Adult-FanFiction.org : Television / Streaming

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
- 6
- 7
- 8
.
Fraulein Hilda was not generally one to go to work early. There was nothing wrong with her work ethic – she prided herself on being a hard worker. It was just that she didn’t believe in doing extra work without extra pay to go with it.
You didn’t get very far in this world if you made a habit of doing something for nothing.
But here she was, bright and early (or, to be more accurate, dim and early), at the gates of Stalag 13 waiting to be let in. It was her father’s fault: she relied on him to drive her to work and he’d had to go to the factory early today. So, of course, now she had to be early too.
“Fraulein? You’re a bit early today, aren’t you?”
Hilda flashed a smile at the handsome guard whose name she kept forgetting but thought might be Kurt. “Not at all; I just couldn’t bear to stay away any longer.”
Kurt? smiled back, his gaze becoming more . . . appreciative. “I don’t think I believe you.”
“No?” she questioned with mock hurt. “Are you calling me a liar, Corporal?”
His expression immediately sobered, showing her that he was too inexperienced to catch the subtleties of the game. “Of course not, Fraulein.”
That was fine with her. Sure, Kurt, or whatever his name was, was handsome enough and he had a nice smile, but her heart already belonged to someone else. Someone it had no business belonging to.
“Well, aren’t you going to let me in?”
Someone she never wanted to have to admit could never be hers.
“Of course, Fraulein! I’m sorry.”
Once the gates were open and she bid the now apologetic guard farewell, Hilda made her way to the office building. Her main hope, as she climbed up the steps, was that today would be better than yesterday. Well, yesterday afternoon, at least. Yesterday afternoon had been very . . . frustrating.
If the Kommandant wanted to waste his afternoon holed up in his quarters, that was no business of hers. However, she didn’t think that it was asking so much that he at least leave her something to do in the mean time. There are only so many times a person can file the same files. Her nails had five layers of polish on them – she’d been so bored!
Of course, if a certain American had come back, maybe the afternoon wouldn’t have been a total loss . . .
Shaking her head, she went inside the building and hung her coat on the rack. She started for her desk before slowing to a stop in front of it. Unsurprisingly, it was in the same condition she had left it yesterday evening and looking at the oh so careful placement of everything made her feel tired. She liked to keep things tidy, of course, but the only reason that everything was so carefully placed was that she’d literally had nothing better to do yesterday.
Did she really want to sit there for the next hour or so and stare at the wall while she waited for someone to come and give her something to do? No, but what else was there to be done? Turning her head, her gaze settled on the office door. Maybe Colonel Klink had finished the reports before deciding to hide away.
Hilda was halfway to the door before she stopped herself. What if the Kommandant was already in there? Did she really want him to know that she was in so early – she certainly didn’t want to give the man the idea she was going to make a habit of this! And, even if he wasn’t in yet, wouldn’t it be a bit presumptuous of her – digging through the Kommandant’s things like that?
Glancing back at her immaculately organized desk, she made her decision.
After knocking on the door, just in case he was in after all, Hilda swung open the door –
- and immediately wanted to gag. The stench of vomit assaulted her nose and her face scrunched up with distaste as she turned on the light. She looked around in confusion at the unexpected mess. Papers littered the floor, and not just papers for she saw a lamp shining down there too. Casting her eyes up, she saw that the desk was completely bare. “What in the world?”
Tearing her eyes away from the mess, she stalked over to the window and opened it wide, deciding that the chilly air was preferable to the smell. Hilda turned back and carefully walked to the lamp on the floor. Mindful of the heat from the bulb (had it been on all night?), she shut it off and set it on the desk.
What had happened in here? Did she even want to know? Was Colonel Klink responsible for this mess? Looking towards the door of his private quarters, she saw his uniform jacket on the floor. Considering how much pride the man took in his appearance, it struck her as deeply wrong to see something so important casually tossed aside like so much garbage.
Hilda didn’t like this. Something about this situation was making her stomach do little flips and it wasn’t the smell. It looked like something had happened. Something serious.
Walking towards the uniform jacket (with the intention of at least picking it up off the floor before it got dirty), she kicked something. Looking down, she saw that it was the Colonel’s pike helmet from the Great War. Now, that was something she definitely knew he wouldn’t just leave on the floor! Picking it up, she turned it over in her hands as her thoughts turned over in his mind.
What to do? It was obvious that things were far from being well. Something was going on and it was obvious that the only way she was going to get any answers would be to locate Colonel Klink. Possibly, she wasn’t entitled to the answers she wanted, but she thought that she’d be satisfied just knowing that the Kommandant was all right.
She was a bit surprised at the vehemence of this thought. It wasn’t as though she was overly fond of her current employer – he had more than his share of faults. He was self absorbed and egotistical without being smart enough to be excused for acting that way. He was old and out of touch and he had very little in the way of what Hilda liked to call “people skills.”
Of course, he wasn’t all bad, she allowed. The Colonel did his best and his heart seemed to be in more or less the right place – what else could she ask of anyone?
And, for something a bit more pertinent to herself, at least he was content to only look at her. He had enough courtesy to only ogle when he thought she wasn’t paying attention. What he didn’t know was that she always paid attention – when you were young and pretty, you couldn’t afford not to.
She’d learned that the hard way.
Her first employer hadn’t been content to look; he’d liked to touch and had alluded to wanting more than that later. Hilda had soon decided that she hadn’t needed the money bad enough to deal with wandering hands everyday.
However, that there were certain people’s wandering hands that she didn’t mind at all. Colonel Hogan’s hands, for instance, could wander where ever they wanted to –
Shaking her head, she placed the helmet on the desk and returned her thoughts to the current problem. Clearly, something was very wrong and it had to do with Colonel Klink. In order to find out what that something was, she would need to find the man. If he hadn’t left camp, it was an almost certainty that he would be in his quarters.
Therein lay the problem. It’d be very improper for her to enter the man’s personal quarters herself, a definite breach of conduct. As strong as her curiosity, her concern was, she couldn’t bring herself to trespass there.
Turning on her heel, Hilda left the office and, stopping only long enough to grab her coat, left the office building in search of someone who could.
.
- 6
- 7
- 8
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Der Meißel der Seele