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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
- 24
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- 26
Author's note: Hello all and welcome to chapter 25. Thanks go to Python for betaing this chapter. I can't thanks anyone else specifically since no one has reviewed (whine, whine, whine).
Anyway, on we go, gentle reader(s), to chapter 25!
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Klink stared down at the plate of food in front of him and couldn’t even bring himself to pick up the fork. He couldn’t eat this. He didn’t even want to look at it. There didn’t appear to be anything wrong with the food itself; it was just his stomach was unsettled and he didn’t want to vomit. Again.

Considering how much he’d had to drink and how quickly he’d drunk it, he was getting off easy with this hangover, he knew that. His eyes were sensitive to light, his head ached abominably, and he still felt nauseous but he acknowledged that it could have been much worse. Compared to how he’d felt earlier . . .

He’d woken up about an hour and a half after Hogan had finally stopped pestering him feeling moments away from being violently ill. With scant seconds to spare, he’d retched into the toilet until he couldn’t even bring up bile anymore. It had been a long time since he’d felt so awful and he vowed never to be so foolish again. He was much too old to feel grateful to the toilet for being cool to rest his head on as he recovered.

Needless to say, after that, he hadn’t felt much like going back to sleep. Instead, he’d spent the rest of the afternoon listening to the BBC and trying his hardest to worry more about the state of the war than the other things he had on his mind. That had proved to be a less than diverting exercise and he’d ended up spending most of his time expecting to get a call from General Burkhalter approving his transfer.

As much as Adler deserved a few well placed bullets and as dim a view Klink had of his behavior the last couple days, he didn’t want to die. He still planned to follow through on the decision he’d made before because he didn’t see as there was much alternative, but he wasn’t looking forward to that outcome by any means.

However, despite his worries, he’d received no calls and he’d been left alone for the rest of the afternoon and into the evening. In fact, the first person he’d seen since Colonel Hogan had left had been Sergeant Shultz who was currently waiting to be dismissed now that he’d brought him his dinner.

Dinner. While he knew he probably should eat something - it couldn’t be good for him to miss too many meals - he didn’t feel the least bit hungry and he didn’t want to risk the fragile control he had over his stomach. He pushed the plate away before tossing the napkin he’s put on his lap back on the table. “I can’t eat this.”

“Sir?” Shultz sounded equal parts confused and hopeful.
Klink thought about it before waving his hand in a way that indicated Shultz could help himself to the plate if he wanted to. It was a shame to waste food during a war, after all. Someone might as well enjoy it since he couldn’t.

“Are you sure, Kommandant?”

Blinking, Klink couldn’t decide which part of this surprised him the most: that Shultz was actually giving him a chance to change his mind or that he suddenly looked so concerned. “I’m sure.” When Shultz still didn’t make any moves to take him up on the offer, he added, “I just had too much for lunch, that’s all.”

That seemed to be all he needed to hear. “Thank you, sir,” he said with a smile. He slid the rifle off his shoulder and slung it on the chair. “I don’t mind if I do.” As he sat down across the way and reached for the plate, Klink forced himself to stay where he was.

He had no reason to be afraid of Sergeant Shultz. Shultz was harmless - not even the prisoners were afraid of Shultz. Not even the newest ones, fresh from their plane bail outs, were afraid of him. The man had to be one of the least intimidating people he’d ever met. As threatening as a jelly donut. And, in all the time he’d known Shultz, he’d never seen the Sergeant so much as raise a hand against anyone. Half the time, he didn’t even keep his rifle loaded.

Klink knew Shultz was harmless. He knew it but there was a part of him that refused to believe it. He couldn’t relax. His hands felt clammy. His imagination insisted that the moment he let down his guard, Shultz would do something painful or unnatural to him. Nursing his water, he watched the other man decimate his dinner and wondered if he’d ever feel comfortable in the Sergeant’s presence again. The thought that he never would made him sad and not only because it meant that he’d always be afraid of someone so unthreatening.

Shultz, as incompetent as he was, sometimes felt like the closest thing he had to an ally here. Yes, he knew he had the rest of his subordinates’ loyalty (even if he couldn’t make himself quite believe it any more), but it seemed as though he and Shultz were the only ones who recognized the ever prevalent craziness that occurred at Stalag 13. Whenever Klink thought he might be losing his grip on his sanity, he could just look at Shultz, see the helpless bewilderment in the other man’s eyes, and know that the something odd happening wasn’t just in his head. Funny as it would sound if he’d ever actually said it, Hans Shultz was like his anchor to reality.

Now he was a very big man who probably wouldn’t but could just suddenly decide to reach across the table and -

Shaking his head sharply, Klink cursed himself for his paranoia and Adler for making him terrified that Shultz (or, indeed, any of the men he’d had to deal with lately) would want what he had taken. Not only that they’d want it but that they would be willing to take it too. That they would be willing to force him.

The pain, the kissing, the groping, the games - those weren’t the worst things about having to deal with Adler. Even now, Klink wasn’t sure how it had happened but, somehow, Adler had managed to fill his world with monsters. Somehow, he’d made it so Klink could barely remember sometimes that these men he was so terrified of were good people. Or, at the very least, not the sort of people who’d want to do what Adler had done.

He snuck a glance at Shultz who seemed very busy with the business of cleaning the plate. A thought came to Klink and he let his glance turn into a gaze as he considered the other man. Before Adler had blackmailed him, Shultz had given the General a strange look. A sort of disgusted look. He’d wondered then what the Sergeant’s problem with Adler had been and now he found himself wondering again.

What if Shultz had a reason for his apparent dislike of General Adler? Klink felt his breath catch and his chest constrict. What if he hadn’t been the only one Adler had -

He shook his head slowly. No. That couldn’t be it. He’d have heard . . .

Actually, considering how many people he’d told about what was happening between he and Adler, no, he probably wouldn’t have heard anything. He hadn’t seen anyone acting oddly but he’d had his own problems the last couple of days and he hadn’t exactly been making rounds around the compound! Now that the idea was in his head, however, he had to know for certain whether or not he was wrong.

These men were under his command and he wasn’t going to stand for them to be molested by that swine as well! There might not be much he could do to stop Adler outside of deadly force but he’d be willing to take that plunge - he couldn’t bear the thought that someone he was responsible for might be going through what he was going through right now. None of them deserved anything like this.

And if that monster thought he could get away with doing anything to his subordinates -!

A soft inner voice of sanity spoke up and suggested that he ought to find out what exactly was going on before he considered doing anything drastic. Klink conceded the point and relaxed as much as he was able. Maybe he was getting worked up for nothing. Maybe Shultz disliked Adler for the usual reason that anyone disliked the Gestapo - that they were Gestapo. Maybe Shultz had just been having an off day. Who knew?

Shultz did and Klink had to know too. “Shultz?” He’d said it so softly he’d barely heard it himself. After taking a sip of water and shoring up his determination, he tried again. “Sergeant?”

Shultz, who was still intent on the food in front of him, didn’t appear to hear.

Becoming frustrating with both being ignored and with being unable to get his voice to cooperate with him, he took a deep breath and yelled as loudly as he could, “Sergeant Shultz!”

The results were immediate. Shultz stood up so quickly he knocked over the chair he’d been sitting in. With his salute, he came perilously close to stabbing out his eye with the fork he was still holding his in fist. There was a second or two when it seemed as though the man might be choking but he recovered enough to spit out a “Yessir!” in addition to some potato.

Klink felt a new wave of shame for feeling even a little afraid of this man. “At ease, Sergeant! I just want to ask you a question.” Uncomfortable with Shultz towering over him, he motioned for the Sergeant to sit. “Please sit down.”

Slowly, sheepishly, Shultz righted the chair and did so.

Now that he had the man’s full attention, Klink felt very exposed. And there was something about the way Shultz was looking at him. Something -

He closed his eyes for several long seconds and reminded himself that Shultz was not likely to do anything unnatural, painful, or both to him. Opening his eyes, he saw that the other man was now staring. Klink smiled weakly and scrambled for some words to say. “I, ah,” how to find out what he wanted to know without giving anything away? “I - I couldn’t help noticing the other day that you don’t seem to . . . care much for General Adler. Would, would you mind telling me why that is?”

Shultz licked his lips, clearly nervous. “Is this off the record, Kommandant?”

That sounded ominous but Klink was determined to have his question answered. If there was something happening, it was his duty - his right!- to know. “Yes, this is off the record. I just want to know if . . . I just want to know if you have a particular reason for not liking the General.”

Setting down the fork, the Sergeant frowned in thought before giving a little shrug. He looked very ill at ease. “Well, Kommandant, I was doing my morning rounds two days ago - making sure that everyone is where they are supposed to be, that no one was just wandering around, that -”

“Yes, fine, Shultz,” Klink interrupted, not interested in listening to the man ramble. “What does that have to do with General Adler?”

“I’m getting to that part,” Shultz said patiently before recollecting his thoughts. “While I was walking by the latrines, I heard something that sounded like a shout. More like a yell - I didn’t actually hear any words. That didn’t seem like such a good sign so I decided I should see what’s going on.” He hesitated. “You won’t tell anyone I said this, yes?”

By the slimmest of margins, Klink kept himself from shouting as his annoyance overcame his discomfort. “That’s what ‘off the record’ means, Dummkopf,” he ground out slowly, unable to help attaching the insult. That had maybe been a little too harsh but he already knew that he wouldn’t like the news Shultz was going to give him - having it drawn out wouldn’t make it any better.

Shultz, used to being called names, didn’t even look insulted although he still seemed uneasy. “The shout had come from behind the latrines so I went around and do you know what I saw?”

‘Don’t say anything. Don’t say anything.’ As satisfying as it would be to start yelling at the man, he knew doing so wouldn’t make Shultz get to the point any sooner. The quickest way of getting to the bottom of all this was to wait for him to tell the story his own way and at his own pace. Klink shook his head.

“General Adler was there and he was pinning Sergeant,” his eyes narrowed briefly, “Jackson against the wall. He had his hand over the Sergeant’s mouth and he was saying something to him but he was speaking so low, I couldn’t hear.”

“Dear God,” Klink whispered, his hand going up to his mouth. Looked like he wasn’t to the only one Adler had decided to foist himself on. That the man would try something like this was a possibility that he had never even considered and it was a terrible shock for him. It did make perfect sense though: why risk going after guards when prisoners were so much more plentiful and so much easier to catch alone? And, if a prisoner thought it’d do him any good to report something like that, who would believe such a story?

Klink wasn’t sure if he would have before all this: it’d be simply too fantastic to even consider.

“God.” His camp had been a buffet for that monster and he hadn’t even realized it.

“Kommandant?”

Shaking his head, Klink returned his attention to the Sergeant. “What happened then?” He’d heard this much; he might as well hear the rest.

Shultz frowned in concerned confusion before continuing on. “I asked the General if there was a problem because it didn’t look right to me at all.” He shook his head and half shrugged, distressed. “The General had no reason to be touching the prisoners - if there was a problem, he should have come to me or any of the other guards to handle it.” He seemed to realize he was getting a little off topic and he shrugged again. “I asked him if there was a problem and he smiled at me,” an almost imperceptible shudder, “and said that he and the Sergeant were just having a little chat. After he left, I asked Jackson what that had been all about and he told me . . .”

He looked over his shoulder, as though he feared Adler might suddenly appear behind him, before leaning forward and whispering, “He told me that the General had tried to kiss him.”

It wasn’t really a surprise but Klink felt his stomach drop anyway. “Why didn’t you report this?” Even as he made the demand, he knew what the answer would be.

“I- I didn’t actually see the General do anything, Kommandant,” Shultz stammered. “That would be a very serious accusation and,” he tried to chuckle, “I’d rather not get involved with the Gestapo.”

Who would? Wasn’t that the reason he was in this mess in the first place? Klink felt his hand clench into a fist, his rage at Shultz’s news gaining a victory over the sick feeling that had formed in his stomach. He should have known about this already. He should have been told.

He was the Kommandant - he should know what was happening in his own camp! Who knew how many men Adler had fondled before Shultz had caught him at it? Those POWs weren’t on his side of the war but that didn’t mean he thought they deserved having Adler happen to them. He was in charge of those men; he was supposed to keep them safe, for God’s sake.

Being the Kommandant of Stalag 13 had been one of the few duties he’d had that he could honestly claim some skill - that he did well - and now? Now, he found out he’d bungled it. Spectacularly. To think that Adler could do something like this, right under his own nose, and know he could get away with it was galling. Maybe he’d only gotten as far as trying to kiss that Sergeant but that didn’t mean he would have stopped there if Shultz hadn’t happened to be passing by.

Knowing Adler’s tastes ... Stalag 13 must seem like a candy store to him.

Well, no more! Klink knew about all of this now and he was going to do something to put a stop to it. He wasn’t about to let that swine think he could just go around molesting his prisoners! “I want you to station a guard at the latrines until General Adler leaves.” Where else? “I want a guard at the showers too.” There were probably a few other relatively isolated places the beast could try but, even as Klink considered them, he came to the sickening realization that the guards probably wouldn’t be necessary anymore.

Adler no longer needed to corner some unlucky man to get his pleasure: he had Klink to play with now. Klink shivered and wrapped his arms around himself, almost feeling the man’s hands on him as he recalled Adler’s claims of owning him and wanting to keep him around. For a selfish moment, he wished Shultz hadn’t caught Adler - maybe Adler would have been satisfied with Sergeant Jackson and maybe he wouldn’t have bothered blackmailing him at all.

But only for a moment because, as much as he wished that he’d never had this chance to learn so many horrible things about himself, he knew he deserved Adler’s attentions more than that Sergeant. After all, wasn’t he the one who was deranged enough to find pleasure in the man’s touch? Wasn’t he the one who -

Hands on his shoulders. Worms on his skin. With an inarticulate cry, Klink pulled away from them and fell out of his chair. He hit the floor hard and it took him a long moment to catch his breath. A voice was talking to him. It sounded afraid. Anxious. It also sounded vaguely familiar.

Closing his eyes, Klink forced himself to focus on it. By degrees, he realized it was Shultz’s voice and he realized what must have happened: his thoughts had wandered again and Shultz must have been trying to get his attention.

He felt a hand on his arm and a tug. Shultz was trying to get him up and, at any other time - before Adler had entered his life - he wouldn’t have minded the help. Now, though, he needed the man to stop. Right now. Before Klink did anything else to embarrass himself.

“Sergeant,” he said softly, trying very hard to reign in the frustration at his fear as well as his rising panic, “let go of me. Now.”

Immediately, the hand left his arm. “Are you all right, Kommandant?”

Klink decided he was growing tired of hearing that question; the only answer he could give to it was a painfully obvious lie. Opening his eyes, he saw Shultz leaning over him. “Yes. Just . . . just give me some room.” Once Shultz had backed away, Klink started the slow, arduous journey upwards.

When he finally made it back to his feet, he felt incredibly unsteady. Seeing that Shultz had righted the chair, he sat down. He stared up at the worried man and let out a long breath. Maybe what he was going to say to him would sound incredibly suspicious but he didn’t know how many more of these . . . scares he could take. His heart was still in his throat and his chest felt painfully tight. “Sergeant, I’d . . . I’d prefer it if you kept your hands to yourself. If you need to speak to me, find some other way of getting my attention. Shout. Yell. Anything. Just don’t touch me. All right?”

Shultz looked completely bewildered and a bit shaken himself but he attempted a reassuring smile. “Of course, Kommandant.” He made a show of stuffing his hands into his pockets. “I’ll keep them right here.”

Somehow, Klink did not feel very reassured. “Fine.” He wiped sweaty palms on his pant legs. What had they been talking about before that . . . episode? Oh, right. “I want those guards posted until further notice.”

The Sergeant saluted smartly. “I have already done so, Kommandant.”

Frankly, Klink felt more than a little shocked at the man’s initiative. “Really?” At Shultz’s nod, Klink allowed himself a small smile. Even if Adler didn’t have to try for the prisoners anymore, having the guards there would tell the swine in no uncertain terms that this camp was not easy pickings any longer.

A tiny victory at best but better than nothing.

“Good.” Then another thought occurred to him. He wasn’t sure what he could possibly do if the answer to the question was no but he recognized that he’d already failed this man once - he had a responsibility to know the depth of his failure. “Is Sergeant Jackson . . . Is he all right?”

Shultz tilted his head, puzzled. “Sir?” The look on his face clearly asked why Klink would think the Sergeant wouldn’t be all right.

Maybe Shultz was right to wonder - Adler hadn’t done anything besides trying to kiss the man, after all. And, even if Adler had had a chance to do more than that, well, Klink was sure that not everyone was as weak as he was. “Just humor me,” he said tiredly. “How is the Sergeant doing?”

Still a bit uncertain, Shultz nodded slowly. “He was a bit upset at the time but he seems fine now.” He frowned, as though reconsidering his statement, before nodding again. “He seemed fine when I saw him yesterday.”

While that might only mean that Jackson was only a good actor, Klink still felt relieved. There wasn’t much he could do for the man in any case beyond transferring him to another Stalag although he was willing to do it if the Sergeant was having difficulties here. “Let me know if that changes.”

“You think he’ll be a problem, Kommandant?” Shultz asked, now utterly confounded.

Klink sighed and rubbed his face. “I don’t know. I don’t know. I just want to be kept informed.” Then he remembered why he’d had to have this conversation with Shultz in the first place. “And the next time something like this happens, I want to be told.”

“B-but, but, Kommandant -”

Looking at Shultz and noting the trapped expression on his face, Klink sighed again. “It can be off the record but I need to know what’s going on around here - is that clear?”

“Yes, Herr Kommandant,” Shultz answered unhappily, slumping a bit. “May I be dismissed, Kommandant? It’s almost time for the evening roll.”

Was it that late already? While a part of him was relieved that Shultz would be leaving, most of Klink now worried about how much sooner Adler would be here to replace him. Of the two, he definitely preferred Shultz - even with his rampant paranoia coming into play. “Dismissed, Sergeant. Just remember what we’ve discussed.”

Shultz saluted and started for the door as soon as it was returned.

Klink watched him go and wondered how long it would take the man to realize that he’d left his rifle behind. A few minutes later, a shamefaced Shultz returned and Klink felt himself tense even as he cursed himself for doing it. After Shultz had left again (rifle now on his shoulder where it belonged), Klink cradled his head in his arms and didn’t move for a long time.
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Der Meißel der Seele