Title: Reunion (1/1)
Fandom: Hogan’s Heroes
Pairings/Characters: Robert Hogan/ Ivan Kinchloe, Peter Newkirk, Louis LeBeau, Andrew Carter
Genres: Angst, Historical, Drama
Warnings: Implied after-effects of violence.
Summary: Ivan Kinchloe is on an extremely important mission during the Korean War.
Date Of Completion: January 17, 2008
Date Of Posting: January 18, 2008
Disclaimer: I don’t own ‘em, Paramount does, more’s the pity.
Word Count: 628
Feedback welcome and appreciated.
Author’s Notes: Happy Birthday, Khylara! This plot bunny finally nipped me and it also fit your request from the LJ First Anniversary Fic Request Meme. Pairing: Robert/Hogan/Ivan Kinchloe (Hogan’s Heroes) Prompt: Reunion. Aah, the classics! :)
I know it’s a day early but I’m not sure if I’m going to be on-line on Saturday.
Kinch nodded, and he and his squad moved forward.
The camp was small, surrounded by barbed wire and guards with machine guns. Their eyes were hard and their mouths grim as they patrolled under a leaden sky. Puddles of rainwater pocked the muddy ground, and the gray light matched the grayness of the buildings and their uniforms.
Dusk was falling, and as the shift changed, it would be the best time to attack.
This prisoner-of-war camp in North Korea was close to the Chinese border, isolated and filled with the stench of death and disease.
Kinch kept his heartbeat steady. He could not afford to be jumpy or jittery or anything else. He had to focus on his Mission and hope that they would be successful.
Nine other highly-trained men were under his command. Six others waited as back-up, deep in the woods, but with binoculars trained on the camp and sharpshooter rifles ready. The men with Ivan all wore black, carried knives, pistols, wirecutters, and garrotes.
The Hotel Hell was going down.
The guards closest to the fence went first after the wire was cut. Newkirk’s quick fingers were still quick. He winked at Kinch, who flashed a smile.
LeBeau and Newkirk followed Kinch to a barracks. Carter and the rest of the men were already inside.
Kinch nearly reeled with the stench of unwashed bodies, waste, and blood. Darkness and huddled shapes were all he could see after his eyes adjusted. He decided he was glad there was no lightbulb in here.
Newkirk’s voice was hoarse as he spoke a name.
A ragged voice from a corner said, “In the building in the northwest corner.”
Newkirk spoke his thanks and he and Kinch and LeBeau left the barracks. Carter and the men would handle things here.
The three of them had a Mission-within-a-Mission.
Stealthily they approached the building, tarpaper hanging off sections in the wind. Stars were coming out as dusk was deepening.
It was fortunate that the guard crew was depleted in this camp. A wave of influenza had swept the camp, catching the guards as well as the prisoners. The guards still on duty were weak and overworked.
Good, because otherwise we might not have been able to liberate this camp if they were at full-strength without an airstrike and more men.
Kinch hoped that Lady Luck was finally on their side. Marya’s information was on-the-money so far. She had no love for the Communists, her White Russian loyalties making it easy for her to pass along information.
Besides, she had a vested interest in liberating this particular camp, one which Kinch could agree with.
He and Newkirk and LeBeau exchanged looks and then carefully entered the building.
This time there was a brief struggle and one of the guards almost shouted out a warning before LeBeau cut off his cry with the garrote. Kinch grabbed the keys off the man’s belt and strode down the hall, unlocking cells. Empty. All of them.
Until the last one.
He unlocked the door with trembling hands, almost afraid to see what…who…was inside.
He swung the door open.
Here the overwhelming smell was blood: heavy and cloying, and the light from the hall touched a leg clad only in shreds of a uniform.
A leg oddly bent.
Kinch knew there was more, but he stood in the doorway, fear and dread holding his tongue.
The figure in the corner stirred. Somewhere in the dark, eyes squinted.
“Who’s there?” rasped the beloved voice he thought he would never hear again.
“Ivan,” he said simply.
A sharply-drawn breath, then a half-sob, half-laugh.
“What..took you…so long?”
Kinch swept forward, murmuring “Robert,” as he gathered the broken body in his arms and felt painfully-thin, trembling arms slide around him.
free web counter (this counter installed 9/22/09)