This one is a work in progress and I have much of it complete. I am just working out a couple of nagging problems I have toward the end of the story before I post the last of it.

For anyone reading this over at the clubhouse, I'll be updating here rather than there. With us losing the site in a little over a month because MSN bite ass, I figured I had better find a place to post this beyond the cut-off date.

Feel free to comment and tell me where I got this wrong. While a huge BotP fan, I really don't know anything about the formation of the squad, who else was involved, and … blah blah. I see mention of someone else who trained and then left, but I have no idea who he is, so I'll stick with the five I am familiar with.

Please enjoy!

Oh and yeah … Disclaimer: I don't own the birds … I'm just playing with them for a while.

And on the Seventh day ….

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Doctor Anderson wandered slowly through the grounds of the century-old orphanage with a heavy heart and a heavier file tucked under his arm. This had been, perhaps, the fifth center he'd visited in the past 36 hours, and each venue seemed to stab another spike into his hardening heart.

He'd been sent on a search for a young boy; someone around the age of eight or nine, with no known family to speak of, and someone who looked like he had the tough and intelligent prerequisites of a future soldier for peace. These were incredibly tough traits to see inside a young boy, yet he'd already managed to find himself a couple of fantastic prospects – three of those were already safely adopted and transitioned inside his research facility.

Since he'd found the prodigies over seven months ago, he had yet to find anyone who would have the qualities, and be able to get along with the kids he pretty much called his own. Several young boys were of interest, but they seemed more of the "loner" or "bullying" type of personality, and that was the exact opposite of what he needed.

The nun walking beside him clicked her tongue to the roof of her mouth as she indicated young men to him. "This would have been far easier, Doctor, if you had scheduled a more appropriate appointment to actually get to know the young men."

Anderson shook his head. "I need to view them in their natural environment," he answered flatly as he let his eyes fall to a small group of boys teasing a bunch of girls. "I'd prefer that my meeting with them is not staged."

The nun seemed unimpressed. "Just what are you looking for, Doctor?"

"Strength," he answered smoothly as he found his attention drawn to a young boy and girl currently in an argument only a few metres ahead of them.

"I pray this is not for an experiment, Doctor."

Anderson shook his head and kept his focus on the couple ahead of him. "Absolutely not, Sister. I assure you that any child I adopt from this facility will be treated with and afforded far more than any child to even millionaire parents."

She nodded and narrowed her eyes at the two children arguing ahead of them. Her hands did not leave her robe as she attempted to glare them into ceasing their fight. "Young Cassandra and Eric. They have been at war since she arrived two months ago."

Anderson tilted his head at the little girl. Although she was obviously years younger than the boy, she stood her ground and refused to back down even as he tilted his body forward to attempt to hunch over her tiny form. "Does the young girl have any family?"

"No," the nun answered with a tone that was both empathetic and annoyed. "She was a single child to a pair of well known scientists. They, and their entire laboratory, were incinerated three months ago."

Anderson flicked his eyes between the boy and the girl. "Was it an accident?"

"No, Arson." She removed a whip of can from the skirt of her habit and hit it across her palm in warning. "That poor girl was stuck in the middle of it. She spent three weeks in intensive care being treated for burns."

Anderson narrowed his eyes to look closely at her bare arms and legs. "You would never know it."

"She's a miracle, Doctor," she breathed. "That young child should have perished with her family, but here she is now, with no marks on her and a heart of pure gold."

He had to raise a brow at the nun. "Which is plainly obvious considering she is arguing with a boy much older than she is."

"She is likely defending one of her sisters," she said softly. "That child is as quiet as a mouse usually."

"I take it Eric is the bully?"

The nun nodded. "He is the product of a broken home, Doctor. There aren't enough prayers in this world to save that child, I'm afraid."

Anderson let a smirk tick at his lip as he watched the little girl stomp her foot and shake a finger at the older boy. Eric immediately grabbed hold of the finger and appeared to want to snap it off her. Cassandra let her eyes widen in shock, but stomped her abbey-issued shoe on top of his foot. Eric let out a yelp and dropped to his knee to hold at his foot.

Cassandra let out a humph and turned her back to him. She flicked a hip in an arrogant manner and began to stalk away. When a cuss word beginning with the letter "b" burst out of his mouth the little girl spun around and flicked a toy at him. The toy struck at Eric's ear, then recoiled back in to the girl's hand.

The nun immediately leapt into action as Eric let out a pained yelp and cupped his hands over his ear. Anderson watched with a gaped mouth as the nun seized hold of Cassandra's ear. "The spirit of the devil is inside you, child." She cursed disgustedly.

"No," he muttered to himself. "There's spirit, but I don't think it's the devil."

He cast his eyes at the red manila folder under his arm and he pursed his lips in contemplation. Perhaps he was looking in the wrong direction for his newest little protégé. Before the nun had a chance to lead the little girl away he stepped quickly up to them.

"Apologies, Sister, but I would appreciate the opportunity to speak with Cassandra for a short while."

The sister narrowed her eyes. "I thought you were looking for a boy-child."

"No," he answered as he lowered his eyes to the little girl. "I'm looking for a child, any child."

The nun flicked her hand and freed Cassandra's ear from her hold. "Take it underneath the tree, there is a bench there that you may have some privacy, but we can keep an eye on her."

Anderson nodded. "I understand." He smiled down at the little girl and used his hand to indicate the bench and to ask her to lead him to it. "After you, young lady."

Cassandra looked at him with suspicion, but did as she was asked. She didn't say a word at all, even after he took a seat on the bench beside her and extended his hand in greeting.

"Hi. My name is John Anderson."

She looked warily at the proffered hand for a few moments before she gently touched it in a chaste and fairly non-existent shake. She still did not say a word as she set her hands on her knees and lowered her head shyly.

Anderson had to wonder where the little firebird had disappeared to and probed her a little to get her to open up. "Was that boy bothering you?"

She nodded.

"Tell me, what was the weapon that you used." He shrugged as if to pretend to be nonchalant. "It was pretty cool."

When she answered, it was so softly spoken that he had to strain to hear her. "There is no need to speak to me like a child, Sir."

His brow rose slightly – as did a smile. "I apologise, Cassandra. I don't have a little girl of my own, so you have to let me know when I speak to you wrong."

She inhaled a deep breath. "My father used to call me Princess," she remembered sadly. "He said I was named after a Trojan Princess." She looked up at him. "He was an anthr .. anthrop … anthropo … uh."

"Anthropologist," he finished softly.

She nodded. "He and my mom were scientists." She let her gaze rise to his. "I miss them."

"I bet you do, Cassandra," he pursed his lips. "May I call you Princess, too?"

"Are you going to adopt me?"

Anderson smiled. "I'm thinking about it. Would you like that?"

Her shoulder tipped up the meet with her ear and she drew a worn yo-yo from her pocket. "Do you have sons?"

His brow furrowed at the question and he watched her let the yo-yo head fall and rise beside her. "I have three, with one on the way."

She nodded and continued to play with her toy as she looked out into the yard. "I don't get along well with boys," she sighed. "They always pick on me."

"That's because you're very pretty," he offered gently. "Boys pick on girls they think are pretty."

She blushed and giggled softly. "That's silly." She looked up at him with big green eyes. "But thank you. My mom always told me to say thank you when you get as compliment."

"You're welcome," he said softly as he let his eyes trace over her dark hair tied back in a pair of braids. "How old are you, Cassandra."

Her blush remained firmly in place and she almost seemed to squirm a little. "You can call me Princess if you like."

He smiled. "I'd be honoured to."

"I'm nearly six," she breathed as she stretched out her legs in front of her and extended her arms straight to hold on to her knees. She peered over her shoulder at him. "But I am smarter than seven. I can read and write and play the guitar. I'm reading a big girl book right now there are no pictures."

Anderson gave a laugh. "That is a big girl book."

Her eyes narrowed as she gave him a genuine smile. The smile quickly faltered as her lips pursed tightly together. "Your sons, are they nice? How old are they?"

He leaned his forearms on his knees to bring himself lower to her height. "Well, Jason is my oldest, he's eight. Mark is nearly eight. Tiny turned seven two months ago."

Her eyes widened. "Oh, they are so much older than I am."

He smiled conspiratorially. "Yes, but you know what?"

Her tone quieted and there was a definite smile in her words. "What?"

"You are much more mature than they are."

She covered her mouth in her hands and giggled. "You're funny." She calmed her giggles. "But you're very nice. I like you."

"I'm glad to hear that," he said with a true smile. "Princess, how would you like to come with me and meet them all?"

Her eyes seemed to sparkle. "I'd really like that, Mr. Anderson." She looked up as the nun signaled for the conversation to end. She turned to him and put her yo-yo in his hand. "Thank you very much for talking to me. My father gave me this yo-yo. I want you to take it."

"I can't take it," he said softly.

Her gaze moved to the nun. "If you don't, Mr. Anderson, she will. I don't like her so I don't want her to have it." She stood and shuffled her foot in the dirt. "Thank you again, Mr. Anderson. Even if you don't take me to meet your sons, I really am glad that I met you."

"You too, Princess," he breathed as she wagged her fingers in a childish wave goodbye. He watched her leave and looked down at her little gift. He held it up to the light and admired it, and how she had used it earlier. His eyes fell back to her disappearing form and his decision was made.

He had been doing this all wrong. With all of his current boys coming to him from varying sources and through painful circumstances, how did he honestly believe that by searching for specifics he'd find what he needed.

As with Mark, Jason and Tiny, this little flower had come to him. She was exactly what he had been looking for, he'd just been looking in the wrong way.

She was absolutely perfect.

His decision made, and his explanation to the project heads forming, he strode purposefully to the main office to begin the adoption process.