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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
- 7
- 8
- 9
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Once he saw the dim light of the morning sun poking through the curtains, Klink gave up on the hope of getting any sleep. Well, any restful sleep - the few times he’d managed to reach blessed unconsciousness, he’d always wake up soon after wanting to scream, remembering nothing about the nightmares he’d had except for the terror and a lingering sense of wrongness that went with them. He figured that he was probably better off not remembering: the memories he had were disturbing enough without being twisted by his subconscious.

It had been a long night . . . At least, it seemed that way. Unable to find a comfortable position with nothing to distract his thoughts but silent darkness, he had waited for morning to come so he could officially ‘wake up’. The only reason he hadn’t gotten up earlier was because he’d clung to the faint hope of getting the rest he knew that he was going to really need.
That hadn’t quite worked out the way he’d wanted it to. Of course, he thought with a wry half smile, what had worked out the he’d wanted the last the couple of days?
After getting out of bed, Klink closed his eyes and took stock of himself. The aches from the . . . activities of the night before were still present but it didn’t seem too terrible at the moment. He’d manage. Not that he had the option of not managing. The last thing he wanted to do was raise suspicions and, in order to do that, he had to carry on as normal.
Normal. As if anything around this insane asylum had ever been “normal.”
Klink’s skin still felt a bit raw from the vigorous scrubbing it had received the night before so he settled for washing his face and leaving it at that. As he washed, he did his best to avoid looking in the mirror. Partially, he feared seeing whatever damage General Adler might have inflicted but he mostly hated the thought of looking in the glass and seeing the familiar face there knowing what he now knew. Knowing what sort of man he really was.
He changed into a fresh uniform (sans jacket which he thought might be in the office), feeling as though it didn’t fit. As if it was choking him. It was as if the uniform sensed how unworthy he was to wear it and had changed accordingly.
Klink realized that this was a patently foolish thought and that there was nothing wrong with the fit of the uniform that hadn’t always been wrong with it. He knew this but there was a part of him that believed in the foolishness despite the facts.
It wasn’t until he put in one of the spare monocles that he risked taking a look in the mirror. He was pleasantly surprised. If he looked tired and a bit worn, he was still recognizably himself. For some reason, he’d been expecting a marked difference - that what had happened had changed him in ways that anyone could see.
Despite the General’s violence, there were no bruises on Klink’s face and he was thankful for the small mercy of not having to try explaining them away. The tiredness was easy enough to account for, assuming anyone cared enough to ask, and he wouldn’t even have to lie! Bruises would have been much harder.
Looking at the clock, he realized that he had to get moving on to the office or risk having it seen as it was. That was something else he didn’t want to explain! But he wasn’t looking forward to the work and not only because it would involve quite a bit of bending. The thought of spending any amount of time in that place was unappealing - no matter what he did, his thoughts were immediately drawn back to what had happened there.
Not something he wanted to think about.
Unfortunately, Klink also remembered that he would have to think about it and soon. General Adler had . . . expanded the deal and he had no doubts that the swine would be taking advantage of the position Klink had unwittingly placed himself in.
Klink shivered, almost feeling the General’s hands on him again just from thinking about it.
He’d been about to go into the office, had his hand on the door knob, when he heard hesitant knocking coming from the other side. Who was it? General Adler? He stepped back, feeling his heart climb into his throat. No, that didn’t make sense - the General would hardly bother with knocking. Swallowing, Klink forced himself to calm down. It was probably a member of his staff and the last thing he wanted to do was make a fool of himself.
But why would any of them want him this early in the morning? There was no reason to disturb him so early unless there was an emergency and he would hope that, if that was the case, his men would have enough initiative to just come and get him. Then again, he considered as he grabbed the doorknob once more, he did have men like Sergeant Schultz on his staff - a man with less initiative was hard to imagine.
Klink smiled faintly at the thought and swung the door open before he had a chance to come up with a reason not to.
Standing in the doorway were Corporal Langensheidt and Fraulein Hilda. The Corporal seemed startled, his hand raised to knock again before he raised it higher to make it a salute. Fraulein Hilda also seemed startled but it quickly melted into something that looked like relief.
Klink couldn’t imagine what it was that she was so relieved about but there were other questions to be answered first. What was she doing here so early? For that matter, what was either of them doing here? And why weren’t they speaking?
“Corporal Langensheidt, Fraulein Hilda,” he said at last, doing his best to hide his nervousness under a mask of professionalism, “why are you here? Is something happening?”
The two glanced at each other before turning back to him. “Well, I - You see, sir - thought that - asked me -”
“Quiet!” Klink exclaimed, wondering how they expected him to understand them both at the same time. He pointed at Langensheidt, who looked as though he’d rather be anywhere else. “You, what are you doing here?”
“I apologize for the intrusion, sir,” he began, sounding chagrined, “but Fraulein Hilda insisted that I check up on you.”
Klink gaped at them, perplexed. “Check up on me?”
Fraulein Hilda stepped forward, bowing her head slightly. “It’s my fault, Kommandant. I saw the mess in your office and I thought . . .” she trailed off before shrugging. “I thought something had happened to you.”
And to think the night before, he’d thought that no one would notice or care about the condition of the office! Klink stared at her, feeling equal parts touched and terrified. He was touched by her concern but terrified of what suspicions she might have about what had happened to him. The thought of someone somehow piecing it together made his stomach twist.
But he was being foolish again. There was no way for her, for anyone, to know what he had done. The evidence of his body’s betrayal was gone, on General Adler’s handkerchief. He’d barely noticed him wiping the desk at the time and hadn’t thought too much about it afterwards.
Klink hated feeling grateful to the General for anything but he had to admit that he was grateful. For that bit of evidence, no innocent explanation existed.
“Sir?”
“Are you all right?”
For a moment, Klink eyed the two concerned people in front of him and could not remember why they were there. Then it came back to him and he didn’t understand how he’d managed to forget in the first place. Shaking his head in an effort to clear it, he offered them a smile and tried to sound as though he’d been paying attention. “I’m fine, Fraulein.”
His secretary frowned, obviously not believing him. “But Kommandant -”
“I’m fine,” he repeated firmly, holding up a hand to forestall anything else she might have wanted to say. “I felt a bit . . . poorly last night, but I am perfectly all right now. Nothing to worry about.” Klink was almost proud of how sure he sounded saying this - he would never have thought he was such a good actor.
The truth was, even before his thoughts had taken off in a direction of their own, he’d been feeling increasingly uncomfortable and he wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t just the niggling feeling that there was some outward sign of what he’d become. It wasn’t even the simple discomfort from the effort it was taking to keep that damn smile on his face. It was something else. Something harder to pin down.
Glancing at Corporal Langensheidt, Klink saw that the young man was looking at him. Klink’s glance turned into a stare as he tried to figure out why the Corporal was eyeing him so intently. Was it just his imagination, or was there something suspicious in that gaze? Something appraising, perhaps?
Klink could feel his hands starting to shake and he clenched them into fists. No, he was wrong. He had to be wrong. He was just being foolish again. There was no way what he thought he saw there was what he saw there. He had nothing to fear from his staff. Nothing.
“Sir?”
. . . Why was that so hard to believe?
“Don’t you have somewhere to be, Langensheidt?” Klink demanded, burying his anxiety under a thick layer of irritation.
“Ah, yes, sir,” Langensheidt replied quickly, clearly confused by the sudden shift in Klink’s mood. “I was just -”
“I don’t care, Corporal.” Klink’s fists clenched just a little tighter. “Just get out of here!”
“O-of course, Kommandant,” the Corporal stuttered, bowing his head and giving a salute. Once his salute had been brusquely returned, the young man left like a shot.
Klink watched him go, immediately feeling calmer. He was a bit sorry about taking his frustrations, his fears, out on the Corporal but he figured that he had other things to be worried about. Besides, why should he feel guilty? He yelled at Schultz all the time and he never felt guilt over that.
Of course, Sergeant Schultz usually did something to deserve it.
Realizing that his fists were still clenched, he opened his hands and turned back to his secretary. For a split second, her expression flickered between shock and fear but both were quickly replaced by a pleasant but false smile.
“I’ll, uh, I’ll just wait for those reports, sir.”
Hilda didn’t wait to be dismissed before leaving the office and, once she was gone, Klink allowed himself a sigh. That could have gone better. At least it was over with . . . until the next time he had to talk to someone. He looked at the clock and sighed again. Roll call would be in less than an hour and he still had to clean up the office.
As he entered the office and closed the door behind him, he felt a sudden bout of vertigo. For an instant it was as if he was back on the desk with General Adler -
“Stop it,” Klink hissed, not sure if he was directing this at himself or his memories. What was wrong with him? Why did these memories plague him? It was bad enough that it had happened in the first place - bad enough that he’d enjoyed it! - but did he have to keep thinking about it? And why did the memories have to be so vivid? Did he have to feel it all over again? Did he -
His stomach churned and he closed his eyes, trying to focus on something, anything!, other than his traitorous thoughts. Sweat slicked fists pressed against his forehead as if he could physically force the unpleasant imaginings out of his mind and he swayed before leaning on the wall, unable to stand upright without assistance.
Dear God, why was this happening?
Klink’s breathing was ragged and he concentrated on making it more regular, more calm. He had to calm down. What if someone came in now? He had to focus and, if he was concentrating on his breathing, he wouldn’t have to think about things better left unthought about.
By degrees, he felt himself become calmer, more collected. Once he felt that he was collected enough, he opened his eyes and immediately started getting to work. There was quite a lot to do and not very much time left in which to do it
And, the sooner he got this over with, the sooner he could leave.
Klink had just finished picking up the last of the papers and returning them to their rightful places when he heard the clock chime the hour. Roll call. He slowly put on the uniform jacket he’d picked up earlier, feeling like he was putting on armor. He thought he could use some armor.
Usually, the undisguised dislike and hatred in the faces of the Allied POWs didn’t bother him that much; he had become almost used to it. In his position, he’d had to. Now, considering how badly he’d handled Corporal Langensheidt earlier - a man who was on his staff, someone who he should have been able to trust -, he wasn’t sure if he could do it. If he could stand there in front of all those prying and hateful gazes and pretend that everything was normal. That everything was fine.
Taking his coat off the rack, he put that on too, both as a barrier to the cold and as an extra layer to hide himself in. He walked over to the door but paused before reaching for the doorknob. Was he ready? Would he be able to do this?
Did he really have a choice?
Klink opened the door and stepped out of the office. He tossed a distracted greeting in Fraulein Hilda’s direction before going out into the chill morning air. There was only one thing he knew for certain: he would soon find the answers to his questions. One way or the other.
.
- 7
- 8
- 9
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Der Meißel der Seele