A/N: First crossover! And a thousand, million thank-you's to LittleMissSpitfire and CollieandShire for letting me write this gem of an idea. My schedule was a bit delayed by moving to college, and as such updates may also lag a little with the new routine, but I've finally got the first chapter done and have begun the second. I own nothing. NOTHING! Kirk and Spock's serial numbers were obtained from Memory Alpha. Please enjoy, dear fans!

Jim Kirk had trouble on his mind. He paced back and forth, his boots kicking up fine pale dust wherever he trod. At times, he resisted the urge to growl.

Bones, no!

"How much longer?" He didn't mean to snap but he couldn't help it. His ship was missing- wiped from history and current existence. All he had were a few members from his crew and an enigmatic time portal.

"A few moments, Captain," Spock replied, never removing his eyes from the tricorder. Recorded images zipped by on the tiny screen, though the Vulcan was more interested in the timestamp.

"Make sure we arrive before McCoy," Kirk said, his mind already ten steps ahead. He stared unfocused at the Guardian of Forever, watching as the scenes of Earth's history played by again.

History that was now forever changed.

It must have been the stimulating effects of the cordrazine. Kirk hadn't seen anyone else recover that quickly from a Vulcan nerve pinch. The deranged doctor had darted away from them, bee-lining for the time portal. Kirk had snagged his shirt but only managed to slow, not stop, him. In an instant he had vanished into the past… and apparently altered it.

So Kirk had trouble on his mind. He was concerned for his overdosed friend, and he had a mission to rectify the timeline and restore his ship. There could be no failure.

Spock snapped the tricorder closed, but the focused look never left his eyes. Kirk tensed. "Ready… now."

They leapt through the portal, both determined to set things right.

The first thing that hit Kirk was the cold. It wasn't freezing, just chillier than he was used to. He stumbled as he landed on uneven ground, slipping and sliding in dead leaves and loose soil. Spock gripped his elbow to steady him on the incline. "Thanks."

He frowned as he took stock of their surroundings. Before him stretched out extensive woods. Despite the chill, there was extensive undergrowth and greenery, indicating that it was at least summer or springtime in this part of the world. They were either located on a far northern latitude or a far southern one.

"Alright," he muttered. "The middle of nowhere."

"Captain." He turned around and blinked. Behind where they had materialized was a long chain-link fence topped with barbed wire. Beyond it appeared to be some sort of factory. Spock walked further down the fence, scanning it with his tricorder. Kirk trailed after him, scrutinizing the distant plant. It was remarkably drab, and offered no clues as to where, or when, they were.

He nearly bumped into his first officer when Spock paused before a sign attached to the fence. Kirk looked it over, his eyes lingering on the largest word, VERBOTEN.

"Well, that's not English," he mused.

"German, Captain, from the classic era judging by the lack of Turkish influence," Spock reported. He flipped off the tricorder and stared at the factory. "Mid twentieth century, most likely."

That trouble came back a'knockin' on Kirk's mind, sending shivers down through his bones. "Mid twentieth century Germany, Spock?" he repeated. "You know what that means, don't you?"

"I am aware of your history, Captain."

Kirk dragged a hand across his face and mumbled a curse. "This is going to be more difficult than I thought."

Spock furrowed his brow. "We should endeavor to find suitable clothing as quickly as possible. As it stands, we are far too conspicuous."

"I know," Kirk started walking again, keeping the fence to his left. "Where there's a working factory there's civilization. It's a start. Don't talk to anyone unless you know German."

"Regrettably, I am not as proficient as Lt. Uhura."

"Who is?"

They crunched on the dead leaves as they walked around the fenced-in factory. Both kept an eye out for possible patrols, but they seemed to be on the far side of civilization and thus, danger. Before too long a dirt road led them to small, though sizable, town. They pressed close to edges, trying to stick to the shadows.

Spock nudged him and pointed to a sign saying VELKOMMEN! "Hammelburg, Captain," he murmured. Kirk only nodded in response.

The town seemed small, but neither were used to 20th century cities. They ducked between buildings and tried to avoid the streets. Nearly every storefront displayed the ominous image of the swastika. Kirk shivered, inwardly blaming it on the cold. This certainly wasn't Ekos. This was where it all began.

Spock nudged him and pointed towards some clotheslines. Kirk glanced around to make sure no one was watching. Moving quickly, they darted into the alley and made off with the pile. Spock immediately donned a wool cap and tucked the tricorder within his coat.

After dumping their uniforms in a garbage can, the two of them dared to brave the streets. Keeping their heads down, they wandered the town. Maybe there was a clue on where McCoy would end up. Or maybe they could find a place to stay.

They passed what seemed to be a bar where several soldiers languished out front. They joked and laughed, clearly enjoying a day off. Their rifles gleamed in the weak sunlight.

One of them called out to Kirk, but he just shoved his hands further in his pockets and kept walking. He called out again. Spock leaned in and murmured into his ear "I believe they're asking some sort of question."

Their uninterested attitude did not dissuade the soldier as he got up and ran after them, tapping Kirk on the shoulder. He turned around and took in the man's angular, flushed face. "Wo hast du Hemd kaufst?"

He repeated himself a few more times, fingering Kirk's stolen shirt as the captain shifted uncomfortably. Was he asking where he got it? How the hell could he answer?

Kirk became uniquely aware of his dependence on a universal translator.

The soldier became miffed, shaking him. Spock edged closer. Kirk shook his head repeatedly, holding up his hands. "Nein," he mumbled, trying to remember whatever 'please' was in German. The shaking drew a crowd as the other soldiers wandered over. A few citizens cast furtive glances their way before hurrying on, while others stopped and stared openly on the street.

The soldier turned to Spock, demanding answers. The situation was escalating. "Ha?" the soldier pressed. "Woher kommst Sie?"

Backing away didn't work- the other soldiers had closed in. Kirk and Spock crowded together. "Verstanden?" the man demanded.

"Papiers!" another soldier called. It was similar enough to English that both men stiffened. They had no papers. No money, nothing. Kirk slowly made a show of pulling out his empty pockets. Spock followed suit, hoping that the reaction, at least, implied that they understood enough German to obey the command.

Ultimately it did not matter. The negative reaction over their lack of papers promptly spiraled downhill until they found themselves loaded on the back of a truck with the first soldier pointing his gun at them with a cock-eyed grin.

"Amerikaner, eh? Escaped prisoners? Good thing I caught you; now Kommandant Klink may give me an extended leave. Good times, ja?"

"Yes," Kirk trailed, letting go of the act. He glanced at Spock. "Good times."

The corporal banged on the truck, hopped on, and they sped off.

Both men perked up as the truck slowed down. There were shouts and rapid German, and after a moment they were moving again. Kirk craned his neck to try and catch a name on the gates but missed. At the very least, the barbed wire surrounding them indicated this was a prisoner of war camp. He glanced at Spock. This wasn't good.

The truck stopped again and they were ordered out of the back. Before them was a drab building. A heavyset German waddled quickly up to them, one hand grasping his helmet and the other awkwardly holding his rifle. Kirk snickered.

"Langenscheidt! Was ist los?" the big soldier called.

The soldier who had stopped them saluted back. "Escaped prisoners!"

Spock nudged him and they started inching their way towards the front of the truck. Kirk's mind was racing furiously. Perhaps they could steal the truck, overpower the clumsy soldier, and race out of here-

The door to the building before them opened and a stooped, pelican-looking man in a long coat and riding crop stepped out. Kirk and Spock halted. This must be the commandant.

"Schultz! Report!"

The portly sergeant quickly saluted. "Kommandant, escaped prisoners!"

The colonel looked them up and down in almost exaggerated fashion. "Well, I don't recognize them! They're not from this camp, Schultz, how do you know they escaped?"

"Well, I, eh, uh, Langenscheidt found them," Schultz struggled.

The corporal quickly saluted. "Jawohl, in Hammelburg. They both speak English!"

The commandant quickly looked back at them. "Do you?" he asked.

Kirk weighed his options but found no reason to lie. "Yes," he answered curtly.

The older man straightened with a peculiar flapping motion with his arms. Kirk's impressions of the man were not entirely respectful- he seemed to be of rather weak standing despite his pompousness. "Take them to my office! Corporal, you have earned an extra day of leave. Diiiiiiismissed!"

Led through the drab building, they passed an outer office before coming to colonel's personal desk. A placard on top of it read WILHELM KLINK. Kirk and Spock glanced at each other as the man busied himself with sitting down and reorganizing papers. Schultz shut the door.

"Now, let's see, getting down to business, where are your papers?"

"We have none," Kirk replied, staying with his command voice. He and Spock would either have to outwit this colonel (which would probably prove very easy) or otherwise evade him if they wished to escape. Their situation would in no way help them when McCoy would finally appear.

"Hmm," Klink said, as if he were on to something. "I see." He held up a pencil as he squinted at them through his monocle. "Langenscheidt said you were escaped prisoners. But I've heard no reports from any of the other prison camps. Where are you from? Or were you shot down?"

Kirk opened his mouth to reply but was cut off when the door abruptly opened and an American colonel strode in. Schultz belatedly moved to intercept but the dark-haired man was already running his mouth.

"Kommandant, I want to know why I wasn't invited to this little chit-chat with the new guys, according to the Geneva Convention the Senior POW must be present for all interrogations- we've had this conversation before, Colonel, and at this point it's just insulting that you keep leaving me out; hi, Col. Robert Hogan, nice to meet you." Without break Hogan shook each of their hands as Klink stuttered to get word in edge-wise.

"Hogan! You'll be held in insubordination if you keep barging in like this!"

"Well, I wouldn't need to barge in if you'd invited me in the first place," Hogan replied innocently.

To Kirk and Spock's surprise, Klink just huffed. Pointing the pencil eraser back at them, he tried to muster his authority. "Now I want to know how exactly you ended up in Hammelburg-"

"Name, rank and serial number," Hogan interrupted. Kirk studied him carefully- for all his nonchalance, there was the faintest hint of concealed motive that made Kirk pay closer attention.

Spock waited for him to make the first move. "Captain James T. Kirk," he spoke. "Serial number SC937-0176CEC."

"Commander Spock Grayson." Kirk quashed his intrigue and surprise, but was also proud of his first officer's quick thinking. Amanda's surname was genius. "Serial number S 179-276 SP."

"Uh-huh, uh-huh, I see," Klink mused, unaware that his face had slipped into the expression of a constipated toddler. "Nothing else? No command units, or anything?"

"Not for you."

"And the civilian clothing?"

"No comment."

Klink grew flustered. "Well, whether you were just shot down or escaped from another POW camp I'll have you know that you will not escape from this one! No prisoner ever escapes Stalag 13! Right, Hogan?"

"That's right."

Spock filed away the timed response. "We'll see," Kirk replied quietly.

The pencil dropped to the desk. "Very well! Schultz! Take them to the delousing station." Klink wagged a finger at them. "We'll figure out your story yet. Diiismissed! Hogan! I want you and your men to start preparing two bunks in Barracks 3…" the voices died down as they were led away by Schultz.

"Thoughts, Captain?" Spock asked lowly.

"Robert Hogan…" Kirk muttered. "I seem to remember a name like that from old history books… but I can't be sure why."

Spock nodded. "There is a cruiser in Starfleet registry named the Robert E. Hogan. There is a chance they are one and the same."

"Hey Schultz!" They turned and saw Hogan running up to meet them. Reaching into his jacket he pulled out a candy bar. "Mind if I talk to them for a couple minutes?"

"Colonel Hogan," Schultz pleaded longingly. "One of these days I really must do my job!"

"And let a perfectly good candy bar go to waste?" Hogan casually waved it under the man's nose. "Come on, Schultz, it's just two minutes. Just enough time to finish all... this… chocolate."

They watched silently as Schultz's resolve crumbled and he turned away, devouring the candy bar. Hogan approached them, all chipper demeanor dropped. "So how did Langenscheidt get a hold of you two?"

Kirk looked at Spock briefly before forging ahead. "We got shot down," he said shortly. "Knowing how conspicuous we'd be in uniform we ditched them and stole some civilian clothes. We were caught almost immediately after doing so."

Hogan nodded solemnly. "You're lucky you weren't shot as spies."

"Indeed," Spock said.

For a moment, Hogan looked like he was about to say something else before deciding against it. "Well. We'll have your bunks ready for you in Barracks 3 when you get out. Some uniforms that should fit you, too, though the ranks may mismatch. They'll get your dimensions when you're deloused."

Kirk's eyes widened as the full implications hit him. He glanced at the hat Spock wore, and the discrete bulge in his coat where the tricorder rested. "We'll need a hat for my friend. He had an… unfortunate, botched… surgery," he finished lamely.

"Oh?"

Motioning to Spock, the Vulcan carefully tipped his hat revealing the points on his ears. "Well, that is striking," Hogan commented. "Does it affect your hearing?"

"Negative."

"Then don't worry about it. Alright, it seems our two minutes are up." He bade a hasty farewell before turning them back over to Schultz. It seemed unusual, but neither man had time to dwell on it.

Kirk leaned in close. "You have to hide the tricorder."

"I shall attempt to do so," Spock whispered back.

"That's about all we can do." Squaring his shoulders, Kirk entered the delousing station.

Reviews are appreciated! Thank you :)