A/N: Soooo sorry for the delay in this last chapter. This year has just been hectic for me, and my muse departed for parts unknown a long time ago. I just wanted to get this last chapter up, and I hope you enjoy it. I've enjoyed writing this story so much. Thank y'all so much for sticking with it, and for liking it even when I didn't. Leave me a review please, and have a very awesome New Year!

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Nooothing!

Klink strolled down the sidewalk toward the small park in the center of the town, humming a jaunty tune as he walked. Kätzchen sat perched on his shoulders. Things had been going good for the Kommandant this past week: prisoners were behaving well (or, as well as could be expected, anyway), there hadn't been any surprise visits from the Gestapo, and he had met a very nice fraulein the previous night at the Hofbrau. She had seemed quite dazzled by his Klink charm, and he was very much looking forward to a date with her that evening, the last night of 1944.

Reaching his destination, Klink found a bench and sat down, reaching up to take Kätzchen from his shoulders and place him in his lap.

"Isn't this a nice evening, Kätzchen?" the colonel asked his cat, as he stroked the golden fur. "Unusually warm for December. Very nice."

Kätzchen answered with a purr, and snuggled close. Klink smiled, and settled back onto the bench, content to watch the sun set. While he wouldn't admit it to anyone, (what that would do to his Iron Colonel image!) watching the sunset was one of his very favorite things to do. It was peaceful, one of the few things left in this war-torn world that was. Much like his cat.

The two of them sat like that for awhile, enjoying the view and the relaxation. After awhile, Klink noticed another figure enter the little park and stand near the entrance. The way he was standing put Klink mostly out of his view, while Klink could still see the man. He appeared to be waiting for someone. Nothing about him seemed out of the ordinary, however, so Klink turned his attention back to the red and yellow scene before him.

A few minutes later, however, a second figure walked into the park, and made a beeline for the first man. They stood engrossed in quiet conversation for a few moments, and then something caught Klink's eye: the first man hooked his thumbs into the pockets in his white trench coat. The mannerism seemed oddly familiar.

Klink mulled over that for a second, and then came up with where he had seen that before. It was the same thing Hogan always did with the pockets on his bomber jacket. How coincidental is that! he thought, amused. Then the figure shifted to where his face was slightly turned toward the fading light of the sun, and Klink's mouth dropped open.

After putting up with the man for three years, Klink could recognize that face anywhere, even in civilian clothes.

It was Colonel Hogan.

Had he escaped? It must have happened in the short time Klink had been away from the camp. But how, and why now? Klink was often away from the camp for a few hours during the course of a week, and his no-escape record was still intact. Until now, at least. But where did he get those civilian clothes? And who was he talking to? This must have been a carefully planned escape. But then why was he still in town?

Klink's first instinct was to jump up and confront Hogan. But the American colonel still hadn't seen Klink, and something held Klink back. Scooting a little further toward the edge of the bench, to try to get a better look, he saw Hogan hand a small piece of paper over to the other person, who took it and slipped it into their inner pocket.

What is he doing? Klink wondered, curiosity taking over. Why isn't he trying to hurry and leave town? Then the second figure's face came slightly into view, and his mouth went dry. He recognized that face. It was a leader of the Underground that some of his guards had accidentally captured once (while searching the woods for mushrooms for LeBeau to make Mushrooms Bordelaise with), and the Gestapo had come, identified him and then tried to transport him to Berlin for interrogation. However, the truck had been found later on the side of the road, empty, after the vehicle never arrived in Berlin. Guards and prisoner just gone. The Gestapo had never been able to know for sure what exactly had happened, much to Hochstetter's rage.

But what was Hogan doing, trading papers with an Underground leader? Suddenly, years of suspicious behavior made sense to Klink.

Hogan was an Underground agent.

Instantly hundreds of questions formed in Klink's mind. Most important, HOW? He ran the toughest POW camp in all of Germany! How could the American colonel have pulled off something like this for so long?

He didn't have time to mull over this question for long, however, as the group of two broke up and the person in question started heading off down the sidewalk. Klink pulled Kätzchen up out of his lap and rose quickly, intending to confront the American and haul him... where? This question stopped Klink in his tracks.

Back to Stalag 13? After what he'd seen? His duty as an Officer of the Third Reich demanded that he drag Hogan down to Gestapo headquarters. Hochstetter would be more than happy to take Klink's word for what he'd seen and Hogan would never be heard from again.

But he had long since stopped actually wanting to do his duty to the Fuehrer. Oh, he kept the prisoners contained (or so he thought), recited the same old lines about "the Glorious Third Reich", and other such actions. But the gung-ho "Hail the Fuehrer!" officer he might have been at one time was gone, replaced by a war-weary man who had seen much too much and way too many atrocities committed in the name of Hitler's twisted idea of progress.

The allies had started making way more sense a long time ago.

But he was still a German, and a high ranking Officer in the Luftwaffe at that. He wasn't quite sure if he was willing to go as far as to let a... spy who was also an American POW in his prison camp walk away free to go sauntering away and act as if nothing was different.

But then a soft meow drew his attention back down to Kätzchen. The intense blue eyes stared at him, giving him the impression that the cat was staring right through him. And in those eyes he saw hope. Peace. Love.

Klink broke the eye contact with his cat to look up to where Hogan was disappearing around a corner in the distance, and then glanced back down at Kätzchen. A warm purr rumbled in the silence, and Klink smiled slightly as he realized that his cat had known his decision about what to do even before he did.

Tomorrow was a new year, and who knew what that year would bring. But maybe, just maybe, by allowing this, he might be helping the war end sooner. That's what he would tell himself, and that's what he desperately hoped would be the case. He had had enough of killing. The sooner this rotten war was ended, the better. And if he could help it along, well.

The German colonel drew Kätzchen close to him once more as he set off down the street, in the direction of Stalag 13. He had a date tonight. Best not to keep the lady waiting.