Not Everything is Solely About You

Decisions, Decisions

Klink headed straight for his shower after returning that evening, gingerly peeling off his uniform as he walked. Everything hurt. The warm water - although soothing to his muscles - still burned his battered body. He carefully washed and dried himself, wincing every time the rough towel made contact with his injuries. Not for the first time in the past few days, he truly wished Hochstetter was back in town.

The Prussian colonel brushed his ring of hair, then grabbed his monocle. He carefully placed it in his left eye before walking out into the living room. It was a bit cold, but he didn't feel like putting a nightgown on just yet. He wanted to give his skin time to breathe first. Besides that, it was his quarters; he was entitled to walk around in any manner he wished.

"Thank you for not coming out here naked."

Klink let out an undignified shriek and nearly dropped his towel. He frantically grabbed it back, not wanting to flash his genitals to anyone. Klink glared at the American officer currently sitting on his couch, looking as comfortable as could be. That was normal for him. Unfortunately, so were the frequent intrusions into his personal space, business and his life in general. That was another habit he really should correct if he ever had the energy to do so.

"Goodness gracious, you scared me!" Klink exclaimed, placing a hand over his chest. "What are you doing here, Hogan? Lights out was an hour ago!"

"Being entertained, for starters," Hogan quipped. He gestured to the towel and smirked. "Sure you aren't expecting female company tonight? 'Cause I'm a man who knows how to make a discreet exit if need be."

"Then do it," Klink said irritably. Was being left alone for once really too much to ask? Apparently so. He turned on his heel to go put on a nightgown, adding over his shoulder, "At this point, I don't care as long as you go away."

"Well!" Hogan huffed. "If this is how you treat guests, it's no wonder you never have any."

"You are not a guest, you are my personal cross to bear," Klink called out from the other room. "Especially since I am in no mood to be sociable tonight."

Hogan wasn't surprised. If he'd been tortured, he couldn't say he'd want to talk with anyone either. But he had to press the kommandant for information. Much as he disliked the idea of sending Klink to England and breaking in a new kraut, he would do it if need be. The operation came before personal wants or needs. He poured two drinks as the man in question returned to the room, figuring the alcohol might loosen his tongue.

"Here, Colonel Klink," Hogan said, holding out a glass of schnapps. "You look like you could use this."

"Danke." Klink downed the contents, then poured himself another. Half a bottle of alcohol later, he had a good buzz. He didn't hurt so badly anymore either. From his point of view, that was a good thing.

"Whoa, slow down!" Hogan exclaimed with a soft laugh. "You keep going like that, you'll be too wasted to feel any pain."

"That is the whole idea," Klink muttered, pouring yet another one for himself.

"Not really. If you can't feel any pain, Berlin might decide to send you to the Front to be a one-man killing machine," Hogan pointed out. "You'd probably like that, though. Get to see some action again and all."

"That is where you are wrong," Klink told him. "I have been a pacifist since 1918."

"Uh-huh, and I'm Heinrich Himmler," Hogan scoffed. "Look, you don't gotta lie about being a coward -"

"SILENCE!" Klink yelled. He stood, wanting to put some distance between him and Hogan. If he didn't, he was liable to do something he'd regret later, such as smack that insolent Ami for daring to roll his eyes. "I have seen things you could never imagine, Hogan. Humanity at its very worst. I've had friends bleed to death in my arms, seen men be blown in half centimeters from me, survived multiple deadly gas attacks and so much more. Artillery shells, rivers of blood, bodies as far as the eye can see...all of it scarred the land beyond recognition during those four years of hell. I have also killed my fair share of people. All of the Iron Crosses I've earned over my long career were paid for in blood, both mine and that of the men whom I killed before they could kill me.(1) I am many things, yes, but cowardly is not one of them!"