AN: I came up with this idea after seeing some family drawings that Belphegor drew of LeBeau's family, namely his parents on their wedding day. Well, let's just say that my Muse was piqued. ( the link to these drawings can be found in the Forum XIIIc, under the topic: Fanart)

I began to imagine what the rest of the Hogan's Heroes characters' lives were like in any given year... so I chose 1928.

I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

He let the box drop the rest of the way with a small clatter, before straightening and stretching his back. Using his sleeve to wipe the sweat from his forehead, he took a moment to admire his handy work. It wasn't a a department store, but it sure was bigger than the attic above the boarding house. With just a bit more work, he could set out his wares.

Right there he would have little childrens' chairs and table, all nicely smoothed and painted. The sunlight from the store window would glint across them and the passers-by wouldn't be able to keep themselves from stopping to admire them. Gretchen had embroidered a fine new table cloth upon which he would place the carefully crafted tea set that little Marta played with happily. The teddy bears would go on the seat, like they themselves were conducting a tea party. The dolls, dressed in the most modern clothes, would also attend.

"Daydreaming, again?"

He looked up and let out a sigh. He crossed the bare floor to the door and took the last of the heavy boxes from his very pregnant wife. "You musn't carry the heavy things," he said, for what felt like the thousandth time during this move. "The baby…"

"Is fine," she interrupted, "and he will be much better when the chairs are moved in tomorrow, that way his mama can sit."

Right on cue, Hans flipped the nearest crate over, shrugged out of his jacket and placed it down as a cushion. He then bowed in an exaggerated fashion, saying cheekily, "My Empress!"

She eased herself down and rubbed her belly. "Haven't you heard? We aren't an empire any more."

They laughed together for a moment, then each began to study the shop. Gretchen thinking about all of the work to get it ready: the floor would need dusted and polished, as would the counter. A coat of paint wouldn't be remiss and curtains for the windows.

Hans contemplated the stock he would need before they opened. At that moment and not for the first time a seedling of doubt claimed him. The economy was not good. Post-war Germany struggled with inflation that sent the price of common goods through the roof. It had only been a couple of years since it had stabilized. Maybe it wasn't the right time to stick his neck, and his family, out that far. He rubbed the back of his neck.

"What if no one buys the toys?"

His face was so frightened, so worried. She held her hand out to him and when he took it, she pulled him closer, cupping his cheek with her other hand. "Your toys are wunderbar. They're little treasures to the children. They will sell."

He sank to his knees in front of her, his gaze focused solely on her slightly swollen fingers that worked so hard for him. "If they don't, we will be done. No money, nothing to fall back on. I can still back out. I can tell them I've changed my mind, get my old job at the factory… they were sorry to see me go."

"Nein. I've seen how the children light up when you show them what you've made, and how you do, too." She smiled, blinking a few emotional tears away. "You can't go back to tables and cabinets and knick-knack shelves. I have faith in you, Hans… this will work."

He buried his head into her lap beside the child she carried. What would he do without his Gretchen? Perishing the thought, he picked his head back up when she began to stroke his hair. "Come," she said, her eyes twinkling. "Let's get home before the kinder send Aunt Fritzy running back to Dusseldorf!"

He pulled her to her feet and guided her out the door, turning for a moment to lock it. He stepped back and slipped his arm around her waist as they gazed at the little shop.

"You'll have to name it, you know," she whispered, snuggling in closer to him and the warmth he provided in the chilly March evening.

"Schultz's Toy Shop."

She shook her head and he scratched the stubble on his jaw. "What was it you said inside? The toys were like their little treasures?" He swiped his hand through the air in an arc over the door. "We'll call it, 'Die Schätze'."

They stood that way for a few moments the hope burning brightly. Ja, ja... 1928 would be their year.

Note: I hope to write a little snapshot for all of the characters, but started with Schultz. After what I've put him through recently, I thought he deserved a little fluff.