn't be obeyed successfully. Despite the ache of being separated from Blair for the balance of the war, Jim could foresee enjoying his work with Hogan. "Look, you've got ten minutes until lights out. Plenty of time to get Ellison back to his barracks and enjoy a candy bar on the way back."

"There is some kind of monkey business going on here."

"You know what, Schultz? You're right," Hogan said, and Jim's eyes widened momentarily. "We're really plotting a secret operation–"

"Stop! I hear nothing, I see nothing!" And with that, Schultz gestured at Jim to exit, and followed him out the door.

********

Klink looked at the pile of paperwork on his desk and sighed heavily. It wasn't enough that Hochstetter and his goon squad were in and out of the camp on a daily basis, or that Hogan was out of camp getting X-rays taken and therefore at risk for escape. On this day, he had to receive a reprimand from Berlin for being late with his inventory and supply reports. Burkhalter would visit next if the forms didn't arrive in a timely manner, and Klink was willing to invest any amount of ink and personal time in preventing that.

A bookkeeper in civilian life, completing the mundane forms came easily to him, but was no less boring. Truthfully, he'd spent most of his professional life bored. The wars were diversions if they were nothing else. The opportunity to pretend that his life was more exciting and important than it truly was.

Stalag 13 was nothing like an orderly accounting firm or a strictly-run corporation. Hogan was always up to something, stirring the pot, scheming, and generally ensuring that Klink would remain the antacid manufacturers' star customer. Despite that, there were many times when Klink wondered how he would cope with the silence and redundancy of civilian life among other orderly bookkeepers and corporate types when Hogan was back in the States and the war was over.

There was a knock at the door, and Schultz burst in, all wide eyes and nerves. He saluted quickly before delivering his news.

"Herr Kommandant, Count Heydrich's car just came in through the gates!"

"Count Heydrich?" Klink frowned.

"He is a Gestapo general, Herr Kommandant. And he has a lady with him."

"Why was I not told he was coming? Berlin never tells me anything," Klink groused, donning his cap and tucking his riding crop beneath his arm, striding past Schultz out the door of his office and onto the front porch, just as the large, black staff car pulled up in front of the building.

A young Gestapo driver got out of the car and hurried around to the passenger side, opening the back door. A shapely leg appeared in the opening, ending in a shiny black high-heeled shoe. A moment later, a very fashionable redhead in a fur-trimmed gray suit stepped out of the car, accepting the young guard's hand to help her out, flashing him a sweet smile as she turned to wait for her traveling companion to disembark.

Tall and imposing, Count Konrad Heydrich rose to his full height as Klink and Schultz both snapped to attention and saluted. He returned the salute without a change in his rather dour expression.

"This is indeed an unexpected honor, your excellency," Klink effervesced.

"This is Nadine Sanders. I believe you have her son, Blair, lodged here at the present time?"

"Yes, sir. The young professor has been conducting his research here, at the direction of Major Hochstetter of the Gestapo. It is a pleasure to meet you, Frau Sanders."

"Fraulein," Nadine corrected, flashing the same bright smile at Klink the young guard had earned moments earlier.

"Hochstetter," Heydrich repeated. "One of Detweiler's errand boys," he said with obvious disdain. "We will be in need of your hospitality Colonel..."

"Klink, sir. I would be most honored to offer you our humble accommodations. Schultz, prepare the VIP guest quarters next to Professor Sanders' quarters. See to it that the Count and Fraulein Sanders have anything they request."

"Jawohl, Herr Kommandant."

"Danke, Colonel. But what I would most like is to see my son," Nadine said.

"And I would very much like to meet Professor Sanders."

"Of course. Schultz, please escort the professor to my quarters. Right this way, please," Klink invited, ushering his VIP guests to the entrance leading to his quarters.

********

"Now I want you to block out all the other scents and concentrate on the scent of the rose," Blair instructed, watching as Jim obeyed, closing his eyes.

"Don't close your eyes, Jim."

"You said block everything else out."

"Right, but if you're on a mission, you can't close your eyes and stand there with this dumb look on your face with your mouth hanging open because you're smelling something."

"What dumb look?" Jim retorted, frowning.

"Forget it. The point is, you need to be able to focus your senses without shutting down the others, or...or zoning out on the subject you're concentrating on. Keeping your eyes open might not only save your life, but also keep enough other stimuli coming in that you don't lose yourself in this one."

"Okay." Jim tried for a moment. "I'm focusing on you."

"Try the rose, Jim," Blair said, grinning.

"I'd rather smell you."

"This is all about controlling your senses. Self-discipline and control. You might like the smell of something else in your environment, but if you're under orders to smell something specific, or detect something, you have to be able to put that aside."

Jim grimaced, then focused on the rose, which was across the room, and too far for a normal person to smell. Blair started drumming his fingers on the table.

"Is there some special reason you're doing that?" he asked, shooting a look at Blair.

"Because the world isn't going to fall into silence when you need to concentrate on something."

"It's pretty annoying, Chief."

"So is gunfire, but you might have to tune that out at some point, too."

"Okay." Jim was silent a few moments. "I smell it."

"What else are you smelling?"

"Nothing. You told me to focus on the rose."

"Good, that's what we wanted to happen. How about me drumming on the table? Did it get louder when you opened up your sense of smell to the rose?"

"No."

"So you were elevating that sense without affecting the others," Blair summarized, nodding and making another note. "You'll have to take these back with you after our session, give them to Hogan to keep with the others."

"I will."

"Okay. Let's try something different." Just as Blair stood to arrange a few more sample items on the table, Schultz entered the barracks that was doubling as Blair's research lab.

"Excuse me, Professor, but guests have arrived who wish to see you, and the kommandant asked me to escort you to his quarters."

"Guests?"

"Your mother and a Gestapo general," Schultz confided in a low voice.

"Sounds pretty important," Jim said, flashing Blair a quick, knowing smile. "I guess I'll just head on out and join the others for the rest of the exercise period."

"I just need to gather up my materials," Blair said, stacking up his notebooks and supplies. Jim moved closer, ostensibly to help him, and when he was out of Schultz's view, tucked the notes inside his jacket.

"I could take these things back to your quarters if you like," Jim offered, and Schultz nodded approval.

"That would be very helpful. Thank you, Captain," Blair said, smiling and handing Jim the stack. Their hands brushed fleetingly, and both longed for a more meaningful touch.

********

"You seem to live quite comfortably here, Klink," Heydrich commented as a young private took their coats and disappeared into Klink's room to lay them on the bed.

"We make do, sir," Klink said, uneasy any time a visiting officer thought he had it good. "But I assure you, I run the camp budget with an iron hand, and a tight fist."

"That's quite admirable. Just see to it you don't acquire a lovely companion who is only too happy to relieve you of your surplus cash," he said, smiling indulgently at Nadine, who returned the happy expression.

"A man of your stature can't live in a glorified bunker and serve bread and water to your guests."

"I'm sure you will not allow that to happen, my dear," he replied, taking a seat on the sofa next to Nadine.

"May I offer you some refreshment? A glass of wine, a bit of schnapps to take the chill off?" Klink offered.

"Wine would be delightful. For both of us," Nadine added, raising an eyebrow at the count. "No more schnapps today."

"My superior officer," the count noted, smiling affectionately at Nadine.

Just then, Blair entered, escorted by Schultz.

"Blair, sweetie!" Nadine was out of her seat like a shot, embracing her son excitedly. "You look thin. Are you eating? Have you been ill?"

"I'm fine, Mom. Really. Just a little tired."

"You always did forget to sleep when you were working on an important project. Blair, this is my friend, Konrad. Konrad, this is my brilliant son," she enthused.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, sir," Blair said, extended his hand to shake hands with the count, who accepted the gesture with a smile.

"I've heard a lot about you, young man."

"I'm sorry about that," Blair said, and the count laughed.

"Ah, it's just a mother's pride," he conceded. "You must tell us about this fascinating research you're doing here, tucked away from the civilized world," the count said, sitting down. Nadine, Blair, and Klink followed suit. The count noticed the withered expression on Klink's face. "No offense intended, Colonel. You have created a very nice oasis here," he added, gesturing at their surroundings.

"Thank you, sir. We are not without our luxuries here, however modest they may be."

"My first night here, we had the most outstanding meal prepared by a French gourmet chef," Blair said. "LeBeau is going to be able to cook for my mother and the count while they're visiting, isn't he?"

"Of course, anything for our guests," Klink said, though he looked more than a little discomfited. LeBeau's services were in demand now, and he'd have to make a deal with the devil–namely Hogan–to get what he wanted.

"I've been continuing my research into Sentinels."

"I thought that wasn't working out?" Nadine said, an inquisitive look on her face.

"I haven't found a perfect subject yet with all five senses heightened."

"I remember hearing something about this in Berlin. I just wasn't aware that the scientist involved was Nadine's son. You've tested a good number of the top men in Germany for this...Sentinel, is it? Special sensory powers or something like that?"

"A Sentinel is someone who serves as a watchman for their community because they have heightened senses. They see, smell, and hear things before anyone else, and they are able to detect things by taste and touch that no one else could. In ancient times, they were watchmen who protected the tribes."

"Ah, yes. The Fuhrer was even tested for this, if I recall correctly," Heydrich said.

"Yes, but I explained to Herr Hitler that it would be unusual for him to have those abilities, because he is the leader. Generally, Sentinels were not chiefs. They were watchmen who protected everyone, including the chief. Like an extremely good security person."

"It's all very interesting, but it sounds a bit far-fetched."

"I've found subjects with one or more heightened senses, both before I began doing research for the Third Reich and during that time. I just haven't found one with all five, but I'm not convinced at this point that such a person doesn't exist. They're rare, so you could go a lifetime without finding one."

"Not a very profitable area of research, then, is it?"

"It is if you find one," Blair countered, and the count smiled.

"Yes, I imagine that's true."

"When you left the university, everyone was concerned. You didn't leave a forwarding address, and you didn't take your things from your apartment," Nadine said.

"That was how it had to be for security purposes. That's what I was told by the Gestapo when they a–...when they came to pick me up."

"Colonel Klink, perhaps you could take Fraulein Sanders on a tour of the camp. I would like to get to know the professor a bit better."

"But, dear, I haven't seen Blair in ages," Nadine said, touching his arm, frowning a bit.

"You'll have all the time you like, liebschen," he said, picking up and kissing the back of the hand that had rested on his arm. "But for now, this is man talk. And you've never seen a POW camp before. This will be your chance to see that we really don't chain them all up in dungeons," he added, smiling and patting her cheek.

"I can assure you, Fraulein, this camp is run in strict compliance with the Geneva Convention, and our prisoners are happy and healthy. I would be delighted to show you," Klink volunteered, springing to his feet. Nadine cast a strange look at her companion.

"You've heard all this boring stuff about my experiments before, Mom. You might like to see the camp. It's really pretty interesting."

"Well, all right. I would like to see the camp. But I want to hear more about your trip here and everything you've been doing since I saw you last," she added, caressing Blair's head lightly as she rose and passed him to join Klink, who was donning his hat and tucking his riding crop under his arm, wreathed in smiles and ready to escort the attractive redhead around the camp.

"Over dinner," Blair said, and she nodded, allowing Klink to escort her outside for their tour.

"So you were arrested by the Gestapo. Tell me, what did Detweiler and his henchmen do to you to get you to work for them?"

"What do you mean?"

"Blair, I realize sitting here in a Gestapo uniform, I'm the last person you're going to trust. That having been said, I don't support the bully tactics of my colleagues, and I am quite in love with your mother."

"I can see that. She seems pretty taken with you, too."

"Your mother, Naomi Sandburg," he stated.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"You learned well from your time in Detweiler's basement, didn't you?" He shook his head regretfully. "I know that you're both Jewish, and I know that you're no Nazi supporter. I also know you wouldn't admit you'd been tortured into this in front of your mother."

"I knew if I didn't do it, they'd kill me. I figured I could do a lot of testing without giving them anything," Blair blurted, then began to fear how much he'd said. But Heydrich really did seem to be enamored with his mother, and genuine about wanting to help Blair.

"So you've been stringing Hitler along, giving him little nuggets but not the big prize, is that it?"

"There's been no big prize to give him. I haven't found anyone. The truth is, I could go my whole life without finding a Sentinel, or I could find one tomorrow." Blair was willing to risk himself at this point, but not Jim. He had no way to be sure of Heydrich. Not that sure.

"Your mother was convinced that your phone call was a plea for help. She wants me to get you out of Germany, and I'm prepared to do that."

"How?"

"Hochstetter wouldn't dare question me if we all left camp together, the three of us–you, your mother, and myself. I have connections who can get us out of Germany. That's all I will tell you. What you don't know, you can't say, even under torture."

"How do I know you're not setting a trap for me?"

"Blair, why would I go through all this to set a trap for you? I could have had you shot and been done with it. If I were really on Hitler's side, I'd be turning you over to Hochstetter, along with a tape of our conversation. Or I'd just shoot you myself ."

"I guess that's true."

"Tomorrow, we'll leave the camp. You'll simply have to trust me."

"My mother...does she know about this plan of yours?"

"I agreed to come here and see you, and I told her that if you were in any real danger, I would do all I could to protect you. She is safer not knowing what I have planned until it happens."

"I need to think about this."

"Think about it? You want to stay here?"

"No. But maybe you should get my mother out of Germany and let me figure out my own salvation."

"You must be joking. I would have to drag your mother out of the country in leg irons to get her to leave you behind."

"If I agree to this, it'll be my mother's and my deaths if you're double-crossing us."

"If I were planning to double-cross you, you would already be doomed, so your answer to this would be academic."

"True," Blair said, nodding his head. "I'll cooperate with whatever you say tomorrow."

"Good boy." Heydrich rose and poured a glass of schnapps. When Blair refused it, he drank it himself in one quick gulp.

********

The staff car carrying Langenscheidt and Hogan rumbled through the front gates, much to the relief of the men who had witnessed the arrival of the count. With Hogan out of camp, and most of his key men in the cooler, they were ill-prepared to deal with any aspect of the planned rescue of the scientist and his mother.

"Kommandant Klink will want a full report from the doctor," Langenscheidt said as he opened the back door of the staff car for Hogan, who was still using his crutches.

"Shall we go see him together? Reassure him I didn't make a run for it in town?" Hogan quipped, gesturing with one of his crutches. "Looks like he's got big brass here."

"Count Heydrich of the Gestapo, and a lady," Schultz said, ambling over to join them. "Professor Sanders' mother." Schultz smiled devilishly. "Quite a tomato," he confided to the two men, who both chuckled.

"Watch it, Romeo. Messing with a Gestapo man's girlfriend isn't a healthy pastime," Hogan responded, still grinning.

"The kommandant took her on a tour of the camp," Schultz said. "How is your leg?"

"The doctor said there's a lot of deep bruising and a sprain, but it's not broken. He gave me some painkillers and suggested I put ice on it to keep the swelling down–I guess I should have just paid you his fee for the same advice. I only need these for a couple days."

"He said a week," Langenscheidt corrected.

"Give or take a couple days," Hogan added, smiling. "There's our beloved kommandant now," Hogan observed, spotting Klink wreathed in smiles, engaged in animated conversation with the pretty redhead on his arm.

"Ah, Fraulein Sanders, you were asking about our senior POW officer. Colonel Hogan, Fraulein Nadine Sanders. She is Professor Sanders' mother."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Colonel Hogan," she said, extending a well-manicured hand to him, which he shook.

"The pleasure is all mine. But I'm afraid I don't believe you're Professor Sanders' mother," Hogan said, drawing a look of shock from the group. "His sister, perhaps."

"Handsome and charming," Nadine commented, giving Hogan an appreciative look. "Maybe it's a good thing for the ladies in town that you have him under lock and key here, Kommandant."

"And you may rest assured that here is where he will stay. Did I tell you we've never had a single escape–"

"Yes, I think you mentioned that," she said, smiling politely and patting his arm. "Colonel Hogan, I understand you have an excellent French chef here. I adore Paris, especially the food! I hope we can convince you to share his services with us for dinner tonight–oh, and join us, of course! I haven't spoken to someone from the States in ages."

"Actually, our chef is in the cooler at the moment," Hogan said, giving Klink a meaningful look.

"The cooler? Is that like a meat locker?" Nadine asked, puzzled.

"Quite a bit, yes, only with bars and cots."

"Thank you, Hogan, that will do," Klink interrupted, smiling nervously. "I am sure Colonel Hogan will have no objections to Corporal LeBeau cooking for us tonight."

"Provided, of course, that Corporal LeBeau doesn't object."

"I will make a suitable gesture of appreciation, Hogan. I always do. Certainly you know that by now," he added, smiling again at Nadine, who was watching the exchange with wide-eyed curiosity.

"I would be honored to join you for dinner, Fraulein. I never refuse dinner invitations from beautiful women." He kissed her hand, and Nadine smiled radiantly, obviously delighted with the gesture.

"Dinner will be at seven o'clock," Klink said.

"May I ask, Colonel, are the crutches due to a battle injury?" Nadine asked.

"Not exactly. Just a clumsy fall. My leg's a little banged up, but the doctor said it wasn't broken."

"Well, that's good news" Klink said.

"Ah, Kommandant, if LeBeau is going to cook for tonight–"

"I will issue the order to release him immediately," Klink said, a bit sharply.

"And the others," Hogan added, smiling sweetly at Nadine.

"Occasionally, I am forced to take some disciplinary measures with the men," he said to Nadine. "Always very humane measures, of course."

"That's good to hear. I should get back to Konrad. Nice meeting you , Colonel."

"My pleasure," Hogan responded, watching the two of them walking arm and arm back to Klink's quarters.

********

Despite the fact his arms were getting tired from the use of the crutches, Hogan eschewed going back to the barracks to rest to head for the cooler and await his men's release. The guard on duty had received telephoned orders from Klink to release the prisoners, and informed Corporal LeBeau that his services, as well as the services of two of the other men as waiters, were required for that evening.

"How'd you manage getting all of us out, Colonel?" Carter asked, visibly surprised to be among the free. Hogan could sometimes negotiate one or two releases with Klink, but four was an accomplishment, even for him.

"Klink wants to impress Heydrich and Sanders' mother," he said, his movement on the crutches becoming a little slower and more labored now that he was getting tired. His men walked along at his speed. "LeBeau's doing the cooking, but we need at least one waiter. Plus, Fraulein Sanders is obviously concerned to know that there's no mistreatment going on. Having me lament over dinner about my men in the cooler wouldn't fit too well."

"I better get over to the camp kitchen and get my supplies. I hope Schultz picked up the items I told him to get in town last week," LeBeau said, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Otherwise, they'll be having leftover potato pancakes and sauerbraten from the mess hall for dinner."

"That'll teach 'em," Newkirk spoke up. "Are we still on schedule to get the professor and his mother out?"

"Absolutely. They need to take a ride tomorrow afternoon. Carter, you and Kinch will have to slip out tonight and set the timer for that bridge. Newkirk, you're our waiter for this evening."

"Bloody marvelous," Newkirk groused. Carter just smiled.

"There's some benefit to being the explosives expert, you know."

"You don't have to be an expert to set a bleedin' timer," Newkirk retorted.

"For this one, you do. We can't screw this up. Lives are depending on it. Including our own," Hogan added.

********

LeBeau's cooking was a hit with the guests, as they dined on brochette dijon flambee, a marinated chicken dish, and other delicacies.

"How long have you been at Stalag 13, Colonel Hogan?" Nadine asked, her obvious interest in Hogan rankling her influential lover just a bit as he arched an eyebrow in her direction. The expression went unnoticed.

"About three years," Hogan responded. LeBeau entered then, bringing a fresh bottle of wine. He began the cycle of refills with Nadine, but his eyes were mostly on Hogan. The look wasn't lost on Hogan, who couldn't help but look up to have eye contact with LeBeau, their gaze locking for a moment before the conversation necessitated breaking it.

"And you still haven't figured a way out of Klink's little hotel?" Heydrich retorted.

"Security is very tight here. The Kommandant is on top of everything," Hogan responded, and Klink visibly straightened in his chair, puffed by the praise.

"We have never had a single escape–"

"Yes, I recall you saying something about that earlier," Heydrich dismissed.

"Where are you from? My family was originally from California, but the last place Blair and I lived in the States was Seattle."

"I was born and raised in Connecticut."

"Oh, that part of the country is absolutely gorgeous in the Fall," Nadine replied. "Do you have a lot of family waiting for you back home?"

"Not a lot. Parents, my grandmother, the usual assorted relatives," Hogan added, smiling, though his thoughts immediately went to his brother.

"Any brothers or sisters? I have an older brother, but we really aren't in touch all that much."

"I had an older brother. He passed away recently," Hogan replied. As LeBeau filled his wine glass, Hogan felt a hand rest on the back of his shoulder and linger there as long as possible until LeBeau had to move away, and then return to the kitchen.

"I'm so sorry. Was he in combat?" Nadine asked.

"No, it was a motorcycle accident back home," Hogan said, taking a sip of his wine to push down the lump rising in his throat.

"I understand you are quite the traveler, Fraulein Sanders," Klink said, blatantly changing the subject with a sideways glance at Hogan. The small act of kindness didn't escape Hogan, who not only appreciated it immensely, but was quite surprised by it. Klink never seemed to mind watching Hogan squirm a bit in a tight conversational corner, but apparently, grief was something the kommandant placed in a different category.

"I traveled extensively within the United States before I came to Germany. Since I met Konrad, we've taken some wonderful European trips..."

The congenial conversation continued, and Hogan was just as happy to let the effervescent woman take the spotlight. His leg ached, his back and shoulders were fatigued from using the crutches, and the reference to his brother's death hadn't improved his mood. More so than any of that, though, he was only there to watch for his opportunity to talk to the somewhat flighty Nadine/Naomi to be sure she was on board and prepared for their rescue effort the next day.

When Sanders made a point of asking Hogan if he would like another dinner roll, holding the basket out to him with a somewhat pleading expression on his face, Hogan accepted the basket with thanks, and found a small wad of paper in the basket with the last roll. Taking both the roll and the note, he set the empty basket aside.

"Shall we adjourn to the living room for coffee?" Klink suggested.

"Of course," Nadine agreed, taking a brief break from her account of her recent trip to Paris with Heydrich.

Hogan pushed back from the table a bit wearily, reaching down next to his chair for his crutches. As he used them for extra support to stand, he was surprised to feel a strong upward pull on his arm that made completing the gesture considerably easier. Before he could even acknowledge the help, Klink had moved away, back to playing host to his influential guests.

Guess we've weathered a lot of storms together in the last few years, even if we're on opposite sides. His relationship with Klink was a bizarre partnership that wasn't really friendship–it couldn't be, not from opposite sides of a world war–but it wasn't really based on animosity, either. At least, not real, full-blown, wish-for-each-other's-demise animosity. They bickered, negotiated, argued...and yet they drank schnapps together, played chess together when things were really dull, and were the only two men of equivalent rank in the camp.

Keeping Klink from a Russian transfer was in Hogan's best interest to keep his operation running, and it was obviously in Klink's best interest to stay alive. Keeping Stalag 13 open, running, and in good standing in Berlin was also vital to both men, though for vastly different reasons. They often found themselves working toward a common purpose, strange as it seemed at times. In return, Klink was humane–he wasn't indulgent or overly generous, but no one at Stalag 13 was starving or staggering around without medical or dental care, either. His idea of torture was cancelling a ping-pong tournament, and the cooler was the worst punishment he doled out. All in all, Klink did repay his prisoners for staying put, though he had little idea of what was truly keeping them there.

Hogan took advantage of the momentary distraction of the guests to read the tiny note.

"Heydrich knows our names and that we're Jewish. He's in love with my mother and wants to help us escape tomorrow, when we all leave camp together. I agreed to go along with it. I didn't mention anything else to him but to confirm what he already knows. What do we do?

Blair"

Hogan stuffed the note in his pocket, somewhat at a loss for how to answer that last question. He had to think, and he hoped the little dinner party at Klink's would break up early.

********

LeBeau and Newkirk finished cleaning up Klink's kitchen as the dinner party was winding down in the living room. Schultz, who was allegedly there to "guard" them, had gorged on leftovers at the small kitchen table, chasing them with gulps of wine, until he ambled out to check on the other guards he supervised.

"The scientist's mother isn't a bad-lookin' bird, is she?" Newkirk commented as he set another clean dish in the rack for LeBeau to dry.

"She must have been very young when he was born. And what do you make of her going by 'fraulein'? With a grown son, that must be raising some eyebrows. Can't believe old Heydrich would want any hint of scandal."

"I'm not sure what he wants counts for much. I think what the lady wants, she gets."

"I wonder how she'll feel about sending him over a wired bridge tomorrow."

"Probably the same way Marya used to feel–if one of her...companions got knocked off, she wasn't too worried about it," Newkirk added with a chuckle.

"You think she's just with him to stay safe during the war? They looked like they were in love to me."

"That could be a bit of a sticky wicket tomorrow, then."

"I'm sure Colonel Hogan will think of something," LeBeau said, finding it hard to speak of the man he wanted to make love to in such formal terms. Images of Hogan at dinner in his dress uniform, badges of rank and medals in place, didn't do much to stifle the interest his body was taking in thoughts of lovemaking. Grateful for his apron and the fact he was standing in front of a counter, he tried to drag his thoughts back to more mundane concerns, but his body was having none of it.

"Louis?" Newkirk's voice startled him. "You haven't heard a word I said."

"Sorry. I guess I'm just tired."

"At least we're not in the cooler anymore."

"Between being in the cooler and cooking for Gestapo animals, I think I'd pick the cooler."

"Klink probably knows that. Probably the only reason he lets you out all the time to make his fancy dinners."

"If it makes the operation work, then it's worth it. I better go make sure they don't want anything else before Schultz gets back to take us to the barracks."

"Louis?"

"What?" LeBeau paused inside the kitchen door, his hand on the smooth surface.

"Is anything wrong?"

"Besides the fact we're about to embark on another life and death operation?" The question made Newkirk laugh.

********