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Der Meißel der Seele	By : Wertiyurae Category: G through L > Hogan's Heroes Views: 1599 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the television series that this fanfiction is written for, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 19
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- 21
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By the time he’d gotten dressed, doing his best to quell the sudden panic being in his bedroom had caused, and had choked down a meager breakfast, Klink had more or less recovered from his abrupt awakening. Though still jittery and tense, he barely registered those feelings as anything unusual. They seemed almost normal to him now.

It was strange, and sad, how quickly his perception of ‘normal’ had changed. What seemed sadder was the fact that he almost hadn’t noticed the change at all.

As he lurched across the floor of the living room, he wondered, not at all sarcastically, how many more times he could take Adler’s . . . attentions before he wasn’t able to walk at all. Maybe Adler would wind up breaking his toy despite his ‘care’. The knowledge there wasn’t much he could do if Adler hurt him that badly was not pleasant.

It also wasn’t pleasant to know that there was little he could do to hide his condition in the meantime. Yesterday, he didn’t think that anyone had noticed his slight limp. Today, he didn’t think that anyone would be able to miss it. But what could he do except avoid walking in front of other people?

While he intended to try doing so, he couldn’t imagine that he’d be able to pull it off for an entire day. Someone would have to see him walk eventually. With his luck lately, he couldn’t see how it could possibly be otherwise. Klink had no idea what he’d say if anyone cared enough to ask what was wrong with him.

Stepping into his office, he saw that Hilda had placed yet another small stack of papers on his desk. He shook his head, feeling something akin to amusement. No matter what problems he was having, the camp business didn’t stop with him. With as much paperwork running this place created, he sometimes thought he’d still be filing reports to Berlin a decade after the war ended.

Usually, he didn’t mind too much - paperwork could be boring at times but no one ever died from boredom. Even if a man could die from boredom, with Colonel Hogan and all the other craziness that cropped up with disturbing frequency to contend with, boredom was a scarce commodity at Stalag 13. Sometimes, he wished for boredom!

However, as boring as the paperwork could be, it did require a certain amount of focus. Frankly, he did not feel up to the work, even if it was just filling out forms and reports. But he knew that he couldn’t afford to let himself fall any further behind. Berlin didn’t take much notice of him as long as his reports were on time and in triplicate, and he wasn’t interested in getting their attention by being late with them. Scattered as his thoughts were, he would simply have to muddle through it somehow.

The alternative was an annoyed Berlin and more scrutiny than he wanted to deal with.

He eased himself down into his chair but couldn’t hold back a curse. Worry mingled with frustration as he attempted to find a more comfortable position. It felt worse than it had yesterday and he wondered how exactly he was supposed to do his job if he was having trouble just sitting. Too bad what was in his medicine cabinet wasn’t quite up to the task of taking care of pain like this!

Klink’s eyes came to rest on the bottle of Schnapps he’d left on the corner of the desk. Maybe a little something for medicinal purposes? He started to reach out for it but stopped well short of the bottle. That would be such a bad idea - what was he thinking of?

Sure, a drink or two might make him feel better, might make the pain a little more bearable, but he didn’t know if he’d be able to stop himself once he started. Being completely incapacitated would not be the least bit helpful - it wouldn’t help him complete any reports for one thing!

No, it probably wasn’t a good idea to put himself to the test like that. As he’d proved time and time again with Adler, his self control was practically nonexistent these days. The fact of the matter was that he simply couldn’t trust himself anymore. He wondered if he’d ever be able to trust himself again.

Tears dripped down his face and he pulled out his handkerchief wearily. There he went again. He hadn’t cried this much since he was a child and, if he remembered correctly, he hadn’t even cried this much then. So, why was he crying now? Most people didn’t just suddenly burst into tears for no reason. Of course, he was sure that most people didn’t enjoy things that sickened them either. His behavior with Adler the last two nights was all the proof he needed that there was something seriously wrong with him.

Taking out his monocle and setting it on the desk, he set to wiping his face. At least it never lasted very long before he calmed. Although, honestly, his feelings hadn’t changed from when he’d started to now: he still felt disgusted and despairing of himself.

A knock at the door interrupted his musings and he quickly finished wiping away the wetness around his eyes. So far, he’d cried in front of Colonel Hogan and General Adler. He had no wish to make that list any longer.

Hilda peeked at him through a slightly opened door just as Klink put his monocle back in. “Sir, General Adler is here to see you.”

Klink noted the concern in her expression and worried for a moment that he hadn’t managed to get rid of all the evidence of his crying fit. Only for a moment though, because having to deal with Adler made him much more anxious than the thought of someone knowing he’d just been blubbering. “All right,” he said at last, fighting to sound calm and collected, “you can send him in.”

As he had every time he’d come since two days ago, Adler locked the door once Hilda had left before turning his attention to Klink. He frowned slightly and raised an eyebrow. “Are we going to have to have this conversation every time I come to see you, Colonel?”

It took Klink a moment to realize what Adler was talking about. Once he did, he came to his feet and saluted.

“Better,” Adler said as he started to walk around the office. “I shouldn’t have to keep reminding you - just because I find you an entertaining bed partner, it doesn’t mean that I’ll continue to put up with this sloppiness.” He looked out of the window before closing the curtain more securely. “Is that understood?”

Anger and shame brought heat to Klink’s face but he struggled to keep them from his voice. “I understand.”

Adler nodded and started walking again. “I did some thinking last night while you were gone and I came up with a prima idea.” He stopped to look at some pictures Klink had hung on the wall. “So, I made some calls.”

That sounded ominous. “Who -?”

“Just to my superiors in Berlin,” he said, turning to give Klink a smile. “They seemed amenable to my idea and were willing to let me give it a try - after all, we and the Luftwaffe don’t always get along as well as we should.”

That sounded even more ominous. “What do you mean?” Klink slowly lowered his hand and prayed that the inkling of a suspicion he had was wrong.

The smirk that Adler sent his way made the nervous butterflies in his stomach transform into wasps. “I mean, if all goes well and I am able to convince Burkhalter to let you go, in a week’s time, you’ll be acting as the Luftwaffe’s attaché in Berlin.” His smirk turned into a predatory grin. “And as a member of my staff.”

Klink watched Adler take a seat in the other chair and felt like he was drowning in quicksand. It was all happening too fast and the possibility that Adler might try something like this had never occurred to him. In the back of his mind, Klink had always had the small comfort of knowing that Adler could not stay indefinitely.

That wouldn’t be the end of Klink’s troubles - there was nothing to stop Adler from dropping by from time to time -, but there was a chance of a reprieve. Some time to heal. Some time to recover himself.

If Adler succeeded in his plan . . .

And he couldn’t even delude himself and believe for a moment that there was any way that Adler wouldn’t be able to do as he wanted. As impressive as Klink’s record was (and it was impressive), General Burkhalter had never bothered to hide his contempt for him. He’d probably jump at the chance to transfer Klink somewhere else. He probably would sign the papers with a grin on his fat face.

While Klink’s record had kept Burkhalter from sending him to the Russian front (as he’d threatened on many occasions), it would not keep the man from transferring him to Berlin. Of the two, Klink thought the Russian front was sounding better all the time.

Adler’s grin softened and he set his hands on his knees. “Come here, Colonel.”

Between his unwillingness and the soreness in his backside, Klink’s progress from behind the desk was slow. He lurched across the floor, trying his absolute hardest not to give the bastard the satisfaction of knowing how much pain he was in.

The General met him halfway and eyed him with something like concern. “Are you in much pain?”

Why? Klink thought venomously. Afraid you’ve already broken your toy? “A bit,” he admitted, not because he believed that Adler actually cared but because he had no desire to be hit for not answering.

“Where does it hurt?” Adler asked, stepping behind Klink. Before Klink could answer, Adler hit him hard in the middle of his back. “Here?” Again, without giving Klink a chance to say, he hit him again, this time on the rear. “Or here?”

Klink squeezed his eyes shut and sucked in a breath through clenched teeth. “Both.”

Opening his eyes, he saw that Adler had come to stand in front of him once more. He was shaking his head in a disturbingly parental manner. “Well, Colonel, if you hadn’t made me angry last night, I wouldn’t have had to whip you. As for the other,” he smiled a bit, “you need to start relaxing. It doesn’t matter how gentle I am if you won’t relax.”

As if being . . . as if anything about what Adler did to him was relaxing. Adler reached out his hand and Klink shied away from the touch, not wanting to feel the other man on his skin. Not when his thoughts were being pulled back to the night before.

A frown greeted this action and Adler put his arm around Klink’s waist to pull him back. “You also need to know when to be still, Colonel.”

Klink forced himself not to move away from the fingers as they trailed down his face. It wasn’t the worse that Adler could do, but Klink hated the pretense of gentleness. He hated the way Adler seemed to try to make this something it wasn’t.

“You seem tense,” Adler observed, laying his hand flat on Klink’s cheek. “Are you afraid of me?”

Afraid? Klink almost smiled. Afraid? No, he was a very long way from merely afraid: he was terrified. And in imminent danger of being sick. However, he’d long since decided that it was not a good idea to be so honest with Adler when he asked these sort of questions. “Yes.”

“‘Yes’ what? Be precise.”

Always with these games! Weariness warred with irritation and won easily. “Yes, I’m afraid.”

Adler smiled in what was clearly supposed to be a comforting way. “There’s no reason to be afraid as long as you remember your place. I know this is hard for you but it will get easier.” He kissed Klink deeply and wrapped both his arms around Klink’s back. “You just need to stop fighting me.”

Stop fighting him? Klink wished that he was brave enough to start!

“You’ll enjoy being in Berlin,” Adler continued on blithely, grinning as his hands trailed down passed Klink’s hips. “It will be a big change for you but, if you can manage to behave yourself, it could be a very rewarding one as well.” He chuckled softly. “I heard a lot about you from your contemporaries before I came here.”

Klink could just imagine and he wasn’t quite quick enough to stop himself. “What did you hear?”

“Oh, many things: that you talk too much; that you’re a fool; that you’re the oldest Colonel this side of Dusseldorf.” Adler was still grinning even as his expression became wicked. “I also heard that you’ve been trying to increase your rank for the longest time. It’s quite the joke to them.”

Nothing that was exactly a surprise but it stung none the less. Especially hearing it all from someone who sounded so amused by the whole thing.

Adler wasn’t quite finished yet. “Yes, from what I understand, before your posting here at Stalag 13, you never managed to do anything that wasn’t just better than abysmal. I can certainly understand why they said you’d do just about anything to become a general.”

His grin twisted into a leer and Klink struggled to keep himself from moving away from it. “I could make that happen for you. If . . .”

Bile rose in Klink’s throat as Adler pressed himself closer, letting him feel how much the swine was “enjoying” this conversation. "I-if?" he stuttered, helpless to do anything but parrot. “If what?”

“If you make it worth my while,” Adler purred, his hands coming to rest on Klink’s backside.

Klink couldn’t deny that it was true: he did want to be a general, and very badly, for just the reason Adler had said. His career had always been something of a disappointment and he’d always thought, if he could just make general, he could finally feel as though he hadn’t been wasting his time. As though he’d managed to do something worthwhile with his life.

But Adler was very wrong. As badly as Klink wanted to be general, he didn’t want it badly enough to sign up for a combat post. He didn’t want it badly enough to marry Frau Linkmeyer. He didn’t want it badly enough to go to Berlin with General Adler.

And he certainly didn’t want it badly enough to go to Berlin with General Adler and “make it worth his while”. How could he possibly be proud of the promotion with the knowledge that he’d gotten it by being Adler’s whore? Being Adler’s toy was not an accomplishment to be proud of!

Even though Klink knew that it wouldn’t do any good, that nothing he said or did now would make the slightest difference in Adler’s plans, his rising desperation would not allow him to give in without a protest. Even if he was wasting his time, he still had to make at least an attempt to save himself. He took a steadying breath and tried to ignore what Adler’s hands were doing to his rump.

“General, I . . . Ican’tgotoBerlin.”

Adler’s hands stopped moving and his face became suddenly expressionless. When he spoke, his tone was dangerously calm. “What was that, Colonel? It almost sounded like you just told me you couldn’t go to Berlin.”

Klink wet his lips and swallowed hard to dislodge the lump forming in his throat. It would be so easy to pretend that he’d said something else, to back down. Maybe, Adler would let him get away with it. But he just couldn’t. Even if it wouldn’t help, he had to try. “That’s what I said, General.”

Tilting his head, Adler regarded him for several long seconds, his gaze revealing nothing of his thoughts. Then, he stepped back, letting his hands fall away from Klink’s body, and smiled. The smile was as cold as his eyes. “Would you care to explain why you can’t go to Berlin?”

The iciness of that smile chilled Klink to the core but he had to finish what he’d started. He’d already put one foot in and Adler would not let him take it out now. It was far too late for that. “Because I . . .” There were a lot of ways Klink could finish that statement. However, he figured odds were he was in enough trouble as it was without being so truthful. But he had to say something. There had to be something he could use! There -

That was it!

“Because I’m needed here.” He smiled, not quite able to hide his relief that he’d thought of something that had nothing to do with Adler to bolster his case. “My work here is very important. Why, without me, General, this whole camp would fall apart in days! Escapes left and right - you have no idea what a mess this place was before I arrived. So, you see, I have to sta-”

Klink’s mind had been so busy trying to keep up with his mouth that he hadn’t realized what Adler had been planning to do until after Adler had punched him in the stomach.

Air burst from his mouth in an agonizing whoosh and he fell to the floor, too pained and surprised to catch himself. As he lay there, futilely trying to coax his lungs into taking a breath, he was vaguely aware of Adler coming to stand over him.

“I see,” Adler sneered with a low growl, “that you still haven’t learned your lesson.” Roughly, he grabbed Klink under his arms and pulled him up before slamming him against the wall. Pictures fell to the floor and Klink heard breaking glass, but he had other things to worry about. “How many times, Klink!” As Adler spoke, he shook him violently. “How many times do we have to do this before you get it into your head that I own you!”

Sparkles danced in front of Klink’s eyes every time his head made contact with the paneling. “Pl-please -” He wasn’t sure what he was asking for and he didn’t get a chance to decide before Adler silenced him with a savage slap across the face. Klink sagged but Adler took hold of his shoulders and forced him back against the wall.

At least he isn’t shaking me anymore, Klink noted dully. Had to be thankful for the small mercies; they were the only ones he seemed to get anymore. He stared up at Adler, Adler’s face too close for him to focus on any features. However, there was no mistaking the rage in the other man’s voice when he started speaking again.

“It’s not your choice to make, Klink. I am the one who decides what’s going to happen now. I am the one who gets to make that choice. I own you!” His hold on Klink’s shoulders tightened, his fingers digging into Klink’s flesh even through his jacket and shirt. “Now, say it!”

“You . . .” Klink swallowed down his revulsion and terror as best he could, “you own me.”

“That’s right,” Adler snapped, not sounding the least bit pleased with receiving the correct response. He let go of Klink abruptly, as though he’d just been holding onto a sack of garbage, and turned away. “So, if I decide to take you to Berlin, you will just have to make the best of it. Is that understood?”

Klink swayed without Adler’s support but he somehow managed to remain upright. Dazed from the pain, dizzy from the way his vision swam, and still trying to catch his breath, he’d lost what fight he’d had in him. “Yes,” he whispered, closing his eyes in defeat. He understood. He’d tried and, just as he’d expected, he’d failed. Again. In fact, all he’d done was make it worse for himself. Brilliant planning there.

His eyes snapped open and he jerked away from the gentle touch to his cheek. Narrowly avoiding hitting his head again, he saw that Adler was smiling at him, his anger replaced with something that was supposed to convey sympathetic understanding but really conveyed something closer to wicked amusement. “Is staying here truly so important to you?”

A less cynical man, a man who had never had any dealings with Adler, might have allowed himself to hope. Klink knew better. Whatever this new game was about, it was just that: a game. Adler wasn’t going to let himself be persuaded; he just wanted to play. Klink nodded only because he wanted this encounter to end as soon as possible.

Adler’s smile turned crafty, telling Klink that his cynicism had been justified. “Then show me how much you’d like to stay.”

Klink blinked, feeling too sluggish to immediately figure out the rules. “What?”

“Show me how much you’d like to stay,” Adler repeated, throwing his arms open wide as though offering a hug. “Perhaps, if you’re very nice to me, I’ll reconsider.”

There was no need to ask what Adler meant now; his hungry expression made that much abundantly clear. It was also clear to Klink that it wouldn’t matter how “nice” he was to Adler. There was no way Adler was going to change his mind. Not when he’d been so violently insistent, not two minutes before, that Klink accompany him.

Seeing as this was just another game, Klink knew better than to think he had a choice about playing. With a shiver of resigned disgust, he limped towards Adler. He was about a foot from the man when he stumbled over his own feet.

Catching him neatly, Adler wrapped his arms around Klink in a light embrace. “Yes, you really do need to start relaxing, Colonel. You only hurt yourself when you don’t.” He chuckled. “And I wouldn’t want you to wear out.”

As if he didn’t feel worn out already. Not letting himself dwell on the thought, Klink forced himself back to the matter at hand. Recalling how badly this had gone last night, he gave himself a silent pep-talk, trying to ignore the churning in his stomach.

It was just a kiss. No, it wouldn’t even be a kiss. All it would be was skin touching skin. Just skin and spit. Just a mouth touching another mouth.

He shuddered. Somehow, thinking of himself as a disembodied mouth only made it seem even more disgusting.

All right. He could do this. And, more importantly, he could do this without vomiting. All he had to do was pretend that this situation wasn’t what it was. That he wasn’t being forced to kiss someone and that the someone he was kissing wasn’t Adler. All he had to do was think of someone else and he could do it.

Klink wasn’t sure who to think of and he realized, seeing Adler’s expression becoming impatient, that he didn’t have time to work it out. He’d just have to, what was that phrase?, wing it. Before Adler could force his hand, he brought his face closer to Adler’s and closed his eyes just before their lips met.

Almost immediately, Klink’s plan ran into a snag. His imagination simply wasn’t good enough for him to pretend that it was a woman who had him so securely pinned. Never mind the impossible to ignore sensation of an erection pressing into his hip! He couldn’t do it and he’d have to suffer the consequences because, if he was certain of anything, he was certain that Adler would not let him off so easily as he had the night before. He couldn’t . . .

Maybe he could. Klink decided that, as long as the man he was kissing wasn’t Adler, he could still do it. This wasn’t an easy realization for him to make and he was almost thankful that he didn’t have time to examine it now.

Klink stuck his tongue in the other mouth, telling himself that it wasn’t Adler’s mouth. That the other tongue touching his wasn’t Adler’s. That the strong hands pulling him ever closer belonged to someone else. That he was kissing someone else, someone he didn’t loath as much as Adler. Maybe even someone he actually liked. An image flashed through his mind and Klink was so shocked, so horrified, that he pulled away from Adler’s mouth with a startled gasp.

It wasn’t possible. How could he have possibly . . . ? With him? Of all people? It was one thing to pretend to kiss a man, but pretending to kiss one he actually knew? What was wrong with him! No, he hadn’t just imagined kissing -

“Not bad,” Adler remarked pleasantly, either not noticing or not caring about Klink’s consternation. He relaxed his grasp a bit and kissed Klink lightly on the mouth. “Not bad at all. You could use a little more practice, though.” A cruel gleam entered his eyes and his smile showed too many teeth. “Fortunately, you’ll have plenty of opportunities to practice in Berlin!”

If Klink had entertained any hope that Adler might actually let him stay at Stalag 13, he would have been furious and crushed. As it stood, he was finding it hard to feel much of anything beyond disbelief at his twisted subconscious. He’d already known that there would be no chance that Adler would change his mind about the transfer.

Adler looked disappointed, probably because he’d failed to get a rise out of Klink, but he recovered quickly. “Well, Colonel, I’d love to stay and continue this conversation but I do have some arrangements to make,” he said lightly, stepping back. “I’ll be expecting you to be ready for me by 10:30 - be certain to clear your schedule.” He laughed at his joke and patted Klink’s unresponsive cheek. “Until tonight, Colonel.”

Klink watched wordlessly, almost sightlessly, as Adler unlocked the door and let himself out. Darkness was closing in and Klink stumbled towards the chair, understanding in a distant way that he wouldn’t be standing much longer. Falling into it, he was aware of pain but it was not enough to bring him back from the abyss he was falling into. All he could feel was sick helplessness and utter despair. What could be done now? What was left for him to try? Nothing. Nothing.

By degrees, he became aware of a sound. A voice. Calling him. But it was so far away. Much too far away to worry about.

A hand on his arm brought him violently back to himself and he wrenched away from the touch, almost falling out of the chair in his panic.

“Kommandant!”

He recognized that voice and some of the panic drained away. Unfortunately, it was replaced with another sort of panic. What was she doing there? How long had she been there? What was going on? All of these questions were on the tip of his tongue but he only managed to squeak out one word: “Fraulein?”

She took one step towards him but didn’t come any nearer. “Are you all right, Kommandant?”

Klink was grateful that she was keeping her distance. Although he never felt quite as nervous around her as he did around the men, he felt like he’d been backed into a corner. All he wanted was a little space until he could collect himself. “I’m . . .” Saying he was fine would be insulting her intelligence. But there was nothing else he could say. “I’m fine.”

Hilda’s eyes narrowed in obvious disbelief. “But, sir, I called you at least ten times and you didn’t even blink! How can you say that you’re -” By this time, her voice had almost risen into a shout and she cut herself off abruptly, perhaps sensing that she might be overstepping her bounds. Her expression lost some of its fire. When she spoke again, her tone was more gentle and less frazzled. “So, you’re all right now?”

“Yes,” Klink lied, rubbing his face where Adler had slapped him. He realized, as he did so, that he’d lost his monocle during the scuffle. “I’m perfectly fine.” Carefully, making a tremendous effort to hide how difficult the maneuver actually was, he pushed himself out of the chair. A little unsteady but it could be worse. Now, if he could just find his monocle before someone stepped on it . . .

“Sir,” she began hesitantly, dragging his attention to her once more, “I don’t know what’s going on and I won’t ask, but I . . .” She gave him a searching, pleading look, “I’d like to help if I can.”

Worry over the fact that she realized something was wrong overtook him for a moment. Then he felt a smile curve his mouth. It was nice to know that someone seemed to care even if he didn’t deserve it. And he really didn’t. While he wasn’t nearly as deranged as Adler, the last couple of days had shown him to be a deviant and a pervert in his own right. Maybe he deserved what Adler did to him for being so deficient.

“I appreciate that, Fraulein.” He turned away, unable to bear the sight of her earnest face any longer, and started for his desk. “But there really is nothing you can do.” He came to stand beside the chair and almost sat down before thinking better of it - having difficulty getting out of a chair was less strange than difficulty getting into one. Hilda didn’t deserve being made to worry any more on his account.

“Are you certain? I just want to be useful.”

Glancing at the desktop, the word ‘no’ didn’t quite reach his lips. Maybe there was something she could do for him. With that bombshell Adler had just dropped on him, there was no way he’d be able to focus on them. And she did say that she wanted to help.

“Actually, I think I may have something for you after all. I know it’s irregular and I would normally never ask you for this but,” he gestured at the papers, “would you mind doing these reports for me?”

Hilda came closer, a look of absolute bewilderment on her face. “Your reports?”

“You know the workings of this camp as well as I do,” he said without flattery. Hilda was a pretty girl but that wasn’t why he’d hired her: she had a good head on her shoulders and he had need of it now. When her confusion didn’t lift, he decided that he could probably offer some compensation - this wasn’t really her job.

Besides, to not have to worry about these reports on top of everything else, he was more than willing to pay her out of his own pocket. “I’d be willing to pay you some extra this week if you could.”

She was frowning now, more thoughtful than anything. “You want me to do your paperwork?” Her frown remained a moment longer before she smiled widely. “All right, sir.” Quickly, she scooped up the papers and held them to her chest with one arm. “I’ll even sign them for you, if you want.”

Klink chuckled, feeling faintly surprised that he was still able to. “I think I can manage that, Fraulein. Just try to have them finished before six, if you can.” Hilda grinned with a mock bow. “I’ll get right on it, Kommandant.”

In a flash she was gone, leaving Klink alone with his thoughts and a mostly full bottle of liquor on his desk. He argued with himself for a short while before deciding that it didn’t matter anymore. Drinking wouldn’t do anything to solve his problems, true, but, at this point, he couldn’t see how doing so could possibly make things any worse than they were.

As he sat down with a wince, he also decided that there was no need for a glass.
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Der Meißel der Seele