********

When all the men were back in the barracks, Hogan gathered them around the table. He sat at the head of it, a grim look on his face.

"The last time you had that look on your face, London was thinking about shutting down our whole operation," Kinch said, and Hogan smiled slightly.

"Well, it's not quite that bad, but it's a problem. Heydrich knows the truth about Sanders and his mother, and Sanders thinks he might be on their side. He wants to get them out of Germany–all of them leave together–when they go out together tomorrow."

"But we have the charges all set. He can't do that to us!" Carter protested.

"He can and he has. Sanders' mother is in love with the guy, and by all outward appearances, the feeling is mutual. Apparently, he wants to take them both to safety with the help of some 'contacts' of his."

"This is awfully similar to our own operation, Colonel," LeBeau said. "Is there any danger something was leaked, or he found out what we were planning?"

"Anything's possible, but I don't think so. If Heydrich wanted to act against Sanders and his mother, he could have had them both shot or packed off to a camp. He knows they're Jewish. He wouldn't have to go through this elaborate plan to trap them."

"You believe him then?" Newkirk prodded.

"So far, Sanders agreed to go along with him on the escape, but he claims he's said nothing about our operation, and I'm assuming he's said nothing about Ellison being the real McCoy, either."

"Do we call the whole thing off, then? Let Heydrich take care of it?" Kinch asked.

"That's an attractive option at this point. I'm not interested in risking this operation to expose it to a Gestapo general I don't know any more about than I know about Heydrich. My biggest concern is Ellison. We've got to contain him to be sure he doesn't interfere if that's the route we decide to go."

"Why would he do that?" Carter asked.

"He's gotten to be friends with Sanders. He might worry about leaving the whole operation up to a kraut. Truthfully, I'd feel better if I could talk to Sanders' mother myself. Maybe she wants to get away from Heydrich, but doesn't know how."

"Maybe we could get over there tonight, get past the guards," Kinch said.

"Is she staying with the count, or are they keeping everything nice and proper?" Newkirk asked.

"I imagine they're keeping up appearances," Hogan said, running a hand over his face tiredly. "I can't go anywhere with a bum leg, and it's too risky tonight anyway. LeBeau, Klink asked you to fix breakfast in the morning, right?"

"Oui, he did."

"See if you can get a minute alone with Sanders' mother, or Sanders. Hopefully he'll have a chance to talk to her alone, and find out what she really feels about this Heydrich guy."

"Maybe his contacts are setting a trap for him," Newkirk suggested.

"Possible." Hogan was silent a moment, a pensive look on his face. "As far as London knows, Heydrich is just another big shot kraut. He obviously hasn't engaged in any blatantly treasonous activity before now. It's all chancy. I don't like it. We had a plan...but I don't like putting the operation on the line in case it's a trap. Even if Heydrich is on the up and up, we could all end up in a Gestapo jail together if something goes wrong."

"If we're not running the game, you'd rather not play?" Carter asked.

"That's about the size of it. Maybe I'm just getting cautious in my old age."

"We've worked with other operations before," Kinch said.

"And we've had a couple of close calls, too. If Sanders is going along with Heydrich, Heydrich is going to have to handle his escape. Carter, you and Newkirk go stop the timer on that bridge."

"Are you sure about this, Colonel?" LeBeau asked.

"No, that's why I'm putting everything on hold. They're planning to be here for a couple of days–at least, that's what they said at dinner. We'll try to make contact with Sanders or his mother tomorrow morning. Worst case scenario, we'll hide the two of them in the tunnel until the heat dies down."

"That'd be an awful lot of heat, sir," Carter said.

"I don't see another way to go with this that isn't way too risky. Let me know when you get back in," he said to Carter and Newkirk. "I'm going to put my leg up for a while. I'll be in my quarters." LeBeau was at his side immediately, holding the crutches for him while he stood and then positioned them under his arms.

"Would you like some help, Colonel?" he offered, and Hogan smiled gratefully, not only for the help but for the chance to spend a few minutes alone with LeBeau.

"Yeah, I could use a hand, thanks." He made the trip to his office, determined to cast the crutches aside as soon as possible and start relying on his injured leg again. The crutches were by far more tiring than walking.

"You look tired," LeBeau said as he closed the door of Hogan's office behind them.

"Reminds me I need to spend some time in the gym. My upper body strength must be slipping."

"Using crutches is like walking on your arms. Human beings aren't used to that," LeBeau said matter-of-factly, taking the crutches from Hogan as he sat on the lower bunk. Then he crouched at Hogan's feet to remove his shoes.

"Do you think I'm doing the right thing about Sanders and his mother?" Hogan asked, and LeBeau looked up at him, a bit surprised. "I'm not your commanding officer right now, Louis. I want to know what you think."

"I think that no matter what we do, it is risky. An alliance with Heydrich would be very risky," he said, setting the shoes aside and sitting on the bunk next to Hogan. "Sanders is more at risk by entrusting the escape to him, but you were right about one thing–if he wanted to shoot Sanders or his mother, he could have done it without much fuss. He doesn't have to trap them. He knows who they are. He could have just had Hochstetter arrest Sanders. He could have arrested the mother himself. He wouldn't even have to come here."

"Maybe we should go along with him, help him out. I just don't like trusting his contacts, even if I trusted him. There's no telling he won't be sold out somewhere along the line."

"I think you're doing the best thing to protect our operation."

"So do I, but I guess I wanted to hear it from someone who wasn't talking to me as an enlisted man to an officer."

"You mean you wanted the truth?" LeBeau teased, and Hogan chuckled.

"Something like that."

"Why don't you put on your pajamas and robe and then we'll prop your leg up?"

"Good idea."

Hogan did most of his changing sitting on the bunk, and gladly accepted LeBeau's help with changing into his pajama pants while favoring his bad leg. Still standing, most of his weight on his good leg, his arm around LeBeau for support, he managed to turn so they were facing each other. After a momentary shared gaze, he leaned down for a kiss, their lips touching lightly, then pressing, then lingering and opening to each other.

"I missed this after we got out of the tunnel," LeBeau admitted, his arms around Hogan, head pressed against Hogan's chest. The hold was enough to keep Hogan's balance without the crutches, and Hogan returned the embrace, resting his cheek against LeBeau's hair. "Just being close to you."

"Feels good," Hogan said, sighing and soaking up the warmth of being held close by someone who loved him the way Louis did. It almost took him by surprise when he felt his body reacting to the closeness, too. He still wasn't accustomed to that reaction from the closeness of a male body, but it was happening, and there was no denying it.

"Oui, mon amour. It feels very good," Louis teased, undulating a little against Hogan.

"You're all French, aren't you?" Hogan retorted, pulling back to look at Louis with a devilish smile on his face.

"Yes, except for that Gypsy blood I have," he joked, referring to the role he'd played in one of Hogan's many schemes.

"And we all know how hot-blooded Gypsies are," Hogan said, moving in for another kiss.

"When can we make love?" Louis asked, a little breathless, as the kiss ended.

"Newkirk and Carter will be back from disarming the bridge pretty soon. I can't get down in the tunnel with this damn leg the way it is." Hogan framed Louis' face in his hands. "I want to be with you, too. We just have to be careful." He was quiet a moment, just looking into Louis' eyes. "You have beautiful eyes. I never noticed that before."

"It's not the kind of thing you usually notice about one of the men in your command."

"I suppose not," Hogan agreed, smiling.

"I would do anything to see you smile, mon amour. To see you look at me the way you're looking at me now."

"Get used to it. That's an order."

"An order, huh?" Louis' hands roamed under Hogan's pajama shirt, fingers dancing just enough to tickle.

"Louis, dammit, stop it," he managed, laughing.

"Are you ticklish, mon Robaire?" he asked, still tickling.

"What do you think?" Hogan replied, laughing harder. "I'm gonna lose my balance and then we're both gonna be in trouble."

"When we are safe, I'll show you why the French wrote the book on love."

"Mm," Hogan smiled, stealing another kiss. "And I'll show you that the Americans are avid readers."

"I never knew international relations could be so much fun."

"Makes you long for a career in the diplomatic corps, doesn't it?"

"Your leg must be getting tired," Louis said, detecting the slightest lines of strain in Hogan's expression.

"I should probably get off it."

Once Hogan was comfortably propped up with pillows behind his back and a couple under his leg, LeBeau sat on the edge of the bunk, and moving close, began to massage the tired muscles in Hogan's shoulder, working his way slowly down his arm.

"Oh, that feels good. Almost as good as sex right now," he added, smiling and closing his eyes.

"Rest, amour. I'll wake you if anything happens you need to know about."

"Newkirk and Carter are still out there," Hogan said, not opening his eyes.

"You're worse than my mother used to be when we were out on dates," he teased, working on the other shoulder, leaning in close to Hogan to reach it. He found himself captured in two strong arms.

"I love you," Hogan whispered against Louis' ear. "I need to know that you know that."

"I do know it, Robert. Je t'adore," Louis added, then translated, "I love you."

"After John died, I guess it made me realize how important it is that the people you love know that you love them."

"He knew. You have blamed yourself so much for letting him use your motorcycle. But even that...you were generous to him, and you loved him. And he loved you. Brothers love each other but they don't always say it to each other. That doesn't mean it doesn't count."

"I hope he knew. Since he died, I keep thinking back of all the good times we had as kids. I don't think I ever thanked him for being a great big brother," Hogan added, his voice strained.

"You were a good little brother, weren't you?"

"I don't know. Sometimes it feels like I was an incredibly selfish little brother. I don't remember ever thanking him for much of anything."

"Did he thank you, and tell you all the time that he loved you?"

"Well, no, but–"

"But nothing. You loved each other, and you both knew it, and there just wasn't a lot of reason to talk about it."

"Maybe you're right."

"Of course I am right," Louis pulled back with mock indignance.

"Sorry. I found myself questioning it for a moment," Hogan quipped.

"Once you learn that I know everything, it will make our relationship much easier," Louis said calmly, the hint of a smile on his face as he resumed massaging the shoulder and arm he'd been reaching for when Hogan embraced him.

"You should have been an officer," Hogan responded, smiling. "I served under more than one with the same delusion."

"You were never like that."

"Not every officer is. Just the dangerous ones. If you think you're infallible, you've left one potential weakness completely open to the enemy. They know you can screw up. You just don't admit it to yourself until you're face to face with them."

********

"Did Konrad talk to you?" Naomi asked in a hushed tone, sitting on the bed in her son's room. Blair was pacing, not having passed a peaceful moment since talking to his mother's lover.

"Yes, he talked to me. Mom, this is really, really important. Can you trust this guy?" Blair asked, pausing his pacing to have eye contact with his mother.

"He loves me, sweetie. I love him. He's asked me to marry him as soon as we leave Germany."

"And you want to marry him?"

"I know I've never had too much good to say about marriage, but...yes, I really want to marry him. He's a good man, Blair. He's not like the others."

"I've heard that story before." Blair started pacing again.

"Well, that was a little harsh," Naomi said. She held up a forestalling hand as Blair opened his mouth. "Don't apologize, Blair. I didn't say it was wrong, just harsh."

"I don't mean to hurt you, Mom, but making a mistake with Konrad will cost us our lives."

"He already knows our real names, knows we're Jewish, and that you want to get out of the country."

"You told him all that?"

"Just the last part. He came to me when he figured out the first part. I don't know how he got the information, but he's known for a few months now. No one's come for me, and he certainly hasn't turned me in. Or you, obviously. Why would he play this game? I trust him."

"I have another way out of Germany, for both of us, but it would mean...it would only be us, not Konrad."

"Why would we do that? Why would I betray him when he's trying to help us? When I love him?"

"Mom, listen to me, if you're afraid of him, if he has something over your head, if he's threatened me to make you comply, you have to tell me now, and I can get us away from him. I promise."

"Blair, I love him. We're going to be married as soon as we get to Switzerland. You'll love Switzerland, sweetie. It's a beautiful country, and it's neutral. We'll be safe there."

"Okay." Blair sat on the bed next to his mother. "We'll do it Konrad's way."

"There's something else you're not telling me," Naomi said, tucking a few curls behind Blair's ear.

"I'm just nervous, you know? This is life and death, not just an...adventure of some sort."

"Am I going to have the chance to meet your subject?"

"My subject?"

"The American pilot you've been testing. Konrad knew all about it."

"I don't know if you'll have a chance to meet him or not before we leave tomorrow."

"Maybe it's bothering you more than you might not have a chance to see him before we leave?"

"He's a good man. We've become friends. I feel strange escaping and leaving him behind, but I don't have a choice."

"Maybe we could take him along."

"Now that would make the krauts suspicious."

"Krauts? Blair, for heaven's sake, where did you learn to talk like that about the German people?"

"This has got nothing to do with the German people, Mom. It has to do with thugs and killers."

"You don't want to leave your new friend behind, do you?"

"Of course not, Mom. I don't want to leave Colonel Hogan behind, or LeBeau, or any of the other 300 or so guys who are locked up here. I want to get them all out."

"You aren't a soldier, Blair. You aren't fighting the war. You don't have an obligation to stay here and give up your life. It wouldn't make anything better for these men if you were executed."

"I know that. I just feel guilty to take off for a life of comfort and privilege in Switzerland while these men have to stay here. While Jim has to stay here, and I have no way of knowing they won't suspect that he's something special, that they should study him more. And the way they'd study him would be...horrible."

"If he's really your friend, he'll want you safe."

"He does."

"He knows you're trying to escape?"

"Yes, he knows. He urged me to go."

"Well, there you are, then." Naomi gestured with her hand, smiling brightly. "This war can't last forever, sweetie. You'll get to see Jim again. When all this is over, you can go wherever you want, study what you want...this is only temporary."

"How about for you, Mom. Is Konrad just temporary?"

"No, I think Konrad may be a little more permanent. You have to get to know him, Blair. He's a wonderful man."

"If he makes you this happy, he's got to be pretty special," Blair replied, smiling.

********

There was a soft knock on Hogan's door as LeBeau finished the massage and was about to leave. He opened the door to let in Newkirk and Carter, back safely from their mission, and Ellison, whose strong features bore a hard expression, his jaw set.

"We disarmed the timer on the bridge," Carter said. "Captain Ellison was down below, insisting on seeing you, sir."

"How did you get into tunnel?" Hogan asked, frowning. "The tunnel to Barracks 5 isn't cleared yet."

"I went in through Barracks 6. No one saw me outside. I had to talk to you about tomorrow."

"Yeah, it's just as well you're here. There's been a change in plans."

"We tried to explain, Colonel," Newkirk said, looking exasperated.

"You're handing Blair and his mother over to the Gestapo?" Jim demanded.

"Whoa, wait a minute. We're not handing them over to anyone," Hogan protested, shifting his leg on the pillows as he straightened his posture against the pillows behind his back. "Heydrich offered to get them out of Germany. He already knows who they are–he's known for a long time. He wants to marry Sanders' mother, and he's willing to get them out of the country. LeBeau's going to talk to either the mother or Sanders tomorrow morning at breakfast to confirm that they're confident about trusting Heydrich."

"I need to talk to Blair. This is insanity–trusting a Gestapo general."

"We've had generals defect before, Ellison, and for less compelling reasons than marrying a beautiful woman. I'm not willing to risk this whole operation to try to take charge of the escape. Sanders' mother won't go along with killing Heydrich–at least, I seriously doubt she will–and Sanders won't go without his mother. So if they can ride off into the sunset together, and we don't have to get in the middle of it, we're better off."

"What if his contacts are setting him up?"

"I suppose you think our plan was risk free?" Hogan asked. "This is a game of chance, Ellison. There's no certainty. Every time we go out on a mission that involves other contacts, we risk being sold out. This is no riskier than what we had planned. Maybe not as risky. Heydrich's aristocracy. He's rich. He can throw money around to get what he needs. He can probably buy and sell our whole operation multiple times."

"Would you send one of your men in the situation you're putting Blair in tomorrow?"

"I've sent my men into worse situations, I'm not happy to say."

"Risk goes with the territory, mate," Newkirk spoke up. "If Colonel Hogan thinks it's the way to go, I think you ought to take his word for it."

"Do you know anything about Heydrich's plan?" Jim asked.

"Not much. I know they're all going out together tomorrow, and that's when they're supposedly making their escape."

"The goons'll watch them like hawks," LeBeau said, sighing. "It's risky."

"The goons'll watch them anyway. It doesn't matter who they rendezvous with. It's risky either way. Heydrich's reputation is the only thing that will keep Hochstetter and his men at bay. Assuming Heydrich is in favor with old bubblehead, he may be able to come and go without Hochstetter worrying too much about it."

"Or send Hochstetter off on another assignment while they make a break for it," Carter suggested.

"Possibly," Hogan replied, nodding. "If LeBeau finds out something troubling from Sanders or his mother at breakfast, we'll stash them both in the tunnel and figure out how to proceed from there. If she wants to stay with Heydrich, and Blair wants to stay with her, then we have to let them all go together and hope for the best."

"Damn." Ellison ran his hand back through his hair. "I don't like this."

"I'm not crazy about it either, but one thing I learned early on in this operation was flexibility."

"I could go over tonight, talk to Blair. He'll tell me what's going on, and his mother will have told him if she wants to get away from Heydrich."

"The guards get a lot more trigger happy the later it gets, and the space between Barracks 5 and 6 is way too well lit and directly in the path of the searchlight. You need to get back to your barracks before you get your fool head blown off wandering around the compound at night." Hogan looked at Ellison's uneasy expression, and then glanced at the other three men in the room. "Give us a minute, huh?"

"Call if you need anything, Colonel," LeBeau said, leading the others out of the room. They closed the door behind them.

"Ellison, I know what you're thinking. Get one more time to see Sanders before he goes. Getting yourself shot isn't going to help matters. Plus, it'll just make the guards jumpier, and that's the last thing we want when there's an escape going on, even if it's out of camp."

"I felt better about this when it was this operation handling it."

"So did I, and I give you my word that I won't hand them over to anyone if there's the slightest hint they don't want to go with him. That's the best I can do."

"I know. Thank you, sir."

"If it's any consolation, I know how you feel, and I'd feel the same way. But the decision to let them go with Heydrich has to stand for now."

"Right, Colonel. I'll head back now."

"Be careful." Hogan paused, then added, "I'll see if I can come up with some excuse for you to meet Sanders' mother or something tomorrow. Give you a chance to see him."

"Thank you," Jim said, smiling slightly.

"Don't thank me until I pull it off," Hogan responded, returning the smile.

********

LeBeau put the finishing touches on the elaborate breakfast Klink had requested for his guests. These assignments of creating delicacies for the krauts were usually made less annoying by Hogan's presence at the majority of the functions, but this morning, Hogan wasn't invited and his only diners were Sanders, his mother, Heydrich, and Klink. He consoled himself that at least two of the guests were on their side, possibly three.

"Excuse me."

Sanders' voice from the kitchen door startled him.

"Without a waiter, I thought you might need help serving," he said. LeBeau stared at him a moment, stunned. Klink's guests ranged from indifferent to rude to intentionally annoying when it came to having a Frenchman and not another German serving their meals. He'd never had one offer to help out before.

"Merci, Professor. If you would like to take the fresh fruit bowl and the whipped cream, I will serve the rest."

"Genuine Belgian waffles. They look great," Blair moved closer, ostensibly to examine the plates LeBeau was preparing.

"This is your last chance to get away from Heydrich," LeBeau muttered as he decorated the plate in front of him with a carved strawberry.

"My mother's in love with him. They're getting married as soon as we get to Switzerland."

"Then you want to go with him?"

"My mother won't leave him behind, that much I know, and she isn't going to play along with anything that puts him in danger or kills him. I really believe he's on our side."

"I will tell Colonel Hogan. He wanted me to let you know there was another option, a way out, if Heydrich was threatening you or your mother."

"Tell Hogan thank you for everything, and for trying to help us, okay?"

"I will."

"Do you know where Jim is this morning?"

"Are you spending any time in your lab with him before you leave?"

"No. I'm supposed to show Heydrich and my mother the lab, spend the morning with them. Then we're going into town for lunch. At least, that's the story."

"Colonel Hogan will try to figure a way for you to see Captain Ellison one more time, but he isn't sure he can make it work."

"I see," Blair responded, his heart sinking.

"The colonel is very inventive. I'm sure he will think of something. Now you better take the fruit and cream out there unless you want Klink in here looking for you."

********

Hogan hoped the uncharacteristically sunny weather was a good omen as he made his way out of the barracks for the second time since morning roll call. He was experimenting with one crutch to help support his injured leg, and while it was painful, it was doable. Hogan wasn't famous for his patience with his own infirmity on the rare occasions he wasn't operating at top strength, and this was no exception.

It was still cold, and a few snow flurries swirled in the morning air. LeBeau was heading toward him, having finished serving breakfast to the guests. Hogan couldn't help the smile that spread quickly across his face at the sight of the man he loved, and the expression was returned full force.

"You are doing all right with just one crutch?" LeBeau asked as he approached, his smile giving way a bit to concern.

"I'll manage. Besides, it's better for morale if I don't look like I'm laid up too badly. What'd you find out?"

"They want to go with Heydrich. Sanders' mother is in love with him and they're getting married when they get to Switzerland."

"If they get to Switzerland. I don't mind telling you, Louis, I have a bad feeling about this."

"You think Heydrich will sell them out?"

"Not necessarily. I'd just feel better if we were doing it our way, with our people."

"But you pulled back when Heydrich entered the picture."

"Yes, I did. I still think that was the right decision for us. I'm just not so sure about Sanders and his mother. And if Sanders is tortured and he does talk, they'll be back for Ellison."

"Don't you think they might come after him anyway, since he was Sanders' last subject?"

"Possibly, but they'll know Sanders as a fraud and a traitor to the fatherland. I doubt they'll want to prove his research valid. Anyone who could fool Hitler has to be discredited. Ellison could be a dangerous weapon on their side, and if Sanders gives in and talks, it could be a disaster."

"Are you having second thoughts about not doing the escape ourselves?"

"And third and fourth thoughts," Hogan said somberly. "Once Heydrich entered the picture as part of the escape, it got too messy. A faked death on a mined bridge is one thing, but a kidnapping of someone of Heydrich's stature? No, thanks."

"We've done it before."

"Not in the same operation with a research scientist. There's a limit to how many high profile people you can grab before the goons tear the whole countryside apart, start arresting and interrogating the locals, and give this camp a going-over we wouldn't survive."

"Sanders said that he's going to show his mother and Heydrich the lab, and spend the morning with them, and then they're going into town for lunch."

"Okay. I'll have Ellison supervise a work detail in that area. Sanders is a bright boy. He can figure out a way to see him."

"When are we going to figure out a way to see each other?" LeBeau asked. When Hogan looked down, they shared a gaze that was nothing short of smouldering. Hogan felt himself blushing, because it seemed as if every romantic, excited, lustful, uneasy, nervous, or just plain carnal thought he was having was written all over his face.

"Soon. When this is over."

"I hope you mean this escape and not the whole war."

"I'd never make it that long," Hogan admitted, laughing, and LeBeau shared the laugh.

"I am French. I won't last as long as you will."

"Yeah, well, Americans aren't known for being a patient people, either." Hogan paused. "Hey, we've got company."

Hochstetter's staff car sped through the gates and came to an abrupt halt in front of Klink's office.

"He's in a hurry," LeBeau observed as the hyper Gestapo officer sprang from his car, and accompanied by two guards, strode up the steps to the door.

"I don't like this. Coffee pot," Hogan said, limping through the door LeBeau opened for him, then leading the way to his quarters as LeBeau gathered the others. With the small appliance on Hogan's desk, the men huddled around it, listening.

***

"You can't be serious, Major. He's a General in the Gestapo and a count–"

"I know who he is. We have evidence he is a traitor to the Third Reich and the Fuhrer. His consort is suspected of traveling under a false passport. If that is true, the good professor is most likely not who he says he is, either. The best place to sort all this out is at Gestapo Headquarters."

***

"Should we try to get Sanders?" LeBeau asked.

"No. We couldn't make it fast enough, and he wouldn't leave without his mother anyway," Hogan responded, leaning his chin on the heel of his hand as he listened.

***

"What about all the experiments he's done? Surely he must know something about his subject?" Klink stated. Hogan suspected it was less for Sanders' protection than the protection of the prestige of his visitors. Stalag 13 being chosen as the headquarters for a secret research project ordered by the Fuhrer had brought Klink some slight notoriety with his colleagues.

"Where are they, Klink?" Hochstetter demanded.

"Professor Sanders is showing his mother and Count Heydrich his research laboratory."

Hochstetter didn't say anything more, and the next sound was that of a slamming door, which was hastily reopened. Hogan envisioned Hochstetter storming out and Klink scrambling to don his hat, coat, and walking stick to hurry out behind him.

***

"Damn." Hogan unplugged the coffee pot.

"What do we do, Colonel?" Carter asked.

"There's only one way this is going to work. We have to intercept them once they leave camp. We're going out as a Gestapo execution squad. Everybody, down in the tunnel."

"You can't walk on that leg without support, Colonel," LeBeau stated.

"I can use a cane. The crutch would be a dead giveaway. I'm going to try to remain in the background anyway, but this is too big a mission for me not to be there."

"What about Ellison? He's a captain. He could take over," Newkirk suggested. "You're never going to get down in the tunnel with that leg, and pullin' you up and down by a rope isn't a good idea with those Gestapo goons sniffing around. We couldn't close up the entrance fast enough if they came in."

"Ellison's friends with Sanders. He's not going to be objective."

"We've rescued each other before, when we weren't objective either, sir," Kinch said.

"Okay. Go get him. Better he isn't with Sanders when they arrest him anyway. But I'm still going on this mission. I'll get down in the tunnel somehow."

"Oui, Colonel," LeBeau rushed out the door.

********

Ellison was near the barracks being used as Sanders' lab, supervising a group of prisoners repairing the door hinges on the barracks next door. It was a dumb job at best, but Hogan had invented it to give him a "chance" meeting with Blair one more time before the group made their escape. He'd just caught sight of Blair, his mother, and the count exiting the guest quarters when LeBeau came rushing across the compound toward him.

"Colonel Hogan needs you in our barracks. It's an emergency," LeBeau blurted.

"Emergency?"

"There is no time to talk. You must come with me now, Captain."

"All right," Jim said, a bit baffled, as he followed LeBeau toward Hogan's barracks. "Isn't that Hochstetter's car?" he asked, but LeBeau never slowed his pace. He merely shrugged, grateful that Ellison hadn't taken notice of the car until they were almost to the barracks. He ushered the larger man inside and shut the door.

"Ellison, this is going to be the fastest briefing of your life," Hogan said. "Hochstetter and his men are here to arrest Sanders, his mother, and the count–"

"We have to stop them!" Jim demanded, moving toward the door.

"Hold it, Captain. Nobody is making a direct attack here in the camp. It would be suicide all around. Are you familiar with Gestapo execution squads?"

"Is that what this is?" Jim asked, eyes widening. He suddenly felt his stomach clench, the vision of Blair being executed right there in the compound flashing across his mind.

"No, but that's what's going to save them. Are you familiar–"

"Yes, yes, I learned about them when I was working with Colonel Wembley in London."

"You're going to join me in leading one. You, Carter, Newkirk, Kinch, LeBeau, and I are going out in Gestapo uniforms with black hoods over our faces. We'll intercept Hochstetter's car, order everyone out of it, and state we're under orders to deal with the traitors. We'll be heavily armed. Hochstetter is going to back down, trust me. We take the three of them into the woods and one of us will fire a number of shots in the air. Hochstetter will be long gone by then, but in the event he's not, we're going to make a run for the tunnel entrance. The men know the drill. We did this successfully once before."

"Wait, Colonel," LeBeau interrupted. "How will you make a run for the tunnel entrance?"

"There are five of you and one of me. Unless you've gotten flabbier than I think you have in the last few years, you'll get me out," Hogan added with a grin. "Besides, chances are good they won't pursue us. They'll either believe us or they won't, right up front."

"Hochstetter's only got two guards with him," Carter remarked, peering out a crack in the barracks door.

"Arrogant little kraut, isn't he?" Newkirk commented. "Arrest three people, one of them about twice your size, and you bring two guards."

"Two of them are unarmed civilians, so he probably thinks he's got adequate security. Now let's get moving," Hogan concluded.

"I've got a uniform that should work for you, Captain. We better get down and get changed," Newkirk said.

"One more thing, Ellison–don't let your emotions get in the way of this. It's the only chance we have to save them."

"I won't, sir. I don't want to be responsible for getting Blair and his mother killed."

"Good. I'll count on that," Hogan affirmed, nodding.

********

"This isn't exactly like the accommodations at the university, is it?" Nadine said, running her hand lightly over the surface of the table where Blair took his notes and generally did most of his work.

"Just a barracks with some things moved around," Heydrich observed, eyes scanning the room. "What kind of experiments do you do? There's not much for equipment here."

"Mainly sensory tests. I don't need much for equipment–" Blair was cut off when the door flew open and Hochstetter strode in, flanked by two armed guards.

"You are all under arrest," he announced. Heydrich reached for his sidearm, pushing Naomi behind him, but Hochstetter's men aimed their large automatic weapons at him. "You would be smart to come quietly. I am authorized to shoot to kill if necessary."

"This is an outrage," Heydrich said, maintaining his bluster as he set his weapon on the table. "I'll have your head for this, Hochstetter."

"With all due respect, sir, I am operating under orders from Reichsfuhrer Himmler himself. You will have the opportunity to answer the charges against you at Gestapo headquarters." 

"We all know how they ask questions there," Blair said bitterly. "My mother has nothing to do with any of this. You aren't seriously going to arrest her, too?"

"My orders are to arrest the three of you. You see, Professor, there is some question regarding your passports. Enough of this chatter. Escort them to my car," Hochstetter instructed his guards, who moved forward and began ushering the captives toward the staff car at the points of their guns. Once the three prisoners were loaded into the back of the car, one guard took a seat facing them in back, while Hochstetter and the second guard took seats in the front, the guard driving.

"You could at least tell us why we're being arrested," Naomi said, annoyed. "And what about our things? Our luggage?"

"We won't be needing it, liebschen," Heydrich said quietly, taking Naomi's hand in his. At Naomi's horrified expression, Blair spoke up.

"I'm sure this is a big misunderstanding, and we'll be back at Stalag 13 by tonight," he said, and Naomi eyed him suspiciously, but seemed marginally calmed by that thought.

"Colonel Detweiler will be in charge of your interrogations. I believe you made his acquaintance when you were last in Berlin, Professor," Hochstetter said, a feral smile on his face.

"We know who he is, Hochstetter. I demand to speak to Himmler. You will contact him immediately upon our arrival in Berlin," Heydrich stated firmly.

"You are in no position to make demands. You are a prisoner!" Hochstetter snapped back. "You can discuss the matter with Colonel Detweiler at headquarters."

Heydrich gave up trying to bluster his way out of the mess they were in, and kept Naomi's hand clasped in his. Their remaining time together would be short at best.

********

"Papa Bear to Hopscotch," Hogan said into his radio, then waited. "Any sign of the package?"

"Negative, Papa Bear," Kinch reported from his post as lookout, watching the road for the car carrying Hochstetter and his prisoners.

"Where are they?" Hogan looked at his watch, annoyed.

"It couldn't have taken them this long to get to this point in the road. Is there another route to Berlin?" Ellison asked.

"There's another road, but it's beyond this point by about a mile or two," Hogan shifted again, trying to get relief from his injured leg, which was uncomfortably tucked beneath him as they crouched in the bushes near the road.

"Maybe we should try to move back a bit, change our position?" Newkirk suggested.

"Kinch would have seen them. Something's wrong."

"Hopscotch to Papa Bear, come in, Papa Bear," Kinch's voice was urgent as it came through the small radio speaker.

********

"Stop the car, or your commanding officer's brains are going to be in your lap, dumkopf." The sound of Heydrich's icy voice froze the young driver, who obeyed the order without question. "Open the door and throw your weapon clear of the car. Mach Schnell!!" he bellowed, and the young man complied without hesitation, feeling the cold metal of handgun Heydrich had pressed against the back of his head.

"You are making a mistake, General. You will be caught within the hour," Hochstetter said, the barrel of the machine gun Blair now held nudging at the bottom of his hat disconcertingly.

The guard in the backseat with the captives lay wounded and dying, a knife stuck in his chest. Blair still stared at his mother in horror, unable to comprehend that she had just plunged a large kitchen knife into the heart of the Gestapo guard while the man had been momentarily glancing out the window. Amazing the things a woman hides in her purse...and the utter arrogance and chauvinism of Hochstetter and his men not to have bothered checking.

"Stop making speeches and throw your weapon out the window, Hochstetter. Do it now."

"Now you will hang for sure, General. You are defying the orders of the Fuhrer." Hochstetter tossed a handgun out the window.

"Now the other one."

"What other one?"

"Hochstetter, I've never traveled with a single sidearm in my life, and I seriously doubt that you have, either. Now I better see another gun going out that window, or you will die a very messy and unpleasant death."

"Schweinhunt," Hochstetter muttered, tossing a second gun out the window. "You didn't check him for weapons, private?" he barked at his driver.

"We thought you disarmed him in the laboratory, Herr Major," the young man answered nervously.

"Dumkopfs! I am surrounded by incompetence."

"Right now, you're surrounded by armed prisoners," Heydrich retorted. "Keep the gun on them, Blair. If either one moves, just open fire and kill them both." Heydrich got out of the car, and Blair felt his stomach clench, wondering if he would have the nerve to wreak that kind of horror and carnage. To protect his mother, he could, and the important thing was that Hochstetter and his guard believed he would. "Come on, out of the car," Heydrich said to Naomi, who scrambled out quickly.

Once she was safely hidden behind the cover of some roadside bushes, Heydrich came back for Blair, having retrieved the machine gun the driver had surrendered out the open door of the car. Holding it on Hochstetter, he motioned to Blair to get out of the car. Just when it seemed they were home free, a good-sized group of Gestapo men appeared from where they must have been hiding among the trees that lined the road. All of them wore black hoods over their faces with small holes cut for the eyes.

"What?" Blair said, noticing Heydrich's stricken expression.

"It's an execution squad, Blair," he stated grimly. "It's over."

"Surrender your weapons," one of them shouted. All were armed with machine guns. As Heydrich assessed his situation and deemed it hopeless, he laid his weapon aside, and so did Blair. He hoped Naomi would stay put in the shrubs.

"There is a woman in the bushes back there," Hochstetter barked angrily as he got out of the car an retrieved his sidearms and the weapons stolen from his guards. "They have killed one of my men and were attempting an escape!" Hochstetter shot a venomous look at Naomi as she was escorted a bit roughly by one of the Gestapo men to stand with her son and her lover.

"They are my prisoners now, Major," the Gestapo colonel in charge of the group emerged, relying heavily on a black cane as he limped in their direction. Something in that voice was familiar, but Blair didn't dare hope. This was too insane, too risky...

The limping officer handed a paper to Hochstetter.

"Jawohl, Herr Oberst," Hochstetter replied, handing the paper back to the other officer. "Heil Hitler!"

"Heil Hitler," the other man responded with an equally enthusiastic straight-armed salute to the Fuhrer. With that, Hochstetter and his men got back in the staff car and roared off down the road.

"So it has come to this. Herr Himmler is not man enough to face me with his charges. He would rather have me shot like a dog by the side of the road."

"That might be what he'd prefer, but that's not what we have in mind." The Gestapo colonel removed his hat and let the hood fall out of place. Hogan smiled at the stunned captives. "I thought you were headed for Switzerland, not Berlin. We run a good travel agency, Count."

"This is amazing! How did you manage it?" Naomi exclaimed, linking her arm through Heydrich's, visibly relieved to be reunited with her lover. Then she linked her other arm through Blair's.

"Sir, we need to fire some shots here," Jim spoke up, and Blair's eyes widened at the sound of his voice.

"Right. Go to it."

"Hochstetter'll report this in Berlin, won't he?" Blair asked.

"No. We were shot trying to escape. There's nothing official about a roadside execution, Blair," Heydrich explained. They all paused for the roar of gunfire that would signal to Hochstetter, who undoubtedly was parked somewhere up the road waiting to hear it, to know that the prisoners were dead.

"You're going to have to come with us. We can't trust your contacts, Count. We can get you to England, but not Switzerland."

"We'll cooperate with your plan, Colonel Hogan. It's obvious I was betrayed, and we can't be sure by whom."

"Precisely. At this point, you're dead, so getting you out of Germany will be a lot simpler."

Jim made his way over to stand as close to Blair as he could, tugging his hood down to smile at the man he loved.

"You okay, Chief?" he asked, and Blair beamed at him in response.

"Couldn't be better. Mom, Count, this is Jim Ellison. Captain Ellison. He's my–"

"Sentinel," Jim said, smiling and shaking hands with Heydrich and Naomi. "Blair's no fraud. He knows what he's talking about."

"You mean you really found one? Oh, sweetie, that's wonderful!" Naomi said, hugging Blair. "He's looked for one for so long, we were beginning to think it was a wild goose chase."

"If it is, I'm the wild goose," Jim replied, smiling.

"We better get moving," Hogan said, checking his watch. "We'll hide you in the tunnel until we can get you to England. Probably take a day or two, but now that you're all dead, the krauts won't be looking for you."

********

Blair looked at his mother as they each sat on a cot in a chamber of the tunnel where the fugitives were being hidden. Heydrich was touring the tunnels with Kinch, and looking forward to learning more about the elaborate radio set-up. Naomi was reading a book, dressed in a fresh suit of clothing drawn from the civilian wardrobe Hogan kept stashed in the tunnel. It wasn't quite as stylish as her own clothing, which had been stained with the dead guard's blood, but the blue women's dress suit still looked nice on her.

"Mom, are you okay?" Blair asked, and Naomi looked up, smiling sweetly, as if she had no idea why he would ask.

"I'm fine, Blair."

"You killed that guard. Mom, you don't have a violent bone in your body."

"Apparently I do," She said, setting the book aside. "Blair, Konrad and I have had a plan about what to do if we were arrested since he found out my name wasn't Nadine Sanders. He made a choice the moment he decided to cover for me. We had some sleepless nights and some...awful times coming to terms with what our relationship could lead to. He said that most of the Gestapo men he knew were arrogant enough not to consider a visibly unarmed civilian woman to be a worthwhile threat. At least, he doubted they would search my handbag. So he would carry a second concealed sidearm and I would carry a knife. If I ever got the opportunity, I would use it and he would use the dead guard's weapon to free us–just the way it happened today. It's not that I didn't struggle with the...horror of what I would have to do. It's just that I struggled with it a long time before today."

"It's not that what you did wasn't justified, that it wasn't necessary..."

"You just don't understand how I could possibly do it, is that it? Blair, I wasn't born yesterday. You can hide it from me all you want, but I know those people tortured you into compliance, and I know you didn't leave of your own free will when you disappeared from the university. I also know that we would have been tortured and then killed if we hadn't acted when we did today. I had no choices, and I wasn't about to let them hurt you anymore than they already have."

"You were pretty amazing, you know?" Blair sat next to her on the cot and hugged her.

"Of course I'm amazing, sweetie. How do you think I managed to land a count this time?" she asked, winking at Blair and then laughing softly at his disconcerted blush.

********

"Nice operation, men," Hogan said as they finally gathered around the table in the barracks, Gestapo uniforms back in storage, and everyone safely there in one piece. "Thanks for the lift, by the way," he added, and Kinch and Newkirk chuckled. They had gotten on either side of Hogan and moved him along quickly when his bad leg was slowing them all down. With a little teamwork, they'd made it out of harm's way and back under safe cover.

"How long will it be before we can move them out, Colonel?" Carter asked.

"Not long. The Gestapo think they're dead, so there won't be any search for them. Kinch, what'd London have to say?"

"They can have a sub standing by as early as tomorrow. The Underground is just waiting for the word we're ready to move."

"Good. Let's do it tomorrow night, then. I think I'll rest the bum leg here for a while before dinner. LeBeau, could you give me a hand?"

"Oui, Mon Colonel," LeBeau responded readily, and the others set up a card game while Hogan limped toward his office using a single crutch, LeBeau following close behind him.

The moment LeBeau closed the door, Hogan pressed him against it, body to body, and captured his mouth in a fiery kiss, plunging his tongue into the willing warmth. Resting his arms against the door for support, Hogan felt LeBeau's arms wrap around him, hands running up and down his back as the kiss deepened and lingered.

"You dropped your crutch, Colonel," LeBeau teased, grinning.

"Lock the door."

"The krauts have keys."

"Put the desk in front of it." 

"And they say the French are passionate," LeBeau retorted, flexing his eyebrows as he carefully moved the small table that served as Hogan's desk in front of the door. It wouldn't stop anyone truly determined, but the delay might give them enough warning to get out of whatever compromising situation they might be in.

Through a combination of hopping and limping, Hogan made it to the bottom bunk, and by the time LeBeau joined him there, pounced on his lover with the same passionate enthusiasm he'd shown moments ago.

"I swore I was going to wait until we could have some time in the tunnel...until things were quieter, but I can't wait anymore."

"I don't want to wait. All I could think of on the mission today was that if something went wrong, we had never made love."

"See, then this is really for the good of the operation. Can't have you distracted out in the field, now can we?" Hogan reasoned, working on ridding himself of his clothes while LeBeau did the same.

The feeling of a naked, warm body against his was almost enough to push Hogan over the edge, but he fought the first rush of desire. This had to last at least long enough for it to be making love and not just a release of pent-up lust. Kissing was a good place to start, and something they both knew how to do, even if neither was certain what to do with a male partner instead of a female.

Louis made the first move beyond kissing, sliding his hand down to hesitantly wrap it around Hogan's hardening cock. Lost in the sensation for a moment, Hogan finally realized he was doing nothing more than enjoying it. He'd never had another man's penis in his hand, and he found himself hesitating just a bit before taking a hold of Louis that way. He knew how to make himself feel good, but the thought of doing that to another man seemed...odd. Beyond that, how would he know what Louis liked?

The pressure on his own shaft increased. Louis was working seriously at the task of pleasuring him, stroking him and pumping him as if he had somehow been hiding in a dark corner, watching Hogan when he pleasured himself to find out just what he liked. Jarred out of his momentary daze, he claimed Louis' mouth again, kissing him deeply while his hand began hesitantly stroking Louis' cock the way he liked his own stroked. They would have time to share each other's little intimate secrets, to talk about what they liked and didn't like. Right now, the stimulation of a willing, diligent hand was moving them too far, too fast, to dwell on the details.

Hogan felt his climax coming, washing over him in relentless waves, months of pent-up frustrated sexual desire pouring out with his orgasm as he buried his face in the pillow, muffling his cry of release. Breathing hard, he resumed a steadier, more aggressive pace in stroking Louis, enjoying watching his lover reach his climax, fortunately being quick-thinking enough to cover Louis' mouth with his own before the cry that was building could carry to the far corners of the camp.

When it was over, they lay there breathing heavily, wrapped around each other, just soaking up the complete closeness and intimacy. Not wanting to break the mood, Hogan surreptitiously checked his watch.

"How long until lights-out?" Louis asked, and Hogan chuckled.

"I can't get away with anything, can I?"

"I felt your arm move, and it wasn't reaching anything good on me, so I figured you must be checking your watch."

"About two hours."

"You think anyone would be suspicious if I stayed in here a while longer?"

"They might wonder what you're doing in here so long, but I doubt this is what they'd immediately think of," Hogan quipped, grinning. "It's worth a little risk," he added, kissing Louis again, lingering there, letting their mouths lazily explore each other.

"There's so much more I want us to do...to try."

"I'd like to try it all now, but it just isn't that safe. Plus, with our guests down in the tunnel, I should be available and on-call in case there are any problems." Hogan snorted. "Like Ellison clearing that branch tunnel by himself between his barracks and Sanders. Sandburg. Whatever his name is."

"Why would he–?" Louis paused, his jaw dropping when Hogan raised an eyebrow.

"You mean they–"

"More often than we have, that's for sure."

"I don't believe it."

"We're probably not the only men who ever thought of doing things like this together."

"But Ellison seems so...so..."

"Male? What does that make us? Ballerinas?"

"No. You aren't the tutu type."

"You don't think I've got the legs for it, huh?" Hogan teased, rolling on his back and pulling Louis with him so the smaller man lay atop him, their recovering erections rubbing together.

"I've seen you dressed up like a woman. I never want to see that again."

"I suppose you think you were a candidate for Miss Dusseldorf of 1943?"

"I was a little more believable than a six-foot woman with five o'clock shadow," he retorted, humping a little. "But your legs are just fine," he added, lasciviously.

"Whatever you're doing, don't stop. That's an order," Hogan gasped, joining Louis in creating the mutual friction. They kissed again, tongues invading each other, mimicking the act they longed to perform with other parts of their anatomies.

The second climax was a bit slower in coming, but when it did, it seemed even sweeter, even more intense than the first.

"I should go," Louis said, sprawled boneless over Hogan's body, showing no signs of moving. Hogan's hands ran up and down his back in long strokes.

"I know this isn't much–no great accommodations or candlelight–hell, no time for that matter...but it was everything to me."

"And to me," Louis replied, smiling brightly, stealing another kiss. "Je t'adore, mon Robaire."

"Je t'adore, Louis," Hogan repeated, hugging his lover close one last time before they reluctantly separated.

To clean up, they used some soap and a small basin of water Hogan kept fresh in his quarters every day for occasional wash-ups between showers. The temptation to wash each other was overpowering, but both feared it would lead to more intimate activities they didn't have time for, and that would undo the purpose of washing up in the first place.

When both were dressed again, Louis solicitously propped up Hogan's leg so he could relax a while and not aggravate the injured limb.

"Ellison knows about us."

"He what?" Louis' eyes bugged.

"I didn't tell him. He figured it out."

"But how?" he demanded, looking panicked. "If he figured it out, someone else might."

"I don't think so, and you really don't want to know how he knows."

"Oui, I do want to know."

"He said he could smell it when they pulled us out of the tunnel."

"Smell it? You have to be joking."

"I think he is what Sandburg thinks he is. He has these...super senses. You know we were messing around in the tunnel, and enjoying it a little too much for our circumstances."

"That is so..." Louis shuddered. "It's intimate, it's personal. I don't want Ellison knowing what I smell like when I'm..."

"Neither do I, but you can't blame the guy for smelling what he can smell."

"Makes me feel like he watched us together."

"I hadn't thought of it that way. Thanks for sharing," Hogan quipped, shaking his head. "In any event, there's nothing we can do about it. He knows. But he's done more with Sandburg than we've had a chance to do with each other, so he's got no reason to sell us out to the krauts." Hogan paused. "I'll be out in a little while, but the men think I was going to rest a while, so I should probably stay in here by myself for a half hour or so. Check on our guests downstairs, will you?"

"Oui, I will." LeBeau grinned. "I can't stop smiling."

"Try," Hogan said, smiling himself. "You look like you just got lucky."

"I did."

"Yeah, but you're not supposed to look that way coming out of my quarters."

"You're smiling, Colonel," LeBeau commented.

"And I'm gonna sit right here and keep smiling until I have to come out front."

********

LeBeau didn't realize he was singing a French love song as he stirred the stew on the small stove until Newkirk teased him about it.

"If we had a wandering violinist and a couple of starving painters, this'd be a regular little sidewalk cafe."

"Is it illegal to be in a good mood? We pulled off a very dangerous mission today," LeBeau said, trying to keep his body from responding to the thoughts that really made him this happy.

"Gee, LeBeau, I haven't heard you sing that much since the last talent show," Carter said, sniffing at the stew bubbling in the pot.

"We helped three people escape torture and horrible death. That is reason enough to sing."

"Yeah, they escaped torture so now we're gettin' it instead," Newkirk retorted, unable to resist needling LeBeau about his singing, even though the Frenchman had a very good voice and was one of the big hits of most of their talent shows.

"You're just jealous of my talent," LeBeau retorted, tasting the stew from the end of the wooden spoon he'd been using to stir it.

"Mm-mm, something smells good out here," Hogan said, limping toward LeBeau, leaning on the single crutch for support. He used the opportunity of sniffing the stew to slide his arm around LeBeau's shoulders.

Making love to someone always seemed to make him feel a little sentimental about them, even if it wasn't true love. But this time, the separation from LeBeau almost physically pained him. He'd only lasted twenty minutes in his office before seeking out his lover again, if only to have such platonic and common contact with him as he was having now. LeBeau fed him a taste of the stew. Many of the men came to LeBeau's cooking pots over the years, sniffing and looking hopeful, but Hogan was the only one who consistently got a taste of whatever was cooking.

"Oh, that is good. What's in it?" Hogan asked, and LeBeau, as usual, happily gave him the summary of the ingredients, delighted with Hogan's approval and his interest. Even though everyone was grateful for LeBeau's culinary skills and his ability to make something tasty from very little, cooking for the men was often a somewhat thankless job, and one people tended to take for granted. Hogan also knew that the creative spirit of an accomplished French chef sometimes ached more for free expression than the Frenchman himself ached for freedom.

The little chat also allowed him to stay there, arm around LeBeau, for a considerably longer time than a simple taste from the spoon would have allowed. His injured leg allowed LeBeau to slide an arm around his waist and give him a surreptitious little squeeze before ostensibly helping him over to the table.

"Thanks, Louis," he said, so much love in his voice that it almost made LeBeau blush the color of his berry-colored sweater. Hogan only rarely used his first name in front of the others, but no one seemed to take any special notice of it.

"Dinner is almost ready," he said, hastily returning to the pot of stew.

"Message from London, Colonel." Kinch climbed through the bunk entrance to the tunnel, closing it behind him. "They said tomorrow night is the only opportunity for them to have the sub pick up our passengers. I notified the Underground to stand by."

"Good. After dinner, confirm with them that it's a go for tomorrow night. As good as that stew is smelling, Schultz is bound to decide to do a headcount right about dinner time."

"Right," Kinch replied, smiling.

"Klink's doing a night roll call. Get a message to Ellison during the formation to get over here in the confusion when everyone's going back into the barracks. We'll get him down in the tunnel to say good bye to Sandburg."

"They got to be pretty good friends, huh?" Carter asked. "Too bad he can't go with them. He'd probably do more good in London than he'll do here anyhow."

"Probably," Hogan said, wheels turning in his mind. "But for now, he's got to stay here." 

But maybe soon, he could find a way to get Ellison out of Germany. Having a resource as unique and valuable as a Sentinel in the custody of the Germans was dangerous at best. Yes, Ellison belonged in London, but getting him there would be half the fun.

********

After getting the message to go to Hogan's barracks after night roll call, Jim made use of the milling prisoners who seemed to take even more time than usual returning to their respective barracks, a few of them hassling the guards that would be watching Barracks 5, while a few others joshed the good-natured Schultz and kept his mind off watching the prisoners re-enter Hogan's barracks. Once inside, LeBeau hustled him toward the tunnel entrance beneath the bunk, and he soon found himself at the foot of the ladder, waiting for LeBeau to reach the bottom also.

"We're taking Sandburg, his mother, and the count out tomorrow night. Colonel Hogan thought you might want a chance to say goodbye."

"I do. That was thoughtful of him."

"We kind of understand where you're coming from."

"He told you I know?"

"Oui, he told me. I think he was realizing what he would feel if I were leaving and there was no time to say goodbye." LeBeau pulled a small object wrapped in a handkerchief and put it in a hand Jim extended, a bit confused. "You might need this." As Jim started to unwrap it, LeBeau covered it with his hand. "Don't look at it now. I don't know if I could take the embarrassment," LeBeau admitted. He checked his watch. "I'll be back in two hours. Be here waiting for me. I'll distract Schultz with some strudel, and Higgins in your barracks will take care of creating a diversion to get your guard away from the door. But you have to be back at exactly eleven o'clock. Everything will happen a few minutes after eleven."

"What do these men think I'm doing?"

"Something for Colonel Hogan. That's all they need to know, and all they really expect to be told. We're always moving people around for one reason or another, so no one suspects you're doing anything unusual. There is another cot stored at the end of this tunnel, along with some other supplies."

"Merci, LeBeau," Jim said, and LeBeau smiled.

"Amour, amour," LeBeau quipped, grinning as he started back up the ladder.

"Where's Blair?" Jim asked.

"You are the Sentinel. You can find him." With that, LeBeau completed his journey up the ladder and the entrance closed. Jim had to chuckle. That was only too true. I could find Blair anywhere by his scent alone. Savoring that thought, Jim began a stealthy trip along the wall of the underground corridor, his senses picking up movement, and the scent and heartbeat of the man he loved. Remembering the object in his hand, he peeled back the flaps of the handkerchief and found a small bottle of hand lotion. Amour, amour, indeed.

********

Blair sighed and shifted on the cot. He'd been tired, exhausted, once the adrenaline rush of the day was behind him, but now he was just plain restless. He wouldn't be here much longer, and Jim was so near...and yet a world away. Even if they could find a way to see each other, the chances of making love one last time were next to nothing. Heydrich was snoring on the other cot, Naomi's sleeping quarters a short distance away, separated with a makeshift curtain hastily strung up to afford her some privacy in the otherwise all-male setting.

The lights that kept the tunnels from inky blackness still danced merrily in their holders. There were sounds from other parts of the tunnel. Hogan's operation reminded Blair of a hospital–there was no hour of the day or night when there wasn't some light, noise, or activity in the subterranean chambers.

Giving up on sleep, he got up and hastily pulled his hair back in a pony tail. He was still fully dressed, since the temperature in the tunnel didn't exactly encourage a man to strip down to his shorts for sleeping. Stepping into his shoes, he wandered out to the main chamber of the tunnel, shivering a little at the temperature and the overall spookiness of the shadowy corridors. He walked toward the sound of movement near the entrance to the tunnel that led up to Hogan's barracks. When he rounded the corner, he bumped hard into Jim, who was smiling down at him.

"Hi there, Chief. Can't sleep?"

"Jim!" Blair exclaimed in a loud whisper, pulling Jim into a desperate embrace. Jim returned the pressure, holding Blair close, savoring the stolen moment together. "I didn't know if I'd see you again. Kinch came down earlier and told us we were leaving tomorrow night, and a submarine will take us to England. I don't want to go, Jim. I don't want to leave you. What if they–"

"They won't come after me, Blair." Jim wasn't confident of that, since he was a loose end, someone who had not only worked with Blair before his "execution," but someone who had been identified as a possible Sentinel. "This is the only way. You're dead as far as they know, and before they all compare notes and figure out that something's wrong, you have to get out of the country." He pulled back. "We don't have long. I have to go back up in less than two hours."

"I wish we could go somewhere private."

"LeBeau told me there was a cot stored at the end of this tunnel."

"Why would he tell you that? Does he know about us?"

"Hogan arranged this for us. He told LeBeau."

"He arranged this? He was ready to have our heads for what we were up to."

"Well, he's had a little change of heart since he started his affair with LeBeau."

"His what?" Blair's eyes widened.

"Hogan and LeBeau are having an affair. LeBeau even sent supplies." Jim held up the lotion.

"Oh, man." Blair dropped his forehead against Jim's chest. "How am I gonna look them in the eyes knowing they know that you and I–"

"Because they either are already doing the same thing or are working their way up to it. Let's find that cot."

There was a cot folded up and stored exactly where LeBeau said it would be, surrounded by some other boxes and bags of supplies. In a moment, they had it open and waiting. Jim released Blair's hair from its confines and slid his hands into it, holding Blair's head in place for eager, desperate kisses. Hands clawed clumsily at buttons and zippers, shoes were kicked off, and the coolness of the tunnel went unnoticed as underwear was cast aside and they lay twined together on the narrow cot, trying to kiss and touch as much as they could reach. It was a stolen moment that Hogan and his men were taking a risk to give them, and the gift was appreciated for all it was worth.

"Let me get you hard," Blair whispered, pumping Jim's cock with his hand as he slid down further until he took it in his mouth, licking and sucking the already hardening organ.

"Oh, God, Blair..." Jim gasped, throwing his head back, spreading his legs to give Blair more room and freer access. The hot, wet tongue was circling the head of his cock, then tracing the underside of it, the suction making him crazy, getting him so hard, so fast, that he finally urged Blair away from him, not wanting to finish in Blair's mouth. "We need to put lotion in you."

Blair nodded, finding the little bottle on the floor by the cot and handing it to Jim, shimmying up his body so they could kiss and caress while Jim reached between Blair's cheeks and began rubbing over the little hole there with a lotion-coated finger. Sliding it inside, he rubbed the passage, making it slick and preparing it. Blair braced himself on either side of Jim's head, raising his chest up while bearing down on the probing finger.

"You still can feel last time, can't you?" Jim asked, smiling.

"Still a little sensitive. Put two fingers in me. Stretch me, Jim," Blair gasped, rotating his ass wantonly on the finger that was probing it. Jim willingly complied, groaning at the friction of Blair's cock against his where Blair was straddling him. He freed his fingers and grabbed the lotion, coating his straining erection.

"Back up a little, sweetheart. I have an idea." Jim pulled himself into a sitting position. "Sit in my lap so I can hold you," he said, guiding the head of his cock to the slick opening in Blair's body as Blair moved closed to him, holding onto his shoulders as he lowered himself gradually onto the hard shaft.

Blair moaned and squeezed his eyes shut, struggling a little with the initial penetration as it stretched him to what seemed beyond his limits. Finally, he felt his butt resting on Jim's thighs, his legs wrapping around Jim's back. The penetration was deeper than before, and the motion hurt a bit at first, as Blair was still so new to it. But it was good to feel Jim in him again, and good to know that he'd have physical reminder of their love for at least a few days after they were parted.

"I love you," Jim gasped into Blair's sweat-dampened curls, holding him tightly, relishing the feeling of their naked bodies sliding against each other while his cock slid in and out of Blair's tight channel, making him writhe and moan in Jim's arms. He covered Blair's mouth with his own, stifling a cry of pleasure as his cock rubbed firmly over Blair's prostate. Their tongues slid around each other, tasting and claiming, invading each other's mouths with passionate enthusiasm.

"I love you," Blair replied, breathless.

Blair tilted his head back and Jim licked and sucked at his throat, relieved that Blair had been wearing a turtleneck when he first saw him that night, realizing he was leaving him marked. Marked...and claimed. He lowered his head and sucked hard on a nipple, licking a path to its mate, and treating it to the same attention. Blair was leaning back now, giving Jim better access to his body. Gently moving Blair back even more, Jim briefly slipped free of the tight passage while Blair lay on his back, pulling his knees to his chest. He slid back in again, the new position giving him better leverage to thrust rapidly in and out, rubbing over Blair's prostate, one hand pumping Blair's cock firmly.

Blair had one fist in his mouth to silence his moans, his sweaty thighs wrapped around Jim, encouraging him deeper. Jim pushed Blair's hand away from his mouth so they could kiss again, pulling away from Blair's mouth to pepper his face with sloppy kisses.

The climax, when it came, was explosive and overpowering. Jim buried his face in Blair's hair, in the warmth between his neck and shoulder and stifled his scream of completion there, while Blair covered his mouth, trying desperately to muffled his shout of Jim's name.

They rolled on their sides, clinging to each other, trading little kisses and love words as their bodies recovered.

"When we're together again, you'll have to show me how it feels when things are reversed," Jim said, running his hand over Blair's ass, lingering there.

"You want me in you that way?"

"Yeah, I do. But I don't think we have time tonight. I should have asked you...if you wanted it this way again. I just couldn't help it. I wanted you so much."

"I always want you–this way or any other way. It doesn't matter. As long as we're together. I just wish it was for longer. That we could leave together tomorrow night. Why can't you just come with us?"

"Because Klink has a perfect no-escape record here, and that's about all that keeps the brass off his back. Hogan's operation depends on having a not-too-observant kraut in charge here. So they have to keep him looking good. If I left, it would be an escape."

"How long do we have left?"

"Probably forty-five minutes or so." Jim kissed Blair deeply, their tongues lingering together before they broke the kiss. "I want you safely out of Germany, but a part of me is glad you didn't make it out today," he confessed, kissing Blair's cheek, his ear, and then hugging him close again. The hand on Blair's ass pushed their groins close together again. The friction was arousing a new interest.

As they rubbed against each other, Jim slid his finger in and out of Blair's slick hole, the motion making Blair shudder and move against him with more urgency. They took their time, holding each other close, relishing the sensual friction, hands trying to memorize every inch of precious flesh before their anticipated separation. The second climax was sweet and intense, leaving them both utterly exhausted and sated in each other's arms.

"Think you can sleep now?" Jim joked, kissing Blair as the younger man's eyes drifted shut, then fluttered open again.

"I could sleep for a month in your arms," Blair responded, kissing Jim's chest.

"I don't think I could leave you be that long." Jim kissed Blair again, deeply. "I need to go soon."

"If I asked Hogan, do you think he might consider letting you come with us?"

"No. We've been over that, sweetheart. I can't come with you."

"Maybe I could just stay down here. Get my mom and the count out of Germany, and I could stay and work with you on your senses. It would be a help to Hogan's operation for you to be working at full capacity. There's so much more we need to cover–"

"Blair, even if you could stand living in a cave for God knows how long, never seeing the light of day, if you were ever found, you'd die a horrible death. I won't chance that."

"But I wouldn't have to be found. And I'd live under any conditions if it meant being with you."

"You've got one good chance to get out, and I want you to go. Look at how Hogan and LeBeau got trapped in that branch tunnel. You could be killed or buried alive down here."

"There are people who would give anything for a place like this to hide. There are thousands of people hiding from Hitler all over the country. Probably a good number in France and elsewhere. I'd be no different."

"It's out of the question."

"Let me ask Hogan. Let me talk to him. I think I could talk him into it."

"Damn it, Blair, you probably could. You could talk Hitler into wrapping himself in the American Flag and singing 'God Bless America' if you had long enough to do it."

"Then why are you so against it?" Blair sat up, his mind moving a thousand miles an hour.

"Because if Hogan decides to get me out of Germany, you could end up stuck in a cave for nothing."

"He could get us both out."

"Not necessarily! This is the time for you to go."

"I'm not going unless I have a chance to talk to Hogan about this."

"Don't give up your life for this, Chief." Jim got up and scooped up his clothes, tossing them on the foot of the cot and starting to get dressed.

"You are my life, Jim. The only part of it I care about anymore. I know my mom'll be fine. She's in love and the count is good to her. I'm sure he's got money stashed in some Swiss bank so he can make her happy and take care of her. I want to be with you."

"There's nothing I'd like better, sweetheart." Jim sat on the cot, and pushed a few curly strands of hair away from Blair's still-flushed face. "But I wouldn't like it much if you ended up getting yourself shot. I'd rather suffer the separation now and have forever together when this is over."

"We could have both."

"Saying goodbye to you is the hardest thing I've ever had to do, but it still has to be done, no matter how long we put it off, or how many ways we try to wriggle out of it." Jim looked at his watch. "It's almost eleven, and I have to meet LeBeau at the tunnel entrance. They're creating a diversion so I can get back to my barracks in one piece."

"Jim, please, just let me talk to Hogan. I know I can talk him into letting me stay. I could help out here. No one knows I'm here. Think of all the stuff I could get done down here when they didn't have the time or the chance. I'm smart–I've always been a quick learner. I'll do whatever jobs he wants done. I can do most anything if you give me a chance to learn it, and–"

"Blair, slow down," Jim chided, smiling. He kissed Blair. "I love you. I want you safe in England. I'll come and get you as soon as I get out of here. I promise."

"I don't want to be safe in England. I want to be with you. I don't see why you won't even consider it," Blair added, his eyes filling. "We don't have to say goodbye."

"For now, we do. I mean it, Chief. The discussion's closed." Jim stood up, and tried to ignore the stirring in his groin when Blair did the same, not seeming to care that he was still stark naked. He held Blair's bare body against his clothed one, feeling the warmth seep through the fabric that separated them. He took advantage of the last opportunity to run his hand slowly up and down the length of Blair's back, stroking over the curve of his buttocks and thigh to his shoulder and back again as their mouths locked together in kisses that would have to last them until they were together again.

"There'll never be anyone but you," Blair said, looking into Jim's eyes. "There never was anybody before you, and there won't be anyone else but you."

"What are you saying, Blair?"

"Just what I said. You were the first. You'll be the only."

"You were the first man I ever made love with, too, Chief."

"I mean you're the first anyone I ever made love with all the way. I wanted it to be special. Anthropologists make a big deal over rituals, you know," Blair added, smiling a little self-consciously. "Sex is a ritual of love. At least, it should be. I wanted it to be. And it was."

"If something happens to me, I don't want you to live out the rest of your life with just a memory. I'd want you to be happy, to find someone, to make–" Jim stopped when Blair put a hand over his mouth.

"Nothing's going to happen to you, because I don't want to live without you. So you have to come back to me. You don't have a choice. You have to stay safe."

"Okay." Jim smiled, leaning in for another kiss. "That's why I want you to go, sweetheart. Because you're in much more danger here, and there'd be nothing for me to go home to if you're not there."

"I still don't agree with you about that," Blair said.

"I know you don't. I have to go, Chief." Jim looked at his watch regretfully. "You better get dressed. Not that I mind the view."

"When you come home, we'll spend a week naked." Blair reluctantly dressed, letting Jim contemplate that thought.

"My family has a summer home...it's really private, very remote. We should go there."

"Maybe we should live there," Blair added, shrugging into the weathered coat that, with his hair tucked under a hat, made him look like any one of a dozen average German citizens. Except for the fact that Jim would know him anywhere, anytime, in any sort of clothing. Or out of the clothing...

"Here." Jim took off his watch. "Keep this. I don't have a ring and I can't give you my dog tags, but wear this." Jim slipped it on Blair's wrist.

"I have something for you." Blair dug in the pocket of his coat. "I've hidden it among my supplies most of the time, because I didn't want the Germans to get it." He handed Jim an odd-looking little leather necklace with a few colorful beads on it. "Not exactly the fashion for men in the States, but it's a big hit with the indigenous people of Borneo," he added, smiling. "My mentor gave me that. It's the only jewelry I have that has sentimental value."

"I'll take good care of it, sweetheart."

"I'll miss you every minute," Blair said, looking at the watch.

"I love you." Jim hugged Blair hard, holding on for long moments while Blair returned the pressure. "I have to go."

"I know. I love you, too. Be safe."

"I will. You, too." Jim kissed Blair's forehead one last time and forced himself to turn and walk away, the little beads held tightly in his hand.

********

Hogan was savoring the rare silence and the blessed peace of sleep, and when it was disturbed, he wasn't sure exactly how the perpetrator would be put to death, but he knew it would be slow and painful.

"Colonel Hogan," Kinch's voice came through the fog, and Hogan opened his eyes, spotting two shapes in the pre-dawn shadows. One was unmistakably Kinch, and the other looked suspiciously like Sandburg.

"What do you think you're doing out of the tunnel?" Hogan challenged Sandburg in a breathy whisper.

"He insisted on seeing you. I thought it was better to bring him in here than risk Schultz finding him."

"Yeah, you're right, Kinch."

"I'll wait outside."

"Thanks, Sergeant," Sandburg said, and Kinch nodded, smiling slightly as he pulled the door shut.

"Are you crazy? Do you want to die?" Hogan challenged, getting up with the assistance of the single crutch. It crossed his mind to put on his cap, but then he thought how ridiculous he'd look considering he was in his pajamas. "And if you do, by the way, be my guest, but don't take all of us with you while you're at it."

"I know I wasn't supposed to come up, but there's something I think we should talk about."

"And it couldn't have waited until later?"

"No, I don't think it should. It's that important."

"Okay, you've got my attention."

"I think I should stay behind, hide in the tunnel, and work with Jim on his senses so he can do better work for the operation. I wouldn't come up like this, like tonight, without your permission. I could live down there for a long time without the Germans knowing I was there, and Jim will be a lot more effective if he's got me to coach him. To guide him."

"I thought about that, Sandburg. I considered finding a way to stash you in the tunnel, or hide you out somehow with one of our Underground contacts, because I have no question that Ellison would function more effectively with you there to work with him. I read that ominous stack of notes you sent me for safekeeping, and passages from that book by Burton. This is the tip of an amazing iceberg, and I admit I don't know where to go with it–in terms of training Ellison to use the abilities he has. I also don't know what the pitfalls are, or how to avoid them."

"Exactly! That's why I should stay with Jim, and help him learn to use his abilities, and guide him when you have him going out on really important missions."

"The only flaw in all this is that your presence is going to be a major distraction. Protecting you from discovery isn't our priority here, but it would be Ellison's. If we're under fire from a bunch of krauts out on a mission, we have to concentrate on saving our own butts and getting back to camp. If you were found with us, we'd be shot for harboring a spy. And if you were captured, you'd be executed–after they tortured you for information. The risks are too great for my men and for the operation, and for you."

"What about the risks for Jim?"

"He's one of my men now, Sandburg, and his safety is just as important to me as any of the others'. London thinks of him as a prized resource. I don't expect him to be here long anyway."

"What do you mean?"

"When the furor dies down, I know that London's going to want him back at headquarters. The implications of his skills for high-level intelligence work are staggering."

"I thought what was going on here was pretty high level."

"Thanks, but we're just a branch operation," Hogan said, smiling. "I'm not saying we don't do some vitally important work, because we do, but the high-level infiltration isn't our main focus. We're a sabotage and escape unit, and we engage in some intelligence work, but Ellison could be one of the heavy hitters. My guess is I'll have to engineer a transfer for him somehow, so we can stage his escape and still keep Klink's record intact."

"Then he might be coming to England soon?"

"It's a distinct possibility. And even if he doesn't, I want you in the best possible position to advise us on using Ellison's abilities. We're in regular radio contact with London, and you can give us advice long distance. That way, you can still help Ellison and you won't be a constant source of danger and distraction to him and us."

"You really think that's best for Jim, for me to go?"

"I really do, or I wouldn't be sending you away." Hogan sighed. "I know what's going on between the two of you, and that makes every decision emotional and not strategic. But my decision is strategic, so just go to England and trust me. This is what I do–strategy. It's a job that comes with the eagles," he joked, referring to the markings of his rank.

"I can't believe you actually have me convinced that leaving Jim here is best."

"I'm sending your notes and materials under separate cover. London's sending a plane for it."

"They're sending a plane for my notes?" Blair's eyes widened.

"Absolutely. All that information supports Ellison being what Hitler wanted to find. A real live Sentinel. Those papers are his death warrant, and yours, if you were caught with them. They can't travel with you."

"You thought of everything, I guess."

"I have to. Too many lives depend on my thinking of everything."

"I have to admit, I figured since Jim was the new guy...I don't know...I guess I didn't trust that you'd be as worried about him. Or maybe that you wouldn't understand how important he is. I'm sorry is misjudged you."

"You're a scientist, Sandburg. You've got a lot of education and studying behind you, and a depth of knowledge about this whole Sentinel thing that I'll never have if I memorize Burton's book cover to cover. You aren't any more comfortable handing Ellison over to me than I would be handing this operation over to a man of lesser rank I barely knew."

"That's how I feel. Like I'm abandoning him in a place where no one will know how to help him if he loses touch with things or has trouble with his senses."

"I read your notes. I think we can keep an eye on him until the time comes to ship him back to England. I'll work on getting him moved into our barracks. We'll make sure we back him up. We back each other up around here, and cover for each other's weak spots. Ellison's no exception to that."

"You're nothing like the guys I envision when I think of high-ranking military officers," Sandburg said. "That's a compliment, by the way."

"You mean I should have a buzz cut, chew on a cigar, and bark out orders? I'm not that crazy about cigars, I look stupid with a buzz cut, and I don't have the raspy voice for barking," Hogan concluded, chuckling. "If it's any consolation, you're not my image of a scientist, either."

"It's the hair, right?"

"That's different, no question. That and your age...your whole personality. You're nothing like the researchers we've worked with before. So I guess we're both atypical."

"I feel a lot better about leaving. Like it's the right thing to do. Thanks for talking to me about it and not just laying down the law."

"We're on the same side, Sandburg. And people obey orders they understand a lot more readily than orders that are just orders with no reasoning behind them."

"Thank you for letting me...spend some time with Jim tonight. I know that wasn't easy to engineer."

"Let's just say I understand a little too well how you feel."

"There's something I want you to know about me," Blair said, pausing a moment, then continuing. "I never told the Nazis anything worthwhile. I know I did some research for them to stay alive, but I never really helped them. I mean, they know about the whole Sentinel concept, but it never came to fruition. I want you to know I'm not a traitor."

"If I thought you were a traitor, we wouldn't have risked everything to put on our Halloween costumes and go out there and rescue you, your mother, and her buddy, the count."

"I know that some people have the courage to...to withstand...horrible torture. To die, even. I was afraid. I could have refused to work for them at all."

"And you'd be dead, Ellison would probably by now think he was nuts or had a brain tumor, and the krauts wouldn't have wasted months and substantial amounts of money keeping your little testing operation going. Blair, heroism isn't all about blood and guts and death and torture. Some of the most heroic things happen in here," Hogan said, tapping his temple with his finger. "And making the krauts chase their tails for months is a pretty damned good trick."

"You're not just being gracious about this?"

"Look, I know what the Gestapo are like, and what kind of goodies they have in their little bag of tricks to get people to cooperate."

"You've been tortured by them? I didn't think–"

"Let's just say that when I was captured, I was...vigorously interrogated. Even then, they had to be somewhat more restrained because of the Geneva Convention, the Red Cross...I was a POW. My point is that you figured a way out of their torture chambers and into a laboratory. They wasted money and time on you. And while some of their top generals and strategists should have been paying attention to the war, they were busy tasting cups of water with cooking spices in them and sniffing rose petals in your lab. Where I come from, that's a neat trick. And pretty damn heroic."

"I don't feel like a hero. I feel like I should have stood up to them."

"What were you going to do if you found a kraut Sentinel anyway?"

"I hadn't figured that out yet," Blair responded honestly.

"Kill him? Turn him over to the krauts? You must have had some idea."

"Killing him would have been the thing to do because of the war. Turning him over to the krauts would have made me a real traitor. But I'm a scientist, and there are ethics involved in working with human subjects. I don't know if I could have killed him in cold blood. I probably just would have lied about his test results, told him he was ordinary, normal. I'm a pretty fair liar when I have to be."

"Unfortunately, it's a skill you need to save your life sometimes. Kinch'll take you back down below. Stay there until we come and get you from now on, okay? Schultz turns his head to a lot of things, but we only have so many candy bars on hand."

********

While the prisoners were in formation for morning roll call, and Schultz was reporting them all accounted for, Hochstetter's car drove through the gates. Klink cringed internally at the sight of the black staff car with its red markings and swastika flags flying, but said nothing as he waited for the energetic Gestapo man to get out of his car, flanked by two guards, and stride purposefully toward him. Visits from Hochstetter usually meant trouble, but courtesy to the Gestapo was the only way to stay healthy in Hitler's Germany.

"Major Hochstetter, what brings you here again so soon?" Klink asked with his usual feigned cordiality. He couldn't stand Hochstetter, and had hoped that the removal of Sanders, his mother, and the count from the camp would give him a respite.

"As we were transporting the prisoners from your camp yesterday, we were intercepted by a group of men claiming to be Gestapo who executed the prisoners. There was no such order issued," Hochstetter said. "We suspect the Underground, and I will find the men responsible if I have to tear this entire area apart with my bare hands!" he shouted, his fingers curling into claws as he seemed to stiffen with rage. "And I know exactly where to start." He walked away from Klink and moved in Hogan's direction. "One of the officers in this little group walked with a cane. The commanding officer, a colonel, coincidentally."

"Now, really, Major, don't tell me I'm the only man in Germany who walks with a cane. The way things are going on the Russian front, I would imagine there are quite a few of them now," Hogan added, drawing chuckles from his men.

"Silence! I am taking you back to Gestapo headquarters," Hochstetter said, moving close enough to Hogan for his breath to felt as he spoke. "You will not find that quite so humorous, I assure you." He moved away, gesturing toward Hogan. "Colonel Hogan is under arrest," he said, gesturing in Hogan's direction. The two guards grabbed Hogan by either arm, not allowing him the support of the crutch he'd been using, and began hustling him toward the staff car over the shouted protests of the men. LeBeau and Newkirk were held back from physically intervening by Klink's own guards.

The kommandant knew what Hogan's fate would be, whether he was guilty or not. Hochstetter had lost three prisoners, and someone was going to pay, and pay dearly and horribly.

"Wait!" Klink made his way over to Hochstetter, who had stopped on his way to the car, where Hogan was being shoved into the back of it. "Colonel Hogan couldn't have been part of a group who intercepted you on the road," he protested, praying fervently that he'd be blessed with a good reason why not.

"And exactly how can you be so sure of this?" Hochstetter demanded.

"Because he was in my office."

"All day?" Hochstetter challenged.

"No, not all day, but shortly after you left with your prisoners, Colonel Hogan and I conferred on camp business. He usually has a long list of complaints and demands–none of which I cave in to, of course. We have nothing but the strictest discipline here at Stalag–"

"Save the speeches, kommandant," Hochstetter said, placing and ugly emphasis on the last word. "How long was he in your office?"

"About three hours," Klink said, knowing that would cover the time, but having no clue what to tell Hochstetter they did for three hours in his office. Even a good chess game usually wrapped up faster than that.

"Three hours?" Hochstetter stared at him, his piercing dark eyes seeming to bore right into Klink's soul.

"I was interrogating him myself," Klink said. He'd tried interrogating Hogan in the early days, and they'd spent more than three hours at a time together on the project, but Klink never emerged from the sessions knowing any more than when he'd started. Questioning Hogan was pointless, like running on an endless treadmill of evasions and doubletalk.

"And what did you learn from this...interrogation?" Hochstetter challenged.

"There was a major arrest here in the camp. My guests, with whom Hogan interacted, were hauled off by the Gestapo. I wanted to be sure they hadn't passed an worthwhile information on to him."

"And you think he would tell you if they had?"

"I think he would when he was being forced to stand on one leg, the injured leg, in the corner of the room until he talked, yes." Klink smiled conspiratorially. "You see, Hochstetter, you don't need exotic devices or dark basements. A little simple persuasion can be quite painful, and quite effective."

"But he told you nothing?" Hochstetter asked, looking a bit surprised, encouraged even, that Klink might be a more worthy colleague than he'd originally judged.

Klink thought fast of the items he'd confiscated from the prisoners recently. The only thing of note was a homemade radio, which he had strong suspicions had been handed over to him to deflect his attention from something more significant. Still, it was worth a try.

"He surrendered a hidden homemade radio. It's not completely finished, but the prisoners were going to attempt to use it to tap into the BBC. He revealed its location shortly before he collapsed, unable to stand on his injured leg any longer."

"And your guards, they are aware of this...interrogation session?"

"No, of course not. They are thugs and half-wits. Why would I involve them in an intricate interrogation?"

"You know, Klink, I may have misjudged you," Hochstetter said. Klink smiled, pleased with himself. "I doubt it," Hochstetter added then, frustrated, striding toward the car. "If you are lying, Klink, you will have the opportunity to sample some of those...exotic devices, as you called them. Release the prisoner." He ordered his guards, who pulled Hogan back out of the car, giving him a shove that landed him on the ground. Despite the pain that must have plagued him from a fall that seemed to twist his bad leg, Hogan struggled to his feet, obviously determined not to let Hochstetter demean him in front of his men.

In a cloud of dust, Hochstetter's car roared toward the front gate and through it. Klink released a breath he hadn't realized he was holding until the gate closed behind it.

"What did you say to him?" Hogan asked in a hushed voice.

"I simply explained to him that I was interrogating you yesterday afternoon, and told him about you giving up that homemade radio," Klink responded. Hogan looked at him, speechless for the only time in the years Klink had known him. "You do remember being forced to stand on your injured leg until you talked?"

"I didn't before, but it's coming back to me now," Hogan quipped, limping in place a bit to relieve the pain it was causing him with no crutch or cane.

"Schultz, get the crutch," Klink ordered.

"Jawohl, Herr Kommandant!" Schultz replied, beaming. He seemed genuinely relieved that Hogan had been spared the fate of a lengthy Gestapo interrogation. He handed Hogan the crutch, and he leaned gratefully on it.

"Thanks, Schultz." When the portly guard was out of earshot, Hogan looked Klink in the eyes intently. "You know that Hochstetter will have you shot as a traitor if he finds out you made all this up."

"Security at this camp is impenetrable. So I know you couldn't have been on that road," Klink retorted. "There was little point in him wasting his time while the real guilty party got away." He was uncomfortable under Hogan's intent gaze, and completely unwilling and unprepared to admit in so many words that he didn't have the heart to stand by and see Hogan tortured and likely killed as a spy. His cold exterior was a must to keep his tenuous position with Burkhalter and with the men under his command. Sympathy for an American prisoner suspected of spying would get him killed before he even realized what was happening.

"Thank you, Kommandant. I know what you just did."

"Of course you do. You just witnessed it. You should really elevate that leg and put some ice on it. We won't be catering to your escape-related injury for the rest of the war," Klink snapped, turning on his heel and striding back into his office, past his stunned secretary, who had watched through the window as the events unfolded, and into his private office, slamming the door behind him and leaning against the back of it. His heart pounded, his palms were sweaty inside his gloves, and he had a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach.

I lied to the Gestapo. Not just a little lie, but a big, fat, contrived, fairly tale. And for the sake of a prisoner, no less. A prisoner who would probably sell me out without hesitation if the situation were reversed. But then again, maybe not. Hogan has bailed me out of certain ruin more than once...but Hogan had to have his own reasons for doing that.

Klink took off his hat and coat, then peeled off his leather gloves. He poured himself some schnapps with a shaky hand and downed the shot in one gulp. He'd never tortured a prisoner in his life, and it had taken him some quick creative thinking to come up with how he could single-handedly torture Hogan in his office in the middle of the day without his secretary knowing, or without the help of his guards.

Fraulein Hilda was no threat. The comely blonde was so enamored with Hogan that she would probably say anything to save his neck, not to mention the rest of him. Hogan would spread the lie to his men, and they would stick to the story. That thought, and another shot of schnapps, began to calm his nerves. Hogan was still the enemy, but at this level, in a matter of life, death, and torture, it was impossible to see him that way. How could you stand by and watch the gruesome death of someone you played chess with on a number of bleak, cold winter nights? Or someone whose dynamic presence and constant scheming kept what could be a horribly dull life anything but dull? Or someone who had bartered and negotiated and in a weird sort of way, been a partner in keeping hundreds of prisoners managed and not escaping?

Hogan was the enemy by uniform, but he was a strange sort of partner in another sense. Whatever he was, Klink was glad he'd saved his life. And very happy to have sent Hochstetter away, frustrated, searching for another scapegoat.

********

"Are you all right, Colonel?" LeBeau asked the moment Hogan was within earshot of his men. They gathered around him, concerned, as they all made their way back to the barracks. LeBeau's hand was in the middle of his back, the small gesture of contact reassuring both of them until they could risk more intimate touches.

"I'm fine. The leg's getting better every day. It's just not a hundred percent yet. We've got a bigger problem. Hochstetter must have checked with the brass in Berlin and couldn't trace the execution order for Heydrich and the Sandburgs."

"I thought the whole point was that those things were under wraps, secret, unofficial!" LeBeau protested.

"They are. But apparently the wrong person told him no such order was given. Maybe he got the word from Himmler. Whatever happened, he knows it was a phony, and he's going to be looking for them. Most of Germany is going to be looking for them."

"What are we gonna do, sir? The sub's coming for them tonight?" Kinch asked.

"There's too much heat on the Underground. Get a message to them right now. The goons will have radio detection trucks all over the area, especially now that Hochstetter doesn't have a new toy to play with back in Berlin. Before they get set up, get a message off. We can't move tonight. I don't know exactly when or how we will move, but we won't do it tonight."

"We can hide them in the tunnel for a long time," LeBeau suggested. "We don't have a lot of food, but we have enough to keep them fed and it's better than being shot."

"Maybe once the heat dies down a little..." Hogan sat at the table, and the others followed suit. "There is one way we could handle this, but it would be pretty elaborate."

"That's never stopped us before, boy," Carter said, enthusiastically, then added, "Sir."

"Say the Gestapo execution squad were really friends of Heydrich's. We'd have to come up with names–krauts we could frame."

"They may have alibis," Newkirk said. "How could that work?"

"First of all, if Hochstetter's back is against the wall to nail someone, he'll take anybody. He doesn't care if they're guilty–he's Gestapo, remember? Second, it doesn't matter if the leads pan out. We just have to have some names to give them."

"What good would that do? The heat's off you–what did Klink say, anyway?" Kinch asked.

"He told Hochstetter he was interrogating me at the time. Actually, he was torturing me for information, and I surrendered a homemade radio" Hogan added with a smile.

"Why can't I envision that?" LeBeau asked, chuckling.

"We gave up that radio a few months ago, remember? Klink must still have it in his storage room," Hogan added, shaking his head. "I'm not sure why Klink decided to bail me out, but I'm glad he did."

"Maybe because if you were outside of camp, it means his no-escape record is a joke," Newkirk suggested.

"Yeah, maybe. Anyway, if we could convince the krauts that Heydrich and Sandburg's mother escaped to Switzerland, they'd call off the search."

"What about Sandburg?" LeBeau asked.

"Somebody has to be arrested to tell the story, and he's the logical one to do it," Hogan concluded.

"They'll kill him. We can't hand him over the goons," Carter protested.

"I don't trust Heydrich enough to use him for this, and he's got more and better resources to get Sandburg's mother out of Germany safely. Sandburg and his mother would be easy targets, but Heydrich is craftier and nastier, and he's a native. Put him in disguise and he can still speak the language fluently and blend in better than Sandburg could. They have a fighting chance to get out, but we have to give the goons something to play with in the mean time."

"I can't believe you are suggesting handing him over," LeBeau said, visibly outraged.

"Only temporarily. Once we get the other two safely on their way, we'll spring him."

"Just like that, from Gestapo headquarters?" Newkirk said, eyes widening.

"Maybe not. Maybe we can get the initial interrogation to happen here, at Stalag 13."

"Hochstetter would never go for that," Kinch said, frowning.

"If Sandburg surrendered here, to Klink and his men, and Klink could bring Burkhalter in on it, maybe Burkhalter would pull rank on Hochstetter to keep Sandburg as his prisoner. I'd rather see him in Klink's and Burkhalter's custody than the Gestapo's." Hogan paused. "Look, this is risky at best, but we're painted into a corner here. The woods are crawling with Gestapo men, and we can't even poke our noses out of the tunnel without being shot. We have to get them out of here if we're going to make this work."

"I don't like it," LeBeau said.

"Me, neither," Carter agreed.

"I'm sorry, Colonel, but I'm not crazy about it myself," Kinch said.

"It's suicide, and handing Sandburg to those krauts is the same thing as killin' 'im ourselves," Newkirk said. "We might as well shoot 'im and be done with it."

"Okay, now look, keeping them here is shutting this operation down. Things are getting hot enough to burn us. Badly. First they start combing the woods, then they bring in radio detection units, pretty soon they're tearing this place apart because it's somewhere near where it happened. We need to make a move to take the heat off ourselves and the Underground."

"So we throw an innocent man to the wolves?" LeBeau challenged, and for a split second, Hogan was more wounded that LeBeau would think he'd do such a thing than he was focused on countering the statement.

"Kinch, radio London and tell them what we're planning. Then radio the Underground. Get the names of some krauts we can set up for the execution squad."

"Yes, sir," Kinch said, giving Hogan a disappointed look, but heading for the tunnel.

"I'll go talk to Sandburg."

"They know he's a Jew, Colonel," Carter said. "They could just kill him or send him to a camp–"

"They could do a lot of things. But he's a valuable prisoner, no matter who or what he is, and Burkhalter is going to want the credit with old bubblehead for catching him and making him crack. Klink and Burkhalter are a lot less likely to hurt him to get information. All this depends on split-second timing and everyone playing his part. A lot could go wrong. But if it works, we'll rescue Sandburg on his way to Gestapo headquarters."

"Another execution squad? They'll never buy that," Carter protested.

"No, I was thinking more along the lines of sending our very own Gestapo men to pick him up. We'll just have to get around Hochstetter somehow, and the best way around him is Burkhalter, even if it's a big detour." Hogan paused. "LeBeau, go get Sandburg and bring him to my quarters."

"You know this is crazy," LeBeau said, rising to follow the order.

"If I stopped for that, we wouldn't have tried most of the operations we've tried in the last few years."

******** 

"I just can't believe we aren't leaving tonight," Naomi said, pacing. "How long are we supposed to live in this dank prison of Hogan's? We might as well have been captured."

"If you had been captured, liebschen, you would be suffering with mangled limbs and burnt flesh, if you were alive at all," Heydrich said coldly, not looking up from the book he was reading. "Sit down and relax."

"Mom, he's right. We've got to let Hogan handle this the way he thinks is best. If we go up top now, it would be suicide."

"We should have never gone along with them. We should have just run when they thought we were dead."

"Run where?" Heydrich said, laying the book aside with a chuckle. "Just set off across the countryside on foot? No maps, no food, no supplies? And those shoes are very becoming, my dear, but they are not made for a mountainous foot journey."

"Some people are in hiding in worse places than this to stay safe," Blair said. "We're warm, fed, safe–we should be grateful, not complaining."

"I am grateful we're safe. I'm just frustrated living in a cave. When I thought we were leaving tonight, it wasn't all that bad. But now that I know we're stuck here for God knows how long..."

"Nadine, please sit down and relax," Heydrich said, his patience obviously wearing thin.

"My name is not Nadine!"

"It is until we leave Germany. Now sit down and be quiet. You are behaving like a spoiled child."

Blair watched the exchange with interest, and was even more stunned when his mother actually sat down and stopped her incessant complaining. Maybe she really had met her match in Heydrich.

"When we get to England, we will plan our honeymoon. Travel to some exotic location that has no part in this war. But for now, we must be patient, careful, and quiet," he added, his tone much more gentle this time.

"Blair, you know a lot about exotic places. You can help us choose a spot! Oh, honey, you could come with us, be our tour guide. Konrad, wouldn't that be delightful? We could see some remote place with someone who knows all the best sights and–"

"Excuse moi," LeBeau interrupted as he arrived in the alcove where they were sitting. "Colonel Hogan wants to talk to you," he said to Blair.

"Okay." Blair rose to go with LeBeau.

"Is it about our leaving?" Naomi asked hopefully.

"I'm sure Colonel Hogan will explain everything," LeBeau responded.

"But you already know what's happening? Why won't you tell us?"

"Because it's up to his commanding officer to tell us, liebschen."

"You men and your protocols," Naomi groused. "Can't answer a simple question without turning it into a chain of command issue."

"I'll fill you in on everything when I get back, Mom. Just have a little patience. It's not like we've got anything else to do."

Blair took in LeBeau's dire expression and silence as he led the way to the ladder that would take them up to the barracks.

"You're awfully quiet," Blair said before starting up the ladder.

"Colonel Hogan will explain everything."

"I'm not going to like what I hear, am I?" Blair said.

"I really don't know. I wouldn't care much for it myself," LeBeau admitted as he followed Blair up the ladder.

Once LeBeau had escorted Blair to Hogan's office, and closed the door behind him, Blair looked at the commanding officer a bit nervously. Hogan wasn't an ominous persona, and they'd come to a sort of understanding when they talked, but Hogan's expression was grimmer than usual, and Blair could read people well enough to spot bad news on the horizon.

"Pull up a stool," Hogan invited, gesturing at the other stool near his desk. Once Blair was seated, he said, "Well, you already know the Gestapo found out the execution squad was a fake."

"That's why we're not moving."

"We're in a real bind here, Blair. They're not going to give up until they find you, your mother, and the count. Hochstetter's back is against the wall, and he isn't going to quit until he finds a scapegoat. It was almost me, but Klink diverted him."

"Klink diverted him? I thought you said Klink was kind of an idiot."

"Most of the time, he seems like one, but he sure managed a neat trick today. Hochstetter had me in the back of the car on the way to be interrogated. Klink claimed he'd tortured me yesterday," Hogan added, smiling to the point of almost laughing.

"Klink wouldn't torture someone?"

"He's not really bloodthirsty, despite the fact he likes to pretend he is. Old Blood and Guts."

"That's his nickname? Klink?"

"Never know it to look at him." Hogan smiled, then his expression became serious. "I'm procrastinating. I need to ask you to do something very difficult, and very risky, to get us out of this mess."

"Me? What?" Blair asked, confused.

"I need you to surrender to Klink's guards, let them capture you and bring you back into camp as a prisoner."

"They'll kill me."

"No they won't. Well, there's always a risk when you're talking about arresting someone on the Fuhrer's bad side, but my best guess is that you're all wanted alive, not dead. Especially if they grab only one of you. The plan is for Klink and Burkhalter to interrogate you, and you to feed them exactly what we want them to know. Burkhalter will call Hitler, get the credit for himself for having captured one of you, and then he'll do the questioning."

"You think he's just going to serve me tea and ask me questions? You're asking me to walk back into torture. I don't know if I can do that again."

"I'm asking you to risk it. If the plan goes well, you won't be tortured. Maybe smacked a couple of times, but nothing life threatening, because you'll give Burkhalter what he wants to hear before he really takes the gloves off or hands you over to the Gestapo. We need you to tell them the execution squad was a phony, and give them some names, and tell them they were friends of Heydrich's."

"So I should frame a bunch of people?"

"Nazis, Sandburg. Whether they qualify as people is another whole discussion. The same guys who would shoot all three of you and then go to dinner and celebrate."

"I get the point," Blair said, holding up a forestalling hand.

"You're also going to tell them that your mother and Heydrich made it to Switzerland."

"And they just left me here?"

"You never wanted to escape in the first place. You wanted to continue your work here, but you were forced into going along with the escape, and you were afraid you'd be seen as a traitor because of your association with Heydrich, so you went along with them through the actual escape. Your conscience bothered you, and as a scientist, you couldn't abandon your work, because you're just positive a Sentinel will be found among such a strong, superior people as the Germans."

"Excuse me while I throw up."

"I know it's a little hard to say, but you'll be amazed how much bullshit will flow out of you when the need arises."

"The voice of experience?"

"I've done my share of fertilizing when the situation called for it," Hogan admitted, chuckling. Then, he became serious again. "Sandburg, I'm asking a lot of you, I know that. I don't trust Heydrich to carry this off and not sell out our whole operation–he might just be arrogant enough to think he could make a deal, just like he thought his escape plan was going to work. Obviously, none of us would consider turning your mother over to the goons. I think you can do this."

"Not that I don't appreciate the vote of confidence, but it just seems like so much could go wrong."

"A lot could go wrong. Burkhalter could hand you over to Hochstetter, you could get yourself shot...there are a lot of risks. You could break under torture and tell them about our whole operation and get us all executed and our operation shut down, and your mother and Heydrich arrested and killed."

"How do you live like this? I mean, I'm frozen here. I'm scared to death of what you're suggesting, but you've been risking all that with everything you've done for us. Every time you do one of these spying missions or help someone escape. How do you deal with that? I couldn't handle it."

"You'd be amazed what you can handle when you have to. It's been a long road, and I could use a vacation," Hogan added, his smile faint and tinged with a telltale fatigue. "But I believe in what we're doing, and the value in it, so I keep doing it. I believe in defeating Hitler. If I have to give my life to do that, then I will. It's a level of risk you learn to live with. Until you get caught, of course, and then you wonder if you were nuts to get yourself into this mess."

"That's me," Blair said.

"Being a hero doesn't mean you aren't scared or you don't have doubts or you don't wish you weren't stuck in the mess you're in. Being a hero is defined by what you do about that mess. You've got the strength, and you've got the selflessness to be a hero. That's what I need to make this plan work, because frankly, it's one of the riskier ones I've tried with live bait, so to speak."

"Can I think about it?"

"I can give you a few minutes, but I need a decision. This has to be set in motion right away."

"I'll do it," Blair blurted.

"You're sure?"

"No, but if I think about it too much, I'll chicken out. I think you're doing what's best for us–at least, the best that can be done. But you're going to have to restrain my mother somehow. I'm not kidding. She'll try to give herself up or something if she thinks it'll save me, and she won't listen to you. She'll do what she wants."

"We'll keep her in check."

"You don't know my mother. I'm serious here, Colonel Hogan. You've got to keep her under some kind of watch."

"Okay, I will. I'm sure we can get volunteers. Your mother's not all that unpleasant to watch," Hogan added with a grin. "I'm more concerned about Ellison playing Lone Ranger."

"Maybe you should let me talk to him. He probably won't go along with you if he isn't sure I'm really in agreement with this."

"Tell Kinch to get him over here. I think you're right."

********

Jim was surprised to be summoned to Hogan's quarters, and even more surprised to see Blair there, above ground. He barely restrained himself from pulling his lover into his arms to greet him the way that seemed natural now.

"As you know, things have kind of fallen apart for the original plan to get our guests out of the tunnel and safely to England," Hogan began. "We've had to move to plan B."

"Which is?"

"Well, something has to happen to distract the goons, to convince them that finding their escaped prisoners is hopeless. I've come up with a plan, and Sandburg's agreed to it. We're going to let Klink capture Sandburg–"

"They'll kill him!" Jim protested immediately.

"No they won't. Klink is going to want to question him, make a big name for himself. I'll work on Klink to include Burkhalter in the questioning and the credit. Burkhalter can go toe to toe with Hochstetter and win. Klink might buckle. Before today, I wouldn't have given him credit for being able to hold out at all."

"You're asking him to commit suicide," Jim said, gesturing at Blair.

"Hey, I'm still here, remember? Look, Jim, it's a risk, but I think Colonel Hogan can make it work. I could hide here, but trust me, my mom would never last hiding out in a tunnel until the heat died down. This is the only way to get them out safely."

"Why can't you use Heydrich?" Jim challenged. "Let him be arrested and get Blair and his mother out of the country."

"I can't trust him not to sell us out if the going gets rough. I trust Blair to protect his mother and this operation if need be."

"So you expect this to involve torture?"

"I don't expect it to, or I wouldn't suggest it. But I acknowledge it as a risk. Besides, Heydrich might be arrogant enough to think he could strike a deal, and we all know how well his plans work out. I'm going to give Sandburg some names he can use to frame a few krauts for being part of the phony execution squad and escape. London intelligence is going to send us names–Kinch is in the radio room right now waiting to hear back from them. Sandburg can 'crack' very early in the game and tell them what they most want to know, and then he's got to sell them on the idea that he's still on their side."

"You don't have to do this, Chief," Jim said, taking a hold of Blair's shoulders. "It's asking way too much."

"No, Jim, it's not. Colonel Hogan and his men risked everything to rescue me, and even put up with me demanding they include my mother in the bargain. And then when she shows up with a Gestapo count boyfriend, they even take him in on the deal because she's in love with him. Compared to all that, it's not really asking all that much that I take some risk here."

"Ellison, I don't need your permission to move forward with this operation, but your willing compliance and participation will make it flow a lot more smoothly. I don't take Sandburg's life lightly, and we're going to rescue him before the Gestapo gets a chance to work him over."

"How?" Jim asked, barely looking away from Blair to have eye contact with Hogan.

"One of two ways. Either we send our own 'Gestapo' men here to pick him up and transport him–that's my first choice–or we make a direct assault on the vehicle carrying him to Gestapo headquarters if the bad guys pick him up first. In any event, we'll do all we can to keep him out of Gestapo custody."

"Too much could go wrong. Sandburg, you can't be serious about doing this."

"I want to do it, Jim. I want my mom out of Germany. And I want to do something that matters in this war besides doing fake tests on a bunch of fat generals on Hitler's staff."

"This isn't a game, Blair. You could end up dead–or worse. You could end up back in Detweiler's custody."

"Do this for me, Jim. Cooperate with Colonel Hogan. Help us make this work."

"You really want to do this?"

"I really do. Colonel Hogan didn't pressure me. He asked me to do it, and I had a chance to say 'no'."

Jim nodded, feeling more than a little defeated, and thoroughly terrified for Blair's fate.

"If it's what you want, you know I'll go along with it," Jim finally said.

"I wouldn't dream of assuming orders might play into this somewhere," Hogan quipped, shaking his head and smiling a little.

"They will now, sir."

********

Dressed in the clothing he'd worn when they escaped, Blair made his way through the woods, his heart pounding. He had to make it to the front gate of the camp to surrender to Klink's guards. If the Gestapo caught him first, his fate would be sealed. Crouching in the bushes, he could see the gate now, guards patrolling, well-trained German Shepherds at their sides. He let out a sigh of relief when he saw the distinctive and reassuring outline of Schultz. As the amiable sergeant of the guard made a rare appearance near the gate, Blair made his move.

"Don't shoot! I surrender! I'm unarmed!" he shouted, waiting while the commotion registered with Schultz, who then clumsily sprang into action, aiming his rifle at Blair.

"Halt!" he ordered Blair, then directed one of the other guards to open the gate and let the prisoner inside the camp. With his hair loose from the pony tail, dirt on his face, and his clothing slightly tattered and soiled, Blair looked the part of the bedraggled fugitive. "You have caused a lot of trouble, Professor," Schultz scolded as Blair entered the camp, his arms still raised. "Kommandant Klink will have a lot of questions for you!" he added, ushering Blair quickly toward the kommandant's quarters.

In response to the commotion, Klink emerged from his bedroom in his nightshirt, a dark blue robe, slippers...and a black fishnet hairnet. Despite the fear that nearly overpowered him at times with this whole scheme of Hogan's, Blair could barely refrain from laughing. The bald kommandant in his nightclothes and hairnet was almost too much to bear.

"Professor Sandburg! What is the meaning of this?" he demanded, and Schultz stiffened as if coming to attention.

"I captured him outside the gate, Herr Kommandant!" he announced proudly. Blair had to roll his eyes at that. He'd done all but jump into the waiting arms of the Germans, and Schultz was boasting of his capture.

"I surrendered, Kommandant," Blair spoke up, and Schultz looked distinctly nervous.

"Now that, I believe," Klink said, a bit of his bluster receding. Just then, Hogan barged in the door of Klink's quarters, joining the group in the sitting room.

"What's all the commotion? Professor Sandburg? I thought he was dead!"

"Hogan, what are you doing out of the barracks at this hour?" Klink asked.

"I heard all the commotion at the gates, and I was worried one of my men had foolishly attempted an escape. I wanted to be sure no one got hurt."

"Schultz, take Colonel Hogan back to the barracks. I must call Major Hochstetter at once."

"Hochstetter?" Hogan asked, then shrugged.

"He is Hochstetter's prisoner!"

"And wanted by the Gestapo and Hitler himself. It'd be a nice feather in the cap of the officer who actually has him in custody."

Klink seemed to inflate at that, and with a pleased smile, he agreed. "I am sure my success in recapturing the prisoner will not go unnoticed."

"It will if you turn him over to Hochstetter. You really think Hochstetter's going to admit that you recaptured his prisoner? Burkhalter won't even know the truth, let alone the Fuhrer." At Klink's troubled expression, Hogan added, "But I'm sure you've already thought of that."

"I have? Oh, yes, of course." Klink paused a moment. "What am I doing?" he finally added.

"You've probably decided to call Burkhalter instead of Hochstetter."

"That's right. Of course, I will call General Burkhalter," Klink said, nodding in agreement. "Ah, Burkhalter will get the credit for his capture anyway." Klink made a dismissive gesture with his hand.

"Maybe with the big brass, but he'll know who really captured Sandburg, and you never know when that might mean a set of general's stripes for a certain efficient and loyal kommandant."

Klink paused briefly, then picked up the phone. "Get me General Burkhalter at once!"

********

Blair paced the floor of the cold, dank cell. It was too much like the accommodations at Gestapo headquarters to suit him. Burkhalter had ordered him held there until he arrived, and questioning was not to begin without him. Klink had seemed disappointed by that, but in a way, it would save the time of playing the charade with two different interrogators. Finally tiring of pacing, Blair sat on the bunk and began to stew about the possibility that the Gestapo would get wind of all this and beat Burkhalter to camp. He jumped in surprise when a section of the wall slowly opened at floor level, and Hogan poked his head out, carrying a flashlight, which he turned off now that he was in the cell.

"You have tunnels leading in here, too?" Blair asked in a whisper.

"We have more tunnels than the New York subway system," Hogan said, straightening up and moving stealthily toward the metal door that separated them from the corridor.

"Schultz is guarding me. I heard him pacing out there for a while, but then it got quiet."

"He's down for the count by now," Hogan said, checking his watch. "He's found a chair somewhere and nodded off."

"Has something happened?"

"No, nothing. That's why I came. There's no sign of the Gestapo, and Burkhalter should be here any minute. He has a little chalet not too far from here, and according to Newkirk, who was tapping Klink's phone when he made the call, that's where Burkhalter was when he got the news."

"If the Gestapo doesn't know about this, how is that going to help get their extra patrols out of the area? They're still looking for us."

"Burkhalter's a good, loyal kraut when it comes to dealing wisely with the Gestapo. He'll come here, question you, get all the credit for having captured and 'cracked' you, but he'll notify the Gestapo shortly thereafter, and when they react by pulling the extra patrols, we'll process your mother and Heydrich through the system and get them out of Germany. The Underground's on standby. We've had one slight change of plans with springing you. We've wired a bridge between here and Gestapo headquarters. We'll ambush the car, get you out, and then send it across the bridge and blow it. The krauts will figure you're dead, too. Otherwise, it'll be too hot to move you."

"So you'll just blow up the guys who come to pick me up? They might be just average soldiers, doing their jobs–"

"They're the enemy, Sandburg. I can't worry about who they are or why they're doing what they're doing. I just have to stop them from doing it. Trust me, they'd shoot you in a heartbeat if you tried to escape. These aren't boy scouts we're talking about."

"I know. I just can't get used to killing people like that. They get in the way, so kill them. They have families and most of them are so young."

"Yeah, well, you're young and you have a family. So are most of the guys on our side. War is a young man's business when it comes to actual combat and action assignments. That's not my concern. Getting you out of Germany alive is."

"What about Jim? What's going to happen when I give them this spiel about being sure a Sentinel is out there?"

"You're going to tell them that Ellison isn't one. He's got a couple of acute senses, but nothing more than some of the krauts you've tested. You can say you stalled a little because of your mother's and Heydrich's visit. Just follow the plan, the way we talked about, and you'll do just fine. We'll make sure Ellison is taken care of. We don't want him in the hands of the enemy any more than you do."

"Yeah, but your reasons are different."

"I might not be in love with the guy, but he's an American, and one of us now. We'll do all we can to protect him, and if an opportunity arises, to get him out of here. You'll have to trust me on that."

Somewhere in the building, a door opened and closed, and footsteps were approaching.

"I gotta go. Hang in there, Sandburg. This'll all work out." With that, Hogan retreated swiftly back into the tunnel, pulling the mobile portion of the wall back into place just as the key was inserted in the lock to open Blair's cell door.

"Professor Sandburg," Burkhalter began, leading the contingent of himself, Klink, and two guards. "How nice of you to drop by."

"I hope you'll give me an opportunity to explain myself, General," Blair said, and Burkhalter smiled a feral grin.

"You will have ample opportunity to do that, I assure you. Bring him to the kommandant's office," Burkhalter directed the guards. "We will have a nice, long talk about your little adventure, Professor," he said to Blair before retreating out the door again.

********

"They just arrived in Klink's office," LeBeau updated Hogan as the officer joined his men around the coffee pot in his office to listen.

"Is the bridge all set?" Hogan asked Carter, who nodded, grinning evilly.

"All we have to do is push down that plunger, and kaboom-bang-boom–"

"I get the picture, Carter, thanks," Hogan responded.

"I hope you made it clear to Sandburg that he didn't have to hold out for torture to give up some names, sir," Ellison said.

"I'm sure Sandburg can handle the assignment," Hogan stated calmly.

********

"We know the Gestapo execution squad was a phony, so you should save yourself the trouble of denying that."

"I don't deny it," Blair said. "They were friends of the Count."

"Do these friends have names?"

"I didn't really catch all their names, sir," Blair said, looking down at his nervously fidgeting hands as he sat in a chair in Klink's office. The kommandant was behind his desk, watching the exchange with keen interest, while Burkhalter paced around his prisoner.

"You traveled a significant distance with these men who freed you from Gestapo custody. You don't expect me to believe that you didn't know who they were, do you?"

"They were friends of the Count. I didn't say I didn't know who they were, just that I didn't remember all their names."

"We'll go back to that question in a few moments," Burkhalter said, apparently deciding to try the charming approach, smiling at his captive. "Why are you here, and where are your mother and Count Heydrich?"

"They're in Switzerland. When we made it to the border, I couldn't do it. I couldn't go along."

"Why not?"

"This is going to sound very strange, I know, but the Fuhrer, and some of the German officers I've worked with, are the first people who have really respected my research and believed in my dream of finding a Sentinel. I couldn't betray that trust, or abandon my research."

"You are already seen as a traitor, Professor."

"I was hoping that I could somehow put myself at the Fuhrer's mercy, and ask his forgiveness. I didn't go to Switzerland with my mother and the Count. I came back. Herr Hitler put an enormous amount of trust and resources at my disposal, and I couldn't betray that. Our politics might be different, but when it comes to the search for the truth about Sentinels, we are of a single mind. He believes we will find one among the German people, and I agree. In all the behavioral research I've done, I believe that the German military men possess a superior level of intelligence and ability. It makes sense that within that context, we'd find someone with heightened sensory abilities."

"So you gave up a clean escape to Switzerland to risk your life returning to Germany as a traitor to continue your research?"

"Yes, but largely to repay the Fuhrer's faith in me, and respect for my research. I couldn't go through with betraying his trust that way."

"If you are so loyal to the Fuhrer, then you will be willing to give up the names of those who are traitors to the Third Reich."

********

"Come on, Sandburg, start giving him the names," Hogan said as they listened in to the exchange.

"He can't give them up too fast," Kinch said.

"He's fawning too much to hold back names," Hogan responded, drumming his fingers on the desktop.

"Shouldn't we do something?" Ellison asked. Hogan looked at him with raised eyebrows.

"What would you suggest, Captain? We have to ride this out, at least at this point. If it gets hairy, we'll create a diversion, do something to get him off the hook."

********

"Those people will be executed if I give their names."

"That is not your concern, Professor. You have enough to worry about for yourself."

"One of them was a real Gestapo officer," Blair began, hesitantly. "Major Hoffmeyer. The other two may or may not have been military–he never used a rank when he introduced them or addressed them. Koepler and Mueller were the other names he used. The fourth man he only addressed as 'Hans.' I have no idea what his last name was."

"Surely you have some indication who these men were, besides Hoffmeyer."

"Not really. My guess would be that Koepler and Mueller were both officers of some sort, but he seemed more familiar with them, as if they were more equal in standing. Hoffmeyer seemed more respectful, and Heydrich treated him more like someone with lower rank than himself. Hans...if I had to guess, I'd say maybe he was a former domestic of Heydrich's. He seemed to know the Count really well, and he knew who my mother was, but they weren't exactly friends. And yet there was no mention of rank...plus, Hans was an older guy."

"How do you know your mother and the Count are in Switzerland?"

"Because I got away from the group right before they crossed the border. I made my decision, but I was afraid they'd stop me. I knew my mother would never go along with hurting me or killing me, but I didn't know if I could trust Heydrich not to shoot me–that maybe he'd be worried I'd sell his friends out. And I wanted my mother out of the country. She should be safe, somewhere the war won't touch her. She wouldn't have left without me."

"So why are you really here, selling Heydrich's friends out, as you say?"

"I told you. I couldn't betray the Fuhrer's trust in me, and I couldn't turn my back on what I believe is my best chance of finding a Sentinel–here, in Germany."

"But you betray the men who saw to your mother's safe passage to Switzerland?"

"They did whatever they did for the Count, and while I'm glad my mother is safe, I don't owe him any special debts. I don't pretend that I would do anything to endanger my mother's life. I would have never come forward and identified any of these men if she were not already safely out of Germany." Blair paused. "Would you sell your own mother's life easily?"

"We must notify Major Hochstetter at once. Professor Sandburg is my prisoner, but he has given us information that must be investigated immediately," Burkhalter told Klink.

"Major Hochstetter will want to take him back to Berlin for more questioning. He was operating under the orders of Colonel Detweiler," Klink said, frowning.

"Major Hochstetter and his boss, Colonel Detweiler, will do as I say. I am contacting the Fuhrer at once. This was his project, and he will make the final determination of Professor Sandburg's fate, and the future of his research." Burkhalter paused. "Professor, you will be returned to your cell, and you had better hope the Fuhrer is in a benevolent frame of mind. I assure you, his anger is not pretty. I will use your quarters for my telephone calls, Klink," Burkhalter added, striding out of the office.

"Jawohl, Herr General," Klink said, though Burkhalter was already out the door.

********

"Sandburg did quite well," LeBeau commented, disconnecting the coffee pot. "Kept his cool."

"He's very committed to what he's doing," Ellison said.

"That he is," Hogan agreed. "Once Hochstetter is notified, we can move Heydrich and Sandburg's mother." Hogan checked his watch. "We've got enough hours of darkness if they get moving. Burkhalter may pull those patrols out of the woods himself. Newkirk, get down to the switchboard and keep tabs on the General's phone calls."

"Right, sir." Newkirk hurried off to his assignment.

"Don't even think about it," Hogan said to Ellison, who looked at him, surprised. "It's too risky."

"I don't know what you mean, sir," Ellison responded, and Hogan just smiled. Kinch, Carter, and LeBeau left the office, heading down to the tunnel to prepare their guests for a hasty departure.

"Give me some credit, Ellison," Hogan said, smiling. "I can hear the wheels turning in your head from here. But making a trip through the tunnels to check on Sandburg isn't an option. This is a critical time."

"Hochstetter will probably torture him, and he knows it."

"Not necessarily. They've got quite a bit of information from him. There's not much more he can tell them. Besides, Burkhalter is on Hitler's staff, and he's got the principal figure in one of Hitler's pet projects in his custody. He may notify Hochstetter to call off the search, but I would be stunned if he handed Sandburg over to him."

"What if Hitler orders him executed?"

"Then he'll be transported to Berlin so they can make a big deal out of executing someone who betrayed the Fuhrer. We'll grab him before they get him there."

"I wish I could be that confident."

"I have to be that confident, or I'd be in a nuthouse by now," Hogan replied. "This isn't our most far-fetched scheme, Ellison. After you've been here a while, this'll look like a milk run."

"Nothing personal, sir, but I hope I'm not here that long."

"It's been a long war. I don't think any of us would object to going home."

********

Blair paced his cell, shivering at the dank atmosphere. He treasured the moments when his body was pain-free, and he wasn't feeling the immediate terror of watching a Nazi hover over him with some instrument of torture. He couldn't believe Hitler would be forgiving of his transgressions and just put him back to work on the Sentinel project as if nothing had ever happened. If his execution was ordered, he wondered if they'd just walk in and shoot him in the head, or if they'd transport him as Hogan believed they would. And if they did, would Hogan be able to pull off another rescue?

He looked at the spot in the wall near the floor where Hogan had emerged from the tunnel, and longed to see Jim make an appearance there. It would be horribly risky, and Hogan would have to be insane to permit it, but Blair couldn't help hoping. Even if all went well, he would be separated from Jim for a long time now. There was no getting around that. And not everyone was going to come home from this war alive. The sound of the cell door opening was a relief from that grim thought.

********

"You turned my son over to the Nazis!" Naomi accused, still sputtering despite the fact Hogan and his men were preparing to move her and Heydrich through the Underground's escape system now that Blair was keeping the Germans busy. Burkhalter had called off the extra patrols himself, and then called Hitler personally.

"We'll get him away from the krauts before anything serious happens to him," Hogan explained as Naomi adjusted the unfashionable hat that made her look more like a poor German frau traveling with her equally shabby husband. Heydrich didn't appear to care if they dressed him in an evening gown and pearls, as long as they got him out of Germany in one piece.

"They just might torture him a little!"

"They're taking Sandburg to see Hitler first thing in the morning. Burkhalter went back to headquarters tonight, but he's got Sandburg locked down in ultra heavy security in the meantime. All the extra guards are concentrating on the cooler and the area surrounding it. The tunnel entrances are clear."

"They're taking him to Hitler?" Naomi asked, incredulous.

"After Burkhalter explained the situation to Hitler on the phone, he summoned Burkhalter back to headquarters for a meeting with some of the Gestapo brass. But he was very clear that he wanted Sandburg brought to him alive for personal questioning. We'll spring him tomorrow."

"Colonel, we may have a little challenge on our hands," Kinch said, approaching them after receiving a message from London. "London wants Ellison at the same time," he added.

"Are they nuts? We can't send Ellison without blowing this whole thing!"

"You're losing control of all this, aren't you?" Naomi challenged. "You're losing control and my son is going to die!"

"Be calm, my dear," Heydrich said. "We're all still alive. This is a good operation."

"Two out of three isn't a good enough result for me! That's my son they're toying with!"

"We're not toying with anyone," Hogan said firmly, his patience wearing thin. "London didn't happen to mention how we're supposed to send them Ellison and still maintain our no-escape record here, did they?" he asked Kinch, the sarcasm plain in his voice.

"Their exact words were, 'Hogan will think of something. He always does.'"

"Swell." Hogan rubbed the bridge of his nose. "First things first. We have to get you two moving through the system right now. Mrs. Sandburg, don't worry about your son. We'll get him out of Germany."

"You don't even know how to get Ellison out. How can I be so sure you know how to save Blair?"

"Ellison was a curve we didn't expect. We've planned how to handle Blair's escape. He's doing this to give you a chance to get away, Mrs. Sandburg. You should take that chance and go now. The longer we wait, the riskier it is."

"It's time to go, liebschen," Heydrich said, guiding her toward the tunnel exit where Carter waited in civilian clothes to escort them to the next stop on the escape route.

"Colonel Hogan?" Naomi paused before ascending the ladder that would take her above ground.

"Yes?" Hogan moved closer to where she stood.

"I don't mean to be ungrateful. I know you've risked everything to save our lives. But you don't know what it's like to leave your child in the hands of those monsters."

"I have a mother back home, too. I know what the war has cost her. I might not have children of my own, but I think I have an idea of how you feel. Believe me, there's nothing about this I take lightly. Your son's safety is just as vital to us as Ellison's–maybe more, because he's a civilian entrusted to our care."

"Thank you," she said, pausing slightly before heading up the ladder.

"Colonel Hogan," Heydrich said, extending his hand. Hogan hesitated a moment, then shook it. "I never condoned Hitler's tactics. Naomi wasn't the only reason I wanted to leave Germany. Thank you for helping us."

"It's what we do," Hogan said, smiling. "Carter, keep things moving. I want you back undercover as soon as possible."

"Right, sir." Carter followed their two escapees up the ladder, and soon all three were off into the shadows of the night.

"Any ideas on how we can spring Ellison?" LeBeau asked. Tension seemed to radiate from Hogan, which was not usually the case. The resourceful officer almost always had a plan formulating in his overactive imagination instantly, but this seemed to be giving him pause.

"Did London say anything else, Kinch?" Hogan asked.

"They said Ellison was too valuable to risk keeping him here, especially if Sandburg makes nice with the krauts and they let him go back to his tests. If anything goes wrong with his rescue, and Ellison winds up in enemy hands, he could be the difference between winning and losing the war."

"We can't do a substitution. Klink knows him now, and so does Burkhalter." Hogan crossed his arms over his chest, frowning. "We have to kill him."

"What?" Newkirk's eyes bugged.

"Not literally," Hogan corrected, shaking his head. "The krauts have to think he's dead."

"Can we use the explosion that's supposed to kill off Sandburg?" LeBeau asked.

"It's about the only way I can think of. Get Ellison's jacket and make it look like it's been through an explosion. We'll take it with us when we spring Sandburg, and leave it near the site of the bridge explosion."

"How do we explain it, sir?" Kinch asked. "They'd know it if he was on the truck."

"He got to be friends with Sandburg, and made an ill-advised attempt to rescue him from being returned to Berlin. He was close to the truck when it exploded."

"You think the krauts'll buy that?" Kinch asked.

"I hope so. It's all we've got."

********

The click of the cell door lock was almost a relief from the pacing and uncertainty. Blair was relieved to see only Klink stride in, pretentious as ever, his riding crop tucked beneath his arm, hat askew, monocle in place.

"You are a very lucky man, Professor Sandburg," he said, and Blair still held his breath just a moment longer. "Lucky" could simply mean he was going to get a blindfold with his firing squad.

"I am, Kommandant?" he asked.

"Yes, it seems you are going to have an opportunity to convince the fuhrer of your sincerity."

"How would I do that?"

"First thing in the morning, you'll be transported to Berlin for a personal audience."

"That's a good thing?" Blair asked, then thought perhaps he should have refrained from asking Klink such a frank question.

"You're still alive, so I would say it is a good thing."

"Can't argue with that logic, I guess."

"You should get some sleep. You will be transported at dawn, and I would think you'd want to be at your best for this meeting."

"Thank you, Kommandant. You've been a very courteous host."

"Strange comment to make when you're spending the night in solitary confinement in the cooler," Klink responded.

"I wasn't really talking about tonight. You've been very courteous to me since I arrived, and offered me your best hospitality. I enjoyed being here," Blair said honestly, thinking back on his treatment here versus his treatment in the hands of the Gestapo.

"I'm pleased to hear that, Professor. Any project of the fuhrer's would receive my complete cooperation."

"I'm sure. Thank you anyway."

"Goodnight, Professor." With that, Klink left the cell, a guard closing the door behind him.

Blair sat on the cot, then finally stretched out on it, staring at the cold, gray ceiling of the cement room he occupied. At least he didn't fear being tortured here. Klink had no interest in badgering him, and it seemed like all the action was slated to take place in Berlin. Hopefully, Hogan and his men would intervene before then. As fatigue began to get the better of him, and his eyes drifted shut, he hoped Naomi and Heydrich were safely on their way.

And he dreamed of the time when he could doze off in Jim's arms, far from the war and all its ugliness.

********

As the men stood in the chilly morning air for roll call, a battered, well-folded note made it to Ellison. With the tunnel still filled in between his barracks and Hogan's, they were limited to primitive and not too efficient means of communicating. Flicking his eyes briefly toward where Klink was standing, giving one of his usual pompous orations, Jim carefully opened the small note.

            "Meet Hogan after roll call. Urgent."

Stuffing the note in his pocket, he feigned attention through the rest of Klink's little speech. No truck had come yet for Blair, and the knowledge that the man he loved so dearly was only a few hundred feet away, locked up alone in a cell, tugged at him almost physically. He'd honored Hogan's orders not to attempt to see Blair, but it had taken every ounce of his willpower, and he'd truly only obeyed the order for Blair's safety. At least it seemed he was going to have a role in the actual rescue after all. He took some small comfort in that.

As soon as roll call ended, Ellison made his way casually toward where Hogan and his men were gathered near their barracks.

"London wants you out at the same time we spring Sandburg," Hogan said quietly, scanning the area for any guards who might overhear them.

"You mean I'm going to escape?" Jim asked in a whisper, ecstatic at the thought he might be reunited with Blair much sooner than he'd expected.

"Not exactly. You're going to be blown up."

"So that's why you wanted my jacket? I gave it to Carter last night, but he wouldn't tell me what it was all about. He said you'd fill me in," Jim said, shivering a little in the lighter jacket he'd been forced to wear in place of his fleece-lined bomber jacket.

"When Carter goes out to set off the bridge, you'll go with him. Once we've sprung Sandburg, and the bridge blows, we'll plant the jacket in an obvious spot even Klink's men will find. Then we'll send you to London with Sandburg. Which I'm sure you won't object to," Hogan added quietly, smiling knowingly.

"No, sir, I certainly stand ready to follow orders for the cause," Jim quipped.

********

"Achtung!"

The sharp command jolted Blair out of the fitful sleep he'd managed to achieve while awaiting his transport to Berlin. It was all he could do to keep his legs steady when Colonel Detweiler strode into the room.

"And so we meet again, Professor," Detweiler said, smiling sadistically. Blair wondered if, like any other vicious predator, Detweiler could smell his fear.

"I thought I was being taken to Berlin," Blair said.

"You are. The fuhrer wants to talk to you. But if you don't answer to his satisfaction, you will be returned to my custody," he added, obviously savoring the thought. "I insisted on handling security for your transfer."

"I came back of my own free will. I could be in Switzerland right now."

"Let us hope the fuhrer is more impressed with that story than I am."

"You mean you think you're smarter than Hitler? That I could fool him, but not you?" Blair said, loud enough so the guards in the doorway heard their conversation. Though trained to stay at attention until Detweiler said otherwise, the two men exchanged furtive glances.

"You impudent little schweinhunt!" Detweiler bellowed, moving closer. "Surely you haven't forgotten the price of disrespect," he spat, his breath hot and fowl in Blair's face.

"Fortunately, Herr Hitler values my intelligence and my research. That's why I came back. I owed it to him, to the faith he put in me, to come back and finish what I started."

Detweiler stared at him, actually dumbfounded for a moment.

"You lie very smoothly, Professor."

"You don't think I'm sincere? Why else would I be here?"

"I don't know, but as soon as the fuhrer is done with you, I intend to find out. Right before I have you shot." Detweiler stepped back, smiling as he pulled on his black leather gloves. "Now, we must not waste any more time in this place. Guards, put him in the truck," Detweiler ordered, walking briskly out of the cell.

Blair once again found himself flanked by Gestapo men, being hustled quickly out into the bright morning sunshine and shoved into the back of a German truck. He caught sight of Hogan, standing across the compound, near the barracks, with a few of his men. Hogan unobtrusively adjusted his cap, but Blair caught the gesture and the brief look in his direction. It was Hogan's way of reassuring him they were on the job.

Frantically scanning the compound for the last time as the truck's engine roared to life, Blair felt a crushing disappointment at not seeing Jim one more time, even from this distance. He'd hoped for just a quick glimpse, but maybe this was best. Seeing Jim and not touching him or saying goodbye would be too painful. He looked at the cold, unexpressive faces of the guards riding in back with him, taking some small comfort in Detweiler's decision to ride up front with the driver.

********

"Where are the others?" Jim asked nervously, watching the road ahead of them.

"They'll be here. Colonel Hogan knows what he's doing." Carter checked his watch.

"If they don't make it, we have to do something. We can't let them take Sandburg to Berlin."

"What do you think we should do, Captain? Just two of us?"

"Blow the bridge before the truck reaches it. Then follow my lead."

"I don't know, sir. I mean, those Gestapo guys play for keeps."

"Exactly. Would you want to be turned over to them as a traitor? If Blair can't do a convincing act for Hitler, Detweiler will have him again."

"Sandburg was tortured by him before?"

"Yeah, he was. I promised him I wouldn't let that happen to him again. I won't break that promise. I'll die keeping it if I have to."

"You got to be good friends with the professor, huh?" Carter asked, smiling. "He seems like a nice guy."

"He's the best," Jim said quietly. "I didn't like this plan from the start."

"I trust Colonel Hogan. He's never steered us wrong yet. He'll come through." Carter checked his watch again.

"I hear someone coming."

"On the road or up here?" Carter asked, referring to the thicket of shrubs on a hill where they were hiding, watching for the truck.

"Up here." Jim fell silent, picking up on the distant sounds of footsteps snapping twigs and disturbing earth and pebbles beneath their boots.

"I don't hear anything," Carter said, then smiled as Jim shot him a look. "Wow, that's pretty amazing, Captain. How far away do you think they are?"

The question made Ellison pause. It was one of the things he and Blair were just starting to work together on. His acute hearing could pick up things from vast distances, but the challenge then was to accurately estimate that distance. Without that ability, keen hearing was more of a curse than a blessing.

"I think they're just out of sight, that way," he said, pointing to a spot behind them. "It's Hogan and the others."

"How do you know that for sure?"

"Hogan still limps a bit, and that's his gait I'm hearing."

"Wow!"

"I wish you'd quit saying that, Carter. Makes me feel like I'm putting on a magic act."

"Sorry. But it is pretty amazing. Back home, the stuff they used to do at the carnival wasn't even that amazing."

"The freak shows, you mean?" Jim said, though it was more rhetorical than anything. The thought of being a circus freak was always in the back of his mind, haunting him. Extraordinary people often wound up victims of their own uniqueness.

"I didn't mean it that way, Captain," Carter said, obviously troubled to have insulted Jim.

"It's all right. I guess it seems pretty remarkable to other people. To me, it's just who I am."

"No wonder the Allied Command wants you back home right away. You could win the war for us."

"I doubt it," Jim said, smiling. "Hogan does more in a couple days toward that than I'll do during the whole war. You don't need super senses to be a hero."

"The colonel's a pretty amazing guy. He's even turned down going home to stay here and head up this operation." Carter paused. "I don't know as I could do that."

Just then, Hogan and the others became visible over a nearby hill, stealthily moving toward them. When they arrived, Jim couldn't help asking about the time.

"What took you so long? They'll be here any second," Jim added.

"Klink called me into his office at the last minute. I couldn't very well tell him I had plans," Hogan responded. "You two stay here. After Carter sets off the bridge, we'll get Sandburg and Ellison started on the escape route," he said to the group, who all nodded.

"You sure you don't want me to come with you, Colonel? Sandburg's going to be heavily guarded."

"There's a driver, Detweiler, and a guard in back with him. We can take them," Hogan said, referring to himself, Kinch, Newkirk, LeBeau, and two other prisoners Jim didn't recognize. One word Hogan spoke stood out, and Jim seized on it.

"Detweiler's with them?"

"Don't concern yourself with him, Ellison," Hogan said, smiling a little wickedly as he checked his luger for ammo. "He'll be flying back to Berlin without a plane in about five minutes," he concluded, looking at his watch. "Okay, men, positions," he said, and they headed down the hill.

Jim wished he could have a little quality time with the Gestapo goon who had tortured Blair, but Detweiler was about to get what was coming to him. The rumble of the truck in the distance distracted him from delicious revenge fantasies, and he had to smile as Carter's hand flexed on the handle of the plunger that would set off the bridge. Carter was one of the nicest pyromaniacs he'd ever met.

"What do you think you'll do after the war, Carter?" Jim asked, smiling slightly.

"I haven't decided yet."

"You're pretty gifted with explosives. You should make use of that. Work for the government."

"These little bombs are great, but working for the government on bombs is probably going to mean working on atomic bombs. Nobody should push the plunger down on one of those."  

"You're a wise man, Carter," Jim said.

"First time I've been accused of that around here," Carter replied, chuckling. "Here they come," he said, and Jim stifled a grin. He'd been tracking the truck's progress for a couple miles now, the big vehicle making enough noise to reach Sentinel ears long before it became visible from their hiding place.

Jim focused on Hogan and Newkirk as they calmly walked out into the road in front of the truck and ordered it to come to a halt. Using the skills Blair had managed to teach him in their brief time together, he concentrated on the men and filtered out the rumble of the truck's engine.

"What is the meaning of this?" Detweiler blustered.

"There has been an escape at Stalag 13. We must inspect your vehicle," Newkirk announced in a surprisingly smooth German accent. Hogan stood slightly off to the side, dressed in a Gestapo major's uniform.

"We are en route to Berlin with a very important prisoner!" Detweiler bellowed. "We just left Stalag 13, and there was no commotion there to indicate any sort of escape."

"It will only take a moment, sir, begging your pardon. We're under orders from General Burkhalter, Colonel," Hogan said, his accent a bit less fluid than Newkirk's, but obviously sufficient to convince the other officer.

Meanwhile, the rest of Hogan's contingent of prisoners disguised in their Gestapo uniforms silently overpowered the guard in the back of the truck and hustled Blair away from the road into a thicket of bushes. When Hogan saw they were clear, he gave a slight jerk of his head, and Newkirk and LeBeau aimed rifles at Detweiler and the driver.

"Drive," Hogan said, his voice cold and commanding, his gun aimed at Detweiler.

"What is the meaning of this?" Detweiler demanded.

"I can shoot you, or you can drive away from here alive. Your choice," LeBeau said, nudging the officer with the rifle he held. "Keep your hands where we can see them. Both of you!"

"You heard the man, Detweiler. I've got no problems with blowing you away right here," Hogan said, releasing the safety on his gun. "Drive. I'm not going to tell you again."

"This is an outrage!" Detweiler said, indignant. "You have come to free Sandburg, is that it?"

"You're sharp. No wonder old bubblehead made you a colonel," Hogan responded.

"I cannot face the Fuhrer without a prisoner in custody. You will hang for this!" he threatened.

"Maybe, but I won't be alone. You can die here, make a run for the border, or go back to Berlin and face the music. I don't care, but this is your last chance."

Without waiting for a cue from Detweiler, the young corporal driving the truck hit the gas and headed for the bridge. Apparently, he had no desire to die for the cause–not for Detweiler or the prisoner they'd lost.

"Plug your ears, Captain," Carter warned, and Jim smiled, complying. In the brief time he'd been here, Hogan's men were already attuned to his special needs and smoothly watched out for them in the field. A part of him regretted not working with this unit longer, but when he caught sight of Blair and the others scrambling up the hill toward them, that thought died a hasty death.

The explosion rocked the landscape, obliterating the truck and the bridge, and a certain amount of vegetation close by as fire crackled and leaped into the air, black smoke billowing over the site of the destruction.

When Blair was a few feet away from the spot where Jim and Carter were crouched, he froze, staring in shock at Jim, who was dressed in dark pants, a black leather coat, and a leather cap for their escape.

"Jim!" Blair didn't appear too good at hiding his emotions or his excitement, and he rushed at Jim, crushing him in a bear hug. Jim returned the pressure with a chuckle and plenty of manly back-slapping until Blair released him. Hogan and LeBeau exchanged a knowing grin unnoticed by the others.

"London wants us both, Chief, so I'm going with you."

"You mean we're both going to escape together?" Blair asked, his eyes bugged, his face threatening to burst into a massive grin.

"None of us are going to get out of here if we don't do it soon," Hogan said. "We're hooking you up with members of our escape network right now. You'll hide out with them until nightfall, and then get started. By then, the goons'll think you're both dead. We planted Ellison's jacket near the explosion site, nice and visible where even Klink's men can find it."

"I thought you had to stay here," Blair said, barely restraining his urge to hug Jim again with the sheer joy of the moment.

"London wanted you both, so that's what London gets," Hogan said, shrugging. "We just had to adjust the plan a little."

********

The elderly couple who were hiding Jim and Blair in their farmhouse for the night provided their guests with a small attic room. They apologized for the lone double bed covered with its handmade quilt, and the cramped surroundings, but Jim and Blair assured them they could make do, and appreciated their help. When the door finally closed, leaving them in the little room with the slanting ceilings and bare wood rafters, it was the first time they'd been alone since what they thought was their last goodbye in the tunnel two days before.

"I can't believe we're really together," Blair said, sitting on the side of the bed. It had been a draining couple of days, and despite his jubilation at being reunited with Jim, fatigue was beginning to take its toll.

"We'll always be together, Chief. Even if we'd had to spend some time apart, it wouldn't have been forever. I promised you that, and I meant it."

"I know. I believed you. I knew you'd do your best. But a lot can happen in wartime."

"True." Jim sat on the bed next to him. "Hogan said your mom and Heydrich were fine, that they were already in London. We'll arrange for you to see her when we get there. They're going to be keeping us at the airbase for a while, probably until they decide where they can best use us."

"I hope I didn't ruin your life, Jim," Blair said quietly.

"How could you do that?" he asked, stunned, taking Blair by the shoulders.

"If I hadn't shown up, your Sentinel abilities wouldn't have been identified for what they were, you'd have probably gotten through the war and then gone home and gotten married and had children and–"

"Enough," Jim interrupted. "First, without any work being done on my Sentinel abilities, I inadvertently bombed a POW camp full of our own men. Second, I tried marriage, and it didn't work. Third, my life with you in it is what I want, no matter how it turns out. So can we quit worrying about you ruining my life?"

"Being together isn't going to be easy out there in the real world."

"Nothing worthwhile is easy. We'll figure something out. You look exhausted, sweetheart." Jim pulled the hat off that had concealed Blair's long hair, and smiled as it fell in rumpled curls on his shoulders. He kissed Blair's cheek and then moved back to bury his nose in the warm curls. "Think you can be quiet?"

"I can do anything for you," Blair responded, moving more aggressively now to claim Jim's mouth, pushing them back on the bed. They wrestled with clothing until it lay discarded on the floor, and they were naked on the quilt, bodies entwined, mouths devouring each other hungrily.

"I'm gonna lock the door," Jim said, forcing himself to pull away from the moist lips and eager body that was pressed against him. It wouldn't do for this sweet old couple who were hiding them on the escape route to find them naked and doing "sinful" things. Might be a shortcut to being turned back over to the Nazis. Jim was pleased to find there was a lock on the door, and once he was satisfied they were secure, he turned back toward the bed. Blair had rolled onto his back, and now lay there with his knees spread wide, his feet flat on the bed.

Jim tried to control his impulse to jump back on the bed and take Blair up on his offer.

"I don't have anything...slippery to use."

"Just use spit."

"I'll hurt you."

"No, you won't. You couldn't. Not when I want you this badly."

Jim climbed back on the bed and kissed Blair deeply, drawing out their lovemaking, licking and nibbling at rapidly hardening nipples, his hands kneading Blair's buttocks, fingers dancing inside the cleft. As his tongue danced down Blair's stomach, he was conscious of the erection nudging his chin. He engulfed Blair's hard cock in his mouth, sucking it urgently, making Blair groan and grip the bedding, doing his utmost not to make a sound in the silent old house.

When Blair came, it was in shuddering waves of pleasure, his come pulsing down Jim's throat until he finally lay there, spent and boneless.

Satisfied Blair was relaxed, and knowing he'd take the penetration much more easily that way, Jim spat a mixture of his saliva and Blair's come into his hands to coat himself. Pushing Blair's legs up and open, he rested them on his shoulders as he pushed slowly but steadily into the tight opening that reluctantly welcomed him. Despite his relaxed state, the lack of a slipperier lubricant and their relative newness to his act still caused Blair to squirm a bit and wince a little as Jim's large cock stretched him uncomfortably at first.

Soon, their passion for each other and the intensity of their union made them move, and Jim began thrusting in and out of Blair's snug channel, feeling it massage his cock like nothing else ever had. Blair was groaning and biting his lip to keep from crying out, and Jim found himself emitting a few moans despite his best effort to stay silent. It felt too good, and it was such a glorious oasis, here in the middle of war-torn Germany in the attic of an old farmhouse that promised a shaky security at best. The fact what they were doing was forbidden and wrong by almost everyone's definition made it that much sweeter. Joining his body with someone he'd already committed his heart and soul to was like nothing he'd ever experienced before.

Blair could do little to participate in the lovemaking with his legs resting against Jim's shoulders, the hard cock moving rapidly in and out of his body. Even though he was starting to feel a little tender under the continuous thrusting, he met Jim's thrusts and encouraged him to move harder and faster. Luckily, Jim clapped hand over Blair's mouth as he cried out, his cock delivering spurts of completion soon after he'd come the first time in Jim's mouth.

A few more rapid thrusts into Blair brought Jim to his climax, filling Blair's body until he had no more left to give. He leaned in for a long kiss before moving back to slide out of Blair.

"You're amazing, baby," Jim gasped, rolling on his back and pulling Blair on top of him, massaging Blair's buttocks.

"Was it better without the lotion?" Blair asked, and Jim had to laugh, the rumble of it vibrating them both. "What?" Blair smiled, confused.

"Ever the researcher," Jim teased, kissing the end of Blair's nose. Blair blushed, smiling.

"I just had to know. It's not like I'm going to write it down anywhere. I just want to know."

"I felt you more directly...naturally. But I also know it was harder on you than it is with some slippery stuff, so we'll use something next time." He patted Blair's butt and kissed him again.

"I'm okay. It's a small price to pay to feel you inside me, when I thought it could be years before it happened again."

"We'll have to be careful while we're in London, while I'm working for the Allied Command. But someday, we'll have a place of our own. Maybe we'll buy some land out in the sticks somewhere. I know something about horses...maybe we could start a little ranch. It would make sense I'd need a friend to help me run it."

"I don't care where we live or what we do. As long as we do it together. But you're a police officer, Jim. A detective. You must be amazing at that."

"I could be more amazing with you by my side."

"Your friends on the force would never accept me," Blair said, smiling. "Look at me. Do you see me fitting in with the cops?"

"You have a point there. But with all these curls, it doesn't show," he teased, tugging on Blair's hair. Laughter gave way to more kisses, as their lovemaking lasted long into the night.

********

"You sent for me, sir?" Hogan said, walking into Klink's office and executing a quick salute. Klink returned it, but put little attention on the gesture.

"This was found near the sight of the explosion that killed Colonel Detweiler, his guards, and Professor Sandburg," he said, gesturing at a charred bomber jacket that lay on the corner of his desk. The name Capt. J. Ellison was barely visible on the damaged leather. "I've called off the search for the missing prisoner."

"Must have been some misguided attempt to rescue Sandburg," Hogan commented, fingering the lamb's wool collar.

"Why would Captain Ellison risk his life to rescue a collaborator?"

"He claimed Sandburg wasn't really a collaborator. Kept sticking up for him, said they were friends. I told him to stay out of it, that Sandburg was working for Hitler. Too bad he didn't listen."

"My no escape record remains unblemished. There has never been a successful escape from Stalag 13, and Captain Ellison is no exception," he added, tugging at the ruined jacket. "He was trouble right from the start. Bombing his own men."

"That was an accident, Kommandant."

"So he claimed. I'm not convinced."

"Guess it really doesn't matter now, does it?"

"I suppose not," Klink agreed.

"Do you think Hitler would have taken Sandburg back into the fold, or was he on his way to a firing squad?"

"Most likely the latter. The fuhrer is not a patient man," Klink said, then thinking better, he said, "He demands complete loyalty, and rightfully so."

"Loyalty is important. Was that all, Kommandant?"

"There was one other thing," Klink said, taking a letter out of his desk drawer and handing it to Hogan. "It's been opened, but I have not subjected it to any further censorship or scrutiny."

Hogan read the return address, and smiled. It was his mother's handwriting, from home.

"Thank you," he said quietly.

"You're welcome, Hogan. And you are dismissed. I have work to do," Klink said brusquely, busying himself with his work.

Hogan left the office, and as he strolled across the compound in the bright sunshine, smiled at the words his mother had written. She was still grieving, but she was doing better. John's wife and children were doing as well as could be expected. The family was pulling together to weather the storm. Everyone was praying for his safe return from war.

Everybody would be okay...and, with a smile, Hogan realized that knowing that, he would be okay, too.

********

"Got a message from London," Kinch said, joining Hogan, Newkirk, and Carter in the recreation hall where they were playing cards. LeBeau was at the piano, and some other guys were making use of the ping-pong table. "Sandburg and Ellison arrived safely at the airbase yesterday afternoon," he added.

"Good," Hogan replied, smiling. "I'm sure they'll be a big help working for the good guys."

"Sandburg sent a special thank you to you for sending the materials to him that he'd left with you, via that special courier flight last night. He said it saved him a lot of re-testing, and for that, Ellison thanked you."

"What do you make of all this, Colonel?" Newkirk asked. "We know he's on the up and up. We saw him do a little of his magic here and there. What do you suppose makes someone like that? How do they end up as one'a these Sentinels?"

"Sandburg said it was something biological, some kind of natural advantage. But even after reading through his notes and skimming through the books, it doesn't look like anyone knows for sure. I guess someone with all five senses acute to the level Ellison's are is extremely rare. I'm glad he's safe and sound in London. He's too valuable to risk here."

Hogan paused, watching LeBeau at the piano, listening to him playing a familiar melody that was one of Hogan's favorites.

"Excuse me. I think LeBeau needs a little help to do this right," Hogan quipped, rising from the table and walking over to where LeBeau was playing Moonlight Serenade on the piano. Hogan had always liked the song, and it was the first time he could remember hearing LeBeau play it. LeBeau played a lot of French and American favorites, and he had a lovely voice. Hogan was usually content to sit back and listen, but this was too good an opportunity to pass up.

While Hogan would occasionally slip behind the small drum set the Red Cross had provided and provide some accompaniment–or do a wild drum solo to work off a little energy–this time, he sat next to LeBeau on the piano bench, startling him a little with their closeness.

"I like that song," he said quietly, barely audible to LeBeau, and inaudible to the others in the recreation hall. "Do you know the words?" he asked.

"Most of them," LeBeau said, still keeping up the melody on the piano as they spoke.

"It was one of my favorites back home. When my band played dances, we did that one all the time."

"You were in a band?" LeBeau asked.

"We didn't make much money at it. Just played parties and weddings once in a while on the weekends. We got jobs by word of mouth. It was mostly for fun."

LeBeau gracefully transitioned from the end of the song to the beginning, and the two men began singing together.

I stand at your gate

And the song that I sing is of moonlight

I stand and I wait

For the touch of your hand in the June light

The roses are sighing a Moonlight Serenade

Hogan's impish grin was contagious, and LeBeau soon was smiling back at him as they sang. The other men were gathering around the piano, enjoying the duet of a popular song most of them knew. By the next verse, Kinch, Newkirk, and Carter had gathered behind them and were lending their voices.

The stars are aglow

And tonight how their light sets me dreaming'

My love, do you know

That your eyes are like stars rightly beaming?

I bring you and sing you a Moonlight Serenade

It wasn't long before the singing piqued the interest of Schultz and Langenscheidt, who slipped inside to listen.

Let us stray 'til break of day

In love's valley of dreams

Just you and I

A summer sky

A heavenly breeze

Kissing the trees

Hogan relished the closeness as they shared the small piano bench, and enjoyed the opportunity to sing a love song with his lover while their friends gathered around, singing along, oblivious to the real feelings that were behind the words for the two men who'd started the duet.

So don't let me wait

Come to me tenderly in the June night

I stand at your gate

And I sing you a song in the moonlight

A love song, my darling

A Moonlight Serenade

When the song was over, the men all applauded their own singing efforts, as did those who weren't involved in the sing along.

"You have a very good voice, Colonel," LeBeau said, trying to keep his voice light, neutral, and platonic in its tone. "I didn't know you sang."

"I usually don't," he said, smiling back. "I'm more of a drum man, myself."

"Do you know, I'm in the Mood for Love?" Schultz asked, flexing his eyebrows.

"Don't tell us, tell that little blonde down at the Hofbrau," LeBeau quipped, and they all laughed, including Schultz. "I can play that for you, Schultzie," he added, still smiling. He hoped Hogan liked this one, too, and that he'd stay pressed up against him on the piano bench.

Hogan made no move to leave his seat, and the whole group sang along from the beginning this time, including Schultz. Langenscheidt didn't appear to be as well-versed in "decadent American love songs," but he was enjoying himself, nonetheless.

Hogan closed his eyes for a few moments, and he could see himself and LeBeau in their own place somewhere, sitting at the piano on a quiet evening at home together, singing their favorite songs. Or maybe having a few friends over, laughing and singing along.

It would take some pretty fancy plotting, scheming, and twisting of the truth to get them moved into their own place together after the war, living like a couple and yet passing for bachelors who were simply sharing expenses while looking for the right girls. Hogan's face curved into a wicked little grin.

Elaborate, covert operations were his speciality, after all...

********

THE END