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Der Meißel der Seele	By : Wertiyurae Category: G through L > Hogan's Heroes Views: 1600 -:- 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
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Author's note: A new chapter for this place and it only took me a year . . . *coughs*
I've got some more notes on this story at the end that should be read but I don't want to take up a lot of space here. Thanks go to my beta reader Python for betaing this chapter.
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After spending a very frustrating half hour trying to work on his weekly reports, Klink had come to the conclusion that he wouldn’t be able to do his usual paper work that day. He found it hard to concentrate with General Adler’s coming visit preying on his mind.
Once he’d come to that conclusion, he’d told Hilda that he would be in his quarters if anyone needed him, implying that someone who needed him had better have a very good reason for disturbing him. At least, he’d hoped that he’d gotten this across. He wasn’t always good at implying things.

Then he’d retired to his quarters where he spent much of the afternoon pacing around the living area and resisting the urge to get very, very drunk. Occasionally, he’d sit on the couch and try to read - anything to take his mind off of his troubles - but, after the fifth time he’d reached the end of a chapter and couldn’t remember anything he’d read, he’d given up on that diversion.
Shultz had brought him dinner at the usual time and Klink had stared at it; the usually savory smells turning his stomach. He’d poked the meat a few times and moved the potatoes around his plate but he hadn’t been able to go so far as to put any of it in his mouth. In the end, he’d thrown the meal into the wastebasket before calling Shultz to take back the empty plate.
Now, he was sitting on the couch, a half full snifter of brandy in his had, staring at the clock as it inexorably ticked the time away. In less than an hour, the General would be here to meet with him and Klink had decided that a little something to settle his nerves would probably do him a world of good. He sipped the liquor slowly, both to enjoy the taste (or, to pretend to enjoy the taste) and to give his stomach time to become accustomed to it. It wasn’t often that he drank on an empty stomach, but, the situation being what it was, he had not felt like eating before and he definitely didn’t feel like eating now.
He took another sip of brandy and closed his eyes as the questions he’d spent all day worrying about ran through his mind once more. First and foremost of these was: Why was General Adler doing this? He was young and clearly a successful soldier of the Third Reich - why would he want to risk exposure? If he was found out, well, the Reich had very clear views about homosexuals and discharge would be the last of the man’s concerns.
That was a lot to risk and Klink just couldn’t understand the man wanting to take it. And risking all that trouble for what? Sex with a man old enough to be his father? It was disgusting and not just for the obvious reason that the act was deviant in the extreme - it was also disgusting that the man couldn’t find someone who wanted his attentions. That much wouldn’t have made any difference to the Reich but it would have made a lot of difference as far as Klink was concerned.

What kind of man enjoyed forcing people to have sex with him?
In the end, he supposed it didn’t matter what kind of man. All that did matter was that General Alder clearly was that kind of man and he’d picked Klink to -
Klink’s mind shied away from the thought. Earlier that afternoon, sometime between the pacing and reading, he had decided to do some research. There hadn’t been much information available on the subject in his office - why would there be? - but he had managed to uncover a few things. Just reading the definition of sodomy had been enough to make him sick. He didn’t want to imagine actually being a . . . participant.
But before long, maybe even tonight, he would be. He wondered what that would make him. Would it matter, in the grand scheme of things that he’d be doing it under duress? Or would the fact that he would be engaging in the act make him a deviant regardless of the reason?
These were not thoughts he liked to contemplate.
Opening his eyes, he saw that it was now 10:30. Thirty more minutes and General Adler would be here. Thirty more minutes and he would have his answers . . . one way or the other.
Klink drained the rest of the brandy and set the snifter down on the table. There was a definite temptation to go to the cupboard and fill the glass again but he fought it down. First, it was far too late to try and drink himself into oblivion now and, even if he did manage to get completely drunk in a half hour, . . . submitting to the General was bound to be humiliating enough without falling all over himself.
Second, he was pushing his luck as it was - any more liquor on an empty stomach would probably make him vomit.
And third, and most importantly, he wanted his wits about him when General Adler came. The man had been hard enough to deal with sober; the idea of facing him drunk was unappealing to the extreme. The last thing Klink wanted to be with such a dangerous man was defenseless.
Not that he’d be able to do much if he did have to defend himself . . .

He eased himself off the couch, feeling slightly stiff from sitting there so long. No reason to put this off any longer: time was running out and he definitely wanted to be in his office before the General arrived. He’d decided earlier in the afternoon that he wasn’t going to have that, that swine in his quarters if he could help it. He only worked in the office; he lived here.
Once in the office, Klink turned on his desk lamp but left the main lights off. There were two reasons for this: one, he didn’t want to draw attention to the fact that someone was in his office to anyone outside - there were times he did work late but he didn’t want to take the chance of making anyone curious as to what he was up to and two, he’d rather not see General Adler clearly in light of what they were going to be discussing . . . or doing.
He looked down at the chair behind the desk and shook his head. No, he didn’t want to be sitting there when the General arrived. He wanted to be on his feet. Besides, he felt so anxious now, he didn’t think he could sit still that long.
Without anything constructive to use his nervous energy for, he paced in front of the desk, wiping his monocle with shaking hands and wishing that there was something he could do to get out of this. Some way to break the deal with out being tortured and killed by the Gestapo. He’d spent much of the day thinking about that problem and was no closer to an answer then he’d been when he’d started.
The waiting was terrible. It put him in the mind of a man on a ship that had wandered into the path of a missile: there was no way to escape and it and all he could do was wait for the explosion. Klink was not always a brave man (he was honest enough to admit that this was an understatement) and there had been many times in his life when he’d felt powerless, but those times were nothing compared to the helplessness he was feeling now.
He almost wished that General Adler would show up early - at least then, he wouldn’t have to wait anymore. Only “almost” because, as bad as it was just waiting for the General, Klink had no doubts that things would become much worse once he arrived.
The door opened and Klink whirled around, afraid that his almost wish had been granted after all. He felt all the tension and fear flee from his body as he realized that it was only Shultz standing in the doorway. “Shultz!” he exclaimed, not bothering to hide his relief, “What is it? An escape?”
The Sergeant was clearly startled by the over eager tone of the Kommandant’s questions. “Nno, Herr Kommandant. I only saw that the light was on.”
Klink nodded and tried not to look disappointed; an escape would have given him ample reason to put this meeting with the General off. “Is there anything else?” Please, God, let there be something else - anything else!
“No, Kommandant.” He paused, uncomfortable. Then: “Is there something wrong, sir?”
Klink wasn’t sure what amazed him more: the fact that Shultz had noticed something was amiss or the fact that he was actually concerned enough to ask what it was. “Of course there’s nothing wrong,” he answered nonchalantly, “what would be wrong?” Then he laughed.
Unfortunately, he’d forgotten that he was not very good at ‘nonchalant’ and he realized too late that the laugh had been a less than convincing mistake - half nerves, half fear and all forced.
Even Shultz was not stupid enough to be fooled. “Are you sure, Kommandant?”
Why was Shultz suddenly so concerned about his welfare? Was it that cold outside? “Yes, Sergeant.” He had to get Shultz out of here before General Adler arrived - but how? For some reason, the Sergeant seemed to be in no hurry to leave. Whether it was concern or cold, he had to go. As soon as possible.

Then the Kommandant thought of something that would make the fat man only too happy to leave. “There’s just a lot of inventory left to catalogue.”
A look of distaste and desperation twisted the other man’s features. “But, Kommandant, I have guard duty right now; I couldn’t -”
Klink had to hide a smile: he knew that Shultz had no love for paperwork - even a night out in the cold would be preferable to the Sergeant. “Then why don’t you get back to it, Dummkopf!”
For that one instant, he felt like this was a normal evening and nothing out of ordinary (at least, nothing out of the ordinary for this camp) was happening. But the feeling faded quickly as reality descended on him once more.
Shultz looked relieved. “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir,” he said with a salute. Once the salute was returned, the Sergeant wasted no time in retreating back outside. Probably afraid that Klink would change his mind and make him stay. Or maybe he was just anxious to get back to his napping - if Klink had a mark for every time he caught that man sleeping on the job . . .
At any other time, the thought would have made the Kommandant shake his head ruefully and wonder why he had not transferred Shultz to some place else. Tonight, he found himself caring very little about his Sergeant’s incompetence. In comparison to his current trouble, any problems he had with Shultz faded into insignificance.
He bit the tip of his thumb, feeling drained. Why was this happening to him? Despite his best efforts, this question kept running circles in his mind. Had he done something to set the General off? Had he said something he shouldn’t have? And why had General Adler chosen him to do this to in the first place? The General had been conducting these inspections for several months at least - in all that time, had he found no one else to foist his sick desires on?
Or had he? Klink didn’t doubt that the General was more than capable of “breaking” people as he’d claimed but, if the General had done this before, why hadn’t he been caught? It seemed to Klink that someone, somewhere along the line, would have had to turn him in.
‘Why?’ a dark corner of his mind sneered. ‘You aren’t going to tell - what makes you think that any of those men would be any braver than you are?’ And, even if they were braver, who knew if they’d be in any condition to tell once they’d been ‘broken.’
He had to concede the point: he certainly didn’t plan on going to the authorities - and not just because General Alder had told him not to. He barely felt like he could look anyone in the eye now that he’d made that deal with the General - how much worse would it be when the General had actually called the deal in?
Not for the first time that day, Klink wondered if he’d made the right decision. Being alive had to be better than being dead but he wasn’t sure what his life was going to be like after the General . . . collected. Maybe there were worse things than dying and maybe he would be better off never having the chance to find out -
No! He couldn’t think like that! He had to remain pos - well, ‘positive’ was probably far too optimistic a word considering the situation. Still, he had to believe that the humiliation of letting General Adler . . . of submitting to the General was worth his life. He had to.
And, in his heart of hearts, he did believe. But the dark part of his mind wondered just how much his life would be worth afterwards.
The clock chimed the hour and Klink stood a little straighter, replacing his monocle as he turned towards the door. This was it. He had no more time for doubts. He had no choice but to believe that he’d made the right decision. General Adler would be here any moment and Klink wanted to show as little weakness as possible.
Although it was, more likely than not, a wasted effort: he doubted that anything he did now would make the slightest difference as far as the General was concerned.
The door opened quickly and banged against the wall. The sound made Klink jump a bit and the General stepped inside, chuckling. “Good evening, Kommandant.” He locked the door behind him before turning back to give Klink a smug, predatory smile. “Just the man I wanted to see.”
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End notes: There's a couple things I'd like to talk about here: 1) Why I haven't posted here for a year; 2) About the level of graphicness in this story; and 3)Updating
For the first, I'd started posting this fic around the time when aff.net was being restructured. One day, I logged in and it looked like this story was gone. Then I couldn't decide whether or not this fic belonged here or not so I never got around to 'replacing' it.
The second thing is one of the reasons I wasn't sure whether this story actually belonged here or not. I'm not terribly good at writing sex scenes and, to be very honest, this 'pairing' squicks me right out - which is part of the point, I guess. For that reason, whatever sex there is will be on a fade to black basis. However, I think there's still enough graphicness during those parts that this story wouldn't belong on ff.net.
Finally, updating. At this time, this story has 23 chapters. However, since putting in all the < p> < /p> and < i> < /i> is a pain in the ass, and since I'd rather not flood the new stuff page, I'll be posting a new chapter once a week until I catch up. This story is also up on the Wonderful World of Make Believe archive if you can't bear to wait.
And I think that's everything. Any questions/comments/whatevers are welcome.
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Der Meißel der Seele