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Fic: Home (Hogan's Heroes, PG)

Title: Home
Fandom: Hogan's Heroes
Characters: Robert Hogan
Rating: PG
Word Count: 360
Warnings/Spoilers: None, really, but it does have an ambiguous ending.
Disclaimer: Fanfic, for fun, not profit.
Notes: Written for the tv_universe for the ABC Challenge where we were supposed tow write a fic based off a letter in the alphabet. This is for "M".

Home

As Hogan stared up at the full moon, he could hear the words of the song his mother used to sing to him.

“I see the moon and the moon sees me.”
“Down through the leaves of the old oak tree.”


The moon wasn’t shining through oak leaves though, but rather the twisted branches of a battered old pine. And it was cold. It was always cold here in Germany, or at least that’s how it seemed to Hogan. When he thought of the song, he always remembered it being summer. The grass was green, the breeze gentle and warm. It was a memory worth having, worth keeping. It kept him going on nights like this.

Nights spent skulking about the German countryside, evading enemy soldiers and trying to find a way to derail twenty cars of munitions without getting himself, his men, or any of the underground killed. Nights when he already had blood on his hands and when he’d likely be getting them even bloodier. Nights when, odds were, he’d never be getting home again.

He shifted against the tree trunk and the warm blood from his wound felt good against his cold skin. Stupid, really, here he was bleeding to death and all he could think was it that felt good. Delirium from blood loss, no doubt. Carter had dressed it the best he could before he and Newkirk had to leave for the rendezvous with the underground. They hadn’t wanted to leave him.

Only, the train was due through at 3:00 am, and they’d gotten a late start. No time to take him back to the camp, no one to spare to look after him. Hogan had assured them he’d be fine and ordered them to go on. It was the right thing to do. The only thing to do. Besides, it wasn’t so bad here. Sitting in the trees, watching the moon.

Please let the light that shines on me,
Shine on the ones I love.


Not bad at all. If he closed his eyes, he could ignore the cold, ignore the pain. He could almost hear his mother’s voice, almost smell the fresh cut grass. He could almost believe he was home.

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