Time Is Fleeting -Madness Takes Its Toll (polarsternchen2) wrote in hogans_heroes,
Time Is Fleeting -Madness Takes Its Toll
polarsternchen2
hogans_heroes

Stranded in 1943 Part 3



Hello again :) Thank you for reading and also reviewing! I'm glad some people are interested in this.

As to the questions that came up: I would like to make this a romance story, but I don't have to for the story to work. I know a lot of people like to either read action or romance plots, not both, so I figured I'd wait and see about the general opinion on that.

Also, sorry if this was unclear: Yes, Elsa is German. She just spent time studying in the States which is why her English is good and she feels connected to the culture. Exchange programs like that are a common thing these days.

Lastly, I'm glad someone liked the German quotation marks but I have to admit that wasn't a stroke of genius as much as a technical mishap. See, my auto correct is set to German, so it puts them in there automatically. I will try to always indicate when someone is speaking German though, okay?

Well anyway, enjoy :)

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I felt sick.

By now I wasn't sure anymore if it was due to the more than bumpy ride in the back of a Gestapo car that had been going on for almost 30 minutes or the sinister looking Gestapo men sitting across from us who still had their arms pointed at us.

Maybe both.

All in all, the whole situation didn't exactly give reason for bursts of joy. I still hadn't woken up in my bed and by now I was beginning to lose hope that it was going to happen anytime soon. In fact, I was beginning to wonder if this was a dream at-

No.

It had to be.

Anything else was entirely too terrifying to even consider. Too think that I should have somehow ended up in Nazi Germany in the middle of the war only to promptly be caught by the Gestapo in the company of a prisoner of war and without papers...being brought god knew where...

I shivered, and this time not from the cold.

The Gestapo man across from me sneered at me, his eyes roaming over my bare legs. For the dozenth time in as many minutes I cursed the fact that I was clothed in nothing but my gray pajama shorts and a short sleeved purple t-shirt. I'd seldom felt as vulnerable.

With a dark look to the man, I further curled into myself, wrapping my arms around myself and letting my open hair fall over my shoulders and into my face. Great, like I didn't have enough problems...

"Here you go, Liebchen," I blinked in surprise when next to me Newkirk suddenly moved, shrugging off his jacket to wrap it around my shoulders. The relief was immediate and I felt a pang of gratefulness for the small bit of comfort. At least Newkirk's personality seemed very similar to the show character's...

"Hey!" The Gestapo man barked, jabbing the Englander with his rifle.

"Easy, mate," Newkirk lifted his hands appeasingly, but didn't actually move away from me, "Just makin' sure the lady doesn't freeze."

"Shut up," our guard growled menacingly, "You'll be doing enough talking as soon as we get back to headquarters."

I tensed, my fingers clenching in the jacket. I wasn't really surprised to hear that we were to be interrogated but it still made me feel ice cold inside. Even the fact that I was with Newkirk didn't make me feel much better. I still wasn't sure about just what kind of a twisted alternate universe I had ended up in. If this was like the TV show, there shouldn't be much to worry about, we would be fine... but if it was more like reality...

Dread coiled at the bottom of my stomach. I remembered far too much about the Gestapo's interrogation methods from my history lessons in school. If this was the real thing, I didn't know who was in for more trouble. The escaped British prisoner-slash-saboteur-slash-spy next to me, or I, someone who had suspiciously turned up in the wrong place at the wrong time, without papers, and worse...without any kind of helpful background story.

What was I to say to these people? 'Excuse me, but I have nothing to do with your war, I am from the future and this is a TV show'?

I couldn't begin to count all the ways in which that would end horribly for me.

At least I had been smart enough to not give my actual family name. I was German, born and raised, as were my parents and grandparents...but after two wars that had torn apart generations and a few illegitimate children, I didn't even know where my last name came from. All I knew was that it sounded more Russian or Polish than anything else. Yeah, better not bring that up...

I also didn't know anything about Hammelburg...shit, I wasn't even sure it was a real city in Germany. Yes, I would crack in two minutes if they asked me anything...

It was a miracle these men weren't more suspicious of me than they already were considering my clearly not period appropriate clothing and hair. I assumed it was merely the poor lighting that had helped disguise me so far. But once they took a closer look...I wasn't even sure I would get around to mentioning any time travel before they decided I didn't look German enough...

I had to get out of here. Like, now.

I glanced form the man with the gun to the Englander next to me. He flashed me a brief smile, shifting a bit closer, supposedly to lend some of his warmth to me. Again, it was only a small comfort. We were both in trouble.

There was no way I could ask him what we should do even if he probably had some ideas. Not with the guard sitting right there.

Damn, on the show Hogan and the others would have already stopped the car and saved their comrade...I didn't want to think about what their absence now might mean.

Xxx

"Get in there! Sit down! Schnell!"

We were shoved into a holding cell the minute we arrived at the Gestapo headquarters. The door slammed behind me and I flinched, my head snapping around to find the guard gone and Newkirk peering after him out of the small window in the door.

"They're off," he murmured after a moment, "Probably debating who to call about us. Guess Hochstetter's not in."

Worry flashed over his face when he mentioned the major and I could imagine why. If Hochstetter came here he would recognize him and trace this back to Hogan...

I wrapped my arms around myself, lost in the dark and cold once again. If only I knew how much this was like Hogan's Heroes. Even on the show Hochstetter was menacing and sadistic, but he never won, he never managed to hurt the Heroes...

"Have you...had trouble with him before?" I formulated the question only hesitantly.

Newkirk turned to look at me, more worry flashing over his face when he looked me over. I probably wasn't making a very put together impression at the moment, not like I cared.

He walked over to me and took my arm, gently, guiding me over to the bare cot in the corner. We sat down and he took my cold hand comfortingly. "Yes, we- I have had to deal with him before. He's a mean one...might actually be a bit of trouble if he finds me here. He's sorta got it in for me already."

I almost scoffed. That was putting it mildly. We were so screwed.

Apparently my expression gave my thoughts away because he squeezed my hand reassuringly.

"Hey, don't fret, love. It has nothing to do with you. We'll just tell them the truth, that we met in the woods by chance. He has nothing against you. They'll probably just ask you a few questions, make sure your story checks out by calling your family in town and then you can go home."

He actually looked halfway convinced of that even though he must have known as well as I did that Hochstetter would immediately suspect me of being an underground contact. He was probably sure that I was uninvolved because he didn't know me – I guessed that was why he hadn't asked me any more questions about who I was and what I had been doing in the woods anymore either. He had just come to the conclusion that it didn't matter. His team handled all the underground activity in the area so if I was a stranger I had to be uninvolved.

Well, I was. Sadly not in the way he thought.

I began to feel sick again.

Even if Hochstetter wouldn't be highly suspicious of me for meeting a suspected underground agent at night in the woods, I had nothing to show for.

"I don't have any papers or any family to call," I said quietly, staring at the floor, "I lied when I said I live in town."

I wanted to say more, to tell him that I knew who he was...to ask about Hogan and the men...but I just couldn't get the words out of my mouth. This was all just too much, and I had no idea how to properly act in the situation.

Could I just come right out and tell Newkirk everything I knew? Wasn't there something about time travelers not being supposed to accidentally change the past? What if I ignited my very own version of the Butterfly Effect and screwed everything up even more?

And if I did tell him, would it even help right now? Wouldn't it just make everything even more confusing, freak him out and distract him? Definitely.

But then, how was he supposed to help me if he didn't know- provided he could help at all?

I looked up at him like he was somehow magically have answers to my unasked questions. Instead I found an expression of alarm on his features that didn't exactly make me feel better.

"You don't...Why-?"

I shrugged, defeated. "Same reason you lied. Telling them the truth was not an option."

At the last part of my sentence I could feel him tense next to me, immediately alarmed, his whole frame growing rigid for a second.

He immediately recovered, even now the good actor that I knew him to be.

"I don't know what you mean, I'm a loyal German and citizen of Hammelburg."

His tone contained just the right mix of indignation and irritation. He could've fooled anyone else. I looked back at him, thinking that it was only because I knew that I could make out traces of his true thoughts behind his near perfect mask. Confusion, suspicion, but also determination to not endanger his cover and his mission for any reason.

It convinced me even further that I just had to come clean. No matter how this night went from here on out -if anyone could and would help me get out of here, and maybe even out of this time, it was the allied soldier.

I took a deep breath and just risked it.

"No, you're not. You're Corporal Peter Newkirk of Stalag 13. If Hochstetter finds you here he will immediately trace this back to Hogan and the underground."

Unsurprisingly, he looked at me in shock, shock that quickly transformed into alarm.

Too late, it occurred to me that he must be thinking of Gretel and her betrayal (if that episode had already happened).

"I mean...I..." Before I could say anything else though, the door slammed open and the Gestapo guard was back.

"You, Fräulein, up!" He stalked over, grabbed me and dragged me out of the room before either of us could protest.

The last thing I saw were widened blue eye staring after me.

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