Merrily, Merrily

[trista_zevkia]

A simple mission, one that had been done hundreds of times before. Leave a prison camp in a hostile country during a time of war to meet a contact so his information could be sent to London. Simple, but the contact was new and unknown, which made it dangerous. Hogan set Baker to man the radio, so Kinch, Carter, Newkirk and LeBeau could serve as his backup. Black clothes and a healthy smear of greasepaint made them almost invisible on this dark night, but Hogan would only risk his life to meet the contact face to face. With his men spread out and hiding in the woods behind him, Hogan had watched the contact for a few minutes. He was nervous, but that was normal. With a deep breath, Hogan emerged into the small clearing and gave the recognition code.

“I’ve been playing with fire.” The man startled at his words and had to swallow a few times before he could reply. Hogan couldn’t help it; he rested his hand on his sidearm while he waited.

“Until the fire played with me.” The man ran the words together, in an effort not to get shot, and his hands trembled as he pulled out an envelope. A sudden light highlighted the envelope and Hogan saw his contact’s eyes get very wide. German words told them to stay where they were, and Hogan just had to be contrary.

“Run!” He shouted, hoping his men would understand the orders went for them too. The contact dropped the envelope as he turned and ran, clearly he didn’t want to be caught with it. Hogan snatched it up before running back the way he had come. Crossing a cart track, Hogan ran a little further before ducking behind some thick bushes to look for pursuers. He wasn’t at all surprised as his men slowly gathered around him. No sounds or lights came after them, so Hogan whispered to his men. “I think we lost them.”

No sooner than the words were out, a gunshot came from the distance. More shouting as a light searched the bushes, and shots responded to that source of light. Newkirk sighed, aware of what his words would mean.

“I bet that’s our contact getting shot at.”

“Yeah, he was nervous enough.” Hogan sighed before issuing instructions. “Let’s go check it out, stay silent and ready to run.”

The noisy German soldiers were coming this way, but they had to try and help. In the middle of the cart track Hogan had passed earlier was a still form that he didn’t need Newkirk to identify for him.

“Blimey, that’s not our contact, that’s Klink!”

“Do you think he’s dead?” LeBeau was curious, but not particularly concerned.

“Don’t know.” Considering the speed at which the soldiers were closing in on them, Hogan figured he had time for a quick look. “Lead the SS away, then get home. I’ll see to Klink.”

“Why not leave the kraut for his buddies to find?” Hogan almost sighed at Newkirk’s words. No matter how many times he told them about Klink’s incompetence helping them, his men still wanted to get rid of him.

“Taking bets on what his replacement will be like? Do what I said. And stay safe.”

“Yes, sir.” All four of them replied softly before moving away. Ducking down and running to Klink, Hogan took a moment to look at the head wound. Klink was losing blood in the rain, but as best as Hogan could tell the bullet hadn’t damaged the skull. The krauts were closing in on the light, but slowly. Like they thought somebody stupid enough to wave a flashlight around was smart enough to lay a trap for them. Hogan picked up Klink and moved away from the light, leaving the krauts a mystery.

Camp was close, less than two miles as the prisoners ran, but not close enough. He needed to stop the blood loss and warm up the body in his arms before he took Klink back to camp. Hogan paused before a large clearing, taking a good look around. Movement on the far side of the clearing caught his eye, so he backed up. Turning to the right he saw a distant flashlight. On the other side was an old barn that had fallen in on itself years ago. It didn’t look like a safe place to hide, so maybe they wouldn’t look in there. Not much of a hope, but all Hogan had at this moment.

Hogan walked around the barn and found the back had a hole big enough for two people that actually looked dry. There wasn’t much clearance, but as long as they laid down it would be fine. Stuffing Klink in was hard work, as the man was so floppy. Hogan grinned at this proof that the man didn’t have a backbone as he pulled off the wet clothes. The uniform overcoat hadn’t done much of anything to keep Klink from getting wet, but the uniform tunic had. At least the rain had cleaned the head wound, so all Hogan had to do was bandage it with Klink’s shirt. Hogan used the handkerchief to wipe the greasepaint off his face, so he wouldn’t have to explain it to Klink when he woke up. Klink was very cold under Hogan’s hands, so Hogan took off his black turtleneck and snuggled up to Klink. The thought that it didn’t feel as weird as it should have confused Hogan. He dismissed it as he tried to wake Klink. People with head wounds shouldn’t sleep, until a doctor said it was fine. His minimalist medical training hadn’t wanted to go any further into head wounds than that; there were some things you couldn’t repair in a combat zone.

Gently calling to Klink while shaking him didn’t seem to be working, so Hogan switched to issuing orders. “Come on, Klink! Open your eyes.”

This seemed to work, as a bemused looking Klink responded. Hogan was relieved that Klink could wake up and joked down at him. “Way to follow orders, Colonel Klink! You have a head wound and need to stay awake. Talk to me, tell me what you’re doing out here.”

“Long meeting, dark, tired, lost, flat tire, wet. In dreams, I don’t usually have to explain.”

“Dreams?” Hogan considered that if Klink thought this was all a dream it would be a lot easier to explain what was going on. “Oh, yes, this is defiantly a dream. I’m safely sleeping the night away in my bunk. But talk to me anyway.”

“Dream. I’m no longer wet or cold, so I’m probably freezing to death.”

Hogan took a moment to explain what was going on, in this dream, but couldn’t help ending on a joke. “The bullet wound is deep but your thick skull saved your life.”

“Hey! In my dreams people are supposed to care about me.” Klink’s voice lost the dazed quality so he could protest Hogan’s jokes. Hogan responded by feeling bad for kicking a man while he was down, even if it was Klink.

“I care, Klink, in my own special way. Now talk to me.”

“People in dreams always know all the answers.”

“But you don’t, and dreams help you figure them out. So talk to me about your deepest problems.”

“Funny. What problems could I possibly have?” Hogan had to stop the giddy laughter that came after Klink’s words with a hand over Klink’s mouth; he really did think the patrols were still out there. When the laughter died away, Hogan took his hand away and was startled by what Klink said next. “Hogan, I had all my problems trapped in a corner of my mind, where I didn’t have to deal with them. I could pretend to be someone liked, normal or useful. Then I met you and my problems multiplied. So much of my effort is directed toward not talking to you that I can’t even do it in dreams, so leave me alone.”

Hogan was confused. He knew he was the cause of most of Klink’s problems, at least the ones the man didn’t bring on himself by avoiding reality, but why would Klink want to talk to him about them? “Fine, nothing too personal then. How about politics? Why don’t you tell me why you never joined the Nazi party?”

“Hogan!” Klink shook his head until the pain stopped him. Hogan hadn’t thought it was that personal, it was just something to keep Klink awake. After that reaction, though, Hogan wanted to know, especially if those reasons might interfere with his mission. “I’m stupid, I know. I can only dream of being good at something, anything! But not even I am stupid enough to think I could be open about myself. It’s always been very clear what is done with the likes of me, and that was before the Nazi party! My ‘beloved’ Fuehrer would imprison, torture, shame and kill me if he knew what I was.”

Klink wasn’t sounding at all like himself, there was sorrow in his self depreciating words. Normally he told everybody how good he was at everything, even when they had proof it wasn’t true. What was he admitting to here that would have him killed? “You have Jewish blood? I’ve heard those camps are nothing like the propaganda films, but few things ever are as the films show.”

“It is not just the Jews we must hate now. The American expression I heard, stuck with me. Gypsies, queers and David’s stars.” A soft giggle distracted Klink for a moment before he continued. Hogan was still digesting his words, pretty sure Klink wasn’t admitting to being a Gypsy. “If head wounds make me have dreams like this, maybe I should get shot more often!”

“What, a talking dream?”

“Usually you know everything, just like you do in real life. You come to me and take what you want and I let you. Most all of my dreams are variations of that, and my nightmares are when you mock me or turn from me in disgust.”

 “Did you hear that? Footsteps in the rain?” Hogan turned to the noises he heard over Klink’s soft words, glad for the distraction. He shouldn’t know all this about a man he had to use to win a war. Hogan knew himself, knew he would take advantage of this if it was for the good of his country, even as he hated himself for making it so personal.

“No, I hear only my dream asking me to explain the facts of life to him.” Hogan hadn’t heard more noises but he planned on looking for a while longer. He thought that if he didn’t look at Klink, he could let this go, before he used Klink’s desires against him. Surprisingly strong hands pulled Hogan’s face to about two inches away from Klink’s. “For this one dream, I have found something I know more about than you.”

Klink grinned at Hogan for a long moment before bringing their lips together. Hogan was having trouble processing the fact that Klink was a homosexual and the idea that he was the object of Klink’s desires took even longer to adjust to. Klink broke away to whisper in Hogan’s ear, and Hogan found himself at a loss for words.

“Please Hogan! Kiss me and I swear to believe everything you say, no matter how outrageous! Touch me and I will feed your men caviar and champagne! Let this dream continue, because here my noble family isn’t dirt poor and I can furnish our bedroom with luxury so we never have to leave it.”

Hogan fought back a shiver as he laid Klink back on the ground. Falling back on command mode, Hogan whispered instructions to Klink. “Stay with me, Klink. Colonel, open your eyes!”

“We are of equal rank, so you can’t order me to face my nightmares.” The petulant voice almost sounded like the old Klink, but Hogan’s instincts told him they weren’t alone.

“You need to stay awake, but there’s somebody out there. We’re not safe.”

“I’ve never been safe, that’s why I’m scared all the time.” Klink opened his eyes and showed Hogan an anger that matched his voice. Real anger, that made what Klink normally showed look like annoyance or playacting. “The kids teased and called me names, but they would have gotten really cruel if they knew the truth. When I understood how perverted I was, I knew I’d never find love. Sex was the best I could hope for and I’ve only ever had sex with one guy. During the Great War, my roommate in the barracks would make me do things to him. If he had known how much I enjoyed what he made me do, he would have turned me in. I was resigned to a life alone, lying about who I was and feigning interest in girls. I didn’t want to be Kommandant, but I thought at least I wouldn’t be the only one not having sex. My biggest challenge was going to be limiting the fantasies I had about the men in camp, at least that’s what I thought.”

Soft hands that held paperwork more often than guns caressed Hogan’s face, which seemed to calm the injured man. His voice was full of regret when he spoke again. “But the devil sent an angel to tempt me, and I gave in to that temptation. My biggest challenge has been keeping the Gestapo away from you. I don’t know all the things you get up to, but I know they would kill you if they knew what I know. A docile, subservient Colonel Hogan would have been handsome, but unremarkable. If you had accepted the role of a prisoner to his captor, I would have been fine. But you challenged my betters, talked circles around me, stole my schnapps, cigars and heart. Love between men is impossible, but you make the impossible work for you all the time!”

“Klink, um, Wilhelm. You’re injured, so you need to stay positive.” Hogan knew he needed to bring this conversation back to a happy place, where Klink wouldn’t be so embarrassed at seeing Hogan that he put in for a transfer. It was important that Klink stayed in command, but Hogan was seriously distracted by Klink’s words. Duty was losing importance, because Klink sounded so lost and alone that Hogan found he couldn’t help but respond to it. “Why don’t you tell me about your happiest memory?”

“Nope, still a nightmare.” Klink laughed a little while Hogan tried to understand when Klink had decided this was a nightmare instead of a dream. “My happiest memory, is when we were in London. I wanted to tell London High Command the truth and beg for asylum. Had they granted me asylum, you would have returned to the fight, or America, but you would have left me. I hate this war, but I often wish for it to continue simply because this is the only time I will get to spend with you.”

Hogan looked down at Klink, wondering at how lonely Klink must be that London was his favorite memory. He knew he should say something, even if it was to just tell Klink this was a dream. “Wilhelm, I…”

A loud thump a few feet away was followed by a muffled groan and stopped Hogan’s words. Hogan was grinning at the distraction, hoping he knew who it was just from the sound of a body falling.

“Could you at least learn to fall quieter, Andrew?” Leaving Klink, Hogan watched Newkirk help Carter to his feet.

“Guys, where are the patrols?” Hogan slipped up to his men and they startled, but grinned at him.

“We lost ‘em, Sir, and split up to find you. The others will head home in twenty minutes if they don’t find you.”

“I give orders for a reason.” Hogan had actually expected they would look for him, but couldn’t let Newkirk know that. Newkirk enjoyed being a man of mystery too much to let him know he was predictable in his concern for the team. The rain was softer, but they still needed to get Klink medical attention. Except Klink would never live it down if the guys heard anything he had said tonight. “Your punishment for not following my orders is you get to help carry Klink back to camp. Wilson will decide if he needs a doctor or hospital. Don’t listen to Klink, he’s delusional and making even less sense than normal.”

A loud thud caused the barn to shake and Hogan got back to Klink as quick as he could. The barn stabilized after a minute, so Hogan could pull out the now unconscious Klink. The man had probably tried to sit up and knocked himself out; it seemed a very Klink-like thing to do. Newkirk rolled his eyes, before sliding in to retrieve the wet clothing. They redressed Klink and got back to camp as quickly as they could. Hogan considered as they moved and by the time they got to the tree stump he had decided to risk taking Klink in. If he showed signs of returning to consciousness, they could blindfold him. Once in the tunnels, Wilson could look him over and decide on what he needed.

Klink was very pale in the light of the tunnel, on the cot nearest the emergency exit. Kinch and LeBeau were waiting on them with the location of Klink’s car. Twenty feet from the main road, it was pointed into the side path with a flat tire and no spare. Only Klink could get himself lost and injured less than two miles from his own camp! Hogan couldn’t understand why he was so anxious as he waited for Wilson’s report, but he kept himself from thinking about what Klink had said by changing into his uniform. Finally, a grim faced Wilson came to speak to Hogan as he wiped the rest of the greasepaint off.

“He could probably do with a blood transfusion, but it’s the knot on his forehead that worries me. I’d like to get an x-ray, make sure his brain isn’t swelling, but we don’t have that kind of equipment in camp.”

“Not even for the guards?”

“No sir, he’d have to go to the hospital in town.”

“Ok, thank you Wilson.” Hogan nodded at the medic and wandered into the radio room. His main crew was gathered here, telling Baker what they had been up to with only slight exaggerations. “Guys, we’ve got to save Klink’s neck, again. Kinch, Newkirk, I need a spare tire at Klink’s car. Carter, I need a distraction on the far side of camp from the motor pool, but I think smoke bombs will do. LeBeau, make sure the guards see only what they need to see, and nobody gets shot. Baker, I need you and Wilson to help me get Klink back to the surface before you send this information to London.”

“Yes, sir.” Six voices called out to him as Hogan turned back to where Wilson waited with Klink. He could have told them specific instructions on how to steal a tire or herd the guards, but they knew their jobs and he trusted them. Carter needed a firm hand, simply because his idea of a distraction might take out the whole camp. Walking toward Klink while thinking about Carter, put a strange thought in Hogan’s mind. Had Klink ever been as young and enthusiastic as Carter, or had his ineptitude depressed him his entire life? Hogan had to shove the thought away so he could focus on moving Klink out of the emergency entrance.

Hogan carried Klink towards his car, only to find Kinch and Newkirk had just finished changing the tires. They settled Klink in the back seat and nodded at Hogan before returning to camp, where the guards were putting out the last of Carter’s smoke bombs. A few more minutes and Stalag 13 would be back in its nightly stupor. Without Klink there to order it, there would be no emergency roll call and nobody would notice Hogan was gone. He could drop Klink off at the hospital and be back before the doctors even noticed their patient had a driver.

Except, when Hogan pulled in front of the hospital, nobody came out to see what he wanted. He couldn’t toss Klink on the curb and hope they found him, and it would help his recovery if the doctors knew what had happened. Shutting off the engine, Hogan got out and pulled Klink into his arms. Setting his shoulders, Hogan whispered to Klink before they entered the building.

“They’re doctors, so they’re not going to shoot me on sight. Though getting out before they call the Gestapo would be a good idea.”

Hogan entered the hospital, calling for assistance. He told the doctors he had found Klink in the woods, bleeding from the head. He tried to stop the bleeding, only to notice the large lump on his forehead and now he was worried about brain damage. They gave him suspicious looks and told him to stay in the waiting room. Hogan promised he would and made a hasty exit. It wasn’t hasty enough, because four Gestapo minions were coming toward him with weapons at the ready. Unarmed, Hogan had thrown his hands up in surrender and gone quietly.

During the ride to Gestapo headquarters, Hogan concocted his story from actual happenings at Stalag 13 and rehearsed it in his mind so he would know it when they asked in less than pleasant ways. The messenger had come in a car today, instead of his usual motorcycle because of mechanical problems. So Hogan had taken the chance and gotten into the trunk and hopped out at the first stop the messenger made outside camp. Getting lost in the woods, Hogan had stumbled over the injured Klink and thought bringing him to the hospital would convince the Luftwaffe to forgive his impromptu escape attempt. Klink would have bought it, but the Gestapo was far more suspicious, and if Major Hochstetter was there Hogan doubted he’d get out alive. Hogan had to push away a new curiosity as to why Klink would have believed him. Knowing whether Klink believed him out of fear or more romantic notions wouldn’t help with the Gestapo.

Time lost meaning as shifts of agents worked him over, but Hochstetter wasn’t one of them. So Hogan stuck to his story and hoped he would get out of here. He needed to tell London about the new things the Gestapo was doing with electricity. Biting his cheek kept Hogan from telling the one agent that he needed a firmer wrist to do any damage with his whip. One weird agent climbed a ladder to drop heavy things on Hogan’s torso. The impact hurt, but not enough to make Hogan talk as the pain was over too soon. Hochstetter needed to train his men better in torture, but Hogan wasn’t going to be the one to tell him that.