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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
- 23
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- 25
(Author's note: With this chapter, the story is now current. It's not finished but it's current. My beta reader for all the preceding chapters as well as this one deserves much thanks. I just figured it'd be cleaner to post the other chapters without author's notes. So, thanks Python!)
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“There you are, sir!” Kinch said as soon as Hogan entered the barracks. The mock scolding in his tone was lined with some real worry which told Hogan that the radioman was in his mother hen mode. “I was beginning to wonder if you’d ever get back.”

Hogan stuck his hands in his pockets and quirked an eyebrow. As though Kinch didn’t know the reason why he’d taken so long with Klink! “It couldn’t be helped. Things got a little complicated.”

The humor left Kinch’s face. “What happened?”

“You don’t know?” They’d still been in the office when Klink had had his outburst so he should know what complications he was talking about already. Hogan found it hard to believe that Kinch hadn’t been listening in - especially after having him make that promise earlier.

“Well, sir, I did have other things to do besides eavesdrop on you.” Kinch smiled slightly and shrugged. “I figured you’d be able to hold your own.”

There was an apology there and Hogan accepted it with a smile of his own. “I won’t lie, Kinch, it got a bit dicey there for a minute or two.” He looked around and saw that the barracks were abandoned except for Corporals Johnson and Foster quietly playing cards on one of the bunks. “Where is everyone?”

“Volleyball tournament.”

Hogan nodded. It wasn’t quite the right season for volleyball but that had never stopped the men before. They were very dedicated players. “Who’d they rope into being the referee?” Realizing what he was doing he shook his head. “Never mind. Round up Newkirk, LeBeau, and Carter. We might as well get this over with.”
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Order going to deed, ten minutes later found the five of them in Hogan’s office. From where he stood, in front of the table, Hogan took a moment to consider each man in turn. LeBeau stood in front of the door with his arms lightly crossed. Newkirk leaned on the side of the bunk, wearing that affected expression of boredom that indicated his interest. Carter was seated on the bunk itself and seemed confused. Kinch, who stood beside Hogan, gave Hogan a look of encouragement.

“The Kommandant is being blackmailed by General Adler,” Hogan began without preamble, seeing no point in stalling. “Adler doesn’t actually have anything on him but he’s threatened to inform the Gestapo that Klink’s involved in a plot to assassinate old Adolph. As paranoid as the authorities are, I figure he could convince them pretty easily.”

Nods from Newkirk and LeBeau.

Carter’s face screwed up for a split second before relaxing in realization. “You and Kinch were talking about that yesterday, weren’t you, sir?” He narrowed his eyes, puzzled. “But why didn’t you tell us then? I mean, Klink’s been blackmailed before and you’ve told us.”

“That’s where it gets a little complicated,” Hogan said slowly, trying to think of how was the best way to put this. “Kinch and I actually learned of this two days ago.” Holding up his hand to forestall any more questions, he pressed on. “The reason I waited until now to share this information has to do with the, ah, nature of Adler’s demand.” He took off his hat, fiddling with its brim, and admitted to himself that the reason he was doing it was so he didn’t have to look at their faces. “It’s . . . fairly disgusting.”

“Do you want me to say it?” Kinch offered softly, not sounding particularly eager for the task himself.

Hogan was grateful for the offer but shook his head. As tempting as it was to lay this on Kinch’s shoulders, it wouldn’t be fair. Hogan was the commanding officer here. No, he’d just have to come out and say it and he might as well say it as plainly as possible because there were no words that could possibly make it sound better. He just wanted to get this over with. “Adler wanted Klink to have sex with him in exchange for not telling the Gestapo any tales and Klink agreed to do it.”

Silence. Hogan put his hat back on before looking up.

LeBeau’s mouth hung open and he seemed ill. Newkirk’s poker face had crumbled into an expression of apoplectic shock. Carter just looked even more confused than he had before.

“You, you want to run that by me again, sir?” Newkirk asked at last with the clear hope that he’d heard incorrectly. “Because I think you just said the Kommandant agreed to sleep with a bloke.”

Hogan smiled thinly. “Your hearing is as good as ever, Newkirk.”

Finally, LeBeau found his voice as well. “Why would anyone want to have sex with Klink?” he demanded of the room at large, sounding sickened from having to think of the question, let alone having to ask it. “If the Bosche wanted to blackmail someone for that, why choose someone so old?” He shook his head, almost appalled. “Klink isn’t even very attractive.”

Newkirk’s mouth twisted into something that could have been a grin if not for the sheer incredulity in his eyes. “‘Not very attractive’? When did you start looking? Don’t tell me you’re queer!”

The Frenchman scowled. “Just because I like women doesn’t mean I cannot tell an attractive man from an unattractive one. I’m not blind.” He thrust his chin in the air, somehow managing to stare down his nose at the taller man, and spoke with a haughty tone. “I only meant I would think the General would be more picky - the Kommandant is no prize.”

“But how could that even work?” Carter looked as bewildered as he sounded. “I mean, Klink’s a fella and Adler’s ... well, he sure doesn’t look like a girl to me, sir!”

Before Hogan could decide whether or not he should try answering their questions or if he should just continue on for the moment, Newkirk took a seat next to Carter and clasped his hands together, his eyes alight with wicked glee. “Well, Andrew, when a poofter and a fairy love each other very much - ”

“Belay that,” Hogan snapped, deciding that this was all getting a little out of hand (and that he really wasn’t interested in hearing Newkirk explain homosexual relations to Carter). “This is not a joke and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t treat it like one.”

The Englishman stood in one fluid motion, irritated “Begging your pardon, sir, but what does Klink turning tricks have to do with us?” He put his hands on his hips and looked around, addressing his words to everyone. “I say, it seems to me, he’d made his own bed here. If he wants to sleep in it with Adler, it’s no business of mine.”

“Oui, why do we need to know about this?” LeBeau agreed as he sat down on the bunk with Carter. “What difference does it make who Klink is taking to bed?” He grimaced. “I would rather not think about it.”

“Can I ask you something?” Carter asked LeBeau quietly.

“Does seem a little strange to me,” Newkirk remarked with a puzzled frown, drawing Hogan’s attention away from Carter and LeBeau’s lowered voices. “Always knew the Kommandant was a nutter but I never figured him for a poof.”

“We don’t have any reason to believe Klink’s actually homosexual,” Kinch pointed out, clear disapproval in his tone, “and it wouldn’t make a difference if he was.”

Newkirk raised an eyebrow. “No? I’d think it’d make a lot of difference. How else do you explain him agreeing to bump uglies with Adler?”

Hogan pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache coming on. He could remember when he’d had the same exact thought - though his language hadn’t been as colorful - and it felt strange to hear from someone else’s mouth now. He felt almost chagrined that he’d ever thought it.

“He ‘agreed’,” Kinch gave the word a biting emphasis, “because Adler was going to throw him to the Gestapo if he refused. You ought to know by now that Klink would do anything to save his skin.”

“Maybe he ought to have been more concerned with saving his bum,” Newkirk quipped unkindly.

“What!” Carter blurted, his face flushed with embarrassment.

LeBeau jerked away from him, rubbing his ear and muttering French curses under his breath.

The younger man seemed too stunned to notice either LeBeau’s discomfort or the fact that his outcry had made him the focus of everyone else’s attention. “Is that really true? People really do that?” He sounded very much like he thought the Frenchman might be having one on him.

Slightly amused but mostly annoyed, LeBeau nodded.

Carter’s mouth hung open. Clearly, he was having a hard time wrapping his mind around what he’d heard. Finally, his nose wrinkled and his eyes wide, he whispered, “But doesn’t that hurt?”

“How should I know?” LeBeau asked as he stood again, a little put out and, maybe, a bit insulted. “I was never interested enough to find out personally.”

Newkirk chuckled. “So, that’s how it is,” he teased. “You don’t like getting buggered - you just like to look at the blokes.”

“Listen, you stupid - !”

“That’s enough!” Hogan barked, deciding that he’d heard all he needed to hear and that it was passed time for him to get this briefing back on track. Crossing his arms, he leveled them with a stern glare. “If you all could stop acting like children for a few minutes, I’d like to finish what I have to say.” He watched them stare back at him with varying degrees of sheepishness and wondered what exactly he’d like to say to them. How could he explain in a few sentences something what had taken him days and several uncomfortably enlightening experiences to sort of understand?

Perhaps it wasn’t fair to expect them to understand. He could hardly claim he understood everything about this mess and he’d been thinking of little else for days. Their reactions weren’t so much different than his own had been when he’d first learned of the Kommandant’s trouble; maybe they just needed some time. They could all the time they wanted too because it wasn’t as though any of them had to be prepared to have a heart to heart with Klink!

Really, they didn’t really have to understand it as long as they agreed to support whatever crazy scheme he came up with to deal with this mess. “The problem, and why I’m telling you about this at all, is that Adler has decided to try getting Klink transferred to Berlin. I don’t think I should have to tell anyone why that should concern us.”

No one seemed to have any confusion on that point. “Kinch and I heard this much listening in this morning.” He hesitated, unsure whether or not he should tell them what had happened in Klink’s office before he came here. On one hand, it would be nice to get everything out on the table. On the other, it wasn’t as though there was anything any of them could do about it.

Before he could decide, Kinch made his choice for him. “Sir, you said that things got a little complicated before. What did you mean by that?”

Seeing the new curiosity on the men’s faces, Hogan figured he might as well tell them this too. “Klink has decided to make his own arrangements as to what to do about that transfer.” How could he say it without sounding incredibly flippant? Turning to Kinch, an idea came to him that would kill two birds with one stone. “I owe you an apology, Kinch. You warned me he might want to do something like this and I didn’t listen to you.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “So, I apologize for not taking your warning more seriously.”

The tumblers in the radioman’s mind visibly spun before clicking together. “You mean he tried to commit suicide?” He sounded equal parts surprised and horrified.

Hogan shook his head. “Not while I was there. He just said that he was planning on it - after he killed Adler.”

Kinch seemed startled to say the least. “He actually told you that?”

Despite himself, Hogan grinned. “If by ‘told’, you mean ‘pointed a loaded pistol at my chest and ranted at me’, then, yes, he told me.”

LeBeau was immediately by his side. “Are you hurt, Colonel?”

“I’m fine,” Hogan assured him, waving away the concern. “Klink was just a little, ah, excitable and I don’t always know when to stop pushing.” That reminded him. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the key he’d swiped earlier. “Newkirk,” he tossed it to the Englishman who caught it easily, “hide this somewhere.”

Newkirk examined the key with a small frown. “What’s this?”

“That’s the key to the Kommandant’s desk which I’d rather he didn’t find until after this all blows over. I don’t think it’s wise to give him easy access to a pistol for the time being.”

“That won’t stop him if he’s really determined,” Kinch warned softly.

“I know,” Hogan acknowledged, “but I’m hoping this might slow him down a bit. It’ll make it more difficult to take Adler out at least and he’d seemed awfully keen on that point.”

Kinch frowned and seemed about to say something else when LeBeau interrupted with a question of his own.

“But why would Klink want to kill himself? Even if it’s blackmail, it could have been worse. Adler isn’t unattractive -” he shot Newkirk a dirty look which the other man ignored, “- for a German pig.”

“And, sure, doing, uh, well, what Louis said doesn’t sound like much fun but he’s already done it, right? You said he did yesterday,” Carter added.

Newkirk made a sound that was somewhere between a scoff and a groan as he pocketed the key but only shook his head as though disgusted with the line of discussion.

Hogan decided to address Carter’s question first because it had the simplest answer. “He did but, apparently, Adler wasn’t satisfied with only . . . doing it once. From what Kinch and I heard Adler say this morning, that’s basically the whole reason he wants to transfer Klink to Berlin at all: easy access.”

“You mean . . .? Oh.” Carter’s face paled before taking on an interesting green shade. “Jeeze.”

Then Hogan turned his attention to LeBeau. “While it I’m sure it could have been worse,” although, honestly, he wasn’t sure how, “I doubt Adler’s physical attractiveness makes much of a difference as far as the Kommandant is concerned.” The conversation he’d over heard in the morning rang in his ears and he remembered only too well the unclean feeling he’d had just from listening to it. “Let’s just say, even for the Gestapo, this guy’s a nasty piece of work.”

Sweeping his gaze across the three men, he continued on. “I’ll be doing what I can on my end to keep the Kommandant among the living. As for the transfer, I haven’t decided what to do yet beyond having Baker made sure no one can call out for a while. But, when I do come up with something, I need to know I’ve got your support.”

“You can count on me, sir.”

“I’m in, governor.”

“Et moi, Colonel.”

Hogan smiled. He’d known already that they were good men - too good to let him down when he needed them - but the confirmation of their continued support was welcome. “Thank you.” Then he put on one of the more serious expressions at his disposal. “For now, I want to keep this Klink business under wraps. I don’t want to hear so much as a whisper that anything unusual is going on. Got it?”

Nods all around. Whatever their reservations, these men were professionals. Not that he’d had any serious doubts on that score. Although, that earlier trading of insults had been a little worrying.

“Good,” he clapped his hands together, feeling some relief now that the end was in sight. “Are there any questions?”

“I have one,” Newkirk announced, crossing his arms. “What was all that escape business about last night? And don’t tell me London had anything to do with it - I did some asking around after you left because it all sounded a bit dodgy to me.” He smirked, almost preening. “Baker was on the radio all day and he hadn’t heard a thing about it.”

“That’s why you were asking André all those questions,” exclaimed LeBeau.

“I figured I could find out what was really going on from him,” he confirmed, obviously proud that he’d thought to do so. Then he slumped with disappointment. “And all he could tell me was that the Kommandant was acting barmy.” He frowned at Hogan. “So, what was that escape really for?”

Hogan hesitated because answering that question would lead to other questions he didn’t feel prepared to answer. Unfortunately, he didn’t see where there was much of a choice except to finished what he’d started here. “It was for Klink. He offered me some wallpaper in exchange for an excuse to get out of camp.” Which reminded him that he’d never actually talked to Hilda about getting any. Of course, there had been other things on his mind. “He’d told me that he had a meeting with Adler that he’d rather miss and, since Klink couldn’t act his way out of a wet paper bag, I was inclined to believe him.” He shook his head. “Not that it made any difference.”

Carter raised his hand. “But why was he acting so weird last night? He kept watching me.”

“Maybe he’s on the look out for fresh meat,” Newkirk suggested, his tone not entirely sarcastic. Then he smiled evilly “I’m sure Louis would agree that you’re a choice bit.

While LeBeau sputtered, the younger man didn’t take the bait. Whether that was because he was too focused on his own words to acknowledge what Newkirk had said or because he just hadn’t gotten the not quite a joke, Hogan couldn’t decide. “He was watching me like he couldn’t trust me.” Carter blushed and revised the statement. “I mean, of course he shouldn’t trust me - I’m a prisoner! - but it was like he really didn’t trust me. Like he was afraid of me or something.” Then he frowned at Newkirk. “Fresh meat? What are you talking about?”

“Do not listen to him,” LeBeau sniffed disdainfully, putting a hand on Carter’s shoulder. “He’s being a jerk.” He gave Newkirk a wicked smile of his own. “And I’m starting to think he might be protesting too much.”

Seeing Newkirk’s face darken, Hogan knew he had to step in before this could escalate any further. He’d had just about enough of them sniping at each other like irrational children over this. “Newkirk, LeBeau, that’s enough! I’ve already said I didn’t want this to be treated like a joke and I meant it.” After taking a moment to make sure both were at least making an attempt to look properly chastised, he turned his attention to Carter. “To answer your question, you’re not the only one he’s afraid of.”

Newkirk snorted. “He’s always been a bleeding coward; that’s nothing new.”

“You should’ve seen him, though,” Carter argued. “He actually stopped breathing when the Colonel touched him. Even when he gets real nervous he doesn’t act like that.” He shook his head. “I just don’t get it.”

Hogan didn’t know where to even start answering that implied question. “That’s kind of complicated.” Truth be told, he really didn’t get it himself. Sure, having sex with Adler couldn’t be very pleasant, considering how much trouble Klink was having getting around, and, yes, Adler seemed quick to get physical with his displeasure but as to why that should have any bearing on they way Klink behaved around other people -

“Do you want me to take it from here?” Kinch asked. While it couldn’t be said he sounded very eager, he certainly didn’t sound adverse to the idea.

It took a fair amount of will power for Hogan not to express his gratitude for the out in an embarrassingly juvenile way such as jumping up and down. “Knock yourself out,” he said calmly. “I’m just going to go out and get some air.” He’d heard all of this before and he had other things to think about. Also, he was almost positive he didn’t want to know what the men’s reaction would be to Kinch’s theory. Recalling how reluctant he’d been to give it any credence - how still reluctant he was -, he returned his focus in their direction and fixed them with a stern look. “You don’t have to agree with Kinch but I expect you to be civil, all right?”

Once he’d had their assurances that they’d be on their best behavior, Hogan beat a hasty retreat out of his office. Corporal’s Foster and Johnson were gone now but he didn’t sit down. As a man of action, Hogan always thought better on his feet.

And he knew that the barracks weren’t nearly big enough for all the ground he had to cover.

Outside of the barracks, the air was just a little too cool to take a leisurely stroll around the compound but Hogan needed the space to move. He needed to think this all through and there wasn’t any more time left to put it off. Kinch’s sister’s friend had lasted a month; Hogan doubted if Klink would make it through the week at the rate he was going. Even though it had only been two days, the man clearly wasn’t doing well.

Hogan picked a direction and started walking. Damned if he could understand why Klink was having such a hard time of things though. He could understand why Klink was afraid of Adler but he just couldn’t see why that fear should extend to Shultz or Kruger or Carter.

What did he think he had to fear from them? ‘Or from me?’ Hogan added silently. Klink was afraid of him too. But why? He’d never used physical threats on the Kommandant and yet Klink still acted like Hogan was going to hit him. It didn’t make any sense.

‘But it all fits: not liking to be touched, being emotional, afraid of men, that episode you described - she acted just like that after she’d been raped.’

All right, so it only didn’t make any sense to him; it seemed to make perfect sense to Kinch. However, Hogan was finding it hard to believe that Kinch was right about that part. Or even if it mattered if he was. Maybe Klink hadn’t had a lot of options but to let Adler use him like that . . . He should have fought it. If only he hadn’t been such a coward! If he would have just refused -

- he’d be dead right now, an inner voice sneered, or as good as dead. If that’s what you want, you might as well let him kill himself - that’s what you always wanted him to do, wasn’t it? Better to be dead than to submit to that monster, right? Finally, he’s going to be a man about it - aren’t you proud?

Lips turning downward, Hogan glared into the middle distance, annoyed with himself. Klink was a coward; that was a simple fact. But just because he’d been a coward when it came to Adler’s blackmail, had he been wrong to want to live at that cost? As Kinch had said, it wasn’t as though he’d offered up an alternative sacrificial lamb to Adler in exchange - Klink was the only one who’d had to pay and he’d been willing to to save himself. For Klink, his life had obviously been more important than the dishonor of letting Adler have his way with him.

Hogan had never wanted to see him dead and he didn’t want to see him kill himself now so why did the fact that Klink had wanted to live badly enough to go through what he’d went through bother him so much? Because a man should be willing - no, was obligated! - to fight to the death to save his honor even if there was no way to win? Because Klink had been willing to trade his honor for his life instead of the other way around?

But what did either of those questions have to do with Hogan personally? Not a thing. Klink hadn’t made the choice Hogan would have but he and Klink were two different people. Klink had obviously made the choice he’d thought was best and he’d had to deal with the aftermath ever since. It wasn’t Hogan’s place to pass judgment on the man - the only one who’d been hurt by Klink’s choice had been Klink. Hogan had no right to cast aspersions on him regardless of what he thought he should have done.

Of course, that being the case, now that Klink wanted to die, was it Hogan’s place to interfere? Maybe he’d be wrong to try - the Kommandant had the right to make his own decisions, didn’t he? If Klink wanted to commit suicide, then -

Well, that wasn’t quite right. Klink hadn’t said he wanted to die - far from it considering the vehemence of his ‘of course not’ when Hogan had asked - but that he had no choice but to. Considering what he’d been willing to give up before to keep himself safe from the Gestapo, for him to think that suicide was his only option . . . Things must look pretty grim to him. Either that or he was so thirsty for Adler’s blood that he was willing to trade his life to ‘put him down’.

Both were fairly disturbing propositions and Hogan didn’t have enough information to decide which had the most to do with Klink’s plans.

He kicked a stone in his path and watched it skitter in front of him. Assuming Klink kept the promise he hadn’t made, he might be able to get that information out of the man tomorrow. Although, to his shame, he hadn’t given Klink much incentive to discuss the matter with him. Trying to keep it all on a professional level knowing how personal the secret the Kommandant was hiding was had been very stupid of him. No wonder Klink had sounded hurt and had been unwilling to talk! It would take a lot of hard work to salvage the situation - if he even could at this point.

The hole he’d dug for himself during that conversation was made even more stupid by virtue of the fact that what he’d told Klink simply wasn’t true. If only this was about convenience! Things would be so much simpler if it was.

But it wasn’t so it wasn’t. Truthfully, he wasn’t sure how he’d feel if Klink managed to get himself killed. He wasn’t an overly sentimental man but it wasn’t as though Klink was some stranger. This was someone he saw every day. Someone he knew. Sometimes, Hogan thought he knew the Kommandant better than anyone else did.

Of course, this wasn’t knowledge he’d gained because he’d liked the man enough to want to know him better. The only reason he’d gained this knowledge was that being able to guess Klink’s responses was useful. The balancing act he had to maintain was more difficult than it looked but well worth the rewards. And, dare he say it?, it was almost fun. Manipulating the Kommandant had become something of a hobby to him and, at times, he could play the man brilliantly.

That was part of the problem with the convenience theory. Ever since Adler, Hogan couldn’t predict with much accuracy how his words would be taken or what might set the Kommandant off. Klink was unstable, unpredictable, and dangerous. Sure, he hadn’t really believed for more than a second that the Kommandant would actually shoot him but, recalling how badly Klink had been shaking by then, he might have done so by accident.

The incident had given Hogan little choice but to accept that Kinch had been right about this much: Klink couldn’t handle his problems on his own and just having Adler out of the picture probably wouldn’t be enough to set him to rights again. If Kinch was as right about what it would take to keep the Kommandant here and sane, simply feigning a sympathetic ear as he had in the past wouldn’t be enough. Klink needed a confidant and that required a level of honesty and openness from Hogan that was problematic at best.

Sympathizing with the enemy wasn’t exactly something he ought to be doing as an American soldier. Giving aid and comfort to the enemy was likewise frowned upon. As natural a decision it seemed to want to save Klink’s life, Klink was the enemy. It told Hogan something about either the situation or how unthreatening the Kommandant was that Kinch would even suggest this line of action in the first place. It told Hogan something about himself that he hadn’t even considered this problem until now.

Hello, conflict of interest!

Starting from scratch with a new Kommandant wouldn’t be easy - the new man might not be as easy to fool or as willing to turn a blind eye - and it would take time but it wouldn’t be beyond Hogan’s skill. There could be some problems if Klink’s replacement was a true dyed in the wool Party member but, as deeply entrenched as his operation was, this too could be dealt with. It wouldn’t be the first time someone had died or ‘disappeared mysteriously’. Hell, if Adler hadn’t been with the Gestapo, he might have just ‘disappeared’ himself. That would have been very . . . satisfying, actually.

Shaking his head, he returned his thoughts back to the matter at hand. Whatever difficulties he’d face with Klink’s death, excepting an absolute worst case scenario, it’d be easier (and, considering the possible conflict of interest in this case, maybe ‘better’ as well) to start from scratch rather than to pull Klink back from the edge.

If this was about convenience, he might as well cut his losses and let the Kommandant revenge himself on Adler. Letting the man die the way he’d chosen would be fair compensation for all that unrealized service. Klink couldn’t be used as effectively now (and, maybe, never again) so what was the point in getting involved? One couldn’t afford to get too sentimental about their tools - when a tool gets broken, the only thing it’s good for is being thrown away.

Klink was the enemy anyway; his death, if not a cause for celebration, shouldn’t make much of a difference to him.

As pragmatic a soul as Hogan was, this line of thought was still a bit too ruthless for his liking. It was one thing to recognize how and when people could be useful and to exploit them; it was another entirely to believe that people only existed to be used. Equating the Kommandant with a broken ratchet or the like to be tossed left a bitter taste in his mouth. Even if Klink was a stupid coward, he didn’t deserve to be thought of as a thing.

And even though Klink was on the opposite side of the war, Hogan had a very hard time dredging up any of the feelings that went with the label ‘enemy’. He’d never hated the Kommandant and he’d never wanted him dead.

So, why did he want to keep Klink around? It certainly wasn’t for those lovely violin solos! Maybe it didn’t have to do with Klink per se - maybe it was just good old fashioned human compassion on his part. As much as the Kommandant annoyed him, Hogan hadn’t been lying when he’d said he didn’t hate the man enough not to care he was planning to kill himself.

Although it was awfully hard to feel too sorry for Klink when he’d been stupid enough to get caught in Adler’s blackmail and then too cowardly to do anything about it.

Hogan frowned, feeling more than a little annoyed with himself for thinking this again. Never mind the fact it wasn’t his place to judge the man, if there had been some way out of that mess with Adler other than eventual death by Gestapo, he still couldn’t think of it. About the only alternative he could come up with was Klink jumping into a staff car and driving off. That wasn’t a very feasible alternative, however, because there was nowhere for him to go and it wasn’t as though he had the money or the connections to get him out of the country. In the end, considering the Kommandant’s competence in just about every other area, he’d be caught sooner rather than later and dealt with for deserting.

While that might have only meant dishonorable discharge and a prison sentence, Hogan doubted Adler would have been satisfied with that punishment. He’d probably go to the Gestapo with his assassination plot story out of spite.

But there should have been something Klink could have -

Hogan swore forcefully under his breath. What was wrong with him - his mind kept skipping grooves like a scratched record! Why was it so hard for him to believe that Klink had done the only thing he could have done? Why was that so hard for him to accept when he couldn’t think of any viable alternatives, no matter how hard he tried? If he couldn’t come up with anything, how could he fault Klink for not being able to come up with anything either?

Was it so important for him to be able to pin this on the Kommandant? Was it really that disturbing to think that this mess wasn’t the man’s fault?

More importantly, was he willing to ignore his own reasoning and throw away his logic just so he could keep on believe that Klink deserved all this? Was he really that reluctant to admit he’d been wrong?

He stopped short and closed his eyes. Even if he never said it to anyone else, he had to admit that much to himself. Part of being a leader was acknowledging mistakes and learning from then; if he couldn’t bring himself to do that, then he was the stupid coward here. Hogan was many things but, while he’d had his share of stupid moments, he’d never been a coward.

And he refused to start being one now.

Hogan opened his eyes and continued on his way, not really caring where his feet took him as long as he was moving. When Kinch had first shared his rape theory with him, Hogan had categorically rejected it because he’d believed the Kommandant had had more options than Kinch’s sister’s friend - Klink had had a choice and he’d made the wrong one, deserving whatever Adler had planned.

Having finally accepted how limited Klink’s options had been, his main objection to the theory was invalidated. However, there was still a part of him that didn’t want to consign himself to it. Adler had blackmailed Klink for sex - that was a fact. There could be no argument on that point. As for whether or not he could call what Adler had done to Klink rape . . . well, even if he couldn’t call it rape, having sex with Adler had clearly disturbed Klink a great deal. That was also a fact.

Maybe it didn’t matter what he called it so long as he kept in mind that Klink was so disturbed by the whole thing when he dealt with the man.

He admitted tacitly that he was letting himself off the hook on the issue but he didn’t want to be out here until night fall arguing the same points over and over again. Time. He just needed a little more time. Realizing he was getting close to the fence, he turned back in the direction of Barracks Two. A chill breeze was beginning to blow and his face felt cold. He ducked his head into the collar of his jacket and did his best to pay the weather no mind.

Hogan knew he wanted to help Klink - still seemed like a natural decision - but he also knew that Klink wouldn’t buy that without some kind of rationale to go with it. Not when the man seemed all but convinced that Hogan shouldn’t care one way or the other or after Hogan had told him convenience was his main motivation.

Convenience had little, if anything, to do with it. There was definitely some pity involved though. That was the main reason that he’d set up that escape when the intelligent thing would have been to turn Klink down. When he’d realized that the Kommandant’s plan wouldn’t work, he’d been disappointed and not only because his time had been wasted. There Klink had been, making an attempt to free himself, if only for a night, and it hadn’t been enough. Sure, the plan hadn’t exactly been fool proof and Hogan should have known better than to think a plan Klink had come up with could work but it still had seemed like a shame.

But pity wasn’t quite the word to describe Hogan’s feelings at the end of that truck ride, when he’d discovered what a simple hand on the shoulder could do to the Kommandant. At first, he’d attributed the extreme reaction to Klink being startled out of the stupor he’d been in. However, when the man had asked him, begged him, in that small, terrified voice to let him go . . .

Even now, a single word to describe what he’d felt in that moment escaped him. It had been more of a recognition than a feeling anyway. In that moment, Hogan had been forced to recognize that all Klink’s earlier strange behavior couldn’t be explained away as Hogan’s imagination or Klink just being odder than usual. That Klink was indeed a changed man and it wasn’t a change for the better.

As enjoyable as it was to deflate the Kommandant’s ego when it got insufferably large, Hogan had never wanted to see it permanently punctured. Klink wasn’t Klink without that blanket of self importance imperfectly draped over his insecurity. What would he be with out all that posturing and self affirmation?

Probably what he was right now: the broken man in the back of the truck; the hysterical gun waver; the sad shell who couldn’t understand why Hogan should care one way or the other whether he lived or died.

Over the course of getting to know the Kommandant as well as he did, Hogan had come to feel, well, it wasn’t an affection so much as it was a tolerance toward the man. While Klink could be a great source of irritation and he had he share of faults, Hogan had become . . . used to him. Maybe he couldn’t say he liked Klink but he could admit that he’d miss him if he was replaced. He could admit he’d be sad to see him die.

Wanting to keep Klink around because he’d miss him if he was gone was still a selfish reason for wanting to help but Hogan had never claimed to be very altruistic. It was still better than what he’d said before at least – just about anything would be better than what he’d said before. He just hoped that Klink would believe he was actually telling the truth after he retracted what he’d said before. And maybe being a little less impersonal would make Klink more willing to open up. Maybe. If not, he had an idea.

As far as how he should even start that conversation he was at a bit of a loss. ‘Probably should get some ideas from Kinch,’ Hogan decided. With that decision made, his thoughts turned to the other disaster on the horizon. The blocked phone lines would only hold Adler in check for so long and he was very aware that his time to figure out a more permanent solution to the problem was finite. When the time came when the blocked phone lines weren’t enough to keep Adler at bay, he needed to be prepared.

Hogan grinned with determination. When show time came, he’d be pulling a rabbit out of his hat . . . even if he had to put the rabbit in ahead of time.
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Der Meißel der Seele