The following story is a work of fiction by a fan for the entertainment of fans. No money is being made. It is a slash story, intended for mature readers.

SUNLIGHT AND SHADOWS

by

Candy Apple

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...What we have is something different,

I think we've known all along,

So how fair would it be to divide this love's existence

Between what's right and what's wrong?

And you, always wondering how we'll make it,

Time will tell you, that I'm not giving you up.

We'll find a way to be together,

However long it takes, wherever.

If it means having you for only a moment,

A moment just might be enough.

I'm not giving you up.

–Est*fan & S*ntand*r, "I'm Not Giving You Up"

************************

"This is hopeless." LeBeau said, his tone dismal as he backed away from Carter just in time to save his feet additional abuse.

"Come on, Louis, you said you were gonna teach me how to waltz," Carter groused, standing his ground as LeBeau moved toward the old record player to turn off the music.

"Some of the guys want to listen to different music and we've been at this almost the whole recreation period."

"Yeah, well, I bet Fred Astaire didn't start out perfect either."

"His feet probably spend more time on the floor than on the tops of Ginger's shoes."

"Okay, okay," Hogan interjected, having walked over from where he'd been watching a ping pong match between two other prisoners. He had to admit that their movements were more graceful than LeBeau's and Carter's. "My mother taught me how to waltz when I was twelve. Not that I use it all that much. This looks like a job for an officer."

"You're going to teach him how to waltz? Good luck to you, I say." LeBeau crossed his arms over his chest.

"No, we're going to demonstrate. You want to lead?" he asked LeBeau, who stared at him, mouth slightly agape. Hogan was asking him to dance in the middle of the Rec Hall. Somehow, he'd managed to seize a once in a lifetime opportunity to dance with his lover in front of God and everyone and not a soul thought anything of it.

"Sure, I'll give it a try," LeBeau said, knowing his voice was coming out a little softer than it should. Moving into Hogan's arms was too natural, too easy. He held himself back and kept formal distance, his hand on Hogan's upper hip, his arm extended straight.

"When's the last time you danced with a woman that way?" Hogan needled, and Carter seemed to be enjoying watching the instructor be instructed. A few of the guys laughed. He moved closer until his arm rested along LeBeau's shoulder and back, and LeBeau's arm was around him. "Now, let's show 'em how it's done," he said, smiling. The look in his eyes was pure love, and with his back to the others, was shared only with LeBeau.

They started moving to the music, and LeBeau delighted in the experience of dancing with the man he loved most. Hogan really was a good dancer, his movements fluid and easy as they fell into step with each other. This was a moment they would remember the rest of their lives, dancing here together like this, their friends cheering them on, oblivious to the real feelings between them. Even Schultz, who had been standing guard during the recreation period, was chuckling as he sat in a chair, watching the dancing prisoners. It was all in the spirit of Hogan's devilish sense of humor and fun, and his willingness to join in with his men and have a good time when his role as commander didn't necessitate him maintaining a distance.

As the music reached its crescendo, the two men moved swiftly around the small area of floor that was their dance floor. Hogan's widening smile was contagious, and LeBeau found himself returning it, totally lost in those impish brown eyes. Hogan knew what he was doing, and what they were getting away with, and that thought obviously appealed to his sense of mischief as much as the romance of it appealed to his heart.

When the music ended, it took LeBeau a moment to realize he should let go and move away. Hogan just laughed, patting him on the back like he would any of his men, motioning to Carter to join them.

"All you have to do is move with the music, Carter. If your partner's a good dancer, she's going to be doing the same thing. You'll be leading so she'll be going where you go."

"Hopefully," Carter said, smiling. "I don't think I can dance like that, though," he said, gesturing around the floor to indicate the demonstration he'd just seen.

"No, maybe not," Hogan said, casting a lightning quick, affectionate look at LeBeau.

********

Klink led the way out of his office, through the reception area and onto the front porch. Hogan didn't share his enthusiasm for the coming of spring and the prospect of beautifying the camp for real. Things weren't going well in Berlin, and Klink had seized upon an idea Hogan had pawned off on him years ago to accomplish one of his many schemes: when the Allied tanks come rolling in, it'll go easier with the kommandant if the camp looks good. Klink wasn't admitting that was his motivation, but since the kommandant had never shown an overpowering interest in daisies and marigolds before, Hogan surmised that was behind it.

"I thought we should start with the barracks," Klink began, gesturing expansively at the camp that lay before them. "Signs should be painted, broken shutters repaired, and perhaps your men could build benches." It had rained heavily the night before, and everything was still soaked. Hogan had to admit, though, that the slight scent of rain and the fresh, fragrant air of the May afternoon would inspire many to undertake outdoor projects. If they were working on their own yards and not the property of the illustrious Luftwaffe, that is.

"Benches, sir?" Hogan asked with complete disinterest that he only marginally covered. He was watching LeBeau hurrying back into their barracks after working on Klink's car. They'd agreed to try a rendezvous in the tunnel this afternoon, and Louis was right on schedule. Hogan, on the other hand, had been detained by one of his favorite krauts to talk about building benches.

"Well, don't you think that would improve the appearance?" Klink was needling. "The men are sitting on old boxes and other things now, and it's very cluttered," Klink added. "You must have someone skilled with woodworking who could coordinate the project. Perhaps Corporal LeBeau ran a furniture store before the war?" Klink asked, a note of humor in his voice. Hogan's head snapped around at that. Since Klink's suspicions that something was going on had been vaguely confirmed during the Von Gruner mess, he occasionally teased Hogan about a few of his more outlandish stories, making him wonder how much the ostensibly obtuse kommandant really believed all those times, and how much he let Hogan get away with for reasons of his own.

"I'm sure we have someone, sir," Hogan responded, not addressing Klink's humorous remark. Though a few months had passed now and Klink had shown no inclination to make things any hotter for Hogan and his men than he had before, Hogan always maintained a certain distance and avoided confirming any of Klink's overtures of humor that might call into question the validity of Hogan's past stories. There was always the underlying risk that Klink had somehow been found out and hoped to save his own hide by luring Hogan into admitting something. That was unlikely, given the fact that Klink was a prime candidate for a firing squad if his involvement in the Von Gruner situation ever came to light. And given Burkhalter's feelings for Klink, the portly general would be just as likely to believe Hogan's account of the events as he would Klink's flustered attempts to get himself off the hook. Then again, Burkhalter was guilty of keeping the whole assault on LeBeau a secret from the Gestapo during their investigation.

"Good. Now, I want to show you what I was talking about with the Recreation Hall," Klink added, starting down the steps. Hogan followed, and felt that helpless, dreadful feeling of knowing his foot had slipped from its intended destination.

********

LeBeau had scoured all traces of the grease and oil from Klink's car off his hands and had shed the coveralls he'd worn for the job. He hoped Hogan would make it close to their agreed upon time, because it was only a matter of minutes before the others came back from their various work details. Once they were down in the tunnel, it wasn't so difficult. As long as Baker wasn't working on the radio, they had the place pretty much to themselves until they went back up top. Hogan always deftly wove a plausible tale to explain what they'd been doing down there, and being he was the commanding officer, if anyone didn't believe it, they were hard pressed to question it openly.

Getting antsy about the time, he opened the barracks door to see if Hogan was out in the compound. When he caught sight of him sprawled half on the ground and half on Klink's front steps, the kommandant and a few prisoners gathered around him, he ran across the compound to reach the little group.

"What happened?" he asked Norton, their medic, who was already at Hogan's side, checking his vital signs.

"He's down for the count," Norton said, concerned. "How hard did he hit the steps, Kommandant?" he asked Klink, his hand slipping carefully beneath Hogan's head to check the injury.

"I don't know exactly. I was a little ahead of him. I heard a thump and turned around and there he was. Schultz, get two of the guards and a stretcher to move Colonel Hogan to his quarters."

"We should probably hold off on that a moment, sir," Norton said. "He may have hurt his neck or back when he fell, and I'd like to check him out first to see if I can detect any broken bones. He's got a pretty good lump on the back of his head." He pulled his hand away, and LeBeau averted his eyes from the bright red blood there. He did have the presence of mind to pull out his handkerchief and hand it to Norton to apply to the wound until it could be checked more carefully.

"Who was responsible for sweeping the porch this morning?" Klink asked Schultz, who supervised the prisoners' work details. "These steps are still covered with rain water and old leaves and the rain stopped at dawn this morning! What if General Burkhalter had made a surprise visit?"

"At least it was only Colonel Hogan who got hurt," LeBeau muttered resentfully. Klink had the good grace to look a bit guilty.

"Will you guys stop talking about me like I'm not here?" Hogan surprised everyone as he protested weakly, reaching back to take over the job of holding the bloody handkerchief against his own head injury. "My foot slipped."

By that time, most of the camp population had gathered for the spectacle, and Newkirk, Carter and Baker elbowed their way to the front of the crowd.

"Take it easy, sir. Just try very slowly to move, and if you can't, don't force it," Norton said calmly.

"I can feel both legs, and they move." For all his bravado, Hogan appeared to be not only winded but more than a little shaken by the fall. LeBeau crouched on the other side of him, taking a hold of his hand and arm, ostensibly to help him move. Hogan held his hand tightly, and a ghost of a smile lit his face.

"How about your back, sir?" Norton probed.

"I feel like I have two wood steps stuck in it," Hogan retorted, forcing a smile and drawing a little laugh from the crowd.

"Let's give the colonel some time to get back on his feet, guys," Carter suggested, starting to shoo the crowd back a little.

"Show's over, mates," Newkirk chimed in. "Why hang around here when we can watch the grass grow along the barbed wire? C'mon everybody."

"I think I need a hand standing up," Hogan admitted.

"Do you feel like you can?" Norton asked. "Don't push it if you don't."

"I can."

"Okay, on three, we're going to help you up," Norton said. "I didn't find any sign of anything broken, Colonel, but without an x-ray, I can't be sure."

"This is just great. Make it through all these years in the war and be conquered by a set of steps."

On the count of three, LeBeau and Norton put their backs into giving Hogan an upward heave, and once he was on his feet, he seemed able to keep himself there. Norton began checking the head wound, and Hogan kept a firm hold on LeBeau's hand, a considerable weight still leaning on the support LeBeau was offering.

"Schultz, take Colonel Hogan into town for an x-ray. I'll write up the necessary orders," Klink said.

"Jawohl, Herr Kommandant." Schultz headed for the motor pool to get a truck.

"Take my staff car," Klink said, halting his progress.

"Thanks, Kommandant," Hogan replied, smiling slightly. "Smoother ride, that's for sure. Do you mind if LeBeau comes with me?"

LeBeau could tell from the tightness of his voice and the set of his jaw that Hogan was in a lot of pain. Klink looked a little puzzled by the request, and Hogan didn't make him wait for a justification.

"I don't feel too steady on my feet yet and Schultz can't guard me and help me get around at the same time."

"True. All right. But I warn you, if you make any attempt to escape–"

"I think even Schultz could outrun me today," Hogan quipped, and Klink turned on his heel and strode back into his office to write the necessary passes. "I'm okay, Norton. Thanks for your help."

"All part of the medic job, sir. Hope everything goes well with the x-rays."

"I'm sure it will. I think I was just winded. Tell the guys not to worry. Everything's fine," Hogan concluded, smiling and clapping the other man on the shoulder before sending him on his way.

"You lie very well, mon amour," LeBeau whispered in the fleeting moment they were alone. "You're allowed to be hurt, you know."

"No reason to panic everybody."

"Do you think you can walk?" LeBeau asked as the staff car pulled up near where they stood.

"Sure." There was a pause. "Just stick close, huh?"

"Always," LeBeau responded, squeezing Hogan's hand and smiling a little.

********

"You know, I find that a little odd," Newkirk said, pinning another piece of laundry to the clothesline, now that the fanfare of Hogan's fall had faded and the prisoners were back to their mundane work details. Carter, who was shaking out and handing him the pieces of wet laundry, frowned.

"What? That Colonel Hogan fell? It happens to the best of us. I remember one time back home, I was coming down the front porch steps, and it had been snowing, and let me tell you, boy, I–"

"No, Andrew, not the fall," Newkirk interrupted, rolling his eyes as he accepted another piece of laundry from Carter. "Why would the colonel take LeBeau with him into town instead of Norton, who's our medic? He'd know if the krauts were doing things right, but what's LeBeau going to know about it?"

"Maybe it's just habit," Carter said, shrugging. "I mean, we all work together, all the prisoners, but we're kind of Colonel Hogan's special team. He had a nasty knock on the head, so maybe he didn't think of all that stuff about Norton being a medic. He knows LeBeau better, so he just took him along."

"Maybe." Newkirk was still unconvinced as he watched LeBeau hovering around Hogan and solicitously helping him into the back of Klink's staff car.

"I hope he's okay," Carter said, watching the same scene with concern.

"Colonel Hogan's pretty tough. I'm sure he'll be fine."

"So who was supposed to sweep the steps this morning?"

"Louis was. He was supposed to do the porch and the steps and then change the oil in Klink's car. I saw him working on the staff car, so he must've forgotten the steps."

"Wonder if Colonel Hogan knows that," Carter said, grinning a little at the irony.

"If LeBeau's smart, he won't let him find out."

********

"The good news is you do not have a concussion," the aging German doctor announced, his English heavily accented. "The rest of the good news is you are very lucky you did not break your back."

"Was it that serious?" Hogan was still sitting on the exam table wearing a white hospital gown following the x-rays and examination. Schultz and LeBeau were exiled to the waiting room by the elderly doctor who rejected the notion that the injured officer posed any danger to him.

"Colonel Hogan, a colleague of mine treated a French prisoner from your camp just a few months ago for injuries from a brutal assault. I assume that was your friend who came with you. I know that I would have very little power over the military, but I could get word to the Red Cross if this kind of thing is happening frequently."

"You think someone did this to me? Look, Doc, I know it sounds ridiculous, but my foot slipped, and I must have really hit the steps hard. I feel like an idiot, and it would be less embarrassing to say that Klink was trying to beat information out of me, but that's not what happened."

"That would explain the bruising, if you hit the steps very hard when you fell. Bruising is beginning to show around each of the vertebrae in that area of your back. The pains in your lower back that radiate out to your sides are most likely from serious bruising to your kidneys. You took the brunt of the fall in that area. If you are careful, get a lot of rest, you should recover. You'll be in pain for a while, but I don't expect any lingering damage. I do want to see you again in a week, to check your kidney function, be sure you are healing."

"You'll have to arrange that with Schultz. I'm sure Klink'll okay it."

"This...Klink? He is the kommandant?"

"Yes. It was his order for me to get the x-rays and the exam." Hogan thought it over, and declined to say more about Klink's humane treatment of his men. You never could be too careful in whom you confided.

"Very well. I'll summon the sergeant back in here. And your man, so he can help you dress."

"I can manage, thanks, Doctor," Hogan said, smiling a little.

"Doctor's orders. He seems eager to be of help, and you don't need to strain yourself right now. Between that bump on your head and the injury to your kidney area, I want you to be still and accept some help."

"You're the doctor," Hogan said, resigned.

The doctor summoned Schultz and LeBeau back to the room.

"You will tell your kommandant that Colonel Hogan is to return in one week for another examination, and he is to be excused from any type of physical exertion until that time, when I will re-evaluate his condition."

"What's wrong, Colonel?" LeBeau asked, already back at Hogan's side.

"Hitting the steps when I fell banged up my kidneys a little, but the doctor here says I'll live."

"What's wrong with his kidneys?" LeBeau asked, real fear obvious in his eyes. Hogan was touched by the concern, and laid a hand on LeBeau's shoulder.

"They're just bruised, Louis. I'm okay," Hogan said, not worrying about the use of LeBeau's first name. This was hardly a formal setting.

"Anytime you injure your kidneys, even in the most minor way, it is cause for concern. A bruised kidney can cease functioning under certain circumstances. I expect you to rest, limit your activity, and notify your kommandant immediately if any of your symptoms worsen."

"I will, Doctor."

"Give this to the nurse. She'll fill it for you from my dispensary," the doctor said, handing Schultz a written prescription. "Those are for pain. And schedule next week's appointment while you're at it."

"Jawohl, Herr Doctor." Schultz exited to the outer office to talk to the nurse.

Meanwhile, LeBeau didn't wait for an invitation, but instead gathered up Hogan's clothes and began helping him get dressed, especially for any movements that would require stooping or stretching. By the time Schultz returned, Hogan was buttoning his shirt and LeBeau was crouched at his feet, tying his shoes.

Hogan had to smile when Schultz held his jacket for him and LeBeau handed him his hat. He couldn't have asked for two more solicitous caretakers. LeBeau stayed close, ready to provide a supporting hand. Hogan used the excuse to rest his arm around LeBeau's shoulders as they walked out of the office, enjoying the closeness but honestly feeling the need for the support. The muscles in his back were protesting the abuse they'd taken, and walking was sending waves of pain through his body. His head pounded relentlessly, and all he wanted to do was close the shutters in his office, curl up on his bunk and die quietly. Or at least nap for as long as twice the prescribed dose of pain pills would knock him out.

As Schultz drove the staff car back toward camp, LeBeau sat in the back with Hogan. Satisfied Schultz's attention was on the road before him, LeBeau reached for Hogan's hand and surreptitiously held onto it. Hogan squeezed tightly, glad for the touch and for the understanding he knew came with it. Louis had felt he'd relied so heavily on Hogan after the Von Gruner incident, and felt Hogan had been so strong for him. Hogan couldn't begin to describe how much strength he drew, and had always drawn, just from LeBeau's concern and his genuine caring.

Hogan rested his head against the back of the seat, then moved it again when the swollen area on the back of his head pressed against the firm surface.

"It isn't much longer until we're back at camp," LeBeau said, squeezing Hogan's hand. "You can get some rest."

"Hey, Schultz, the nurse give you those pills?" Hogan asked.

"I have them right here," Schultz said, freeing one chubby hand to pat his breast pocket.

"Hand 'em over." Hogan reached forward, and Schultz handed him the small pill bottle. Hogan swallowed two of the small pills without water.

"The pain is bad?" LeBeau asked, frowning.

"My head's pounding like a bass drum and the rhythm section in my back is joining in."

"Schultz, stop the car!" LeBeau shouted, and Schultz slammed on the brakes, drawing a groan out of Hogan and an angry protest from the portly sergeant as he struggled his way out from behind the wheel to follow LeBeau, who had left the car to...pick flowers.

"And I thought I was the one with the head injury," Hogan said to himself, smiling at the utter ineffectiveness of Schultz's guarding skills as he blustered at LeBeau who was happily picking yellow flowers, and left Hogan completely unguarded in the staff car with the motor running.

Finally, LeBeau and Schultz made their way back to the car, bickering all the way. LeBeau was gesturing and saying something decidedly unsavory in French as Schultz hustled him into the back seat again.

"I just hope I have enough. If I don't have enough, Schultz, you're going to have to come and get more!"

"You do not give me orders, cockroach! I'm not driving five miles in the country to pick weeds!"

"You will if you want anymore strudel," LeBeau said calmly, assessing his armload of yellow flowers.

"I probably don't want to know," Hogan said, poking at one of the small blossoms with his finger.

"It's Arnica. You grind the center of the flowers into powder, and if you make it into an ointment, it eases bruising and swelling. My grandmother swore by it," he concluded, smiling.

"Oh. I thought it was some new recipe," Schultz grumbled, resuming their trip down the road. "That bearnaise sauce plaster of hers certainly worked on the kommandant's cold last year. She must have been a very wise lady."

Hogan shot LeBeau a look, his eyebrow raised a bit, a devilish grin on his face. LeBeau returned the smile before replying.

"Some of her cures were as good as penicillin."

********

The staff car entered the gates and Schultz drove across the compound until he was near Hogan's barracks. The men were mostly finished with their work details, and were on their recreation period by the time the three of them returned to camp. Most of Hogan's barracks-mates were pacing around the building, waiting for their commanding officer to return.

Schultz got out of the car, and in the moment they had alone, Hogan leaned over toward LeBeau.

"I'm gonna need a hand getting out, but I have to walk in there on my own, so stick close, but let me do it myself."

"But Colonel–"

"No 'buts'. They need to see me walk in there under my own power, and fill them in on what's happening. It's a matter of morale."

"Right." LeBeau nodded, still not satisfied with that line of reasoning but taking it as the order that it was, no matter how softly it was given.

LeBeau got out of the car first, then offered a hand to Hogan, who leaned heavily on it to get out of the car. He stood there a moment, as if gathering his strength, and walked away from the support of both LeBeau and the car. Almost immediately, the men were clustering around him, asking how he was and what happened at the doctor's office. Men from other barracks were starting to gather, as well, trying to overhear the news.

"Okay, everybody, I appreciate the concern, but I'm fine. I've got some bruises and I'll be taking it easy for a few days, but everything's going to be okay."

"We redid your bunk, Colonel," Carter said, with all the enthusiasm of a five-year-old working diligently to please a parent. "We put in a board beneath the mattresses so it would be firmer, and then we put two mattresses on it, and we got Langenscheid to get us some extra pillows–"

"Sounds great, Carter." Hogan smiled, but it was strained. His office looked like an oasis in the desert at the moment, and now the door was in sight as he entered the barracks.

"Should we notify London, sir?" Baker asked.

"Notify them of what?" Hogan frowned.

"Colonel," LeBeau spoke up quietly.

"Let them know that I'll have to take it easy on going out in the field for a few days. I can't risk being involved in an operation when I'm not fast enough to keep up. I can direct from here, but I'll have to stay at home base for a little while."

"Right, sir. I'll let them know right away." Baker headed for the tunnel and his radio.

"So let's see this fancy bed set up," Hogan said, unable to deny Carter's enthusiasm for the project. He followed Carter, Newkirk, LeBeau, Olson and a few of the others into his office.

The bottom bunk sported two mattresses–one from each bunk–carefully enclosed together in crisp sheets that looked suspiciously like they'd been lifted from the linens used for Klink's quarters. At least six pillows were arranged on top of it.

"Looks like a bed fit for a king," Hogan said, smiling. "Thanks, guys. I'm sure it'll be great."

"You better rest for a while, sir," Newkirk spoke up. "If you don't mind my sayin' so, you're looking a little peaked, as my dear old mum used to say."

"I think I will lie down for a while. If anything comes up–"

"We'll handle it," LeBeau interrupted. "Isn't that right?" he asked the others, who all nodded and muttered various words of agreement.

"We'll leave you to your rest, sir," Carter said, herding his cohorts out the door. After they'd gone, LeBeau managed to remain behind, the others not seeming to notice he hadn't joined the swell of men leaving the room.

"I thought you could use some help," he said, smiling.

"Yeah, I could." Hogan didn't resist LeBeau's help in removing his jacket and his shoes, and after taking off his own shirt and t-shirt, he let LeBeau take care of his pants and socks. Once the pajama bottoms were in place, LeBeau paused, a hushed gasp escaping at the deep bruising on Hogan's back. Hogan was surprised to feel the soft touch of lips moving lightly over the worst of the bruises.

"Je me souhaite pourrais enlever la douleur," LeBeau whispered, placing one last kiss on Hogan's back before helping him into the pajama top.

"Qu'avez-vous dit, amoureux?" Hogan asked, fumbling with the pronunciation, making LeBeau chuckle a bit. He'd managed to learn how to ask LeBeau, in French, what he was saying. He'd found the word for "lover" in an French to English book of translations LeBeau had among his meager belongings at the camp. Still, Hogan's French accent left a great deal to be desired.

"I said I wished I could take the pain away. And I do. I wish it had been me. I don't like seeing you in pain."

"I love you for worrying about me so much, but I'll be okay. I'm made of pretty tough stuff, Louis. I won't break in half from a few bruises."

"It's more than that, and you know it. You don't have to put on a front with me, remember?"

"I know." Hogan pulled LeBeau into his arms and held on, soaking up the warmth of the body against his. "I wish you could sleep with me. I know it's impossible. I just wish...it weren't impossible."

"I wish the world was different, and that it wouldn't matter. If someone knew, they wouldn't hate us the way I know they would." LeBeau pulled back a bit. "After the war–"

"After the war, we'll find a way to make it work. I don't know how, but we will, somehow."

"You should go to bed."

"The pain pills are getting to me a little, I think," Hogan admitted.

"I can sit with you a while. No one can find fault with that."

"If they do, I'll put them on KP for two weeks solid," Hogan said, grinning as he eased himself onto the bed. "The guys really outdid themselves fixing this up for me. It feels great."

"I'll get those pillows behind your back so if you roll back, it'll be soft." LeBeau solicitously arranged the pillows until Hogan was surrounded by them and had no risk of moving against anything that wasn't cushioned comfort. Hogan was almost asleep when he'd finished. He pulled the stool near the bed and sat there, holding one of Hogan's hands in both of his. "Fermez vos yeux, mon amour. Je resterai près de vous," LeBeau whispered. Hogan had no idea what he'd just said, but the rich sound of his voice and the fluid beauty of the softly spoken French words worked like a lullaby.

********

"Louis?" Hogan muttered sleepily, forcing his heavy eyelids open. The man sitting on the stool near his bed was most certainly not LeBeau. Klink sat where Hogan's lover had been before he fell asleep, and the contrast was a bit unnerving.

"Either your eyesight was badly affected, or you were still asleep when you said that," Klink said, the ghost of a smile on his face.

"LeBeau was worried about me, so he was sitting with me before I dozed off." Hogan winced a little as he moved, regretting the activity immediately.

"I'm glad there was nothing broken, no concussion. Schultz gave me the information from the doctor. Apparently you'll be seeing him again next week."

"With your permission. He's worried about my kidneys. I don't think there's any need to worry."

"I didn't realize you were a medic, Colonel."

"I'm not. You know that, sir," Hogan said, rubbing his forehead. He didn't have the energy to banter with Klink or shower him with false flattery.

"Then you will follow the doctor's orders to an umlaut!" Klink ordered, gesturing for emphasis. Hogan had to smile at that. To his surprise, Klink returned it. It unnerved him when Klink did things like that now, because each time, it seemed as if the kommandant was letting a little of his facade slip. And each time, Klink seemed like less of a bumbling dingbat and more a shrewd coward who'd found a safe place to sit out the war. Many times, he simply seemed lonely. Hogan thought of what a delight his romance with LeBeau was, and what joy it had been the first time they'd made love. The emotional and physical closeness was something Hogan admitted, if only to himself in the middle of the night, he'd felt starved for. The warmth of the friendship he shared with all his men had seen him through a lot in the last few years. Klink had no such network of friends to support him. Sadly, though Hogan was usually using him for his own purposes, Klink seemed to rely on Hogan to keep his life interesting and not quite so solitary.

"Thank you for sending me into town to the doctor," Hogan said. "Since I wasn't bleeding heavily and was up walking around, I know you could have gotten by without doing that."

"I couldn't risk the backlash of bad morale if your injuries were serious and you were to succumb to them without medical care," Klink stated coolly. "It was the best decision for keeping order."

"I see," Hogan said, nodding a little, and then remembering the egg on the back of his head. He wondered if his hair really hurt, or if he was delusional from the pills.

"Burkhalter's coming here tomorrow," Klink said, standing and pacing. "What do you think he wants?"

"I really couldn't guess, kommandant." Hogan made the effort to raise up a bit on the bed. "You're pretty worried about this visit, aren't you?"

"Hogan, it's no secret the Russian Front is a disaster. Our men are dropping like flies. Being sent there is almost certain death." Klink was silent a moment. "I fear the war isn't going well for our side."

"You think Burkhalter is going to deliver a one-way ticket on the Stalingrad Express?"

"I would never be surprised. You know how he's disliked me all these years."

"I thought you considered him a friend, sir."

"Oh, please, Hogan, let's not play that game. You and I both know the man despises me and the only reason I'm not dead or chipping frost off my monocle at the moment is this camp's perfect no-escape record. But with so many heavy losses, perhaps a few escaping prisoners won't worry him as much."

"Let's not borrow trouble. Maybe he's just coming by to inspect things. Or to chew you out for all that champagne you stocked up on last month."

"How did you know about that?" Klink spun on his heel, looking scandalized.

"I have my sources," Hogan replied, grinning. "What were you planning to do, anyway? Give Fat Herman a bath in the stuff?"

"I'll have you know I was planning a social gathering including some very important people. It's possible Marshal Goering would have been on the guest list."

"I see. Well, since Burkhalter hasn't had a chance to guzzle it himself, maybe he's just going to give you a good going over for blowing camp funds on it."

"You really think he'd come all the way from Berlin just for that?" Klink asked.

"If he's bored," Hogan responded. "Unless..."

"Unless...?" Klink repeated, his eyes widening as he returned to his seat on the stool.

"When did Burkhalter call?"

"Less than an hour ago."

"What time is it?"

"Six o'clock."

"When the doctor was examining me, he mentioned that it was a colleague of his who treated LeBeau. He was very suspicious that my injuries were the result of some type of abuse or mistreatment." Hogan held up a forestalling hand. "I explained to him what happened, but I wonder if he reported it somehow, or raised questions about it. He's an older man, didn't really seem afraid of the military. He sure gave Schultz orders easily enough."

"Burkhalter would not like that. Not one bit."

"You didn't do anything wrong, so I don't see how he could blame you because I slipped and fell."

"Trust me, he'll find a way."

"Maybe he has another ugly relative he needs to marry off."

"Thank you, Hogan. You just made the Russian Front look desirable by contrast." Klink was silent a moment, and then he caught the devilish glint in Hogan's eye, and something struck him funny. The two men began to laugh in earnest.

"I'll never forget the look on Gertrude's face when I told her you had volunteered for duty on the Russian Front," Hogan said, still laughing.

"How could anyone ever forget any look on her face?" Klink asked, laughter bubbling up again.

"Or that letter you wrote to her when you thought you were courting Lottie?"

"You dictated that letter," Klink reminded him, shaking a finger in his direction. "'My darling girl'. Indeed."

"How was I supposed to know I was dictating a letter to the abominable snow woman?"

"Of all the danger I've faced in two wars, I think that was the most terrifying moment of my life."

"I'm just glad I was there to share it, sir," Hogan said, grinning evilly.

"It wouldn't have been the same without you, Hogan," Klink said, still chuckling, a light sarcasm in his voice. Underneath it, though, Hogan could hear some truth in the statement. "This situation with your kidneys. How serious is it?"

"They're bruised, and according to the doctor, a bruised kidney can stop functioning, but he thought if I took it easy for a while, I'd heal up just fine. I don't want to make a big thing of it with the men, because we don't need the dip in morale of having me laid up with something serious. I'll be at roll call in the morning."

"You certainly will not." Klink stood, straightening, resuming his commanding officer stance. "The doctor ordered you to rest, and rest you will. Schultz will check on you in the morning to be sure you are still here." Klink paused near the door. "You weren't planning on escaping, were you?" A little of the humor was back.

"Not when I couldn't outrun Burkhalter. I'll be here."

Klink nodded, then left the room, closing the door behind him. A few moments later, LeBeau came in carrying a serving tray bearing a covered dish, a wine bottle and two glasses, and a flower in a small vase.

"I thought you might like to have dinner in here," LeBeau said, setting the tray on Hogan's desk. "I'm sorry about Klink. He insisted on seeing you. I didn't want you disturbed."

"No harm done. Burkhalter's coming tomorrow, and it's got him all wound up."

"You think it means trouble?" LeBeau arranged the pillows behind Hogan's back to prop him into a sitting position. Hogan took the opportunity to steal a kiss.

"I missed our appointment today," he said, his voice dropping to a more sultry tone.

"I miss your touch," LeBeau confessed, caressing Hogan's cheek before moving away and fetching a large napkin he spread on Hogan's lap before setting the plate on it. When Hogan removed the lid and saw a large cheeseburger with french fries looking back at him, he laughed out loud.

"How'd you manage this?"

"I ground the meat, found some cheese, made the roll, and if a Frenchman can't make french fries, what is this world coming to?"

"This is great. I haven't had a cheeseburger...I can't even remember the last one." Hogan began digging in while LeBeau filled the wine glasses. He sat on the edge of Hogan's bed, using the stool for a small table on which to set the wine bottle and glasses. Hogan reached for his, and took a sip, wrinkling his nose as the taste registered. "This is grape juice," he protested.

"Goes better with pain medication than wine, mon amour," LeBeau reminded, smiling. "Just think of it as being a lot fresher than wine."

"I'll work on that," Hogan said, taking another sip. "Tonight might be a good night if you wanted to...visit later."

"What about your back?"

"I'll just have to take it easy. I didn't bruise anything important when I fell."

"I don't think it's such a good idea."

"I think it's a fine idea. The guys aren't likely to disturb me when they know I'm taking pain medication, and Klink knows I can't run and jump fences and crawl through tunnels, so he's not going to check up on me. We know Schultz is usually down for the count most of the night, and he's on guard duty tonight."

"I would like to spend some time together," LeBeau admitted. "But we won't do anything strenuous."

"It's a deal. You'll just have to work extra hard," Hogan said, stifling a smirk as he continued eating.

"Oh, is that so?"

"You don't want me to strain myself, do you? I'm an injured man here," Hogan said, his voice rising an octave.

"Pauvre bébé," LeBeau said, his tone tinged with sarcasm, though he leaned forward and kissed Hogan anyway. "Quelque chose pour vous, mon amour," he added, bumping noses with Hogan.

"I don't know what you said, but I like how you said it. I did catch the 'poor baby', though," Hogan added, grinning slightly.

"I said, 'anything for you, my love.' Maybe I should just speak French to you tonight." LeBeau took a sip of his grape juice.

"I didn't like it that well."

"I'm going to make the ointment from the arnica flowers. I'll bring it with me later."

"That's supposed to work on pain, huh?"

"Oh, yes." LeBeau looked down, smiling a little. "Besides, it'll give me a chance to run my slippery hands all over your body," he said, chuckling as Hogan choked on his grape juice. "Until we meet again," he said, smiling and getting up, picking up the remnants of Hogan's meal and reloading his serving tray.

"You're a hard man, Louis," Hogan quipped, knowing LeBeau would catch the double entendre.

"And now, so are you, Mon Colonel." With an impish smile, LeBeau left the room, pulling the door shut behind him.

********

Though much of the painkilling effect of the medication had worn off, Hogan was happy to doze in the makeshift, but more comfortable, nest of mattresses and pillows. The escape business had been a bit slow the last few weeks, and their most exciting mission had been making contact with an Underground agent via Schnitzer's dog truck, then transporting some maps to another agent in town. The greatest challenge had been deciding which bored man got to go meet the reputedly attractive female agent at the local Hofbrau, and picking out civilian clothes that would suitably impress a local fraulein. Carter had ultimately won the toss. Newkirk had been genuinely disappointed, and LeBeau had feigned a bit of unhappiness at not getting the assignment.

Hogan shifted with some difficulty and started thinking about women. Chesty, well-built, curvaceous women. Willing women. His body took a certain interest in the road his thoughts were traveling, but his heart didn't seem to be following. His love for Louis had put him in an odd, split position. His heart and his desire for building a life with someone was firmly entrenched with LeBeau, and he found physical satisfaction and warmth and passion there, too. But if he were honest with himself in the darkness of night, he still occasionally had a tryst in his fantasies with a busty wench from the local pub when his physical needs began making themselves known.

But when he was with LeBeau, really with him in a sexual sense, his thoughts never strayed from the man he was making love with. He didn't need to substitute some fantasy of Hilda in her unmentionables to get excited. Louis was a warm, passionate, inventive lover who adored him. He felt treasured every time he was even in the same room with LeBeau, and while he could remember being loved or desired by numerous women over the years–and they were pretty numerous at times–he couldn't remember feeling quite as...special as he did with LeBeau. Like he was the only man on earth who mattered, like he was the finest male specimen on the planet. Or maybe, more importantly, that he didn't need to be. In LeBeau's eyes, he was a rare jewel of some sort.

Smiling at that thought, he realized what rare jewels LeBeau and his love really were. As much as the thought of women still made his libido jump up and do a little jig, his utter contentment in his relationship with LeBeau probably explained why he'd more or less forgotten to flirt with Hilda. No wonder she'd been firing him some venomous looks when he went to Klink's office.

Slowly, the door opened a bit and LeBeau poked his head inside. A moment later, the rest of him followed, a small pot in one arm, a couple of towels over the other.

"Do I want to know what's in the cauldron?" Hogan quipped as LeBeau carefully placed the small wooden wedge under the door that would delay any unwanted guests until they had time to prepare for them.

"I made the ointment from the arnica flowers. I thought we could try it on your back."

"We'll get to that. Before we start worrying about my back, I want to spend a little time with you." Hogan had worked his way back toward the wall before LeBeau came in, allowing enough space for the smaller man to fit himself into the bunk. It occurred to Hogan how nicely LeBeau fit there in his arms as they snuggled together. With LeBeau in his longjohns and Hogan in his pajamas, there was very little barrier between their bodies as they shared the narrow bed.

"How are you feeling?"

"Good, now." Hogan sought LeBeau's mouth with his own, initiating a long, slow kiss. "I've missed you. Missed this."

"So have I. It's so hard to be close to you, and not touch you, not let it show."

"I know. For me, too."

"You didn't answer my question."

"I know, but wasn't the change of subjects fun?" Hogan grinned.

"Fun, but obvious."

"I've had worse."

"When?"

"When you were hurt," Hogan answered honestly. "Nothing compared to that." He let out a long breath. "That's when I realized what I felt for you. That I felt...too much for you."

"You cannot love someone too much."

"Oh, good," Hogan said, smiling and moving in for another kiss. "Because if you could, I do."

"You sweet talk all your lovers this way?"

"Pretty much," Hogan admitted, chuckling. "But when I say something to you, I mean it."

"Then tell me, truthfully, how bad the pain is tonight."

"It hurts," Hogan admitted quietly. "The pills helped for a while, but they've worn off."

"You should take more. The instructions were every six hours."

"You ever try to get passionate on painkillers? The pain isn't the only thing they kill."

"Do you feel up to getting passionate?" LeBeau asked, kissing a trail along Hogan's neck.

"I already am," he responded, wrapping both arms firmly around LeBeau and capturing his mouth again. LeBeau's hand strayed down to the front of Hogan's pajama bottoms, brushing over a rapidly growing erection.

"Let me take care of you, mon amour," LeBeau said against Hogan's mouth as they dissolved into another prolonged kiss.

"Stay up here with me. We'll take care of each other."

Questing hands found hardening shafts, and they pumped together, stroking one another while they kissed and nibbled at one another, sharing the slow, lazy lovemaking as if savoring the most exquisite wine. Hogan quickly stifled the beginnings of LeBeau's little cry of pleasure in a kiss, his hand still busy drawing the final shudders of climax from him. Hogan knew the nagging pain he was in slowed his arousal, but LeBeau's insistent ministrations and watching his lover's climax pushed him over the edge until he gasped into the pillow to stifle the sound as he came.

"Someday, we're going to have a beautiful room, with a beautiful big bed, and balcony doors that we open and the night breeze comes in–"

"Sounds like you have someplace in mind."

"Just a fantasy," LeBeau admitted, smiling a little self-consciously.

"It's a nice one." Hogan closed his eyes, smiling and picturing what LeBeau was describing. "How would you feel about a halfway decent apartment in New York with a window in the bedroom we could leave open at night?"

"You sound serious," LeBeau said, rising up on one elbow.

"I've been trying to think of places we could go, live the way we want, without people paying too much attention. I can't take you home to my family and live in the same town without them hounding me about getting married and settling down–and rumors starting up when neither one of us do. You can't take me home to your family in France and then set up housekeeping there where they'd all know us and be watching us. It has to be somewhere where we're anonymous. Where we're just two more veterans returning from the War, getting jobs, sharing a typical bachelor apartment."

"But we could still visit France? I have to be able to go home sometimes. I love Paris...but not as much as I love you," he added, leaning up for another kiss.

"Of course, we'd visit, Louis. I would never want to take you away from what you love. If you know a place in France that would be similar to New York in its anonymity, I'll go there with you."

"Paris is a large city," LeBeau said thoughtfully. "You mean, you would leave America behind to live with me?"

"I want to be with you. Wherever that ends up taking us."

"So do I." LeBeau smiled. "I guess we'll just have to find the best place?"

"Do some exploring together. Travel a bit. See the world. What do you think of that? Two carefree bachelors out to see the world."

"I would love it! But how could we afford it?"

"We're both going to have a lot of back pay built up. I had a little money saved before the War. We can make our money last long enough to do a little traveling, and still have enough to find a decent apartment. We can make it work, Louis. We just have to be careful...about all of it."

"Oui, I know." With a final kiss, LeBeau moved away, picking up one of the towels and offering it to Hogan, who used it for a quick clean off before handing it back to LeBeau, who did the same. "Let's try some of this," he suggested, holding up the small pot with the homemade remedy in it.

"Do I eat it or wear it?" Hogan asked, smiling.

"You wear it. I rub it into your back, and it helps the pain from the bruising."

"I wish you'd told me about this when you were hurt," Hogan said, shedding his pajama top and working his way onto his stomach, grunting at the discomfort the movement awakened.

"I didn't think of it. The only reason I remembered it today was seeing the flowers. I remembered my grandmother gathering them and making this ointment. She used to use it for bruises, sprains, muscle pulls, everything." LeBeau sat on the side of the bed.

"How does it look?"

"Like it hurts," LeBeau responded softly, resting the palm of his hand gently in the middle of Hogan's back. "The color is more vivid tonight."

"I'm starting to feel it through my neck and shoulders and down into my legs. Probably the impact."

"Good, it's still warm. I wanted to take the chill off it before putting it on you, so I warmed it just a bit."

"That didn't wake anyone?"

"Just Newkirk, and I told him I was taking you something to help your back. He went back to sleep. He didn't seem to think anything of it."

"He won't unless he wakes up and you're still not out there."

"You couldn't sleep so I kept you company for a while."

"You're such a smooth liar you'd almost think you were a spy or something."

"Who, moi?" LeBeau began at the base of Hogan's neck, and worked outward toward his shoulders, gently massaging the taut muscles with the soothing ointment. Hogan groaned in contentment, the feel of LeBeau's hands moving over him, easing the pain, relaxing him until he worried he'd drift off to sleep. And sleeping meant losing what few precious moments they had to be intimate with each other.

"Feels like it's helping already."

"I haven't worked on the worst part yet. I'm afraid it'll probably hurt a bit for me to rub this in where you're bruised."

"I trust you," Hogan responded calmly. And he did. With his life and his love, so why not a couple bruises? LeBeau was right; it was painful to have pressure on the most tender areas, but it seemed that shortly after, they felt less fierce in their throbbing. He wasn't sure if that was all in his mind, or if LeBeau's potion was really working.

"Almost done, mon amour." LeBeau finished his ministrations as quickly and gently as he could. "We should put a t-shirt under your pajamas so anything that might stain will go on that." LeBeau wiped his hands thoroughly on the remaining clean towel, then fetched the t-shirt from Hogan's locker. He reluctantly relinquished it to Hogan, who slowly put it on himself. LeBeau held the pajama top, and once it was on, sat on the bed to button it.

"I didn't break all my fingers, Louis," Hogan joked, chuckling at the pampering, but still enjoying it.

"It is hard for you to let someone take care of you, isn't it?" LeBeau asked, reaching up and caressing Hogan's cheek, pushing a few errant strands of hair back from his face. Hogan caught the hand and held it against his face.

"Not really. You've been doing that for years now."

"I haven't done all that much. I have to guess when you need me."

"You always guess right, so it's a good system," Hogan countered, grinning. Then, becoming a little more serious, he added, "I've never been really sick or worried or depressed that you didn't notice and do your best to be there for me."

"I wish I didn't have to go back out there. I want to sleep with you."

"I want you to. What time is it?" Hogan squinted at his watch. "We've got a couple hours 'til roll call."

"You should take your pain medication. Klink excused you from roll call, didn't he?"

"Yeah, he did. I'm going to try to make it, though. Better for the men to see me out there as always."

"We know you're here, and we know you're in command, and we know you'd do what had to be done if you had to crawl on your hands and knees to do it, so our faith isn't going to be shaken if you sleep in one morning."

"You're really pushy, you know that, right?"

"Of course, I know. Besides, here, like this, you can't pull rank on me."

"I can't, huh?"

"You could, but you wouldn't."

"Pretty sure of yourself, huh?"

"With you I am." LeBeau went to get Hogan's pain medication and a cup of water that was sitting on the desk. "This water is a little old. You want some fresh?"

"Don't disturb everybody. This'll be fine." Hogan swallowed the pills and then eased himself back down on his side. LeBeau returned to the bed and stretched out beside him, not wanting to sacrifice even a few more minutes before the pain medication and the massage did their magic and Hogan would be sleeping.

"This is nice," LeBeau said, smiling as he snuggled against Hogan, his head on Hogan's chest. "I can hear your heartbeat."

"That's a relief," Hogan said, smiling, kissing the top of LeBeau's head. "I think the ointment's working."

"The pain pills probably helped, too."

"Not that fast. I think you and your potion are better medicine than the pills." Hogan was quiet a moment. "I'm sorry I missed our date in the tunnel this afternoon. Klink and his damn 'beautification' project. I knew that was an idea that would come back to haunt me someday."

"What really happened that made you fall?"

"The steps were wet, and I think there might have been something else on them, like a few stray weeds. It looked like someone had been weeding out there, and some of that was on the step as well. My shoes are getting pretty worn at the bottom, so it probably wouldn't take much for me to lose my footing on slippery wet wood."

"Bradley in Barracks 8 used to work in a shoe store. Maybe he'd know how to put new soles on them, or something on the bottom so they aren't so slippery."

"I'm sorry tonight ended up with us talking about my shoes. I didn't exactly show you a good time."

"Just being with you is enough."

"That's me. Life of the party," Hogan quipped, snorting a little laugh.

"You don't really believe that just being with you is something special for me? That you don't have to do anything, prove anything, put on any acts for me?"

"I've never been with anyone like you."

"That's a fair statement," LeBeau said, smiling.

"I don't mean because you're a man. You're the first person I ever had in my life who didn't want me to be...something."

"How do you mean?" LeBeau started taking an interest in Hogan's neck and chest again, trailing kisses anywhere he could reach.

"If you're going to do that, don't expect me to talk." Hogan was still smiling when he continued. "Well, there's Robert Hogan, dutiful son and basketball team leader, Bob Hogan, big man on campus, Bob Hogan, life of the party, Colonel Hogan, bomber squadron commander, Colonel Robert E. Hogan, Senior POW Officer, Stalag 13, Papa Bear, and just about any rank of kraut officer the situation might call for," he added, snickering. "There's always a role."

"Not if it's really love. When you really love someone, you might admire them for the roles they can play, but what you really love is what's underneath. Your rank and your past and all the things you can do...I respect you for all that, but I don't love you for it. I would love you if you were the guy who sold me croissants at the bakery back home. What I love is what is inside of you that shines out in your eyes and the way you smile at me." LeBeau paused. "Of course, I know you're only after me for my body," he quipped, and Hogan laughed, though it was a little shaky.

"I think that's probably the most incredible thing anyone's ever said to me," he said, pulling LeBeau into a tight hug. LeBeau returned the pressure, but carefully avoided the bruised areas.

"You should sleep a while, mon amour," he said gently, loosening the embrace. "I'll stay as long as I can."

"It's getting a little rough fighting the medication. I didn't want to lose a minute," Hogan said, smiling even as his eyes were drifting shut.

"We'll have a lot more time. I'll be here as long as you want me."

"We've got a long time, then," Hogan said through a yawn, and a moment later, he was sleeping.

********

"I am sure by now that Colonel Hogan has reassured you all that he is in fine health, and merely suffered a few minor injuries from the fall yesterday," Klink began. "He was excused from roll call this morning due to pain medication which requires more sleep than our usual 7 AM roll call would provide. As you know, in keeping with Stalag 13's policy of fair and humane treatment, Colonel Hogan was seen and treated by one of our own civilian doctors."

"Sounds like cruel and unusual punishment to me," one prisoner shouted from among the crowd, breaking the rest of the group up in laughter.

"Another outburst like that and you'll find yourselves locked out of the Recreation Hall for two weeks!" Klink bellowed. Fair and humane be damned. If they're going to act like children, they'll be suitably punished.

"You can't do that, kommandant." Hogan's voice startled all the men gathered there as the senior POW officer made his way slowly but steadily to his usual place for roll call. "The big ping pong tournament's this weekend," he concluded.

Klink could do little more than watch and wait while the prisoners cheered Hogan's arrival, with whistles and applause. You'd think Honey Hornburg and her Stuttgart Steppers just danced across the compound, the way they rejoiced at Hogan's appearance. Klink straightened his posture and refused to give in to the flare of jealousy he felt at the obvious affection Hogan's men had for him. Hogan was gesturing with his hands for them to pipe down, smiling all the time. And, as if by magic, the camp fell more effectively silent than if Klink had fired a machine gun in the air.

"Colonel Hogan, may I remind you that you are under doctor's orders, and more importantly, my orders, to rest?"

"If I rest anymore, I'll have bedsores. Besides, I hate to miss one of your early morning addresses, sir."

Klink resisted the impulse to let Hogan get a rise out of him. It was an old game between them, and honestly, Klink admitted, if only to himself, he'd miss it when Hogan was no longer a part of his daily life. The man was alternately the bane of his existence and one of the few friends he had. Well, in a bizarre sort of way.

"As you know, this camp is beginning to show signs of aging, and some of the buildings and grounds are showing signs of neglect," Klink began. "I have decided that we will spend the spring and early summer restoring Stalag 13 to a state of excellent repair, and in addition, add certain aesthetic elements such as benches and new plantings. Corporal Langenscheid is currently in town, obtaining prices for lumber, plants, and other supplies we will need for the project. Colonel Hogan, I expect you to identify from among your men those who are skilled in wood working, landscaping, painting and general building maintenance to serve as foremen for the work details."

"Anything to spruce up the old homestead, Kommandant. Right, fellas?" Hogan waited with a slight grin while the question drew everything from nods to grumbles.

"That will be all. Dismissed!" Klink announced, turning on his heel and heading back into his office. He resisted his urge to ask Hogan how he was feeling or make any further comment on his need to rest or obey doctor's orders. While he had an uneasy truce of sorts with Hogan, he couldn't risk being accused of fraternizing, or, God forbid, treason. Besides, while it was occasionally tempting to fall into the trap of thinking of Hogan as a friend, Klink well remembered that Hochstetter had once referred to Hogan as one of "the most dangerous men in Germany". No matter how charming, friendly, or downright harmless Hogan could appear, Klink knew better than to trust him too much.

********

"Are you all right, Colonel?" LeBeau asked, at Hogan's side the moment the roll call was over.

"I'm moving a little slower than usual, but I'll be fine." Hogan turned at the sound of a car coming through the gates. "Looks like Burkhalter just arrived."

"Fire up the coffee pot?" Baker suggested.

"Took the words right out of my mouth," Hogan replied, starting back toward the barracks.

The men gathered in Hogan's office and connected their listening device. LeBeau was in his usual spot next to Hogan, watching his lover with great concern. Hogan was in pain, that much was obvious, even though it was only visible in the occasionally strained look in his eyes. Using the excuse of the huddle around the coffee pot, LeBeau pressed close, hoping his physical presence would be a little soothing. Though unnoticeable to the others, LeBeau could feel Hogan lean into him just a bit.

"Let us dispense with the formalities, Klink," Burkhalter's voice came through the small speaker. "I'm sure you know why I am here."

"A routine inspection, sir?" Klink offered hopefully.

"I received an interesting report originating from a local doctor. I understand you had Schultz take Hogan to the office of a Dr. Kohler in Hammelburg?"

"Yes, sir, I did. He fell and appeared to be hurt, so I sent him into town for x-rays and an examination."

"The doctor is convinced you are abusing your prisoners here. It seems a colleague of his was brought to camp not too long ago to treat Corporal LeBeau's injuries." Burkhalter paused. "You told him they were the result of the actions of a renegade guard."

"I could hardly tell him they were the results of an assault by a field marshal."

"You could have told him the other prisoners did it. Instead, you chose to blame one of your men, even if not by name. The point is, Klink, you directed the disgrace for such behavior on the Third Reich, not on a stalag full of prisoners!"

"With all due respect, General, the assault was made by our side. I didn't feel it was ethical to blame the prisoners for such gross misconduct, and I understood it was necessary to respect the field marshal's rank and not name him as the assailant."

"This is the kind of thing that eventually makes its way back to the Fuhrer."

"I hardly think he would be unduly troubled by the mistreatment of a couple of POW's."

"He would be troubled by scandal, and when there are not one, but two, civilian doctors suspicious of the goings-on here, that has all the makings of a scandal. One prisoner is raped, and now the senior officer is treated for what looks suspiciously like severe blows to his back."

"I would never do such a thing, Herr General. In all the years I've been kommandant here, I have never raised a hand to one of the prisoners, and I would never think of settling a dispute with Hogan by beating him with a heavy object until his kidneys were bruised."

"You misunderstand me, Klink. Which is to be expected," Burkhalter said with a sigh. "I am not worried about Hogan and his men. They can take care of themselves, and I wouldn't assume you would have your camp under a reign of terror," Burkhalter concluded, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

"I don't understand what you're saying, General."

"What I am saying, Klink, is that you are incurring unnecessary expense and raising awkward questions among the civilian population by sending your prisoners to civilian doctors every time they stub their toes!"

"There was nothing I could do about Field Marshal Von Gruner's...activities here, but in the name of humane treatment, I did not feel refusing Corporal LeBeau adequate medical care was called for. As for Colonel Hogan, he was temporarily unconscious, and the doctor stated his kidneys were bruised and ordered rest."

"I thought you said he slipped on the porch. How do you do all that damage falling down on the porch?"

********

"I'm a highly skilled officer," Hogan said into the coffee pot, smiling as he drew quiet laughter from his team.

********

"He slipped on the steps, and when he fell, he hit his back on the wood steps and the back of his head on the porch. He was fortunate not to have a concussion."

"The prisoners have no medic among them?"

"Yes, sir, they do, but without x-rays, he was unable to make a diagnosis."

"Hogan was on his feet and walking?"

"Yes, but–"

"Then he didn't need a trip into town to see the doctor." Burkhalter paused. "It seems to me, Klink, that you are becoming far too familiar and far too concerned with these prisoners. More like a doting father than a prison camp kommandant. Perhaps it is time for a change of scenery."

"I assure you, Herr General, I continue to maintain the strictest discipline here at Stalag 13. May I remind you, sir, that we have never had a successful–"

"Enough, Klink. That is not the primary reason I came here today."

********

"No, you just like to shoot at Klink's feet for the hell of it, you fat slob," Hogan commented, crossing his arms over his chest and shaking his head. Sometimes Burkhalter's propensity for dropping by to terrorize Klink with the Russian Front reminded Hogan of a couple of oversized bullies he'd known as a child who used to frighten other children for the sheer joy of it.

"You feeling a bit sorry for old Blood and Guts, Colonel?" Newkirk teased with a smile.

"I've never thought much of bullies, and Klink doesn't deserve to get scolded for acting like a human being. Of course, this is Germany."

"The monsters don't want any signs of humanity in their prison keepers," LeBeau agreed.

********

"Our intelligence has uncovered that Field Marshal Von Gruner was taken into Allied custody initially, before providing substantial information to the enemy. Of course, that does not change the fact he is a traitor, nor does it exonerate him from a certain death sentence should he be taken in to German custody at some future time."

"That's very interesting," Klink said. "I still don't understand what it has to do with me or Stalag 13."

"I would think that is quite obvious. The last thing Von Gruner did before he disappeared was to visit this camp."

"But he left the camp under his own power, in his staff car."

"So you have told me," Burkhalter responded. "One of the last people he talked to was Colonel Hogan. I am under orders from the Fuhrer to get to the bottom of the Von Gruner situation. I have the feeling if I do that, I will find Hogan there."

"Hogan? How could Hogan have anything to do with it? He's a prisoner!"

"Yes, he is a prisoner. Still, stranger things have happened than prisoners having access to outside connections. You will send for Hogan at once. I want to question him."

"I'm sure he's resting, General. Perhaps–"

"Resting?" Burkhalter's tone bode of a building rage. "You propose to keep me waiting because I've interrupted Hogan's nap time?!" Burkhalter bellowed.

"No, of course not, sir. I'll send for him right away."

********

"You feeling up to taking on Burkhalter, sir?" Baker asked as Hogan disconnected the coffee pot.

"Don't have much choice. The pain pills are wearing off, so I'm not too foggy. LeBeau, why don't you come with me? If Burkhalter wants proof I'm in bad shape, let's give it to him."

********

Burkhalter grew impatient, up and pacing now as Klink sat nervously behind his desk. Finally, the office door opened, and Hogan made his way slowly in, LeBeau supporting his right arm solicitously. It had taken Hogan much longer than usual to make it across the compound, and not all of his leaning on LeBeau was feigned, but he was definitely making the most of the situation.

"I see you finally decided to join us, Hogan," Burkhalter said sarcastically.

"Sorry about that, sir. I was about to take some of my medication when Schultz came to gt me. I'm not moving too swiftly right now."

"Corporal LeBeau, you are dismissed," Burkhalter said, and LeBeau looked at Hogan. "You have been given an order, Corporal. Do not look at Hogan for confirmation."

"Colonel Hogan is my commanding officer, General."

"Do as he says, LeBeau," Hogan said quickly, unnerved at the thought that LeBeau was prepared to take on Burkhalter simply to stay there and hold onto his arm. "I'll be fine."

"So this is your iron discipline, Klink? The prisoners only obey if Colonel Hogan concurs with your orders?"

"Sir, if I may say something here," Hogan interjected. "Ordinarily such an order would have been obeyed without question, but LeBeau knows I'm injured, and I'm sure he was only hesitating in case the General didn't realize I needed assistance to walk back to the barracks when our meeting is over." Hogan shot a very pointed look at LeBeau, who responded on cue.

"Oui, that is true, General. I beg your pardon, sir."

"Very well. You are dismissed," Burkhalter snapped. This time, LeBeau fled the room at the proper speed. "Have a seat, Hogan," Burkhalter instructed, and Hogan eased himself into the stiff office chair. "I understand you had a bit of an accident yesterday."

"It was pretty foolish, really. My foot slipped on something on the steps, and I fell. Unfortunately, the steps caught me in a bad place on my back. I was unconscious for a bit, and the pain was pretty intense, so the kommandant was kind enough to send me into town for x-rays and a check up."

"Yes, I am aware of Colonel Klink's...kindness. I am more concerned with the content of your last meeting with Field Marshal Von Gruner. We all know that the story you two conjured up for Major Hochstetter was completely false. I am fully aware of what happened to Corporal LeBeau, and also find it unlikely you would negotiate sending him to Von Gruner's country house as a cook in return for a little meat and extra showers for the men. But what I don't know is what really happened here that night."

"I said all I had to say about my meeting with Von Gruner when I spoke to Major Hochstetter."

"You can't expect me to believe that nonsense?" Burkhalter demanded.

"I can't change what you believe or don't believe, sir. But you're implying that I lied to the Gestapo, and something like that can shorten a man's life considerably. So if you're looking for me to tell you something different, it won't happen."

"You'd be amazed what prisoners will say under the right circumstances," Burkhalter stated, making an obvious threat.

********

"We can't just stand here and wait for him to torture Colonel Hogan," LeBeau protested as the other men stayed clustered in silence around the coffee pot.

"Colonel Hogan wouldn't want us barging in there and blowing the whole operation. Not yet," Carter said, shifting a little uneasily where he stood. "Besides, the colonel always seems to handle the krauts all right."

"He's already hurt. What if they get rough with him? You know what the doctor said about his kidneys and taking it easy!"

"Burkhalter couldn't get rough with much of anything besides a plate of sauerbraten, and Klink's not going to torture him," Baker stated calmly. "We just have to cool it."

********

"General Burkhalter, would it be wise for us to recant any statements we made to the Gestapo in the past?" Klink asked. "If the Gestapo even detects the slightest air of deception here, there's no telling who might be blamed. After all, they would have no way of knowing how far reaching such a cover up was."

Hogan tried not to gape at Klink with his jaw slack, but it was difficult. Klink had never proven himself very adept and clever in the past, but his smooth, confident, subtle suggestion that Burkhalter might find himself strung up like a goose for Gestapo interrogation was verbal footwork that would have made Hogan himself proud.

"I have been involved in no cover up!" Burkhalter bellowed. Hogan watched with interest as Klink didn't flinch or back down like he usually did. Deciding to remain silent through this turning point, Hogan knew he would either witness the solving of the problem or Klink's one-way ticket on the Stalingrad Express.

"If I may remind the General, I made you aware of the situation with Corporal LeBeau the very night it occurred. I was never at any time dishonest with you about the difficulty we had with the Field Marshal. With all due respect, Herr General, when you declined to become involved, it was necessary for me to decide what was best to keep order, and to satisfy the Gestapo's curiosity. As you can see, both of those goals were accomplished. Begging the General's pardon, I see no benefit in going back to the Gestapo now and telling them we were not entirely truthful."

"You know you weren't directly involved, General, but you're in charge of all the Luft Stalags in the area, and I doubt Hochstetter and his goons would easily accept your denial of any knowledge of what was going on between us and Von Gruner," Hogan said, deciding Klink was doing a superb job but needed some back-up. It was time to tag-team Burkhalter, and Hogan had to adjust his thinking to include Klink as an able partner in such an effort. "Actually, you did know that much, and decided not to share that information with the Gestapo."

"You would be wise to hold your tongue, Hogan. If I had shared any such information with the Gestapo, you would have most likely been dead months ago."

"Possibly, but I wouldn't have gone out alone," Hogan said. "And I still wouldn't. I think you know that."

"My reputation with the Fuhrer speaks for itself," Burkhalter announced, straightening his posture as he strode about the room.

"So did Von Gruner's, and now he's at the top of Hitler's most wanted list."

"I can see this is a futile conversation." Burkhalter picked up his hat and gloves from their resting place on the corner of Klink's desk. "I cannot assure you that the Gestapo will not have additional questions. Since you insist that what you are telling them is the truth, you should have nothing to worry about in answering them." Burkhalter paused at the door, and without turning, said, "Klink, you are becoming far too familiar with your prisoners, and far too lenient. Tighten up the way things are run in this camp, or you will find yourself Eastward bound. Do I make myself clear?"

"Perfectly, sir," Klink responded. Both men heaved a sigh of relief when Burkhalter exited, slamming the door behind him. "You think he'll leave the Von Gruner situation alone now?" Klink asked Hogan, who sighed and rubbed his forehead.

"I can't see much reason for him to stir it up. He lied to them, too. I think that slips his mind from time to time. They might not believe just one of us saying he was in on it, but both of us? He can't really throw his considerable weight around here as easily as he used to. He can take us down but he'll be going with us."

"He knows something's going on." Klink sat behind his desk again. "The only way he's seen me be 'familiar' or 'easy' on the prisoners has to do with offering some medical treatment, and that doesn't qualify as fraternization."

"You handled the situation quite well, Kommandant." Hogan looked pointedly at Klink, as if to convey his growing skepticism about Klink's dingbat act. More and more, it seemed like an act, and more and more, snatches of the real Klink seemed to be rising to the surface.

"Thank you, Hogan. I have my moments."

"More of them lately, it seems."

"That will be all, Hogan. You may go." Klink seemed flustered by the conversation, and busied himself at his desk with paperwork that was surely less urgent than he was pretending.

Hogan pushed himself up with a grunt of pain. He wanted to curse aloud that a stupid fall on two lousy steps was making him dotter like an old man. That he couldn't even rise and stride out of Klink's office when he was dismissed. He was surprised when Klink appeared at his side and supported his arm as he worked at straightening his back and getting his footing.

"Thanks. Sitting down is no problem. Getting up is another story," Hogan said, smiling.

"You should get some rest, Hogan. There was little point in my sending you to the doctor if you aren't going to follow his orders."

"I'm not used to being an invalid," Hogan said before he realized he'd even said it out loud.

"I would hardly say you were an invalid. Of course, you Americans are very impatient. One day you aren't in top condition, and you've branded yourself a cripple," Klink concluded. "I'm escorting you to your quarters, and confining you there for the remainder of the day. I don't want to see you in the compound, or at roll call, until further notice. That's an order, Hogan."

"You're ordering me to lie around my quarters? I'll go nuts in there."

"I could put you in the cooler, you know." Klink was escorting Hogan by one arm out of the office, eliciting a raised eyebrow from Hilda as the two of them made their way to the door, and onto the porch. LeBeau was waiting at the foot of the fateful two steps, shifting anxiously from one foot to the other. "Remember, Hogan–you are confined to quarters until further notice." With that, Klink turned on his heel and strode through the door, closing it decisively behind him.

"What was that for?" LeBeau seemed outraged at what sounded like disciplinary action. Hogan accepted his help down the steps, but reduced his dependence on LeBeau to a hand on his shoulder as they walked slowly across the compound.

"So I'll follow the doctor's orders and rest. Burkhalter should be worried. Klink's turning into a human being, and that's not an acceptable trait in Hitler's Germany."

"I thought maybe he was taking it out on you because Burkhalter was here scolding him."

"No. He did all right with Burkhalter." Hogan shook his head, then brought his hand up to his forehead, regretting the motion. For a blow that wasn't a concussion, it was certainly causing him enough pain. "I think we may have misjudged the kommandant all these years." Hogan snorted a laugh. "And here I've been priding myself on my cleverness, and I have the uncanny feeling he's been playing the game with me all this time, rather than me just moving him around the chessboard like a brainless pawn."

"Even if Klink played along sometimes, it doesn't mean that you've accomplished any less in the last few years than you did before you thought he was occasionally onto something."

"You're good for my ego, Louis, but let's face it. No one could be as stupid as Klink seemed to be sometimes, and something kept telling me that he couldn't be that dense."

"Maybe he's just wising up now. After all, he knows about at least a part of our operation."

"Yeah, maybe."

"How about a back rub and some cocoa to go with your painkillers?"

"Sounds like paradise."

Carter, Newkirk and Baker were gathered around the table playing cards when they walked in. A few of the other prisoners were on their bunks reading, while others were outside soaking up a bit of sunshine.

"Sounds like everything's under control with Klink," Baker said as Hogan paused by the table.

"So far, so good. I'm going to take it easy for a while, so if you guys need me, or anything comes up, just knock loudly in case I'm sleeping."

"We'll be fine, Colonel. You should rest a while," Carter said seriously. Hogan had to smile at the genuine concern.

"Good idea, Carter. Don't blow anything up while I'm asleep, okay?"

"If you insist," Carter quipped back, smiling.

"You have any more of your magic pain potion, LeBeau?" Hogan asked, the question sounding as casual as intended.

"Oui, Mon Colonel. I'll be right there."

As Hogan entered his office, he noticed a sheet of paper on his desk. Picking it up, he saw that it was the list of work assignments for the previous day. Confused at why it was left there, he frowned, scanning it. One item caught his eye.

"Sweep porch and steps around kommandant's office – LeBeau"

"I think I have enough of the ointment left over. I'll have to get Schultz to take me out for more flowers," LeBeau closed the door behind him.

"Do you know who left this in here?" Hogan asked, holding up the paper.

"What is it?"

"Yesterday's work assignments."

"I don't know why anyone would leave it in here. Maybe Schultz left it here." LeBeau was quiet a moment. "Something wrong?"

"I was just noticing item number 4 on the list." He handed it to LeBeau.

"Oh no."

"Louis, I'm not blaming you for yesterday. That's not why I showed it to you. I'm just curious who wanted me to see this. I looked over the work schedule a few days ago–I didn't really remember who was doing the porch which day. Someone's obviously either jealous or suspicious of the time we spend together."

"It's all my fault. I'm so sorry, mon amour. I would never–"

"Hey, stop it. Listen to me." Hogan took a hold of LeBeau's shoulders. "I'm not angry at you and I don't blame you. You weren't paying any more attention to this than I was to Klink's rattling on about beautifying the camp. We had other things on our minds. Hell, I probably fell on my ass because I was too busy thinking lecherous thoughts about chasing you around in the tunnel and wasn't watching where I was going. I feel like a damned idiot. It's not your fault I fell just because there was a little rainwater or a few leaves on the step."

"If I had swept the steps, you wouldn't have fallen."

"No, maybe not. But it doesn't make it your fault. It was an accident, and you missing that work assignment was an honest mistake. What really concerns me is who wanted me to see this, and why."

"I feel terrible about this. I would never hurt you."

"I know that, mon chair," Hogan said. Despite having looked so stricken a moment earlier, LeBeau burst out laughing. "What did I say?"

"I know what you meant to say, but it's what you said," LeBeau managed through his laughter. "We have to give you some official French lessons."

"What did I say?" Hogan insisted, smiling.

"I think you were trying to say 'mon cher'–which is roughly the same as 'my dear'. What you did say was 'mon chair'–which means 'my flesh'."

"Oh," Hogan said, unable to resist sharing the laugh. "Sorry about that. Well, if we hadn't gotten sidetracked yesterday, it would have been my flesh."

"It still is, but we need to work on your pronunciation."

"You can work on anything you want." Hogan pulled him close and claimed his mouth in a passionate kiss. When LeBeau moved away, however, he was all business, like any good nursemaid should be.

"Right now, it should be your back. I brought water so you could take your pills."

"Right now, I need to have a little talk with everybody." Hogan said, waving the paper and heading toward the door.

"Wait! Won't it look worse if we make a big issue out of it?"

"Someone left this in here for a reason, and that someone is a coward. I don't want cowards in my outfit. If anybody's got something to say, they're going to say it now. I won't tolerate this kind of schoolgirl tattling, leaving notes on the teacher's desk." He rattled the paper angrily before walking out into the main room. He approached the table, noticing that most of the men who had been outside were now back inside, and the barracks was just about full. "I want everybody's attention right now. Obviously, someone here has something to say to me about this, but is too yellow to do it in person. Maybe they're trying to imply that I don't know what my own men are doing each day, or maybe they don't like their work assignment, or maybe it's something else, but whatever it is, I'm not going to know it from this approach, am I?"

"What is it, Colonel?" Carter asked, frowning.

"Yesterday's work assignments. Someone left it on my desk. Obviously, that someone is a coward who can't approach me face to face, like a man, and say what he has to say." Greeted with utter silence, Hogan folded up the paper in four neat squares. "I'm only going to say this one time. There is no place for cowards in this unit. I will find out what this is about, and when I do, I'll take the appropriate action."

"With all due respect, sir, what kind of action? All someone did is leave a paper on your desk," Baker spoke up.

"My door is always open for any of my men, and I've never reprimanded anyone for asking me a question or expressing concerns about my orders or my decisions within the confines of military courtesy, as long as it didn't jeopardize an operation. That someone would take such a vague, cowardly approach to telling me something is a slap in the face to everything this command has been about." With that, Hogan turned and retreated to his office, shutting the door decisively behind him.

"You better let him cool off a bit," Newkirk said, noticing that LeBeau began following Hogan toward his office. "Unless it was you who put that on his desk. Your way of admitting it was you who didn't sweep the steps yesterday."

LeBeau stared at him a moment, not just sure how to answer that. He honestly hadn't noticed the work assignment, and he knew that was because he was too busy rushing through his other assigned tasks so he could rendezvous with Hogan in the tunnel. If he'd known, confessing to Hogan, to his lover and best friend, would have been the very first thing he'd have done.

"I can't believe you would accuse me of that," he said, finally.

"I can't believe any of us would do that, or that we'd be sitting here accusing each other of it." Carter sighed, leaning his chin on the heel of his hand. "Who says it's one of us? Could have been one of the krauts."

"Or somebody from another barracks," Olson spoke up, shrugging. "It's not like we're the only ones who are ever in here."

"Sorry, Louis," Newkirk said. "I didn't mean to say that."

"But you thought that of me."

"I thought it was possible. I knew you were the one who missed that work assignment, and I thought you might be looking for an easy way to tell the Colonel."

"Well, it wasn't me."

LeBeau set about making the cocoa he'd promised Hogan, figuring it would give him a more natural excuse to go to Hogan's door and disappear into his office again for a while. The others seemed to know LeBeau was waiting on their commanding officer and tending to his injuries somehow, so they hadn't raised too many questions, or eyebrows, about his constant close proximity to Hogan. Still, as Newkirk had observed when Hogan chose LeBeau to accompany him to the doctor, it seemed peculiar that their medic was never Hogan's choice to assist him with any of his medical needs.

When the cocoa was ready, LeBeau filled a large mug and took it with him to knock on Hogan's door. Before he did so, Carter broke what had become a tense silence.

"Maybe that'll put him in a better mood."

"Wish me luck," LeBeau said, feigning concern about Hogan's mood. He knew he'd be welcomed with open arms, but the others didn't have to know that. He tapped on the door, and at Hogan's grunted response, entered the office, closing the door behind him.

"That went well," Hogan said. He was sitting on his bunk in his robe, looking as if he'd stripped off everything else.

"No one is admitting leaving it there. Some of the guys think it might be someone from another barracks. It could be, you know."

"I know. I probably shouldn't have come on that strong."

"I brought your cocoa. It will need a little time to cool." LeBeau set it on the desk.

"That back rub offer still stand?"

"Of course it does." LeBeau sat next to him on the bed a moment, reaching up to caress Hogan's hair lightly. "Your head is hurting, too."

"Let's just say it's doing a better job on the drums than I do at the moment."

"Maybe the massage will help." LeBeau kissed Hogan's cheek and his temple, and Hogan had to smile at the sweet, comforting gesture.

Hogan tossed the robe aside, and LeBeau wasn't sure if he was disappointed or relieved to see Hogan still had his shorts on. They really weren't safe to do anything more than the massage, which could easily be explained as the pain-relieving activity it was. LeBeau brought the covers up to Hogan's waist, to keep him from being chilled. He scooped some of the ointment into his hand and warmed it there before starting the slow, gentle rubbing motion. Smiling, LeBeau leaned forward and nuzzled Hogan's neck, planting little kisses under his hair.

"Je t'aime avec tout mon coeur," he whispered against the soft strands. Hogan smiled at that, knowing it meant love but not exactly sure what the words were. "I love you with all my heart," LeBeau translated, still planting little kisses along Hogan's neck and shoulder.

"I love you, too," Hogan said easily, the pain pills kicking in enough to make thinking up a French phrase a little too taxing. He closed his eyes as LeBeau started singing something softly. Hogan smiled as he recognized the romantic strains of "The Very Thought of You" flowing in LeBeau's smooth, soothing voice. He knew he was losing the battle with sleep, and he fought valiantly to hear as much of the song as he could.

The very thought of you,

And I forget to do

The little ordinary things

That everyone ought to do.

I'm living in a kind of daydream,

I'm happy as a king,

And foolish though it may seem,

To me, that's everything.

The mere idea of you,

The longing here for you,

You'll never know

How slow the moments go

Til I'm near to you.

I see your face in every flower,

Your eyes in stars above,

It's just the thought of you,

The very thought of you,

My love...

By the time LeBeau carefully tucked him in, kissed his cheek again, and slipped out of the room, he was sound asleep.

********

Hogan opened his eyes and blinked in the darkened room. He knew something had awakened him suddenly, his heart pounding in his chest, but he couldn't discern what it was. Then he heard it again–LeBeau's voice in a distressed shout. Without a thought for the protest of his back to the sudden movement, he sprang out of his bunk and grabbed his robe, hastily tying it as he rushed out to the main room of the barracks.

Newkirk was already at LeBeau's side, waking him from what was obviously a powerful nightmare.

Von Gruner back for another nocturnal visit, Hogan thought bitterly.

"Just a nightmare, Colonel," Newkirk explained, somewhat unnecessarily. They rarely saw Hogan in such a ragged state, hair disheveled, robe sloppily tied leaving a large "V" of chest visible, bare legs and bare feet.

LeBeau had rolled away from Newkirk, his body still heaving with labored breathing and the obvious effort to control his reactions to the nightmare. Newkirk stood up and shrugged, heading back for his bunk.

"He'll be okay in a few minutes, sir," Carter said. Hogan had barely noticed the other man, who was standing behind Newkirk, having been roused from sleep by LeBeau's shouts.

Hogan worked diligently to have the self control to turn and walk back into his office, letting the aftermath of LeBeau's nightmare take its usual course: one of the men woke him, then moved away when it was obvious he didn't want them there anymore, and left him to settle back down again on his own. Instead, Hogan sat on the edge of LeBeau's bunk and rested a hand on his shoulder, and one on his head.

"It's me, Louis. Just relax," he said, trying to keep the affectionate tone of a lover out of his voice, and wondering how much he was succeeding. He wanted to pull LeBeau into his arms and comfort him, but even this was more than he should do in front of the others, and he knew it. But then again, the others hadn't been brutally raped by a sadistic kraut, either. "You're safe now. It was just a nightmare." He let the hand on LeBeau's head move down to his back, patting gently. He could sense the others moving back to their bunks and settling back in again, but he also realized many pairs of eyes were still on them. LeBeau's hand came up to cover Hogan's hand as it rested on his shoulder.

"Merci, Mon Colonel," he said softly, the affection in his tone much warmer than the words. "I'll be all right now."

"Good. Go back to sleep."

"Are you all right?" LeBeau wiped over his face with his free hand and looked over his shoulder at Hogan.

"Who knew I could move that fast?" Hogan said, chuckling. "I'm fine. Go on, go back to sleep. Obviously, Schultz is dead to the world out there." Hogan's words brought a couple snickers from Newkirk, whose bunk was close enough to overhear the conversation. "Good to know we could all be murdered in our beds and it wouldn't disturb Schultz's beauty sleep." Hogan tucked the blanket around LeBeau's shoulders again, hating the inadequacy of the gesture. He finally rose, a little unsteadily now that the adrenaline rush had left him, and made his way back to his quarters. The painkillers and the massage had helped, but whatever good they'd done was fading fast.

With the door of his office closed behind him, he leaned against it, ignoring the protest of the bruises on his back. Both hands knotted into fists, he resisted the almost primal, instinctive urge to bring LeBeau in here with him, where he could comfort him and hold him close and try to drive the images of Von Gruner out of his mind once and for all.

Ironic how you can be the commanding officer and not really be in charge of anything in your life that really matters.

********

The next morning, Hogan was at roll call with his men as usual, and Klink said nothing about him being out of his quarters, apparently accepting that Hogan was too stubborn to confine. Hogan thought he caught the ghost of a smile from the kommandant as he noticed the senior POW officer refusing to allow his injuries to keep him down. While the men went about their work details, Hogan seated himself on a crate outside the barracks to soak up a little of the spring sunshine and watch the goings-on in the compound. He wasn't particularly comfortable there, but the pain was becoming less debilitating and more of a nuisance with each passing day.

His relaxation was short-lived as a truck drove through the gates, pulling up near Klink's office. Baker, Carter, Newkirk and LeBeau made their way to where Hogan was sitting as it came to a stop.

"Looks like we have company," Carter said. As soon as he'd spoken the words, two Gestapo guards got out of the back of the truck. A moment later, an American POW followed. This man was obviously older than Hogan, and an officer.

"That could be trouble, sir," Baker said nervously.

"I think Klink would have told me if it was a permanent camp assignment. Maybe they're just lodging the guy here temporarily."

"You think he's a colonel?" LeBeau asked.

"Can't tell for sure. Could be a major, but my best guess is a colonel. I'll go check it out." Hogan smiled at the arm LeBeau extended to help him up. He was able to walk on his own, and he could have stood without assistance, but his back had stiffened up and the little pull helped. "Plug in the coffee pot. Klink might keep me waiting before he lets me in."

"Right, sir," Baker replied, leading the men back into the barracks. Meanwhile, Hogan arrived in Klink's office, to be greeted by the already-closed door and a none-too-receptive Hilda.

"Who's the new guy?" Hogan asked, moving around the desk to sidle up to the comely blonde. Just because his heart lay elsewhere, he hadn't lost his ability to charm a pretty woman. Hilda, for her part, seemed unmoved by his proximity.

"A new prisoner. I am not at liberty to say anymore. You'll have to speak to the kommandant."

"So he is a new prisoner, not just a temporary visitor?" Hogan tried to plant a kiss on her cheek but she moved away, pretending to file something in one of the cabinets.

"I'm sure Kommandant Klink will give you all the information you need as soon as he calls for you, which he always does when a new prisoner is brought in."

"I'm feeling just a little chill in the air here, honey," Hogan said, putting on his best sweet smile.

"Apparently spring will be a little late this year," she snapped back. "If you'll have a seat over there, I'm sure he'll call you in soon enough."

"Hilda, honey, I know I haven't been around as much lately–"

"You barely say hello to me, and I can't remember the last time you...arranged for a car for us," she said, blushing slightly. "I know well enough to know when I've been replaced."

"Who would replace you?" Hogan asked, then cursed himself inwardly for being so blunt about the lack of selection of female company in a POW camp. "I mean, who could replace you?" he amended, hoping she concentrated on his latter question. She merely looked at him a moment, as if sizing up his intentions, then decisively closed the file drawer she had pretended to be organizing.

"I don't know who, but a woman knows these things. I'll have you know I am no longer turning away the attentions of eligible bachelors in town."

"You know my options are kind of limited here. I can only do so much to court a beautiful woman."

"You managed before. I daresay if you were still as interested, you would still manage somehow." Before Hogan could protest that assessment, Klink opened his office door.

"Hogan, come in here, please," Klink said, not sounding at all as inflated or boastful as he usually did when he had a potential replacement for Hogan to lord over him. He closed the door behind Hogan and gestured toward the middle aged man with sandy hair and a mustache who stood in front of his desk. "Colonel Hogan, this is Colonel Matthews. He was captured near Hammelburg late last night after your air force's somewhat unsuccessful bombing raid on a key strategic target not far from this camp."

The two men saluted each other, then the older of the two colonels extended his hand to shake hands with Hogan.

"Pleasure to meet you, sir," Hogan said.

"Likewise, Hogan." The other man smiled, but his expression held a tinge of regret, as if he knew he was about to supplant the existing senior officer and had no real desire to do so.

"Colonel Matthews' date of rank predates yours by five years, Hogan. He is, therefore, the new Senior POW Officer of Stalag 13. I have assigned him to Barracks 9. I expect you to speak to your men, and encourage them to give Colonel Matthews the same level of respect and cooperation they have given you."

"Of course, kommandant," Hogan said, not feeling the same animosity toward Klink he had in the past, since Klink didn't appear to be enjoying a moment of this changing of command. Matthews seemed like a likable enough sort, but first impressions were not enough to hang one's hat on when a firing squad would be the result of a poor judgment.

"Matthews, I would advise you to be a bit more forthcoming. We do have ways of getting information from prisoners," Klink said, waggling a finger at Matthews, who simply stared at him as if he'd sprouted a second head.

"Kommandant Klink can be brutal, it's true," Hogan said, and didn't miss the withering look it earned him from Klink, before he picked up the phone.

"Fraulein Hilda, send in Sergeant Schultz." He hung up, then looked back at Matthews. "Sergeant Schultz will show you to your quarters. I will leave it up to you to show Colonel Matthews the ropes and acquaint him with our strict discipline here," Klink said to Hogan, who nodded. Before he could speak, Schultz reported in. "Sergeant Schultz, take Colonel Matthews to the officer's quarters in Barracks 9."

"Jawohl, Herr Kommandant," Schultz responded, escorting the new officer out of the office, closing the door behind them.

"What did you know about this?" Hogan asked Klink.

"Nothing, Hogan. I didn't know about his arrival until about thirty minutes before he got here."

"Well, for quite a few years you've been hoping to replace me, so I suppose–"

"Oh, let's not play that game, Hogan. You and I both know that it's not in either of our best interest to replace you at this time." Klink got up and walked over to his bottle of schnapps, filling the two small glasses and handing one to Hogan. "Please, sit down."

"Thanks," Hogan said, a bit thrown by Klink's attitude. He eased himself into the unforgiving chair.

"Will this be a problem with your medication?" Klink asked, indicating the schnapps.

"No, it'll just be a little extra dose, and I could use it at the moment." Hogan downed it in one gulp. "Damn it."

"I was hoping you might have some...idea how we could best handle this."

"There are a lot of things we don't know yet. For instance, the timing on this is interesting. All the time you wanted to land a bigger fish than me–a higher ranking officer, or at least one with more jewelry on his dress uniform–Burkhalter wouldn't let you have squat. The only reason you got me is because I was young and didn't have as much seniority in my rank."

"You don't have to recall my inadequacies, Hogan."

"Hey, I'm not any more thrilled to have been the little fish than you are to be in charge of a crummy fish tank. But that's not my point. Why now? When Germany is suffering heavy losses, and you and I both know that's true, and captured high-ranking Allied officers are few and far between, why do you suddenly get a more senior colonel than me, when you already have a prisoner of similar rank?"

"I thought perhaps it was our no-escape record."

"Perhaps it is, or perhaps he's a spy."

"A spy?" Klink's eyes bulged.

"A Gestapo plant. We'll run him through some paces, but it's a little trickier with an officer than an enlisted man. The guys can't pal around with him as much right off hand to get information. But we'll do our best to check him out. Meanwhile, you better live up to your nickname–Blood and Guts," Hogan added with a devilish grin.

"What would you suggest, Hogan? Nightly beatings in the compound?"

"I'm just suggesting that you back up all that talk of strict discipline and clean living for a while. We'll be on our best behavior. Let Matthews think for the time being that you really have this camp in an iron grip of fear, and that we really are either too afraid or too unmotivated to escape."

"If he's not a spy, what do we do about this?"

"Let's take first things first. If he's not Gestapo, and he truly is who he says he is, we'll have to figure out the best course of action from there. If he's a good man, I have no plans to harass him or attempt to undermine him. He's an officer in my air force, kommandant. While we may have a common interest in saving our collective neck here, my first allegiance is still to the men on my own side. Ultimately, I have to do what's best for our side."

"I think you retaining your command is best for both our interests at this time."

"I agree. But if he's on the level, I'll need some time to figure out how to proceed."

"I am sorry about this, Hogan. It was not my idea."

"I can see that. Thanks." Hogan smiled slightly. "I'll keep you posted." Hogan pushed up from the chair with a little grunt.

"You seem to be doing better today," Klink said, his tone almost friendly.

"I'm getting there. Just stay extra vigilant around Matthews, just in case. I'll let you know what we find out."

"Thank you, Hogan. You're dismissed," he said, smiling a little as Hogan was leaving the office anyway. Hogan turned and executed a sloppy salute and was out the door.

********

"This is a disaster," Carter stated dismally as Baker unplugged the coffee pot.

"At least he didn't sound as flaky as Crittendon," Baker responded, shrugging.

"That might be worse. Colonel Hogan doesn't sound like he's going to fight this guy taking over. At least he was willing to put up a fight against Crittendon," LeBeau said, resting his chin on the heel of his hand.

"Better that he gets stuck over in Barracks 9 than here," Newkirk stated.

"I'm glad for that, but it doesn't change a whole lot," Carter observed grimly, crossing his arms over his chest. "Well I say we just go on with what we're doing and pretend he's not here. What he doesn't know won't hurt him."

"You're not too far off for the time being, Carter," Hogan said, walking through the office door and closing it behind him. "We don't know yet he's on the level. Even if he is, we're going to check with London before we let him in on anything."

"Any way we can get rid of him, sir?" Carter asked hopefully.

"Let's make sure he deserves to be gotten rid of first," Hogan responded with a smile.

"I didn't mean...get rid of him. But just...relocate him."

"Baker, radio London and tell them what's going on. You got all the details from listening in. See what their instructions are, and what they have on the guy." Hogan wrote a number on the notepad on his desk. "Serial number. I read it off Klink's desk."

"You could have probably just asked him for it," LeBeau commented.

"He doesn't need to know how sophisticated our ability to check up on someone is–at least not yet. Besides, that would take the fun out of snooping."

********

LeBeau was serving dinner when Baker made his way up from the tunnel. He looked a bit grim, but that didn't tell them anything. It would be grim news if the guy was to be a permanent replacement for Hogan, and an equally grim verdict if he turned out to be a Gestapo plant.

"Allied command confirmed that a Colonel Gregory Matthews was shot down in the bombing raid on a ball bearing plant outside Hammelburg."

"I thought we blew that up already," Hogan said, frowning.

"We did. They built another one we haven't gotten around to taking care of," Carter recalled.

"Industrious people, those krauts. So what's the word?"

"Well, the physical description of Matthews fits their records, and they say he's a good man. They advised proceeding cautiously, though, because he could still be a phony. Intelligence hasn't been able to locate Matthews elsewhere, so we don't have reason to believe he's a phony, but they could have stashed the real one somewhere, or he may have died when his plane was shot down."

"They have any sort of sure-fire clue for us? Something we could ask this guy about?" Hogan asked.

"He's got a wife named Janice, and a daughter named Harriet. He calls her 'Hattie' for short. She's little–five or six, I think."

"That's pretty thin," Hogan said, taking a drink of his coffee. "The krauts could probably get that much from looking at pictures he carries with him."

"It's all they've got for now. Well, except for the usual information on his bomber squadron and his last mission," Baker said, handing the paper to Hogan, who skimmed over it.

"Make sure all the guys in Barracks 9 know enough to keep their mouths shut. I know we've got a silence policy in place with all new prisoners until they're checked out, but Matthews is an officer, and a high-ranking one at that. Somebody might get intimidated into saying something."

"We'll spread the word, Colonel," Newkirk said. "Won't be as easy without popping over there through the tunnels, though."

"Do what you can at the night roll call, and the rest will have to be tomorrow."

********

With the dinner dishes cleared away, a few of the men busied themselves with a card game while others read or mended again oft-mended socks and other garments that were showing signs of excessive wear. Hogan was feeling the effects of being up and around most of the day, and relished the opportunity to retreat to his quarters and lie down on the double-mattress arrangement the men had set up for him. His bruised body thanked him for the rest, and after a couple of pain pills, he felt himself drifting. He still planned to make the evening roll call, but right now, he had time to rest.

A sharp knock at the door startled him, and he muttered a somewhat grudging, "Come in." Matthews stood in the doorway, smiling faintly.

"Early bedtime, Hogan?" he asked, a note of humor in his voice.

"Sorry, Colonel." Hogan did his best to sit up without faltering, but he winced as his back protested the movement.

"You look as if you're injured," Matthews said. "At ease. No need for the formalities," he said, waving a hand in Hogan's direction. "I'll just pull up a stool, but I want to know how you got yourself banged up."

"It was a stupid accident. Pretty embarrassing, actually," Hogan said, smiling and shaking his head. "I slipped on some wet leaves on Klink's steps, but the way I fell, I managed to bruise my kidneys, wrack up my back pretty well, and smack the back of my head on the porch. I had less problems than this bailing out of my plane."

"That's a pretty good story, Hogan. But let's be honest, now. Is that Klink's thing? Or is it one of the guards? It's nothing to be ashamed of if you haven't been able to stop the krauts from getting heavy-handed with the prisoners–"

"It would be less humiliating if I could blame it on the krauts, but I did this one all by myself."

"I thought I'd come over, meet your team. I got permission from Klink to come over and see you, even though he usually keeps the prisoners inside at night."

"Sure. I'll introduce you to the guys. Of course, I'm sure you'll want to choose your own staff. I can go over the qualifications of some of our other non-commissioned officers with you tomorrow." Hogan made it all the way to his feet this time, zipping his jacket and putting on his cap.

"I know this is awkward, Hogan. You've been in charge here a long time. Kind of late in the game for me to come in and take over."

"Nothing personal, but I don't wish you as long a command," Hogan said with a smile.

"Anytime the Allies want to liberate us, I'll be glad to step down," he replied, laughing.

"Listen up, everybody," Hogan said as the two officers walked out into the main room. "This is our new Senior POW Officer, Colonel Matthews," Hogan announced, and the men scrambled to come to attention.

"At ease, men," Matthews said, waving them back to their activities. "I didn't come for any sort of formality. Just wanted to meet a few more of the men here, and meet Colonel Hogan's staff."

"Sergeant Andrew Carter, Corporal Peter Newkirk, Corporal Louis LeBeau, and Sergeant Richard Baker," Hogan introduced.

"What's your specialty, Sergeant?" Matthews asked Carter. Hogan hoped he would remember their cover stories.

"I'm the gadget man. I can fix almost anything, and I do some woodworking as well."

"So you maintain the, uh, communications system?" Matthews asked, lowering his voice.

"That would be me, sir," Baker spoke up. "I handle any of our radio communications, though I'm afraid we don't have much to show for it."

"You don't have radio contact with the outside?" Matthews asked Hogan.

"We have a radio or two, but the guys mainly use them to tap into the BBC," Hogan lied blatantly, hoping he wouldn't end up in front of a court martial for playing this game with their new commander.

"Corporal LeBeau, we don't have too many Frenchmen here, do we?" Matthews said, his tone friendly.

"No, Colonel, I'm afraid I'm one of only three French prisoners, and the other two are housed on the other side of camp."

"Maybe we can arrange some moves so you can be in the same barracks with your countrymen," Matthews offered.

"If it's all right with you, sir, I prefer to remain here. We're all Allies, so it doesn't really matter to me that my friends aren't French."

"Good attitude. What's your specialty?"

"I'm the chef. Of course, I don't exactly have ideal conditions or ingredients here, but I do my best."

"A chef? Hogan, you do know how to assemble a staff. Corporal Newkirk?"

"I can forge most anything you need, sir. Requisitions, work assignments and the like. I also sew on the occasional button."

"Newkirk's our tailor," Hogan supplied. "At least, that's his legitimate profession."

"Hogan, I don't think I'm getting the straight story from you, or your men. I find it hard to believe you've been here all this time and the most you've done is listen to the BBC or forge a few requisitions. You're checking me out, is that it? Seeing if I'm legit?"

"What my men have told you is true. We do have a couple of radios we use to tune into the BBC, and we've dug a few tunnels, but as the kommandant explained, no one has ever successfully escaped."

"I know the party line, Hogan. I'll give you a bit of time to do your investigating, but don't take too long. I think you realize that as the commanding officer here, I will be taking over whatever operation you do have going."

"I'm well aware of the chain of command, sir, and you will have my complete cooperation. But my duty to the Allied war effort, and the safety of my men, come first."

"I hope we're not going to have problems with this transition."

"It's not my intention to cause problems with the transition. We've had Gestapo sniffing around here in the not too distant past, Klink's been catching it from the brass for getting a couple of us decent medical care, and frankly, we can't be too careful."

"Uh-huh." Matthews nodded. "Just one thing," he said, opening the door, then pausing. "The meal I just ate was God-awful. I'm sorry, LeBeau, but we're going to have to get you moved into Barracks 9. I hate to pull rank on you, Hogan, but if there's a French chef on the premises, he's living in my barracks. Be ready to move after tomorrow's roll call," he directed to LeBeau, pulling the door shut behind him.

"He can't do that!" LeBeau protested.

"He just did," Hogan said, a note of defeat in his voice.

"That's it. I will not cook for him." LeBeau crossed his arms over his chest and turned his back to Hogan.

"It's not worth facing a court martial to avoid cooking for Matthews. You'll go cook for him. There's nothing we can do about that right now. His attitude isn't looking good."

"You think he's Gestapo?" Newkirk asked.

"No. That would be relatively easy. I think he's on the level. He's just a jerk."

"We've gotten people transferred before for being jerks. What's different about him?" Carter asked.

"He's an officer, and he outranks me. If I do something to undermine him and Allied Command considers him a good man, they'll assume I just didn't fall into line with the chain of command. I could end up in front of a court martial for that. There are a lot of officers out there who are grade-A assholes."

"I guess we're kinda spoiled," Carter said. "We really don't want this guy in charge, Colonel."

"I know. Neither do I." Hogan sat at the table, visibly tired now. "Look, we'll figure something out. If he's trustworthy and he knows what he's doing, he's going to be smart enough to know we've been running this operation a long time, and even if he's in charge, he isn't going to take over blindly and get us all killed. If he's not trustworthy, we'll have to find a way to get him out of here."

"He's already trying to split up our unit," Newkirk said angrily.

"It's a power play. He knows I'm resisting handing over command, even if I'm obeying him on some superficial level. He's showing me who's boss. He looks on having a French chef as a luxury for the commanding officer. So he's going to let me have my period of adjustment but he's going to be eating well while he's doing it."

"I could poison his food and he'd never know what hit him. All I'd have to do is pick the wrong mushrooms some dark night–"

"Let's save that strategy in case he's a kraut," Hogan interrupted, chuckling. "We can't start killing each other."

"Why not?" LeBeau asked sullenly, and somewhat rhetorically. He knew he'd get a slightly exasperated but reasonably tolerant expression from Hogan, and he wasn't disappointed.

"What about old Blood and Guts?" Newkirk spoke up. "Can't he put a stop to Matthews moving prisoners around?"

"Sure. But even he might want a better reason for doing it than the fact I don't want to hand over my chef or we don't want to lose one of our buddies."

"If I stop cooking for Monsieur Klink's dinner parties, he may move me back to this barracks in a big hurry."

"That's a possibility. We still have Matthews to deal with, though, and if we choose to make him an adversary instead of an ally, and he's on the up and up, we could have long, unpleasant tour of duty under him." Hogan stifled a yawn. "Sorry, guys, it's those stupid pills." He blinked a couple times and tried to ignore the insistent pounding in his head. "Intelligence is doing their best to verify he's for real, and we have our own intelligence operation here, so we'll do all we can to be sure he's one of us. If he is, we'll have to find a way to work with him, not against him. Once he knows what we're sitting on here, and the implications of it, I'm sure he'll understand why we behaved the way we did at first."

"You're talking awfully fast, Mon Colonel," LeBeau said quietly. Hogan had a tendency to talk fast and pace when he was really worried and trying to reassure his men. The pain was keeping him from pacing, but his mouth was going a mile-a-minute.

"We've been in tight spots before. We'll get through this one. Don't worry about your move, Louis. We'll figure something out." Hogan patted LeBeau's arm where it rested on the table before standing and making his way slowly to his office. "Somebody get me up if I don't hear the bell for roll call." With that, he closed his door behind him.

"This is wrong. It's so wrong!" LeBeau protested. "Colonel Hogan doesn't deserve to be replaced like this. And it's going to destroy our whole operation."

"I hate to say this, but I sort of agree with Colonel Hogan–I don't think Matthews is a spy, either," Baker said. "He acts like every puffed up jerk I ever served under."

"Except Colonel Hogan," Carter added.

"He's different," Baker agreed.

"What if one of us talked to Klink?" LeBeau suggested. "Ask about getting Matthews transferred?"

"The Colonel would blow a gasket if you did something like that, Louis. He was even a little bit angry when we ignored his orders to save him from Von Gruner. He's not going to put up with us going to Klink behind his back for this," Newkirk concluded, and the others nodded grimly.

"Maybe London would help us," Carter suggested. "If they know this guy is bad for morale, and he's splitting up our team, maybe they'd do something to get him transferred."

"Possible. But that would mean going behind Colonel Hogan's back again, because he's already said if Matthews is on the up and up, he'll be in command. Doesn't sound like he's planning to fight the transition at all," LeBeau said, sighing.

"How can he without getting into hot water?" Newkirk said, getting up to refill his coffee cup. "Not going to solve anything for him to move from one prison into another when the war's over."

"I guess I better start packing." LeBeau stood and went to his bunk, pulling the cloth bag from under the bed to begin stuffing what few possessions he had in it for his ordered move.

The rest of the evening passed in near silence.

********

Hogan stirred and opened his eyes, smiling when he felt the warm body against his, and locked gazes with another pair of brown eyes.

"When did you get here?" he asked, leaning in for a kiss.

"About an hour ago. I didn't want to wake you, but I wanted to be with you as long as I could. Tomorrow...when I am in Barracks 9, I won't be able to see you this way."

"Don't worry too much about it, Louis. I promise I'll figure something out. I think he's gauging my reaction."

"To moving me?"

"Someone made a point of leaving that work assignment list on my desk, which makes me think that someone either is jealous of the fact you appear to be my favorite–even if they haven't suspected anything more than that–or they do suspect us of more than friendship, and they're trying to cause problems. In any event, if any of those men are in Barracks 9, they could have tipped off Matthews."

"You've always treated your men equally. Why would anyone think you were playing favorites?"

"The amount of time we spend together. Even though I do my best to be fair with work assignments or distribution of the 'good' jobs in the operation, we spend a lot of time together–much more than we used to. We've always spent time together, or stuck close by each other, but you know as well as I do that we're even more obvious with it now."

"Oui, I know. You think Matthews suspects we're more than friends?"

"I would guess he does. Aside from wanting to fill his belly with decent food, I think the idea of targeting the man who seems closest to me appeals to him as a way to show me who's in charge." Hogan sighed. "I'm sorry it's aimed at you, amoureux."

"I'm not. They can aim whatever they want at me as long we have each other."

"I don't like what's happening any better than you do. I'll do what I can to change it."

"Do what you think is best, mon amour. We agreed when all this started that there would be times duty would come first...times when our love for each other couldn't be the most important thing..."

"Sounds real good when you're making a speech, but when you have to live by your own words, they don't sound so great."

"Maybe we shouldn't be wasting the night on words."

"Maybe we shouldn't," Hogan agreed, grinning before swooping down for a long kiss. A lot of fumbling and muffled cursing later, both were naked under the blankets. "You did put the wedge under the door?"

"Oui, it's there. Actually, I put two of them under there."

"Then barring an Allied liberation tonight, we should be okay."

Mouths sparred for control of kisses, then joined for long explorations of each other's mouths while hands roamed over rapidly heating flesh. Hogan's hand strayed down to LeBeau's backside, squeezing gently, a couple fingertips brushing the entrance to his body. To his delight, LeBeau only groaned into their kisses, arching against him. He'd tried such touches before, and while LeBeau had forced himself to accept them, to try to overcome his fears, he'd always stiffened his body noticeably, as if bracing himself for something unpleasant any time Hogan's fingers wandered too close to his center.

"Let's do it tonight, mon amour," LeBeau gasped against Hogan's mouth. "I want you that way. For the first time, I really want to try it."

"Are you positive, Louis?" Hogan kissed him again. "You know I'll wait–"

"I know you will. But I don't want you to."

"If this is because of the move, I promise you, it's only temporary."

"No. I couldn't do this just because of that. It's how I felt just now when you touched me. Please, mon amour, tonight." LeBeau kissed him again, eagerly.

"There's a little hand lotion left on my shelf," Hogan said before surrendering to another deep kiss.

"I'll get it," LeBeau offered, getting up and moving swiftly to the small shelves where he located the bottle of lotion. He was short, but nicely built, and in good shape. There was nothing small about the erection he was sporting. Hogan wondered briefly what he would think of Louis trying to fit that inside of him. For once, he wished something on LeBeau was just a bit smaller. He also wished for better light, since all they had was a sliver of moonlight coming in between the closed shutters of the room. It was rare for him to have a chance to really look at his lover this way, and the shadowy room was not helping his cause. "I guess it's not exactly what you're used to seeing," LeBeau said, and Hogan realized his scrutiny must have made him uncomfortable.

"No, it's not, but it's what I want to see. I just want to see it, period. The light's not the greatest."

"That's probably working in my favor," LeBeau joked, sliding back into bed, the little bottle of lotion firmly in hand.

"Hey, hold on a minute." Hogan took LeBeau's face in both hands. "Let's get something straight right now. You're not substitute, you're not less than what I want, and just because I don't make a habit of admiring good-looking men doesn't mean I don't love looking at you and being close to you. There's nothing about you I could see in bright lights that would make me love you any less than I do in the dark."

"I love you."

"I know. I feel it anytime I'm with you. I love you, too... It's never felt like this with anyone else, Louis. Whatever happens here in camp, or after the war, if we have to be separated a while...I won't forget, and I won't want to spend my life with anybody else."

"I feel the same. Whatever it takes, it's worth it if we're together in the end." After another kiss, LeBeau hesitated a moment. "How...what should I do?"

"You're asking me?"

"Silly, huh? Guess I know as much as you do." LeBeau paused, thinking about what he'd just said. "I guess I know more," he said quietly.

"You know about being hurt. That's got nothing to do with this."

"I know."

"Why don't you lie on your side, with your back to me, and I'll try touching you a little. We'll see where it leads."

LeBeau shifted carefully in the confines of the narrow bunk until his back was to Hogan, who spooned around him, enveloping him in a warm embrace. Hogan trailed kisses down LeBeau's neck and shoulder, one hand straying up to tweak at sensitive nipples, the other sliding down to pump at the growing erection. Hogan's own hard length was probing on its own, nudging against the seam of LeBeau's buttocks. Sliding his hand from front to back, Hogan fumbled awkwardly with the lotion bottle until he got a dollop of it on his finger. Figuring it was now or never, he pressed the lubricated finger against the entrance to his lover's body. The tip slipped in a ways, and Louis moaned quietly, moving his leg up a bit to give Hogan better access.

"It's tight," Hogan whispered, swallowing thickly. He couldn't help but think of what Von Gruner had done to his Louis, how violently he had done it, and feeling the tightness of the opening around his finger, he couldn't even imagine how it had hurt. "I'll be careful, amoureux. If it hurts, tell me to stop."

"Don't stop now," was the hushed response. Hogan smiled at that and nuzzled Louis' neck. He eased his finger in a bit further, a bit more aggressive now.

He'd never done this with a woman before, but he'd read a couple dirty books in his life that gave him at least some idea of what he had to do. Mostly they were cheesy scenarios with busty women moaning copiously with exaggerated pleasure over something that there was no logical reason for them to enjoy, but at least he knew where to put his finger and what to do with it. His questing finger hit a small knob deep inside, and LeBeau buried his face in the pillow to smother a cry.

"Louis? Oh, I'm sorry, I–"

"Sorry? If you don't do that again, I will kill you, even if you are an officer."

"That was a good thing?" Hogan asked, his voice rising slightly. "I thought I'd really hurt you."

"The only way you'll hurt me is if you stop."

Hogan brushed over the little nub again, amazed as Louis' whole body jerked in response, and he stuffed a corner of the blanket in his mouth.

"I'm going to try putting in two fingers. If I hurt you, I want to know about it."

"Just get back in there," Louis gasped, freeing the blanket from his mouth for a moment to speak.

Hogan withdrew the first finger and added more lotion before trying to breach the slick opening with two fingers. It was an extremely tight fit, and Louis was deathly still. He left the two fingers only partially inside, giving Louis' body time to adjust to the stretching. Not sure what to do to relax his lover, Hogan stroked Louis' chest and belly gently, kissing his neck and nibbling at his ear. He felt a slight lessening in the resistance, and his fingers slid in a little further.

"Everything okay, love?" Hogan asked softly.

"Feeling good now," Louis replied, moving his ass slightly, as if experimenting with the sensations a bit. This made Hogan a bit bolder, and he slid his fingers as far as he could, far enough to brush over the little pleasure button that drove Louis wild with every stroke. "Mon amour, maintenant..." Louis gasped.

What? Hogan froze in place, waiting for another word that might help.

"Please, now," Louis said, belatedly realizing he had a long way to go on Hogan's French lessons. "'Maintenant' means now," he managed, before stuffing the blanket in his mouth again, barely stifling his reaction to another brush over his prostate.

"I want to know if it's too much, or you need to stop."

"Oui, mon amour, I know." Louis reached back and stroked Hogan's cheek. "I trust you."

Hogan coated himself with the lotion, then, deciding he'd done all he could to be careful, he lined himself up with the small, lubricated opening. With an indrawn breath, he pushed carefully, and felt the head of his cock pass through the tight ring of muscle. Louis was quiet and still, but Hogan didn't know if that meant he was hiding his pain by biting the blanket, or if he was truly all right. He lingered there, nearly unable to bear the tight pressure that was unlike anything he'd ever felt surrounding his cock before. Even the sweetest virgin wasn't this tight, and in any event, deflowering virtuous virgins wasn't his style...or at least, it hadn't been since high school, when most anyone available for deflowering was a virgin.

"More," Louis whispered, finally seeming to realize that Hogan needed a sign from him. Relieved beyond all measure, Hogan slipped in a bit further, and reached down to pump Louis' slightly faltering erection. If the sheath around him felt this tight, the stretching had to be uncomfortable for Louis.

"Je t'aime, amoureux," Hogan whispered, finally sliding in as far as he could, his groin resting against rounded buttocks. He worked at controlling his need to thrust, an audible groan escaping at the marvelous sensation of having something other than a hand wrapped tightly around his cock. The promise of pumping in and out of that tight, slick place was so good it nearly hurt.

Louis moved a bit, as if testing whether or not he could take the enthusiastic cadence of sex. Hogan matched his movement, no more, no less. Then Louis moved again, and Hogan responded. Slowly, they built a slow, steady, satisfying rhythm together. Every now and then, Louis would stifle a cry and Hogan knew he'd managed to rub over that magic button inside his lover's body. Maybe being on the receiving end of this wouldn't be all bad, he thought, seeing how insanely intense those moments of pleasure seemed to be.

Then rational thought took flight, and all he could do was pump in and out of the willing body held in his arms, the tight velvet heat massaging and milking him with every stroke. He felt his climax building, and pumped Louis' cock more intensely, hoping to bring him to climax first. Then Louis' passage was flexing and spasming around him, and come was coating his hand where it still pumped. He felt disappointed not to hear Louis' shouts of pleasure. He had a feeling his eager French lover was going to be vocal in bed when they no longer had to hide like naughty teenagers to make love.

When Hogan came, it was the most intense experience he could remember. The tightness, the heat, the need...and the love. He'd never had such a potent mixture of all those feelings, of his whole body, heart and soul being engulfed by the lover he was with. He groaned and gasped his pleasure into the pillow, knowing that he was filling Louis, leaving some small part of him deep within his lover's body.

When it was over, they lay panting together, still joined. Hogan held Louis close, kissing and caressing him, unable to find the right words. Then it came to him.

"Your name suits you," Hogan said softly, leaning forward to kiss Louis' cheek. "I may not know much French, but I know 'le beau' means 'the beautiful one'. You're my beautiful one, Louis. Every time I call you 'LeBeau', I want you to know that's what's in my heart."

"Je t'aime, mon Robaire," Louis whispered. "Vous étiez merveilleux."

"I think that's a good thing," Hogan said, admitting defeat with the translation. Louis laughed softly.

"I said, 'you were wonderful.' It was a very good thing."

"It was an amazing thing. I never felt anything like that before. I didn't hurt you?"

"I can feel it, and I'll feel it tomorrow, but it'll just be a reminder of what we shared tonight."

"I think it's safe for you to stay a while," Hogan whispered, kissing Louis' cheek.

"I think it has to be, because I'm not leaving you yet."

Hogan eased out carefully, and Louis turned in his arms so they could share passionate kisses. They caressed each other lazily, soothing each other as their breathing slowed and returned to normal. Finally, Louis found himself wrapped in a tight embrace, Hogan's heart beating reassuringly beneath his ear. He could no longer fight the urge to doze, and he fell asleep held safely in the arms of his lover.

********

"Louis, wake up, it's almost time for roll call," Hogan whispered a little anxiously. If LeBeau didn't rally and move, they were going to have some serious explaining to do. Fortunately, he did wake up, and smiled at Hogan with a look of such pure love, that Hogan had to put off his worries about discovery long enough for a good morning kiss.

"I don't want to leave you."

"We'll get past this problem with Matthews. I promise, my LeBeau," he said, smiling as LeBeau smiled, recognizing what Hogan was really saying with his name.

"I know. I just feel so close to you."

"I hate having to hurry this morning. We should have time..."

"But we don't. You're right." LeBeau eased out of the bed, moving a bit gingerly.

"How sore are you?" Hogan asked, raising up on one elbow.

"Probably no sorer than you are after giving your back a workout last night," he responded, pulling on his longjohns quickly.

"You have a point there."

"I'll think about you all day."

"Same here."

They kissed once more, and LeBeau slipped out the door to take his place among the still-sleeping prisoners in the main room. Hogan rose and began hastily pulling on his clothes for roll call.

********

Hogan looked across the compound to see the men of Barracks 9 assembled there with the new Senior POW Officer. He tried to fight the ache in his gut at the thought LeBeau would be standing over there by evening roll call if he didn't find a way to reverse the move. Everything inside him screamed to devise a scheme to discredit Matthews, to get him transferred out, to make him look incompetent. He'd given birth to and smothered at least three such plans since Matthews had breezed in and ripped from his midst the one person he didn't feel able to go on without. Matthews, damn him, knew that somehow. Hogan looked over again, a bit more surreptitiously this time. Bastard.

"Colonel Hogan?" Klink's voice sounded impatient, and he was only a few feet away now.

"Yes, Kommandant?" Hogan replied innocently, despite the fact he realized he'd probably driven Klink to frustration by not responding. Despite a look of exasperation, Klink didn't comment on that.

"Have you familiarized Colonel Matthews with camp operations?"

"Not yet, sir. I expect to do that today."

"Fine. Please see to it that he is briefed on camp policies and procedures and is ready to take full command as soon as possible."

"He's already begun changing prisoners' barracks assignments, so I believe he's taking full command immediately," Hogan said. They were well out of earshot of Matthews and his barracks-mates, and Hogan's legitimate reasons to go to Klink's office were fast dwindling. This was an opportunity he had to use.

"Is that so? Perhaps he's forgotten that he is the Senior POW Officer and not the kommandant?" Klink's voice rose a bit and his posture stiffened.

"I couldn't say, sir. I assumed Colonel Matthews had your permission to move prisoners from barracks to barracks." Hogan had shuffled a few men around himself when he took command, but after sizing up Klink's personality and leadership style, he'd immediately realized that asking his permission before shuffling prisoners was the best course of action. Matthews obviously didn't have the same diplomatic approach.

"Well, he does not. I make the barracks assignments in this camp, and I see no need to make any changes at this time."

Good boy, Klink, deny permission solely because he didn't ask you. I may be the former Senior POW Officer, but I'm the only one who can play you like a well-tuned violin. Or, maybe I'm the only one you let play you that way.

"He prefers to have Corporal LeBeau in his barracks since he feels the French chef should be housed with the commanding officer."

"Corporal LeBeau may be excused from your barracks for a limited time each night to deliver a meal to Colonel Matthews, but his barracks assignment does not need to be changed for that purpose. Schultz, you will notify Colonel Matthews of my decision."

"Jawohl, Herr Kommandant," Schultz responded, stealing a quick look at Hogan with a devilish gleam in his eyes. Hogan couldn't keep the corners of his mouth from rising just a bit.

"Dis-missed!" Klink called out, saluting and turning on his heel, striding back toward his office.

"That was beautiful, Mon Colonel!" LeBeau enthused. "I knew you'd think of something."

"I thought of plenty, but that was the only plan that wouldn't get me court martialed for treason," he responded, smiling as the men gathered around LeBeau with backslaps and happy faces.

Hogan glanced in Matthews direction, and was rewarded with a withering glare from his superior officer. This was not going to be easy or pleasant. Fake or authentic, Matthews was trouble.

********

Still walking a bit slowly in deference to his back and the doctor's orders, Hogan made his way across the compound to visit Matthews. He was supposed to be helping him get acclimated to the camp and its procedures, despite whatever their differences might be.

"Colonel Matthews in?" Hogan asked the men of Barracks 9, who were taking a brief mid-morning break from their work details.

"He's in his office, sir," one of the men volunteered, pointing with his thumb toward the door.

"Thanks."

"Colonel Hogan?" The voice of a young private slowed Hogan in his tracks. He couldn't have been much more than eighteen, with red hair and freckles. Something about the youthful face made Hogan smile. "Is he taking over for good?" the young man whispered.

"You got the word we're still checking him out, right?" he asked in a hushed tone.

"Yes, sir. But...I was hoping it was like...when Colonel Crittedon came...and went."

"We'll see," Hogan responded, chuckling a little at the kid's choice of words. "Meanwhile, he's in charge in everything except the operation for now."

"Right, sir. Thanks."

Hogan approached the door and tapped on it. A barked invitation called for him to open the door.

"Thought we might take a tour of the resort if it's convenient," Hogan said, trying to keep his tone light.

"Close the door, Hogan." Matthews got up from where he'd been sitting on his bunk, poking through the meager belongings he'd brought with him. "I don't appreciate that stunt you pulled with Klink this morning."

"I'm sorry, sir?" Hogan said, feigning ignorance.

"You're not that dense, Hogan, and don't insult me again by implying that I am. I know you pulled the right strings on Klink to reverse my transfer of LeBeau from your barracks to mine. You might not have done it directly, but you indirectly went against my orders."

"I beg your pardon, Colonel, but the kommandant wanted to be sure you were ready to officially take command soon, and I assured him I felt you were already doing so, and had begun making barracks reassignments. Klink likes to be on top of all those details, so if I hadn't told him, he'd have found out. Probably have been mad as a hatter, too," Hogan added.

"Mm-hm," Matthews said, nodding, his hands on his hips. "Hogan, it's apparent to me that despite your outward behavior, this is going to be a battle of wills right from the start. You've been in charge of this place a long time, and you're out of the habit of taking orders from a superior officer. That much is obvious. But if you want a battle of wills, you've got one, and you're not going to win it. I can find my own way around the camp, but I could use your help with something else. Whitman has a bad cold, and shouldn't be serving food while he's sneezing into it. So, since we seem to be a man short for work details, you can make yourself useful by taking his duty serving lunch for the non-commissioned officers."

"Excuse me, Colonel, but I am an officer, not an enlisted man."

"You are an officer, Hogan, but one who's lost his grasp of the chain of command. You've been given an order by a superior officer. That's your cue to say, 'yes, sir' and get to it. I'm sure you know your way to the mess hall." Matthews looked at Hogan expectantly.

"Yes, sir," he said, barely managing to avoid gritting his teeth. He strode out of the office, ignoring the pain in his back at the exertion. When he made it back to his own barracks, he slammed the front door hard. All of his men appeared to be out on their work details, and the men who served lunch to the guards were usually on their way to the mess hall by now.

Matthews had him right where he wanted him. He could run whining to Klink and probably get the assignment reversed. He could refuse and then he'd have directly defied an order. He could plead his injury and be perceived as weak, infirm and unfit to be in command anyway. He could obey and deal with the humiliation of serving lunch to German privates, corporals and sergeants.

The bottom line was that LeBeau was not moving to Matthews' barracks, and that was a more important round to win than this was. It wasn't as if this was the first time he'd ever been humiliated in his life, and it probably was far from the last. It was the price he paid for keeping his promise to LeBeau to stop the move. Viewing it that way, he resigned himself to the brief but demeaning assignment and headed for the mess hall.

********

"Hi, Colonel," Olson greeted, smiling. He was stacking clean plates at the spot where the men would file in to get lunch from the steaming trays of food one of the Germans' own men was busily cooking.

"Whitman is sick, so I'm standing in for him," Hogan said, figuring it was the least embarrassing explanation he could come up with.

"I thought you were supposed to be taking it easy," Olson frowned, turning away from the neat stack of plates to face Hogan. "Is this that jerk, Matthews', idea?"

"How'd you guess? Better watch what you say. That jerk's in charge at the moment."

"In a pig's eye. How long do we have to put up with him?"

"Until we can figure a legitimate reason to nudge Klink into transferring him or prove he's a kraut in disguise."

"That's really lousy. C'mon, I'll get you set up with the easy job."

"I should do whatever Whitman would have been doing."

"The doctor said to take it easy until you went back to see him, right, sir?"

"Right."

"So we need to put you on an easy job."

"Can't argue with that logic," Hogan said, smiling.

"All right, then," Olson confirmed, smiling back. "The two easiest jobs are spooning up the food, but that can get pretty hot and smelly depending on what the kraut back there cooks up, or pouring the coffee. The guy who pours the coffee just stands right here and fills the cup for anybody who comes by."

"I think that's easy enough that even an officer can handle it," Hogan said, and Olson laughed.

"Colonel, I think it was really great, what you did for LeBeau, keeping him in our barracks. I figure you're taking the heat for that from Matthews, and I really admire that, sir."

"Thanks, Olson," Hogan said, smiling. The words were good medicine for his wounded pride. No matter what Matthews threw at him, Hogan had the respect and admiration of his men, and Matthews was going to have an even harder time taking command if he chose to badger and demean Hogan in the process.

Hogan found the lunch duty to be fairly uneventful. Thought a few of the guards looked a bit surprised to see him standing there pouring coffee, most paid little or no attention to the situation. Olson had steered him to the easiest, least offensive job, and overall, it could have been much worse. Olson himself was spooning up servings of sauerkraut and sausage, while another prisoner moved about the room, cleaning up after the guards who had finished eating.

"Wir haben einen neuen kellner!" (We have a new waiter!) The booming voice belonged to Corporal Karlsen, a guard universally disliked by the men for his tendency to harass them whenever the opportunity arose. The other guard with him, a stout private, shared his derisive chuckle.

"Guter Nachmittag, Oberst," (Good afternoon, Colonel.) the other guard said, his tone exaggerated with phony courtesy.

"Coffee?" Hogan asked, his tone icy and even as he glared at the two men. He knew they were making fun of his situation, and he had caught the gist of what they were saying.

"Fragen Sie uns auf Deutsch," (Ask us in German.) Karlsen insisted, smiling smugly as he waited for a response. He'd shot the order out rapidly, and Hogan didn't catch most of it, beyond knowing it had something to do with "German."

"I don't understand," Hogan said. "Auf Englisch bitte?" (In English please.) He forced himself to be courteous, and use one of the first German phrases he'd learned as a POW for communicating with guards who spoke little or no English.

"Nein! Sie sprechen mit uns auf Deutsch, oder Sie polieren unsere Aufladungen!" (You will speak to us in German or you will polish our boots!) Karlsen snapped back, then laughed, joined by several of the other guards in line. Olson watched from behind the lunch counter, as transfixed as the Germans with the scene playing out before him. He didn't know enough German to help Hogan out. He knew they were harassing him about speaking German, so he ventured to say that much.

"Colonel, they want you to speak to them in German," he said, earning a glare from Karlsen.

"Sorry, gentlemen, but ich spreche nicht Deutsches," he managed, glad he had at least enough background in the language to tell them he didn't speak it.

"Erhalten Sie dann unten dort und polieren Sie unsere Aufladungen!" (Then get down there and polish our boots!)

Hogan shook his head, shrugging. The other corporal with Karlsen had moved behind Hogan, and took him by surprise with a shove hard enough to send him to his knees. He threw a towel at Hogan and repeated the order Hogan still didn't understand.

"Polieren Sie seine Aufladungen!" (Polish his boots!) The guard used his boot on Hogan's back to push him forward until he braced himself on his hands on the floor, stifling the moan that wanted to bubble forth at the blow to his already bruised back. He wouldn't give them that satisfaction. The guard drew his weapon and aimed it at Olson as he stepped forward. "This does not involve you!" he snapped in broken English.

"Auf zweitem Gedanken möglicherweise sollten Sie sie lecken sauber," (Maybe he should lick them clean instead.) Karlsen said, chuckling now that Hogan was on his hands and knees on the floor.

"Was ist los?" Schultz's voice came from behind the group. It had the full boom and authority he carried as Sergeant of the Guard. "Was tun Sie?" (What are you doing?) Schultz demanded.

"Wir sind gerade, einen wenig Spaß mit dem Offizier habend," (We're just having a little fun with the officer.) Karlsen replied, chuckling.

"Colonel Hogan, get up." Schultz motioned to Olson who immediately moved to Hogan's side, though Hogan was resolved to get back on his feet without help, despite whatever protests his back might offer. "You two will wait outside until I am finished with my lunch and then we will take a walk to the kommandant's office!" Schultz ordered both of them.

Karlsen translated the orders to his somewhat baffled companion, whose English seemed as spotty as Hogan's German.

"Helps when you understand the orders, doesn't it?" Hogan said bitterly, drawing an angry look from Karlsen, who said nothing as he led his cohort out the door.

"What was that all about?" Schultz asked.

"By the time they had me on the floor, I figured out it had something to do with cleaning their boots, but I'm still not sure what it was all about," Hogan explained. "They kept talking to me in German, and I couldn't follow it."

"Sergeant Schultz?" A young German guard approached Schultz. "They told him to speak German, and said if he didn't, he should polish their boots. When he didn't understand, they pushed him down and said he should lick them clean."

"Danke, Hoffmeier," Schultz responded, and the young man nodded, moving back to his place in line.

"Now I get it," Hogan said, shaking his head.

"I'm sorry about this, Colonel Hogan. You know that's not how we do things here."

"I know, Schultz. Thanks for breaking up the party. You want some coffee?"

"What are you doing here?"

"Matthews' idea," Hogan said.

"He's going to be trouble, I can tell."

"No kidding," Hogan agreed.

"I will tell Kommandant Klink. He won't approve." Schultz started moving away, drawn by the aromas of sauerkraut and sausage. "I should get my lunch. Excuse me, Colonel Hogan."

"Looks like good stuff today, Schultz," Hogan said, actually getting quite hungry from the aromas wafting his way. While he wasn't exactly enamored with German cuisine as a rule, the fat, meaty sausages and the tangy sauerkraut looked and smelled delicious. Another reason why working in the cafeteria was a grim assignment. Even though Klink didn't starve them and feed them inedible waste the way some kommandants did, the food wasn't plentiful and it wasn't all that good. Only their own subterfuge and LeBeau's culinary skills kept the men in Hogan's barracks a bit fatter and happier than the average.

Olson loaded up Schultz's plate, giving him more than the others, much to the portly guard's delight. Schultz made his way to the spot where Hogan stood with the coffee pot. Hogan smiled, noticing that Schultz was hesitating holding out his cup.

"It's okay, Schultz. Let me fill it up for you." Hogan held up the pot and Schultz held out the cup.

"Danke, Colonel Hogan. Matthews was very angry about not getting the cockroach in his barracks."

"What'd he say?"

"Not much, but it was the look on his face," Schultz said, leaning in a bit to share the confidence. "I don't think he's a very nice man," he concluded, shaking his head.

"I'm not too fond of him either, Schultz."

"Couldn't you...do something...?"

"Have patience. Rome wasn't built in a day."

"No, but it burned down that fast," Schultz replied with a devilish smile.

"Can't argue that point." Hogan chuckled. "As kraut food goes, is that stuff any good?" He nodded toward the plate.

"I like the sauerbraten better," Schultz responded.

"Maybe for dinner," Hogan suggested, and Schultz nodded.

"Ja, when they give us something that's mostly cabbage for lunch, we usually get a good dinner."

"At least there's still some justice in the world," Hogan joked as Schultz moved on with a chuckle.

********

When Hogan emerged from the mess hall, he was surprised to see LeBeau, Newkirk, Carter and Baker gathered there.

"We heard what Matthews did," LeBeau said angrily. "We have to do something about him!"

"We will." Hogan hooked his thumbs in the pockets of his jacket. "No word from London?" he asked Baker.

"I radioed them again this morning just to be sure they hadn't found anything out. So far, they can't disprove that Matthews is who he says he is, but there was one bit of a break for the good guys–even if he is for real? They want him transferred. That's why we were looking for you in the first place." Baker beamed happily, and the other men practically bounced where they stood.

"So either way, he's out, huh?" Hogan's mouth curved into and evil grin.

"The exact words from London were, 'He's a fine officer, but we prefer to leave the operation under Hogan's control'. They want to verify his identity before we do anything, but as soon as they give the word, they want him out of here."

"Music to my ears, gentlemen."

"Ours, too, sir," Newkirk added. "I'd like to sort him out."

"And I wanna help," Carter chimed in.

"Oh, come on, don't tell me you never secretly wanted to see your commanding officer get stuck doing some of the dirty work," Hogan joked, smiling.

"Maybe so, but not like this," Carter admitted bluntly. "Matthews just did this to be mean."

"Besides, I'd rather do the dirty work any day than be responsible for this whole operation," Baker added.

"You've pitched in with work assignments before when we needed help," LeBeau said. "You've never pulled rank on us to get out of hard work."

"Thanks, guys," Hogan said, a bit embarrassed by the show of support, but warmed by it at the same time. "So let's get out there and find out what our spies have gleaned from Matthews. Maybe we can move this along faster," Hogan said, breaking into a bright smile.

********

Hogan sighed and checked his watch. Klink had summoned both him and Matthews to his office, and then gotten a call from Burkhalter that left them waiting. At least, it left Hogan waiting. Matthews had yet to show up. Hilda had the day off, and it was a poker-faced private who came to fetch Hogan from the barracks, so not even good-natured Schultz was there to visit with. Klink didn't exactly keep a doctor's office supply of good magazines to read, so Hogan had taken to drumming his fingers on the arm of the chair in which he sat.

The outer door opened and Matthews strode in, then stood and stared at Hogan.

"You don't remember to rise in the presence of a superior officer?"

It was on the tip of Hogan's tongue to tell Matthews that if a superior officer walked in, he would gladly rise. Instead, he stood up, a little stiffly, his back still not 100% yet.

"At attention, Hogan, or don't you remember how to do that either?"

"That's enough, Matthews," Klink said from the now-open doorway of his office. "I want to see you both, now."

The two officers walked into the office and Klink closed the door behind him. Matthews stood ram-rod straight, at attention, in front of Klink's desk. Hogan stood next to him, casting an incredulous glance in the rigid man's direction.

"At ease, at ease," Klink said, sitting down and waving his hand as if he'd had enough of the show of protocol. "I understand you ordered a barracks assignment change for Corporal LeBeau," Klink said. "I trust Sergeant Schultz communicated my decision on that matter to you."

"Yes, sir," Matthews said.

"Colonel Matthews, there has never been a successful escape from Stalag 13. Never. Not one. Do you understand what that means?"

"That Hogan doesn't know how to organize a decent escape, sir."

"It means unparalleled security that I am on top of every minute of every day," Klink said tightly, accenting each word with a whack of his riding crop on the surface of his desk. He tossed the implement aside. "It means that issues like barracks assignments are decided by me, not by you. Prisoners are not shuffled about here on the whims of other prisoners, even if they are officers, is that understood?"

"Absolutely, sir. I wasn't aware I had no control over the barracks assignments."

"I will let this infraction pass on the assumption you were not yet familiar with camp policies, but take care not to make the same mistake in the future. I hope I make myself clear?" 

"Yes, sir. Perhaps Hogan will share some of his knowledge of such matters with me so I don't make similar mistakes in the future."

"You are the Senior POW Officer now, not Colonel Hogan. Your misdeeds are your own responsibility, not Hogan's. Perhaps one thing you can learn from Hogan is to take responsibility for your own actions and not attempt to blame them on your subordinates."

"But, Kommandant–"

"Enough," Klink said, holding up a forestalling hand. "There is another issue that needs to be addressed. Colonel Hogan may be a prisoner, but he is an officer, and we have always afforded him the privileges and courtesies due his rank. I expect you will do the same."

"Of course, sir."

"Of course? If you are in agreement with that, why was he working in the non-commissioned officers' mess hall during lunch hour?"

"Because Colonel Hogan needed a reminder of how to obey orders and respect a superior officer."

"Strange, he's never needed such reminders from me. I am not going to argue the point with you, Matthews. Whatever personal differences you and Hogan have, you'll have to work out on your own time. However, when it comes to matters of disciplinary action, you will both report to my office and I will make the final determinations what form of punishment will be used. Another policy you will soon learn is that official disciplinary actions by the Senior POW Officer for one of his men are approved by me before they are enacted."

"You're making it impossible for me to keep order! I can't move the prisoners, I can't bring them into line, I can't do anything without your approval!"

"Silence! You are a prisoner of war, Matthews. You are not in charge of this camp. I am. As for keeping order, Colonel Hogan has managed all this time, so I would hope that you would be capable of doing the same. You have exceeded your authority not once, but twice, and you've only arrived yesterday."

"I get the feeling you don't want me in charge of the prisoners."

"You are absolutely correct, Matthews. You are not in charge of the prisoners. I am. I am in charge of everything in this camp, including you and Hogan, and you report to me. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir," Matthews said, his lip curling almost visibly.

"It seems we understand each other then. Colonel Hogan, I expect that in the future you will not accept disciplinary action from Colonel Matthews without my approval."

"Yes, sir," Hogan responded.

"Colonel Matthews, you are dismissed." Matthews shot a venomous look in Hogan's direction and left the office with a decisive slam of the door.

"That man is not doing much to get on my good side," Klink said tersely.

"I can't say I'm really warming to him myself."

"Have a seat, Hogan." Klink shuffled a few files on his desk. As he was doing so, he asked, "How are you feeling?"

"Better, thank you."

"No other symptoms the doctor told you to watch for?"

"No, nothing other than pain, which I expected. But that's getting better. I'm not walking like my grandmother anymore."

"Good, good," Klink said, nodding and making a couple of notes. "Your doctor's appointment is the day after tomorrow, I see?" Klink obviously had a file on Hogan's fall and subsequent treatment open in front of him.

"That's right, sir."

"Be ready by 12:00. Schultz will take you into town." Klink paused. "I have the feeling Colonel Matthews is targeting you, Hogan."

"He is."

"Why?"

"Because I'm not handing over the reins as fast as he thinks I should." Hogan was quiet a moment. "Do you have time to take a walk?"

"A walk?"

"I'd like to talk to you about those benches, and where you'd like us to put them." Hogan gestured around the room, then pointed at his ear. His men knew where their listening devices were, but they hadn't checked them recently, and on the outside chance Matthews was a spy, he may have planted his own. Even if he was not a spy, he may have had one of the men in his barracks plant one.

"Of course. I was hoping we could make some plans for that." Klink donned his hat and picked up his riding crop and they left the office, starting out around the compound at a slow but steady pace.

"Kommandant, you and I both know there's more to this camp than meets the eye."

"I admit I was worried when Matthews arrived. Not so much that he was Gestapo–his credentials seemed authentic enough–but that he would not have the same discretion or...skill in handling...whatever it is you handle." Klink's summation made Hogan smile.

"And it won't reflect well on you if whatever it is I handle is uncovered by the krauts."

"Exactly." Klink paused. "Hogan."

"Sorry. The glorious Third Reich. Better?"

"You don't have to overdo it."

"Matthews suspects something more is going on than a couple of hidden radios the guys use for entertainment. He knows I'm holding off and checking him out. I'm hoping the men in Barracks 9 can be trusted to keep quiet. I don't know every man well enough to be sure of all of them."

"Would there be a safer location for him?"

"Yeah, in another camp."

"That can be arranged, too."

"Good. But wait until you hear from me, okay?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Before you do anything to get him transferred, wait until I give you the all clear."

"Based on your 'checking him out'?"

"Exactly. If he's a krau– Sorry. If he's Gestapo or any sort of spy, we'd have to handle him differently. Be more careful. If he's really an American and just a jerk, it's a simple matter of sending him elsewhere."

"All right, Hogan. We'll try it your way. I'll wait until you give me some signal, and then I'll transfer Matthews out. Maybe to Stalag 5. I never did like Schweinbruner. It'll serve him right." Klink smiled wickedly.

"Thanks, Kommandant."

"Hogan, wait." Klink caught hold of Hogan's arm lightly, then let go again. "What about...?" Klink inclined his head toward his office.

"I'll send a couple of my men over to check your office for listening devices. Until they're finished, I would watch what I said if I were you. I don't really think Matthews is one of yours, but you can't be too careful."

"Ironic, isn't it? My greatest concern is being overheard by someone from my own side of the war."

"War puts a lot of us in strange situations."

"Yes, indeed it does." Klink nodded solemnly.

********

LeBeau finished serving dinner, and now joined the others to begin eating. Just as he took the first bite, Schultz poked his head in the door.

"Colonel Matthews wants his dinner, LeBeau."

"So let him fix it," LeBeau retorted, taking another bite of his own food.

"The kommandant said you could take him dinner. So he wants you to bring him dinner."

"Sit tight, Louis. I'll take it over there," Newkirk said, starting to rise.

"It has to be LeBeau," Schultz stated emphatically. "Colonel Matthews said–"

"Okay, Schultzie." LeBeau got up and scraped together the last of the food that was to be used for their seconds. It made a fair-sized portion of the stew he'd created out of various hoarded odds and ends. He put the cover on the pot, but made a point of putting the last small piece of prized white bread on Hogan's plate. "What he doesn't see won't hurt him," he reasoned, pulling on his coat, hat and scarf to follow Schultz across the compound.

When LeBeau entered Barracks 9 with the small pot of food, Matthews was already seated at the head of the table. The other prisoners were grimly making do with camp rations. It occurred to LeBeau that Hogan would never order food from a gourmet cook and then eat it at the same table where his men were eating slop.

"Your dinner, sir." LeBeau set the meal on the table near Matthews.

"Merci, LeBeau," Matthews said, opening the pot. "Stew? I thought you were a French chef."

"I am, sir, but it is rare for me to have what I need to make anything truly exceptional. Usually the best I can do is scrounge scraps and try to make them taste better with a little inexpensive seasoning or a few herbs I manage to gather when we're out on work details."

"Guess this is better than camp food, anyway," Matthews said, poking at it with his fork.

"May I go now, sir?" LeBeau asked, already backing toward the door.

"This'll keep a few minutes. I want to talk to you." He got up and led the way back to his office. When LeBeau had entered, he closed the door behind them. "Colonel Hogan blocked my efforts to move you to this barracks, but that won't prevent me from making use of your services, Corporal."

"I understand you want your dinner delivered to you each night."

"I'm not talking about dinner. Let's not beat around the bush here. It's obvious you provide...other services for Hogan that make him so reluctant to part with you. It's pretty obvious you're not exactly vital to whatever operation Hogan has going. Little French chefs are good for cooking, but not much else when it comes to fighting a war. I'm talking about more...personal services."

"I don't know what you're talking about." LeBeau tried to ignore the blunt insult, but it angered him nonetheless.

"Oh, I think you do. We've all been away from home too long, away from feminine company. Gets to a point where all you need is a willing mouth or a willing ass to do the job. I could break in one of these boys, but I figure Hogan's already got you trained."

"I won't listen to this!" LeBeau protested, turning to leave. Matthews blocked his exit by standing in front of the door. LeBeau felt his heart drop and his stomach clench with the terror of being trapped by another large man who didn't seem at all averse to forcing himself on someone to get his jollies.

"You'll listen to it, Frenchie. And you'll obey orders. Unless you want me to round up a couple of my guys and go get what I want from Hogan. That oughtta take a little of the defiance out of him."

"You leave him alone!"

"Hit a nerve, eh? He must treat you pretty good, give you lots of special favors."

"Get out of my way," LeBeau said levelly, knowing he had no way to enforce the order, but feeling that assertiveness might be his only hope. He moved forward, as if to reach for the doorknob, but Matthews grabbed the extended arm and twisted it behind LeBeau's back, pushing him against the unforgiving wood of the door.

"I bet you lie down real easy for Hogan," he barked angrily, wrenching LeBeau's arm up against his back as hard as he dared without snapping the bone.

"You're sick, Matthews," LeBeau ground out, steeling himself against the pain in his arm and refusing to give Matthews the satisfaction of acknowledging it. It was harder to ignore the hand that grabbed his genitals, giving him a hard squeeze.

"You're pretty well hung for a little guy. Tell me, does Hogan take it up the ass from you?"

"Damn you, Matthews. You sick bastard."

"Disrespect and insubordination." Matthews finally moved the offending hand, turning LeBeau around and pushing him back against the door again, using both hands to grab his coat and pin him there. He leaned down low near LeBeau's face, his breath hot and not altogether fresh. "Your mouth was made to suck a man's dick, and you're gonna do as your told. On your knees."

"I'd sooner die," LeBeau shot back, and something in his voice apparently conveyed to Matthews that he meant it, because the other man stepped back, releasing LeBeau's coat.

"I'll nail you, Frenchie. In every sense of the word. Hogan can't protect you forever. Someday, you have to take a shower alone, or you have to use the latrine late at night, and don't forget, you have to bring me my dinner. When I decide it's time, I'm having you for dessert. You got that?"

"If you stick your filthy dick in my mouth I'll bite it off, and I'd kill you before I'd let you touch me, you got that?" LeBeau opened the door and strode out, stunned that Matthews wasn't following him, that he hadn't been grabbed from behind and mercilessly beaten. He'd tried the same resistance with Von Gruner, and only earned himself a horrible beating and a violent rape. By the time he walked out of the barracks, he could barely control the trembling of his body.

"Was ist los?" Schultz asked as he escorted LeBeau back across the compound toward his home barracks.

"I'm okay, Schultz. Just cold," LeBeau lied. Though it was unseasonably cold for May, even in Germany, the temperature had nothing to do with the fact he was visibly shaking and couldn't stop himself. He tried to cover it by rubbing his hands together, but he knew Schultz realized there was more to it than that. He did his best to calm his nerves as he walked into the barracks, knowing Hogan's eyes were upon him the moment he entered.

The dinner dishes had been cleared away, and the guys had a poker game going, though Hogan was only standing by as an observer, drinking a cup of coffee and obviously pacing, waiting for LeBeau to return.

"Everything go okay with Matthews?" he asked, a concerned look on his face. LeBeau took off his hat, scarf and coat, tossing them on his bunk.

"Oui, he was a little disappointed with the stew, but I'm sure he'll survive."

"I want to talk to you for a minute," Hogan said, heading toward his office. LeBeau followed, noticing that the other guys were rather engrossed in their card game, and hadn't taken much note of his arrival or Hogan's summons to his private quarters. When the door closed behind them, LeBeau couldn't resist making a beeline for Hogan. He wrapped his arms around that warm, familiar body, and held on for dear life. Hogan's arms came around him as gently and protectively as he knew they would. "You want to tell me what happened over there?"

"Not right now."

"You're shaking like crazy. What'd he do?" Hogan's voice rose an octave.

"He wanted more than dinner," LeBeau said, unable to say anymore. He didn't want to give Matthews the power to reduce him to tears, so he struggled valiantly to keep his control.

"Louis, come on, look at me." Hogan moved away a bit, holding gently onto LeBeau's shoulders. "Tell me what happened."

"He made a lot of remarks about what kind of things I did for you, things we did together, and that he wanted me to do the same for him. He wanted me to...to take him in my mouth but I told him no. He threatened to come and get what he wanted from you if I didn't do it for him." LeBeau's heart was thundering in his ears, and his eyes were brimming, but he wasn't going to lose control. He'd fought so hard to exorcize the demons Von Gruner left behind. He wasn't going to let Matthews raise them again.

"Did he touch you?" Hogan asked gently, resting his hand on LeBeau's cheek. A tear slipped out as he nodded. "Louis, did he rape you?"

"No, no, he didn't get that far. He just...grabbed me with his hand."

"Looks like he grabbed you in a couple of places," Hogan said, holding LeBeau's arm and pushing his sleeve up to inspect the fresh bruises left from Matthews twisting it. "That does it." Hogan let go of LeBeau's arm, grabbed his hat from its resting place on the desk, and strode out the door.

"Colonel, no!" LeBeau was hot on his heels.

"Newkirk, Carter, Baker, Olson, come on. Now. Move."

"What's happening, Colonel?" Newkirk asked even as he grabbed his own hat and jacket to follow Hogan. He'd never seen their leader this resolutely irate before, and whatever happened, LeBeau was chasing behind them trying to stop him.

"We need to set a few boundaries with Matthews. I don't give a damn what London has to say about him."

"Where do you think you are going?" Schultz asked as the posse of prisoners emerged from the barracks.

"We're going visiting, Schultz," Hogan said, flipping up his collar against the night wind. "We've got a few things to get straight with Colonel Matthews and it can't wait."

"You know you're not supposed to be out of the barracks–"

"If you're with us, the tower guards won't shoot," Hogan said, an implied plea in his voice. "Look, Schultz, this can't wait, and I need your help. Name your price in candy bars, coffee, nylons, whatever."

"All right." Schultz escorted the group. "Whatever you are planning, Colonel Hogan, you know I can't stand back and let you fight with each other."

"It's not going to be a fight. It's going to be very one-sided."

"Is that a good thing?" Schultz asked, troubled.

"Not for him." Hogan responded, swinging open the door of Barracks 9, letting it slam against the wall behind it. "Matthews, I want to talk to you in your office. Now."

"You seem to have forgotten that you don't give me orders, Hogan." Matthews stood up from where he had been seated at the table, finishing the stew LeBeau delivered.

"He isn't worth it, Colonel," LeBeau said, but Hogan didn't spare him a backward glance.

"Listen to your ladyfriend, Hogan. Don't do something you're going to regret."

"You're the one who's got something to regret, Matthews. You don't want the privacy of your office, that's just fine with me. If you ever lay a hand on one of my men again, you'll answer to me. And I promise you, it won't be pleasant."

"Are you threatening me, Hogan? You're all witnesses," he said to the other men in his barracks.

"Funny, I don't hear a thing," said the young private Hogan encountered on his earlier visit with Matthews.

"Me, neither," another man spoke up, standing next to the first prisoner. Several of the other men shook their heads in agreement. Only a few hung in the corners, sullen looks on their faces. Whether they were supporting Matthews or simply afraid of him was hard to tell.

"So what do you want to do, Hogan? Punch me in the nose for roughing up your little piece of–"

Matthews never got the final word out before Hogan's right cross knocked him on his ass on the floor.

"Yes, as a matter of fact, that's exactly what I wanted to do. Stay away from my team, stay away from me, and you better treat these men who are unfortunate enough to share a barracks with you with the proper respect and decency. If you don't, I'll make you pay. Is that clear enough?"

"Clear enough to put you behind bars after the war," Matthews said, struggling to stand without help from any of the prisoners who were watching the spectacle.

"Make all the threats you want. Because if you come after me after the war, you're going to have to answer for what I was so angry about, and you're not the only one who's got witnesses, so think hard before you make any accusations. They just might backfire." Hogan started for the door. "You're dismissed, Matthews," he shot over his shoulder before leading his somewhat stunned posse back out into the compound. They returned to the barracks in silence.

"Okay, Schultz, what's it gonna be?" Hogan asked. "Chocolate, coffee–"

"Nothing," Schultz said, smiling. "I've been wanting to see that for three days now," he concluded. With a chuckle, he left the barracks.

"I would've killed to have a camera to catch the look on Matthews' face when you told him he was dismissed," Carter said to Hogan, elbowing Newkirk, who joined in the laughter.

"Colonel Hogan, that was the most beautiful moment of my entire military career," Baker said, laughing.

"He was one sorry-looking sod, sitting there on the floor with a fat lip." Newkirk shook his head, chortling.

"He's not going to give up," LeBeau said solemnly. "This is going to get uglier."

"That's fine. I'm already fighting one war. What's another one with a piss-ant like Matthews?"

"We," Olson corrected. "We're fighting–the war and Matthews. Not necessarily in that order."

"I knew I could count on you guys," Hogan said, smiling. "Hopefully, we'll get the all clear from London and we can get him out of here."

"If you can get Klink to give up his big fish," Newkirk said.

"He's already agreed to transfer him as soon as I say the word."

"Klink?" LeBeau asked, eyes widening.

"I talked to him earlier. The kommandant's no more thrilled with Matthews than we are, and even as much as he knows about our operation compromises him, so he doesn't trust Matthews any more than we do to be at the helm of things, even though he's not exactly sure what those things are."

"Never thought I'd see the day when Klink was an ally," Baker said.

"I had the feeling sooner or later something was going to happen to make him choose sides," Hogan said honestly, sitting at the table. The others joined him. He flexed his hand a couple times, confident that Matthews' jaw felt worse. "There was something deep inside that kept telling me no man could be that stupid and still be a colonel–at least, I hoped not, for the dignity of my rank–but Klink's played it pretty shrewdly all this time. Even now, I can't be 100% positive when he's falling for something I'm telling him and when he's playing along. He gets this smirk on his face sometimes now, and I know he's letting me get away with something."

"You think Klink's been trying to help us all along?" Carter asked, frowning. "Boy, I don't know, Colonel."

"I don't think he's actively worked at helping us, no. But I think he's turned his head plenty. He's just not as obvious about it as Schultz. Now, being he knows something, and if the truth ever comes out about Von Gruner, he's a dead man at the hands of his own people, he's helping. But I don't forget the fact that came about because he was humane enough to step in and help us instead of letting Von Gruner reign terror on this place." Hogan glanced LeBeau's direction, and wanted nothing more than to retreat to his office and spend some time comforting and reassuring his lover after the miserable encounter he'd had with Matthews. Hogan hoped his reaction to it had served that purpose to some extent.

"What did Matthews do that made you so mad, Colonel? You're okay, aren't you Louis?" Newkirk asked, and LeBeau blushed the color of his sweater before nodding quickly.

"Oui, I'm all right."

"He made some remarks and he pushed LeBeau around when he took the food over there. He's got some sick notions and he needed to be set straight," Hogan explained. They had all heard the kinds of remarks Matthews was making, so he wasn't revealing much more than they already knew.

"How much trouble can he make for you after the war?" Newkirk asked.

"Not much. Allied Command knows I don't go around getting into fistfights and defying direct orders. If my reputation with them isn't good enough to weather a few accusations from Matthews, then I've been wasting my time the last several years."

********

Hogan was lying awake, waiting for the sound of his door being opened carefully. He wasn't disappointed, because a little after midnight, LeBeau slipped into the room, placing the wedges beneath the door to keep it securely closed. He didn't say anything, and neither did Hogan. Hogan simply moved back and raised the covers, and LeBeau slid into the bed, nestling readily into Hogan's arms.

"Schultz told me what happened in the mess hall," LeBeau said, his hand sliding under Hogan's pajamas, seeming to unerringly find the spot where the guard's boot had made contact with his back. "That was because of me. Because of you keeping me here with you."

"That was because Matthews is a sadistic asshole, not because of you."

"But you made him mad when you didn't let him change the barracks assignment. If you hadn't riled Klink up about it–"

"I wouldn't let him get his mits on you, Louis. I promised you that and I meant it. I couldn't stop Von Gruner, but I can stop this."

"I didn't think I was going to get away from him tonight."

"I know." Hogan tightened his hold, rubbing LeBeau's back gently. "I'm proud of you for standing up to that creep. I know you had to be scared. That it had to bring back some bad memories."

"I guess I wanted to think the Von Gruners of the world were all on the other side, not on our side. We're supposed to be the good guys."

"I know. It's a sorry day when I feel like Klink and Schultz are more our friends than one of our own officers." Hogan stroked LeBeau's arm. "How's it feeling?"

"A little stiff. Not too bad. He just twisted it. Nothing's broken." LeBeau was quiet a moment. "You want to tell me about Karlsen and the mess hall?"

"Not much to tell if Schultz told you what happened."

"I know it had to be hard for you, mon amour. When I am hurting or afraid, you listen to me. I want to listen to you, too."

"Nothing more serious than some wounded pride, which was Matthews' goal in the first place."

"Those wounds hurt, too."

"Yeah, sometimes they do," Hogan admitted, cuddling LeBeau close to him and soaking up the warmth, both physical and emotional. It felt so good to have someone soothe him, and nurse his invisible hurts. LeBeau had always done that, so it came as no surprise he was doing it now.

"You are the finest officer I ever knew. Don't let something ugly that happens make you feel less than that."

"You always know what I need to hear." Hogan smiled, kissing LeBeau's forehead. "It's dumb to let it get to me."

"It's not dumb. When someone takes away your dignity, there is nothing dumb about that. It's very difficult to get over."

"I know. Thinking about Von Gruner?"

"Too much since Matthews got here." LeBeau smiled. "Thank you for fighting for my honor," LeBeau said, moving up for a long kiss. "I guess I know why women like that so much now."

"I would have done the same thing whether we were lovers or not. He had no right treating you, or any other man in this camp, with that kind of disrespect."

"But you wouldn't have slugged him for anybody but me."

"No, you're right, I wouldn't have," Hogan admitted, chuckling. He hated to admit that, and wouldn't outside the security of a shared bed, but LeBeau was right. He'd have confronted Matthews on behalf of any of his men, but stormed into the other barracks and knocked him on his ass? No, that was for his Louis, and no one else. "I thought about you all day today," Hogan admitted. "Couldn't wait for tonight."

"Me, too," LeBeau agreed readily, his hand gently rubbing Hogan's back, soothing the residual stiffness there. "You go to the doctor tomorrow?"

"Yeah, tomorrow afternoon."

"Do you think everything is okay?"

"I feel a lot better. I'm sure it's fine. I had good care," Hogan added, kissing LeBeau.

"Tomorrow, I'm giving you the whole works."

"I thought you did that last night," Hogan teased, kissing the end of LeBeau's nose.

"You can have that, too, anytime you want it, amoureux," LeBeau responded, moving up for another long kiss. When they finally parted, he continued. "I mean a shave, hot towels, and a full body massage."

"Mmm. Sounds like heaven."

"This is heaven."

"Thank you." Hogan hugged LeBeau tightly.

"For what?"

"All this time, you've been my light, Louis. You make me laugh, you make me mad, you make me cocoa when I need a lift, and you've always done something to make me feel better when I needed cheering up. The last few years...I couldn't have done it without you."

"Of course you could, mon amour."

"No, Louis, I couldn't. The things you've given me, as a friend first, and now as a lover...those are the things that give me my strength back, that keep me going. I might have to watch out for the fate of the guys in the camp, the operation, the German Underground, you name it–but you watch out for me."

"And I always will."

"Just in case you're still wondering how important you are to this operation, I want you to know that you're what keeps the commanding officer going, besides any one of a dozen other things I've called on you to do in the last few years."

"I don't mind. Just think of the job experience I'll have for after the war."

"Dizzies the mind," Hogan agreed, laughing. Then he became serious, pulling LeBeau closer, kissing him deeply, indicating that he was finished wasting their precious time on conversation. LeBeau's response was eager, bordering on greedy, devouring Hogan's mouth as voraciously as Hogan was devouring his. At last feeling limber enough to move about more freely while they made love, Hogan began kissing his way down LeBeau's chest, opening the front of the longjohns as he went. He finally freed the hardening cock from its cloth confines, stroking it a time or two before engulfing it in his mouth. He heard a moan turn to choked laughter as his hand clapped over LeBeau's mouth just in time to stifle a too-loud expression of pleasure.

"You know me too well, mon amour," LeBeau managed before stuffing a corner of the blanket in his mouth to quiet his responses to Hogan's ministrations.

Being in Hogan's mouth this way, being loved by him that way, was fast erasing the ugly memory of Matthews' hands on him, grabbing at him through his clothes. He relaxed into the lovemaking, concentrating on the man eliciting such wonderful reactions from his body. He stroked Hogan's head, carding his fingers through the soft brown strands. He loved the feel of Hogan's hair sliding between his fingers, of something so silky and baby soft on a man who exuded such strength.

He moved his hand from Hogan's hair, grabbing the blanket instead. The pleasure was becoming intense, and he feared hurting his lover by grabbing onto his hair with the same enthusiasm as he now squeezed the blanket. His climax was coming, rapidly, sweeping over him in waves, and he longed to shout Hogan's name up to the heavens, but settled for muttering it into the blanket as he came, feeling Hogan drinking him down, milking him with that talented mouth.

Hogan moved up LeBeau's body, smiling as he kissed LeBeau's neck, then his cheek, then his mouth.

"Let me take care of you," LeBeau whispered against Hogan's mouth. He pushed some damp, wild strands of hair back that he'd help dishevel. Hogan just rested there a moment, smiling, his expression giving no indication that they were on stolen time, or that his insistent erection was poking LeBeau in the thigh. He just gave LeBeau the sweetest smile of pure love and utter contentment to be close to him that it made LeBeau fall in love with him all over again.

"This is worth anything it takes," Hogan said finally.

"You are worth everything to me," LeBeau responded, caressing Hogan's cheek. "I love you so much," he said, wanting to say it in Hogan's native tongue. And part of him wondered how much Hogan would enjoy playing language games in bed tonight, after being taunted with them earlier. "Let me show you."

He encouraged Hogan onto his back, then worked his way down Hogan's chest, opening his pajama top and trailing kisses on each bit of revealed flesh. He let his tongue dart out, tracing a circle around a nipple that was hardening to a tiny pebble. He took it in his mouth and sucked, knowing how that made Hogan crazy.

"Oh, shit, ugh," Hogan groaned into his pillow, and LeBeau smiled around the flesh he was sucking. He'd found a delightfully sensitive spot on his lover, and he wasn't about to give up having some fun with it. Hogan had tried the same thing on him before, and he loved it, but it didn't seem to send the electric jolts through his body that it did Hogan's. "God, Louis," Hogan gasped, stroking the back of LeBeau's head, trying to encourage him to move to the second nipple, which he did willingly. He had no reason to make Hogan wait for what he wanted. He spent the same time on the second nub he had on the first, before abandoning it to drag his tongue in a long trail from Hogan's heart to his groin.

Urging Hogan's legs further apart, he dipped low to lick and suck Hogan's balls, loving the way Hogan arched into the sensations. By the time he took Hogan in his mouth, the long cock was rock hard, and it wouldn't be long before he'd feel Hogan shudder and come, filling his mouth the way he'd filled his ass the night before. LeBeau groaned a bit himself at that memory, and Hogan moaned above him, the vibration of his voice obviously adding some interesting sensations. He moaned low in his throat again, making sure the vibration reached the sensitive organ in his mouth.

Hogan bit the pillow and began thrusting, and LeBeau swallowed eagerly as his lover came, taking in every drop until Hogan lay there panting, and LeBeau released the spent cock, kissing it gently. He moved up beside Hogan, lying there with his head on Hogan's shoulder, kissing the sweat-damp flesh beneath his face.

"Oh God," Hogan gasped, still catching his breath. "God, that was incredible."

"You're not too bad yourself," LeBeau retorted, smiling and wrapping his arms around Hogan.

"Did I mention I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you?"

"I think you said something about that a couple times," LeBeau said, smiling and snuggling close. "You're never getting rid of me, so don't try."

"God, never." Hogan kissed the top of LeBeau's head. "Your mouth might be the one great hidden weapon of the war," Hogan joked.

"And it's all yours."

"You bet it's all mine. Just like you. For keeps."

"For keeps. I like the sound of that." With that, LeBeau dozed a bit, not allowing himself to drop into a dead sleep. He knew that hateful, inevitable moment of parting and beginning the day's charade was close at hand, but for now, it was just the two of them, clothes askew, bodies sated, twined together in the haven of Hogan's bunk.

********

Hogan sat on a crate outside the barracks and watched the volleyball game with quiet amusement. It was a good thing that amidst all the tension and bleakness of war, the guys could get out and blow off steam doing something fun for a change. Even the krauts seemed to get a kick out of watching some of the spirited matches. Schultz had even been known to join in briefly on occasion. Hogan had to give him credit–he knew he could never mobilize three hundred pounds that well and move as quickly as Schultz could. Checking his watch, he noticed it was nearing noon, almost time to leave for Hammelburg for his doctor's appointment.

"Colonel Hogan!" A dark-haired sergeant whose name Hogan couldn't place immediately rushed up to where he sat. "You better come quick. Matthews has LeBeau in the Rec Hall."

"The Rec Hall's closed," Hogan said, bolting up off the crate and following the other man on a dead run toward the building. He was surprised to find the door unlocked and rushed inside to be met with only darkness and silence.

At the moment he realized he'd been tricked, something made of dark cloth was pulled over his head and he was restrained from behind by multiple strong hands that gave no hope of escape. As the first of the expected blows fell, he had the insane thought that he'd have to apologize to Frau Linkmaier someday for using a similar tactic to kidnap her awhile back. Now that he knew the terror of being restrained and unable to see the assailants, he hated himself for inflicting that on a middle-aged woman.

His last conscious thought, besides the pain and wondering if he was going to die like this, was that he was glad it was a trick and LeBeau was not really in danger...better him than his Louis...

********