Not Everything is Solely About You

A Long Talk

Two hours passed. Schultz, LeBeau and Wilson had long since departed. The only signs they'd ever been there were the two plates of food, a cup of coffee for Hogan and a glass of water for Klink. The medic had firmly stated his patient was to abstain from any caffeine for 24 hours, lest his heart rate speed up and cause him to start bleeding again. Yet there was still no sign of life from the unconscious man on the bed. Frankly, Hogan was starting to worry he might not make it after all...and it startled him to realize he'd miss Klink if he died. The two of them might've butted heads a lot, but he'd come to care for his counterpart. The warden who, despite trying to appear tough, was just as much a prisoner as he was. Probably more, given the way Hitler did things.

"Don't you dare give up on me, Klink," Hogan said. He squeezed the Prussian colonel's hand. "Got that? You're not allowed to die yet, and that's an order!"

There was no response. Not that Hogan had really expected one, of course. With every minute that passed, his panic grew. He didn't want a new kommandant, damn it! Hogan wanted the man he could tease, who put up with his shenanigans, who treated him with respect even when he acted like a jerk. If Klink died...well, he would lose the one person around who understood the burden of being an officer. As much as Hogan cared for his men, he couldn't vent to them. The chain of command prevented it.

Besides, who else was going to swing his arm and mutter 'Mmmpf!'? Or yell his last name in that way only Klink could? Who else was going to trust him enough to get them out of trouble every time? To willingly turn a blind eye to his operation, even though it was considered treason? Klink wasn't a bad guy, all things considered. Carter had been right – Stalag 13 could have someone a whole lot worse running the place. At least Klink stood up for his prisoners, refusing to let Hochstetter or anyone else harass them without being present. Given his fear of the major, that said a lot.

"Come on, you can do it," Hogan whispered. A large lump formed in his throat. "We need you to fight for us. Dig deep and find that German discipline you're always yammering on about. If you kick the bucket, I swear to God I'm gonna organize the biggest escape anyone ever saw out of spite! You hear me? You'll be in so much trouble, Burkhalter's gonna bring you back to life just so he can scream at you!"

By this point, Hogan was on the verge of giving up hope. Klink couldn't die. He just couldn't, and that was that. The colonel usually did his best to remain aloof – seeing Klink as anything more than a tool could hinder his operation. But if the man in question croaked, it wouldn't matter anymore. The odds of Stalag 13 getting a second lenient Luftwaffe officer if that happened were practically zero anyways. Maybe showing he did care just this once would help. If it didn't, Hogan didn't know what else to do. He took Klink's other hand in his, mentally shoving every ounce of stubbornness he had into the man's body. Heaven only knew he hadn't gone to all of this trouble to fail now!

"Look, I...I apologize for being such a jerk to you tonight," Hogan choked out. He blinked rapidly, unwilling to let go of his counterpart's slender hands in order to wipe the tears now streaming down his face. "You didn't deserve any of that after everything you did for me. I swear on all that's holy I'd take everything back if I could. Now wake up, dammit! I need you here too. Please, I'm sorry!"

"And I am sorry you are shrieking like that," Klink complained after his eyes fluttered open. "You are giving me a headache."

"Colonel Klink, you're alive!" Hogan exclaimed happily, giving him a bright smile. "Oh, thank God. I really thought you were a goner."

"Mmmpf, as if I could ever die peacefully with you around," Klink grumbled. He furrowed his eyebrows together when Hogan just laughed and shook his head. "Are you alright? You're acting quite odd this evening."