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"I will remember you."
The American's words echoed through his head. Hogan. Hogan would remember him? But... wouldn't he want to forget him? With all the things he had threatened him with. Why was he, of all people, trying to comfort him? Why was he trying to cheer him up? Why was he hugging him as if they had been friends for many years? His eyes burned and his heart suddenly felt leaden. Why was Hogan suddenly being so nice to him? Because they were no longer enemies? He quickly squeezed his eyes shut and leaned against the younger man's solid torso. How long he was allowed to enjoy his warmth? How long he was allowed to feel this support? His hand tightened into the leather beneath his fingers. Would Hogan soon realize who he was embracing? Would he flinch when he realized he was embracing Hochstetter? That he was not worthy of him? A slight tremor ran through him, whereupon the younger man began to caress him. At first only his hands, then his forearms. It didn't take long before he loosened his embrace to turn the German around and look him in the eye. Gently he put his hands to Hochstetter's cheeks and that soft smile on his lips, made the Major feel weak. Was this how he looked at Hilda and Helga? "Major Hochstetter, I promise you that I will never forget you. Never. And as for your future... I will help you. A man with your skills will be needed to search for fugitive war criminals. Trust me." Carefully, Hogan stroked his plump cheeks and for a moment he would have done anything for this man. He would have pulled the stars out of the sky if only he would continue to look at him that way. "Really? Promise me?" Tenderly, one hand came away from his cheek and instead the American tapped his forehead with two fingers. "Of course. And as long as you are with me, no harm will come to you. I won't let you die."
Hochstetter fell around his neck. He pressed himself against him as if Hogan were his only salvation. And probably he was just that. He was there for him when no one else was. Robert Hogan was a true friend and to Wolfgang, his words simply meant everything. A thunderous knock interrupted their togetherness. Only now did he realize again that they were in Klink's aberrant bathroom. The two of them. While the door was locked. Crap, how embarrassing... Seeking help, he looked to Hogan, who merely put a finger to his lips, answering the troublemaker, "Occupied!" A grumble was heard. "Colonel Hogan, this is my bathroom and I'd like to use it before that black poison dwarf marches in here again!" rang out Klink's annoying voice, "Open up already! You've been in there forever!" Annoyed, Hochstetter rolled his eyes. That fucking idiot... If the door wasn't stuck, he'd be long gone by now. "Of course!" the American replied to him, before giving the door one hard tug and it immediately popped open. That... CURSED PIECE OF SHIT! IT HAD JUST SCREWED HIM OVER LIKE THAT! "Well, finally... Oops, so black in here? Was there a fire?" the camp commander tried to joke, but if Hochstetter was honest, he didn't find it particularly funny. He narrowed his eyes angrily before pushing past the colonel and out of the bathroom. He could still hear Klink trying to question Hogan about their time together in the bathroom, but the American remained pleasantly vague about their conversations. Maybe the German could trust him after all.
His path led him outside. After this emotional merry-go-round, he needed some fresh air, even if it meant putting up with those lousy guards. Not to mention the POWs celebrating the end of the war. Everyone was happy and content. Well, he probably should be happy now, too. After all, he had a future perspective. For a moment he sat down on the steps in front of the commandant's office and just looked around. Even the leaders of the Résistance were here, celebrating. Something like a tiny smile crept onto Hochstetter's face. These gentlemen would have been worth a promotion. Maybe he would have even become a Standartenführer. Hah! Klink would have looked stupid. And Hogan too. He was sure he would have been happy for him. Then they would all have been on the same level... Too bad he hadn't made it before the war ended.
"Major? You don't need these gentlemen anymore, do you?" Speaking of the devil. Next to him stood the American colonel, smiling down at him and pointing at the newest prisoners. Actually, he'd rather keep them with him, just for a few more hours. Just to be on the safe side. Uncertainly, he looked up at the younger officer, who nodded slightly. "I'm sure the Allied Forces would love to hear that a nice guy like you let the men go. That plays right into your hands, doesn't it?" "Well..." Gently, Hogan nudged him with his foot. "He's letting you go, gentlemen. And because the Major is such a nice guy, he's even letting you use his car." Puzzled, he stared at the American, who just shrugged. "They have to get to Hammelburg somehow, don't they? And let's face it, you don't even need that old dish anymore, right?" How he wiggled his eyebrows. Was he serious? Would that reflect well on him? Hesitantly, he nodded. "Sure. Go ahead and take my car."
The Résistance leaders didn't wait a minute before they drove from the camp's courtyard. Hogan was still waving after them. "See? Underneath that ugly black costume, you're a real nice guy after all. It's about time you hung up that funny leisure frock," the colonel said mischievously, wrapping an arm around his shoulder and walking with him back to the commander's office. Embarrassed, Hochstetter looked to the floor. That idiot...
They had walked around the camp for a while longer, but when they returned, a general was already standing in Klink's office. Judging by his face, he had not yet learned that the war was over. He praised Hochstetter for capturing the leaders of the Résistance. That he had done a good job. Of course, that didn't mean anything now, and as he voiced just that, he quickly realized why the man looked so serious. The war. It wasn't over... They were being set up. HE was being set up. His expression froze. For a moment he was relieved that he didn't have to return to his normal life. That he didn't become nothing again. That he was still a major in the Gestapo and the SS. But he had been framed. And he had let the leaders of the Résistance escape in his car. General Busse was seething with rage. But that was no comparison to the wrath he would face in Berlin. His career was over. His... life was over.
Seeking help, he stared over at Hogan, in whose eyes was that twinkle. That conspiratorial glint that was always there. He... Had he tricked him? That had to be it. Hogan... Hogan had fooled him. Was this what he had meant when he said he would remember him? Was that why he had embraced him? Because he had deliberately... sacrificed him? His eyes burned, his heart felt like it had been ripped out of him, and he would have loved to just scream at him. He would have loved to punch him. He would have loved to grab him by that damn leather jacket and shake him and call him a traitor. For one tiny moment he had trusted him! He had trusted him with his past! He had trusted him with his future! He had let him get close to him! And this... this son of a bitch had taken his trust and trampled it underfoot! That damned American had betrayed him in cold blood! Hogan, of all people...
"You damned fool! Get in my car right now!", Inspector General Busse ordered him, which diverted Hochstetter's attention from the American. Quickly he nodded and was already in the act of following him when he stopped. Hogan had promised him. He had promised him, and despite this betrayal, his heart yearned for the younger man to keep his promise. Unless the American remembered him, no one would. It pained him to look, but the major did. He looked straight into the eyes of the man who had taken his life with this trick. "Hogan, you promised me," he said, unusually quietly, before tapping his forehead with two fingers. All eyes were on him. No one understood what he meant. No one... except Hogan. His nod was enough for Hochstetter to meet his demise.
When he had joined the Nazis and the SS in 1931, he had never dreamed he would end up here. He had expected to be shot after the weeks of investigation, but that had not happened. Instead, they had locked him up in Sachsenhausen concentration camp, in the north of Berlin. His erstwhile friends and allies had branded him a member of the Résistance and a traitor. In addition to his prisoner number, they had also tattooed the letters SS and a skull and crossbones on his forearm to show that he had once been one of them. Even on his clothes they put a symbol, especially for him. Extra for the traitor, who nevertheless represented the same ideology as all the other SS men. Extra for the leper who belonged to no one. Extra, so that everyone knew what he had done. Or what he had allegedly done. So he should be a warning and a deterrent for all those who thought about going against the SS and Gestapo.
The guards despised him, the commanders despised him. Even the prisoners despised him. They knew what kind of man he was. He was one of the blacks. And for his former companions he was even more repulsive than the Jews in the camp anyway. More repulsive than the prisoners of war. Prisoners of war... He wondered if Hogan still kept his promise? He wondered if he thought about him. He wondered if he thought about what had happened to him? Whether he would be able to save him? Whether he really wouldn't let him die? Whether... he regretted what he had done to him?
His presence caused trouble in the camp. Guards and prisoners spat at him, beat him up, even tried to kill him. Somehow he deserved it. After all he had done... Hochstetter had never expected mercy. Not from anyone. Not even from Colonel Hogan. The incidents piled up until it finally got to the point where the commanders decided to transfer him. To Dachau, Himmler's flagship camp.
Hochstetter spent only a few weeks in the camp before the total evacuation and death marches began; it was only a few days later before the American armies finally stormed the camp. The men of the Waffen SS, who had still been in control of the camp, did not offer much resistance, and had he still been one of them, he might have been ashamed of them. How could they have so little courage in them? Let them die with a spark of honor for what they believed in! But when the Americans were finally here, the war was probably near its end. This time, for real. Maybe he should have been glad. And maybe he would have been glad, if it hadn't been for that bland aftertaste. This whole liberation just felt like a cruel joke. As if the Gestapo and SS had planned it especially for him, to torture him. But the Americans' uniforms were real. Their intentions seemed real. Their help was real and the rage they felt when they saw the death train from Buchenwald was also real. Their anger was so real that they committed vigilante acts and killed some of the SS men on the spot. A few who escaped the rage of the soldiers tried to get to safety. They tried to hide among the survivors, while still others took more victims with them. One of the SS men even went so far as to grab the former major and try to strangle him in front of the Americans. "If I die here, I'll take you dirty traitor with me!" the man growled in his ear. He could have fought back. He should have fought back, but what good would it do? Whether one of his countrymen strangled him, or whether he would be executed by the Allies... He would die. Fighting tired him and who was waiting for him? No one. He lived only for himself. Everyone he had trusted at some point had betrayed him. He had no one, nothing. Nothing worth fighting for.
Warmth flooded his mind. The feeling of security enveloped him. Hot breath tickled the back of his neck and strong arms held him close. It felt like that one fateful day when he had first felt like he mattered to someone. It felt like Colonel Hogan embracing him, hugging him again, assuring him that he would not be forgotten. That he would... not let him die. A single tear rolled down his cheek. His life would end here, just before the war was finally over. His life would end in a place of pain and death. His life would end before he ever saw the American again. Hogan...
A wave of determination gripped him. He was fighting. He had to fight. He had to see Hogan again! Even if he made him white hot with rage, he just had to see him one more time before he died. So he fought against the unyielding hands that clutched his throat. Furiously he clawed at those hands, biting into them until he tasted blood and dirt, but he didn't care. He had to live! He had to see that pesky Colonel one more time! A gunshot rang out and reverberated in his ears. Judging by the pain, they had hit Wolfgang. For a moment he believed the feeling, but as the fingers wrapped around his throat loosened, the pain gradually receded as well. The heavy body of the SS man slid off him and when Wolfgang looked up, he could hardly believe his eyes. "Hogan...?"
That grin... that fucking shit eating grin! Immediately, anger spread through the pit of his stomach. He would have loved to scream at the man. He would have liked to threaten to shoot him. But instead he got up and more or less fell around the American's neck. In hindsight, he would always claim that his legs had given way and he had just held on, even though he had simply felt the need to hug the colonel. Trembling, he hugged the younger man to him. "Well, look at that. You seem to have been right, Hochstetter. A nice guy like you has enemies after all. How lucky I got here in time." Weakly, the prisoner thumped against the colonel's ribs. There was no force or anger in the action. It was more a question of why it had taken him so long. Why he hadn't come sooner. Gently, Hogan returned the smaller man's embrace. His warmth felt so familiar and foreign at the same time, but Wolfgang didn't care. He was here. He had come to save him. He hadn't given up on him. "Hey, hey. I haven't seen you this emotional in a while." That mocking tone... How he had missed that. How much he had missed that fucking idiot. Again he punched the American, this time his chest was his target. But again there was neither strength nor honest anger in his blows. "You fucking idiot! Save your fucking comments! If this is another one of your fucking dirty tricks, I'll chop your head off myself!" For a moment Hogan was silent, and for that very moment Wolfgang feared he had gone too far, but when a light laugh broke out of the younger man, he relaxed again. A large hand moved from his back to his neck and finally to the back of his head. He looked up at his rescuer and something very different than usual sparkled in his eyes. There was no mockery there. What he saw there was deep relief. "This time it's not a trick. We are conquering more territory every day. Soldiers and SS men are laying down their arms. We are liberating the concentration camps. The little beard hasn't given up yet, but it's only a matter of time. For you... the war is over. I have you, you are safe." How incredibly relieved he sounded. "I have you." repeated Hogan softly before pulling Wolfgang tighter and leaning his head against him.
"I finally found you... you're finally with me."