3

Not five minutes later, she heard muffled voices coming nearer. She tried to hold onto consciousness long enough to see if it was the same group of men.

"Boy, Kinch, did you see that bridge go up? It musta gone at least fifty feet!"

There was a deep chuckle. "Yeah, in at least sixty different directions."

Sound of a hand hitting a shoulder. "I've gotta hand it to ya,Carter, you are a clod sometimes, but that explosion was bloody marvelous!"

She smiled. The voices belonged to the same men, except now they sounded much happier. This was her shot at safety.

"Hel-," she tried to raise her voice in order to get their attention but started coughing instead. "Hello," she managed shakily, between gasps. The coughing caused a stabbing pain in her side and made her head hurt even more.

The men stopped in their tracks. The tired voice gave orders. "I heard it. Spread out, guns at the ready, but don't shoot until you're sure whoever it is isn't one of ours."

Sounds of things being gingerly put on the ground, then rustling in the undergrowth as the men circled out, searching for the source of the voice. It didn't take too long, especially since she wanted to be found. With her head feeling the way it did, she didn't think that trying to sit up would be wise, so she stayed lying down but waved a leafy branch in the air to signal the searchers.

The deep-voiced man was the first to spot her. He walked forward cautiously, seeming reassured by her eagerness to be found, but not ready to let down his guard just yet. Once he was standing next to her, she dropped the branch and let her eyes close, relaxing. Now that they'd found her, she didn't have to try so hard to stay conscious.

"All clear, colonel," the deep voice called in a stage whisper. He must have knelt down by her shoulder, because the shout was close to her ear. She winced at the sound and he put a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Sorry," he said in a softer tone. "Does your head hurt?"

Her face relaxed a little and she nodded slightly. "And my back…" She trailed off, closing her eyes tighter in a grimace. "I think I landed on a log – "

Another set of footsteps approached them. "What do we have, Kinch?"

Deep voice kept his hand on her shoulder, maintaining the reassuring touch. "Try not to move too much." He turned towards the footsteps, answering the other man. "I think she's hurt, colonel."

She opened her eyes to see the deep-voiced man crouching by her side. He was one of the Americans, a sergeant, judging by the stripes on his uniform sleeve, but what surprised her was the color of his skin. He was black. She'd never seen a colored service man before.

"How bad?" The other man crouched down too, pushing back his crush cap on his forehead and studying her with dark brown eyes as the colored man spoke.

"I'm not sure yet. Ma'am?" he touched her upper arm with cautious fingers. "Did you pass out?"

"Yes." She swallowed, blinking slowly to make the dark woodland around them go back into focus. "It was just after sunset. I fell off my horse…"

The sound of crunching leaves and snapping twigs drowned her out, signaling that the rest of the men were coming over to join them.

"Did I hear someone say 'she'?" More footsteps crashed through the undergrowth, coming towards them. The voice asking the question had a French accent and sounded eager. "Where's the girl?"

"It's a girl?" The British voice, sounding surprised and a little excited. It seemed like his footsteps sped up.

"Is she all right?" It was the third American, sounding more worried than the others. A few seconds after asking the question, he grunted softly.

The British voice sighed. "Andrew, you bleedin' idiot, give me that dynamite before you drop it an' kill the lot of us!"

Her head spun as the men's voices seemed to swirl over her, rapidly firing questions at each other as though she wasn't even there. She was still trying to make sense of the situation and reconstruct how she had gotten there in the first place, but there was something else she didn't understand.

"Are you with the underground?" The men all seemed startled to hear her speak, and even more so by the question, asked in perfect, unaccented English. Until that point, only the sergeant had heard her speak, and he had been too busy assessing her condition to take much note of anything else.

The man in the crush cap exchanged wary looks with the others before squinting at her. "Why do you ask?"

She gave him a wan half smile. "It's the middle of the night, something big just blew up…" Her eyes closed, then slowly reopened. " … and five men from Allied countries are nearby, carrying around dynamite." She weakly shrugged one shoulder, afraid to move the other. "It adds up."

The men looked at each other, more than a little worried by her observation. If she could make the connection so easily, surely others could, too. Leaving camp in their uniforms had been a calculated risk. With a double mission they knew that there was a chance of them being seen by a patrol somewhere along the way. They each had fake dog-tags, so they could claim to be downed fliers or escaped prisoners. If they had gone out wearing black gear and greasepaint, they ran a bigger risk of being pegged as spies. Still, they had been much too loud walking through the woods and drawing unnecessary attention to themselves. They must have gotten sloppy.

"I think she has a concussion." The black sergeant straightened up and spoke to the man in the crush cap, indicating her with a tilt of his head and then smiling at her. "By the way, I'm Kinch."

Her eyes closed again. "Nice to meet you, sergeant." She tried to rest her head on the ground, but ended up hissing in pain seconds later.

"'Ere, luv. Allow me."

The British man slid in behind her, cradling her head in his hands with a surprisingly light touch. His fingers skimmed through her hair and over a sizeable lump as he did a quick check for injuries, and once he was done he went back to simply supporting her head, being careful to avoid putting any pressure on the lump.

"Thanks," she breathed.

"Don't mention it, luv."

His blue eyes sparkled and it took all of his practice to keep his hands steady, especially when he felt a sticky liquid creeping onto his fingers. He angled his head, trying to get a better look at it without withdrawing his hands. It was hard to tell in the low light, but one of the other men shone a flashlight over his shoulder, illuminating her head. With the flashlight's beam he could see a smudge of something red on the back of her neck, along with dark drops of dried liquid on the ground where her head had been resting, and an ugly gash in amongst her hair. He realized what the liquid must be and a worried expression passed over his face, but he managed to keep his voice light.

"The name's Newkirk, but you can call me Peter."

He carefully shifted his hands so that one still supported her head while the other was free to dig around in his jacket pocket. After a minute or so of groping around in the pocket while trying to ignore the trickles of blood dripping over his knuckles, Newkirk finally found what he'd been looking for. He smiled to himself, retrieving the prized handkerchief and folding it one-handed before gently pressing it to her injury. She whimpered a little, her eyebrows scooting together in a wince at the sudden pressure, but she relaxed when he eased off slightly.

"Oui, and I'm Louis." The Frenchman seemed at a loss for things to do to help, so he picked up her hand and kissed it.

Newkirk grinned and bent down, whispering to her. "'E's jealous."

"Uh-huh. And just call me anxious." The American officer put his hands on his knees and stood up decisively. "You guys do remember that we still have a job to do tonight? We don't have time to play auto club."

"Mon colonel, have a heart!" LeBeau was shocked. "This poor mademoiselle is hurt. We cannot leave her out here."

"But we do have to take care of that-" Kinch stopped himself just in time. He cleared his throat, sharing a look with the colonel. "That thing."

None of them knew whether or not this woman had overheard their earlier conversation about the targets. She'd obviously been in the same spot for hours, but had she been awake when they passed by earlier? And was she on their side, or a cunning German plant? They had all fallen for Gestapo traps before, especially when beautiful women had been the bait. LeBeau had been an open book to the female interrogation team, Newkirk brought a Gestapo spy into camp through their emergency tunnel, and even Hogan had led the guys to a rendezvous with a blackmailing milkmaid.

"Sir, all of us don't need to be there to do the second job. Why don't I just pop back to camp and take 'er with me?Wilson can give her a look-see and patch 'er up."

The colonel nodded. "Alright, Newkirk, take her back, but you shouldn't go alone. It'll be tricky getting her into camp, and you'll need someone to watch your back."

The youngest man of the bunch, a lanky American, shoved his hands deep into his jacket pockets and stood up. "Watch his b- ?Colonel Hogan, do you really think she might try something?"

Hogan glared at the younger man for letting slip his name and rank. After all, they still didn't know if she could be trusted. "No, Andrew, but things like that usually happen when I'm not expecting them. Besides, if he's got his hands full with her, someone's gotta keep an eye out for Krauts."

Their conversation was interrupted by a soft moan as she tried to shift position. The log was digging painfully into her back, making it harder for her to breathe.

The men all looked at each other, then at the colonel, who only held their stares for a moment before glancing at the explosives. He didn't want to just leave her there, but they had a mission to worry about, and holding up those troops and supplies was more important than the safety of any of his men. Or the safety of a civilian, no matter how pretty she was.

She moaned again and Hoganscrubbed a hand across his face. Being in command wasn't easy.

"You alright, luv?"

She forced one eye open and gave Newkirk a tiny, but sardonic, half smile. He shook his head, also smiling. "Right, stupid question."

Carter nodded grimly at the colonel, then picked up the timers and charges.

"Colonel, have you ever been to the Hammelburg zoo?"

All the men pulled up a few times, then moved to crouch beside her. "What did you say?"

She took a breath, grimaced, and asked again. "Have you ever been to the Hammelburg zoo?"

Hogan couldn't believe his ears. She was using an Underground recognition code. He shook his head in disbelief. "Once or twice. My favorites are the brown bears, especially the Papa Bear."

She smiled, letting her eyes close. "I prefer the birds. My favorite is the Nightingale."

Kinch stepped up to Hogan. "We're supposed to rendezvous with an agent codenamed Nightingale in two days. Something about getting important picture negatives to Allied Headquarters in London."

Nightingale was fighting to stay conscious. "Sorry I'm early," she murmured, "but since we're all here already…"

Hogan folded his arms impatiently; he hated foul-ups. "Uh-huh. Look, I'd love to stay and chat, but we don't have time. Newkirk-"

The Englishman looked up expectantly. "Sir?"

"Get her back to camp in one piece. Carter-"

"Don't you worry, boy! I mean, sir. I've got the rest of the stuff right here-"

Hogan gave an annoyed sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose with one hand and gesturing at Carter with the other.

"Give the stuff to Kinch. You're helping Newkirk take her back." The young sergeant seemed about to protest but Hogan shook his head, tugging his cap into place and jamming both hands deep into his jacket pockets. "And no arguments! Now get going."

Nightingale could feel herself about to pass out, but first she had to tell them... "Colonel?"

"What?"

The barely contained anger in his voice made her flinch. She couldn't help thinking that this agent was well named. He was as grumpy as a papa bear in midwinter.

"I've kept the film with me."

He nodded, relaxing a little. Instead of a double mission, tonight was turning into a triple. If nothing else went wrong, and that was a big if, they might actually come out ahead on this one.

"Well, at least that's something. I guess you saved us a trip."

As far as he was concerned, it was a good thing whenever he could minimize the risk of his men getting shot. After tonight's antics, the woods would be crawling with Gestapo men trying to find the people responsible for the sabotage. Most likely, they wouldn't give up searching for at least a week, and trying to sneak out of camp for a rendezvous with those boys around wasn't something he'd been looking forward to. Hogan turned to Kinch. "Take Lebeau, get going. I'll follow in a minute."

Kinch adjusted his hold on the equipment and was about to set off when he saw that Lebeau was still kneeling on the ground. "C'mon, Louis."

"Oui, Kinch." He brought Nightingale's hand up and kissed it. "Until we meet again, cherie."

She smile at him and said quietly but distinctly, "Je ne serai pas heureux jusqu'à ce que je vois que vous êtes en sécurité."

Lebeau's eyes went wide as he stood up. He followed Kinch towards the trees away to the north, gesturing back to her with his thumb. "Kinch, did you hear that?"

"I heard it, Louis, I heard it," he sighed, adjusting his hold on the explosives and timers. "Help me carry this stuff, huh?"

"She speaks French! An agent who speaks French, and a beauty, too. She could not be working for the boche."

Kinch raised one eyebrow. "And what if she's from Vichy?"

Lebeau stopped dead in his tracks, a look of comic disgust on his face. "And I thought the English were cruel. You would take my hope away?"

Kinch shrugged, careful not to drop anything. "We can't afford to get careless, Lebeau, that's all I'm saying. I hope we can trust her, but right now I don't wanna bet my life on it. You remember when that Gestapo dame Myracame to camp, selling milk, and told Hogan that she had a message from Robinson Crusoe?[1] We fell for that like a ton of bricks."

"Oui. D'accord. You are right, of course, but I hate to think that this girl is involved with something like that, or that we would fall for the same trick again."

They disappeared through the trees, but Kinch's reply drifted back to the rest of the group.

"Exactly why we're being so cautious now."

[1] 'Diamonds in the Rough' 2x03