Work Text:
POV Hochstetter
The war is over.
The war is over.
The war... is over?
Disbelief spread through him. They had been at war with the Allies for so long and now it was all going to be over? Just like that? Berlin had been in close contact with him and no one had said a word about the approaching defeat. No one had told him anything at all! And now? Now he had to be informed by Klink and Schultz of all people? Bah! What an embarrassment... "Surely this is just a trick by the Gestapo to shoot the prisoners as soon as they leave the camp." Hogan. Always Hogan. This man was more dangerous than a poisonous snake that hadn't been fed, but he was right. What if this was all a trick? Of course, it wasn't the Gestapo that had staged this, no. He would have known about that. He would have planned this. Uncertainly, he reached for Klink's phone and quickly dialed the number of his superior, Colonel Baumburg, but when he heard the music and celebration in the background, he had to believe it after all. "The war... is indeed over." he muttered to himself rather than to the others present in the commander's office, "Colonel Baumburg just confirmed it." Relief rippled through his chest, but quickly that feeling turned to sheer horror. What was he going to do now? For almost fifteen years he had worked for the SS and Gestapo, but now... now these institutions would be disbanded. Who would want a former SS officer? Certainly no one. If he was lucky, he would not be executed. Oh, who was he trying to fool? Of course he wasn't.
"You know, I was a bookkeeper before the war, and they're always needed, aren't they?" spoke up Klink. Of course. That suited him. This fool could only be a pencil pusher. Wilhelm Klink was a lot of things, but not a soldier. "What about you, Schultz? What have you been doing?" A gentle smile crept onto the sergeant‘s face. "Oh, I worked in the Schatze toy factory. When the war really started, they closed the factory down to build munitions and other war equipment. But now we can make toys again for sure." Schatze? Schultz had worked in a big factory like that? "Nu? Do you think your old boss will hire you back?" A comfortable, booming laugh escaped the addressed man before he played around with his fingers. Hochstetter had noticed this peculiarity many a time and it reminded him of himself. He, too, had to constantly have something in his fingers to keep his hands busy. Somehow that reassured him. "Well, of course! I'm the owner, after all." Huh? Schultz, of all people, owned such a large factory? Klink made straight for his sergeant and offered him a cigar, but when Hochstetter reached out to take one as well, his fingers nearly got pinched. He had not expected anything else.
Hesitantly, he glanced at Hogan, whose smug grin made his bile rise. He would have liked to yell at him, even if he didn't know why. Maybe because it felt so familiar. Maybe because he hoped the man would abruptly reveal to him that the war was going on. Maybe... "Are you all right, Major?" Hogan. When had he moved closer to the German? Why was he looking at him with that glint in his eye? Did he know something that Hochstetter himself did not? Urgh, just the thought that Hogan knew more about him than he did drove him crazy. What did he know? Why was he the constant winner, while Hochstetter was always losing? And now, of all times, he had also lost the war against Hogan! "That’s none of your business!" he blurted out, before turning away and running his hands over his face. Bummer. Actually, he was supposed to be compliant and friendly to the Allies; after all, that was his only hope of escaping this situation with his head on his shoulders. Why, of all people, did he have to gripe at the most dangerous man in Germany like this? Hogan had never seriously complained about it, and there was no real other way of communication between them; possibly this was just another desperate attempt to maintain some normality, familiarity. Anger seethed in the pit of his stomach, but what else did that accomplish? Nothing. Nothing and again nothing. It was better to just let this feeling go. "...Forgive me, Colonel Hogan. Force of habit.", Hochstetter gave meekly before striding to the door of the office, "Excuse me for a moment, please."
Everyone was celebrating. Everyone here had survived while the sword of Damocles hung over him, threatening to decapitate him at any moment. All these soldiers, the Luftwaffe soldiers, would survive now that the war was over, but not him. No, he was a perpetrator, not a follower. A bitter smile distorted his face as he looked at himself in the mirror in Klink's bathroom. Blood was on his hands. He was responsible for interrogations, torture, murder. He had ordered and carried out shootings. And now... now he would finally have to atone for his crimes. His nervous fingers would never be clean again. Had they ever been? Had he ever been innocent? Hesitantly, he looked up at his face and what awaited him there was the sad sight of a grimace that knew what awaited him. One could see it in his face. One could see his guilt. Would he ever be forgiven? Would the world even know his crimes? His name? Certainly not. Compared to all the higher ups, to their leaders and generals, he was just a small fish. A man who would soon be forgotten. Klink would go back to being a bookkeeper while Schultz ran his factory. Hogan and his men would return home and after a few months they would not remember this one pathetic SS major that tried to have them shot. It would be as if he had never existed. He really wondered if Hogan would remember him. Would he... forgive him? Carefully, his trembling fingers touched his reflection. Uncertainly, he ran his fingers over his features, which looked so desperate in the mirror, leaving drops of water that seemed to shimmer blood-red for a few moments. His face was as impossibly ugly as his insides. For him, there had always been only his own success, but that of all things had led him here... to his end, which he faced alone. What a pathetic figure he was.
Hogan. Surely Colonel Hogan would help him, wouldn't he? How many times had he helped Klink and Schultz? They certainly weren't friends, but... but Hogan wouldn't let him die. He wouldn't leave him behind. Somehow... Somehow he had to convince him that he was one of the nice Germans worthy of the Allies' mercy. But how? And would the American believe him at all? Too often he had behaved so aggressively toward him. He had threatened to shoot him. He had threatened to hang him! Hogan certainly wouldn't forget that just because he was now pretending to be a nice guy. No, he would hang, while the American smiled upon him.
A knock abruptly interrupted his thoughts. How long had he been in the camp commander's bathroom? Hochstetter quickly grabbed a towel, dried his hands and finally the mirror, and then yanked open the door. He was about to yell at the troublemaker, but when he saw that it was Hogan, he fell silent immediately. "Major? I know I'm repeating myself, but... are you all right? You were in the bathroom for a good thirty minutes." Thirty?! Thirty minutes!? Jesus, he had been feeling sorry for himself for thirty minutes? How incredibly embarrassing. "What have you been up to, you philanderer?" That grin! Heat crept into Hochstetter's face and a slight blush flitted across his neck. How fortunate that he was still wearing his uniform and Hogan couldn't see it. "Certainly not what you're thinking about right now, Colonel Hogan!" the major hissed sullenly, realizing that anger was boiling again in the pit of his stomach. This damned man was driving him up the wall! He was always making fun of him! It was unbelievable! Something in Hogan's grin changed. His face seemed softer, less mocking, almost sincere. "Ah, there's the Major Hochstetter I know. I've missed you. You're quite different when you're so strangely quiet." Crap. Had he really drifted so far into his self-pity that he hadn't noticed how conspicuously he was acting? Crap! And in front of that bungler Klink and his idiot sergeant, too! Exhausted, the SS officer sighed before stepping aside to let the POW, no, the American officer into the bathroom. "Excuse me, Colonel. I was just lost in thought."
With that, he was actually going to leave the American alone, but Hogan held him by the upper arm and pulled him back to him slightly. Confusion spread through him, which in turn fueled his anger. Why the hell was he holding him back! What else did he want? Was he trying to rub salt in the wound?! He was about to rant, but something in the taller man's eyes made him calm down. Was that... concern? Was Hogan really worried about him? The hand on his upper arm felt so strangely warm, as if he could trust it and its owner. Of course, he would be pretty stupid if he really trusted the most dangerous man in Germany, but what else could he do? Who would think of him if Hogan didn't? Slowly but surely, the younger man pulled him into the bathroom and closed the door behind them.
It took only a few moments of Hogan maneuvering him onto the toilet lid for Hochstetter to learn what the American wanted to know: "I suppose you're worried about what happens after the war. Right?" This guy was just too smart. Just the opposite of Klink. He was incredibly smart and the SS officer hated it. Why couldn't he fool the American, of all people? Why was Hogan giving him such a hard time? Hesitantly, Hochstetter nodded. Why should he still deny it? The commander of the 504th Bomb Wing could read him anyway, like an open book. But why...? If he could read him, why did he have to subject him to this embarrassment? Why did he have to subject him to this humiliation?! In Klink's bathroom, of all places! "Major Hochstetter, a nice fellow like you has nothing to fear." That taunt. THAT. MOCKERY. Enraged, the SS officer jumped up, but only to be pushed right back onto the toilet lid by Hogan's hands on his shoulders. "Hey, I was just kidding. Relax, Major. I was just trying to lighten the mood. No need to fly off the handle." Annoyed, Hochstetter clicked his tongue. The nerve of that bastard! To play with him like that...! After all, his head was not on an executioner's block; Hogan was free, for God’s sake! His head would not roll, even if the German would like to threaten him with it right now. Gritting his teeth, he glared at the American, but he ignored his gaze. Instead, the younger man turned to the sink and the mirror. Had he dragged him along so he could watch him wash his hands?! Urgh, Hogan!
"Hey." That attentive voice, it was suddenly so close to him. How long had Hogan been squatting in front of him? Why were his big hands kneading the nasty knots in his shoulders? Why- Why was the damn colonel so up close all of a sudden? "Hochstetter. Look at me." Involuntarily, the German officer let his gaze wander to his counterpart, and again he saw concern. But why? Had he drifted off in thought again? "You just stared into space as if you were about to kill someone. I hope you weren't thinking about me when you did that?" That... smirk! That darn charming grin! How he'd love to punch into it! Quickly he shook his head. Somehow he had to get rid of those thoughts. Hogan was no longer his enemy, and if he wanted to live, he should count on his favor. "No, I... I didn't want to kill anyone. The fight is over, the war is over. The bloodshed is over." Hogan hummed in agreement as his fingers continued to work the tense muscles in Hochstetter's shoulders. "...What did you do before the war, Major? Schultzie and Klink just answered, but you didn't." A sigh escaped the German. What could he possibly tell him? That he had been active for the SS and the Gestapo since 1931? That he had been a failed existence before that? That before that he had been nothing? That now, without the SS and Gestapo, he was nothing? Would he be able to live with the shame if Hogan found out about his life? He... Surely he couldn't admit that he, the oh-so-great head of Gestapo headquarters in Hammelburg, was a loser. Not in front of Hogan. No... he couldn't.
"Before the war, well... I'll put it this way, before the war I did nothing that I now aspire to continue." Nervously, Hochstetter fiddled with his uniform, partly out of habit and partly to distract himself from those knowing eyes that seemed to pierce him fully. Shame burned in every fiber of his being and secretly he hoped the American would leave it at that. He had no such luck, however. "In what direction did your work go, then? Toward numbers, like Klink's? Or factory work, as with Schultz? Or something else?" Couldn't he just leave him alone?! WHY DID HE HAVE TO DO THIS TO HIM?! Again he gritted his teeth before turning his head away and finally yelling out what was burning on his heart, "I had no job! I had nothing! I was a useless failure, and if it hadn't been for the SS, I would have died by now either in the gutter or on the Russian front!" Angrily he clenched his fists. "I have no one, I have nothing, I am nothing!" Indignantly, he wrenched Hogan's hands away from him, jumped up from the toilet lid, and paced tensely. "Oh, I should correct: now that the war is over, I am something after all, Hogan. I'm a war criminal! One of quite a few million nameless war criminals executed to atone for their sins!" Faster and faster he paced. "And you... you will return to your homeland as a hero. You will be back home, return to normal life, take up your old job... You will start your own family, take care of them and live a happy life. You may think back and wonder how Klink and Schultz are doing. You will think about them, but at not a single moment will you ask yourself, what has become of me! No one will wonder what has become of me!"
No sooner had these words passed his lips than Hochstetter regretted them. Why did he pour out his heart to Colonel Hogan, of all people? Why didn't he just shut his damned mouth!? As if he didn't seem pathetic enough already! Hastily, he looked over at the American, in whose eyes gleamed something he didn't recognize. Was it perhaps... pity? Oh God, how low could he sink? He immediately averted his eyes and looked instead at his hands, which were fiddling with the buttons of his uniform. For a moment there was silence. No one stirred. Hogan didn't even seem to be breathing. Was he thinking about how to taunt him next? That was it, right? He would taunt him, as he always did. Was he perhaps thinking about how he could tell Klink about it to humiliate him even more? Uncertainly, he bit his lower lip before darting to the bathroom door and trying to escape. Somehow he had to escape before Hogan reached him. He would quickly run outside and drive back to Hammelburg in his car, never to see Colonel Robert Hogan again. Hochstetter would simply flee to Argentina and make a new life for himself there. Who would miss him or look for him? No one! And Argentina was supposed to be very beautiful. He just had to get away quickly before Hogan could tell anyone about his life! However, the doorknob threw a wrench in his plans. The stupid son of a bitch was stuck, denying him his abrupt escape. "COME ON, YOU STUPID THING!" the SS officer hissed at the knob, but it did not yield to his wrath. Instead, the thing only seemed to jam more. He was stuck here. With Hogan. With the one man who now knew the truth about his life. With the man who had won every fight against him. With the man who would rob him of the one bit of honor Hochstetter still possessed. It took a few more moments before he gave up. That knob had defeated him as much as the damned American who had watched him make his failed escape. Defeated, he lowered his arms as he stood with his back to Hogan. He couldn't look at him. Not after what he had learned about him today. Why had he let it get this far?! Why was he such a fucking idiot!!! Angrily, he kicked the door. One embarrassment after another!
Strong arms beat around his torso and pulled him to an equally strong chest. Warmth enveloped him, like a cloak protecting him from all the evil in the world. The warmth moved through his entire body, sending a comforting shiver down his spine. Hot breath tickled his reddened neck and for a moment Hochstetter felt as if he was paralyzed. What was happening here? Puzzled, he looked over his shoulder. Hogan. He... He was hugging him? Of course it had to be the American, no one else was in that bathroom, but... why was he hugging him? And why didn't he free himself from the prison of arms? Why did the warmth just feel so good? Why... why was he so damn weak? Dejected, he lowered his eyes, but Hogan seemed to have sensed his change of heart, for the younger man hugged him all the tighter. A feeling unknown to him blossomed in his chest and threatened to suffocate him. Wolfgang felt at ease. He felt safe. He felt... sheltered. Hesitantly, he looked again at the American Air Force commander, who had leaned his face against him and was giving him all the time he needed to calm down. Slowly and uncertainly, the German let his hand slide to Hogan's arms and carefully stroked the leather of his jacket. It was in rough contrast to the embrace; while the latter was gentle, warm and almost tender, the jacket was tanned by the weather, rough yet soft. In some ways, it felt like Hogan himself. For a moment Wolfgang allowed himself to relax in the younger man's arms, he needed his closeness and warmth too much right now. It gave him hope. Hope that everything would be all right in the end. This fight was lost, but possibly...
"I'll remember you."