A/N: Big thanks to DragonRevolution for helping me structure the plot. I had one before, but I had trouble connecting events and reaching the climax and such.

Please review as always!

The moment he returned to the barracks, Kinch told Hogan of his idea to search Klink's office for any files pertaining to Murray. The said man sat at the table with the others, a few new prisoners joining the crowd, as he told another tale.

This time there were no Leprechauns, or any sort of clever, mythical creature; this story was of two greedy men who tried many wicked deeds to snatch up the sliver of poor farmland that belonged to an old farmer, with nothing but a skinny cow to call a friend. Le Beau served some of the soup to whoever wanted it as Murray spoke. Again, his talent in storytelling was apparent, each character having his own distinct voice and tone. This time he was less shy and performed as eloquently as he had with Kinch. Even with his occasional cough or hacking, the story kept its audience. The only one missing was Carter, as he excused himself into Hogan's office to "fix the kettle to make more coffee".

As much as Kinch had somewhat enjoyed it, he had to talk to his leader.

"I know the Gestapo is tight on security, but this wouldn't be the first time we've done something like this," he explained in a hushed tone. "You could always visit our beloved Klink and get him talking, or even have one of us sneak in and find some papers. Hochstetter always leaves something for the kommadant in his safe to protect,"

Colonel Hogan nodded. He too spoke softly, as the two were standing close to the group.

"I haven't visited him in a while, now that you mentioned it. I still worry about the Gestapo though. I'm surprised they even give Murray this much freedom; I also can't get rid of the feeling they have something to do with this silence from the Underground,"

"I know what you mean colonel. I still can't get what Murray has anything to do with this. He acts like any other prisoner,"

Hogan cocked an eyebrow. "You mean you haven't got anything from him?"

"No sir," Kinch answered with a frown. "What you hear now is what I've got to give,"

They both looked over at the middle aged corporal. He was still performing for the others; some slurped down the last of their soup to pay full attention to Murray's tale.

"And poor old O'Neill came home that day with many a piece of gold, and all because he tricked the inn keeper into thinking that his cow hide could produce little coins! You'd think Hudden and Dudden hated the man then; they certainly despised him now! So, killing his cow didn't drive O'Neill from his land.

"But the mean spirited fellows decided to try the same trick the old man did. They killed the best of their herd of cows, tanned them, and then went on their way to sell the hide for their weight in gold at the local fair. Sadly for Hudden and Dudden, the people they tried to sell the hides to have heard of the false magical tanned hide from the inn keeper. Sure enough the two were beaten and dragged out of the fair…"

"I think Murray is hiding something," Colonel Hogan murmured to Kinch at that moment. His sergeant blinked in mild surprise.

"What makes you say that colonel?"

"Just think about it – He's a Gestapo prisoner, he doesn't talk to anyone, and now he's pushing away conversations in favor of telling children's tales," Hogan numbered out. He rubbed his chin in deep thought, looking at the Irishman. "It just doesn't make sense for him to not have anything of interest,"

"I can try harder to get him talking sir," Kinch offered. He already managed to get the man into the barracks for once, and he didn't even try in getting him to loosen up around the other prisoners. It might have taken a week to do so, but at least Kinch knew how to get him to get talking now.

"Maybe, but you've got a big wall to climb over with this man,"

"That's true,"

"Colonel! I fixed the kettle!"

Colonel Hogan and Sergeant Kinchloe turned, facing the smiling head of Carter sticking out of the office door. Le Beau and Newkirk quirked at the call, and immediately followed the rest into walking into Hogan's quarters. The door was shut quickly as Carter turned it on. Kinch knew he wasn't alone when he almost felt giddy about the now functioning radio tuning into the outside world.

That sense of giddy soon was replaced by intense concentration. Carter could not have picked a better time to fix it; Hochstetter's voice was heard mid-sentence on what could only be the Gestapo's business in Stalag 13, and to Murray's stay there.

"-is very intriguing work. High Command has been pleased by the results so far. We can't afford Murray seeing anyone out of this camp because of it,"

"Not to worry Major Hochstetter!" Klink's voice sounded off proudly. "Stalag 13 is the most efficient and well run camp in all of Germany!"

"May I remind you that this stalag is only a source of shelter for the prisoner? My prisoner?"

"Oh, of course Major, I was merely stating-"

"Yes, yes, I know colonel." Hochstetter interjected, sounding annoyed. "But remember what I have ordered you to do: never let Coporal Murray out of Stalag 13. He's a carrier that can't afford to go just yet, and I don't care how efficient and well run this prisoner of war camp is if he should ever come out of our grasp, under your watch,"

"I understand Herr Major," Klink replied gravely.

"Good. After Murray's business is done, the High Command's favorite worker I told you of should come and pay your prisoners a visit,"

"Of course Herr Major. But when will that be exactly? I do like to keep on top of things-"

"That is not of your concern at the moment. Just keep Murray in the camp while my guards do their job,"

"Jawohl Major Hochstetter!"

"Auf Weidersehen,"

Colonel Hogan then shut off the kettle. Kinch didn't know what to think of the "High Command's favorite worker", or of "Murray's business". Was there a new, much more deadly spy at hand that could have something to do with the sudden radio silence? And how was Murray a part of it? Was he a spy as well?

It had been over a week since Kinch had remembered the two warnings, both in different tongues but with the same dreaded message: Beware the Child of Ireland. It resurfaced in his mind at the thought of Murray being a spy.

Could it be? In Kinch's experience in working with the Resistance, anything was possible. Friend could be foe and foe could be friend; Murray was no exception.

"Colonel, I think we should keep a closer eye on Murray. He might be working with the Gestapo,"

Newkirk gave a quizzical look. "And I thought you liked the old bloke,"

"Yeah, he isn't too bad," Carter added. "Well, aside from the coughing and all that,"

"You forgot his rude manners, his inconsiderate rudeness, his rude, disgusting spitting-!"

"And his rude language and his rude everything. I understand Le Beau," Hogan joked. The Frenchman gave a halfhearted grin.

"But Kinch is right. Murray may as well be the one Gestapo agent or spy messing with our communications. Just keep him under your watch as usual; we won't tell him anything about our operations,"

"Understood sir," Kinch replied. "But what about the Gestapo?"

"Yeah," Le Beau said, "What about them? They're still right at our tail, and you know how obsessed Hochstetter is in finding Papa Bear,"

"I think it's time for a plan then. Newkirk, I need you to go into Klink's office, and-"

"Colonel Hogan!"

The group groaned. Sergeant Schultz stumbled into his quarters as he rubbed his gloved hands together.

"Colonel Hogan, Colonel Klink wants you to report to his office," he breathed out as he caught his breath. He had ran from the kommandantur to Barracks 2.

"The nerve of some people!" Hogan started in a pretend aggrivation. "Doesn't Klink know I'm in the middle of a safety discussion?"

"Safety is important you know!" Carter chided. Schultz flustered a bit.

"But colonel, Kommadant Klink needs to see you now!"

"What for? What's more important than frostbite awareness?"

"It's about something about work detail, shoveling snow or something. But come quickly! You know how worked up the kommadant gets when we have visitors. He wants you to report to his office now!"

Schultz worried face was apparent now. It wasn't unusual to see the big man looking apprehensive about something or other (especially when Hogan or any of his men were around) but he looked more stressed than usual.

Still, Hogan rolled his eyes and buttoned up his coat. "Alright then, let's see what our dear old kommadant wants. We'll continue our discussion on frostbite when I return,"

They all exited his office and watched him leave into the bitter cold with Schultz. By then, Murray had long since finished his tale and his audience had left him alone at the table. The stove's last lick of warmth had also vanished; Le Beau no longer had anything to cook and the stove was exhausted to its last shred of wood. Nothing but a flicker and some hot ashes remained.

Kinch took a seat next to Murray. As usual he was completely unfazed by the cold while the sergeant struggled not to shiver out of control. He took out a pair of thread bare gloves and slipped them on as a futile attempt to keep his digits from falling off.

Murray didn't acknowledge his presence; he was staring off into nothing, that familiar glazed look on his face. He seldom did this, but every now and then he'd go into deep thought, he eyes looking indifferent to the real world while his body stood still. His breathing slowed as well.

Kinch thought about what he had accused him of being earlier: a traitor. Or was he? Perhaps he wasn't Irish at all and only a very good German actor. A very, very good actor.

Wait, I'm only thinking this because of some voices I heard? Kinch scoffed at himself. Never before had he taken them seriously, not since he first met Murray. Sure, he was somewhat shocked that the voice had somehow forewarned him of an Irishman he met, but after that? Kinch was a grown man and didn't think about it, even after that dream he had. Murray was a suspect because of his unknown relations with the Gestapo and his uncanny silence about it. Nothing more, nothing less.

"I haven't told that many tales in a long time," Murray spoke up out of nowhere. Kinch faced him.

"Is that so?"

"Aye. When the nephews were young, I'd tell them so many, yet they always asked for more. Even their friends came along to hear one or two. I can remember one, a shy little black boy-"

"I thought I was the first Negro you've seen," Kinch said. Murray chuckled.

"I said you were the first one I met, not seen. The boy was from some Negro family that lived a ways out, far enough away to not visit often. All that lad would do was sit in the corner of the room away from me and just look at me as I told stories. I think he was quiet around the other boys too. Don't blame him though, with his lame leg and the like,"

Kinch nodded as Murray went on another cough spasm. He wasn't sure if the man was telling the truth, but he could lead it to somewhere, right? He also knew he'd have to hurry, as he was expecting the order for work detail as soon as Hogan returned.

"I wonder what he'd think of your tales in the war," Kinch wondered aloud, steering the conversation to his will. "Maybe he'd be so interested in hearing what you did he'd come up to you and ask questions,"

Murray's mouth twitched noticeably. "He'd be a grown man now, and even grown men don't care for an old man's tale,"

"The Gestapo is hard on you then?"

"Don't talk about those bloody heathens in front of me,"

Eyes darted back to staring at nothing, but this time they were piercing into nothing with an intense anger. Kinch, taken back by the response, did not press further; he did not want to appear as if he was searching for anything more. Still, this did not stop Kinch from being wary around Murray, and no matter how much hate he would spew against his supposed enemy, he was still a suspect.

Beware the Child of Ireland.

That's enough from you, Kinch directed to no one in particular. He ignored the fact that the voice had returned it's warning out of nowhere, when he wasn't even thinking about it. With all of today's excitement, and with his mind testing his sanity again, Kinch excused himself from the table and decided to go outside.

He didn't know why he did. It wasn't snowing, though snow was still upon the ground, but the wind had suddenly picked up. Breezes were sharp and the air was cruel; winter had once again found something to torture the poor prisoners in the cold with. Kinch shook his head and embraced it a little. Anything that could clear his head was good enough, no matter the temperature.

It wasn't until a minute later, when Hogan returned from Klink's office, that Kinch was able to get the strangeness of the voices from out of his mind.

"Kinch, we're going to gather the rest of Barracks 2 and bundle up the best we can. We're shoveling out the road a few miles down,"

"I'm guessing Murray is staying behind?"

"Don't worry; the Gestapo should keep him company,"

"And our frostbite awareness?"

Hogan shook his head. "Later,"

So the two went back into the barracks and, with the rest of the men, put on any extra clothing or piece of uniform they had, not caring if anything happened to be mismatched or matted looking. Kinch himself took off his jacket, with some willpower in spite of the cold, in order to put on his three other shirts, and slipped on some extra pants and socks over the pairs he already had. Soon, he and everyone else looked as if they had gained a few pounds, and then gathered outside to huddle into the tented trucks.

Murray hadn't said a thing the entire time. Even as Kinch left Barracks 2, he was still staring off into space. He looked calmer than before, but Kinch wasn't so sure. He was worried he might have upset him, something that could ruin his further advances into Murray's hidden knowledge.

Kinch shook off the thought and walked to the back of the truck with his friends. Hogan was already inside when he and the others hopped in. Kinch took a seat next to the colonel with Carter at his left. Across from them sat Le Beau and Newkirk. Once the last man was on board, they were driven out of Stalag 13 and into the icy roads.

"Do you think it'll snow again tonight?" Carter asked.

"I hope not!" Le Beau replied.

"But it might, won't it?" Newkirk added. Some of the men grumbled about the upcoming freezing weather. Even Hogan looked uncomfortable at the idea of yet another snowstorm.

"If it does snow, then today's work will be a total waste. I wonder why Klink would make us do that," he thought out loud.

"Maybe he's showing off for the Gestapo," Kinch said. They all nodded, but soon slid in their sits in momentum as the truck slid to an icy stop. They all stood up as they heard Schultz's boots crunch on the snow and jogged to the end of the truck.

"Everybody out! Raus!"

"Raus raus!" Le Beau mimicked under his breath. "You'd think the snow would at least slow down the Krauts!"

When everyone was out, they were given shovels and ice picks while a few others were chosen to carry bulging packs of rock salt. Kinch wasn't sure if he was lucky or no better off with a shovel to move the thick snow than to be carrying the salt.

Regardless of the task, everyone moved out several yards to start digging and ice picking. Kinch had to get used to doing heavy work while wearing multiple layers of clothing, but he soon relished in the warmth the hard shoveling and thick clothes provided. He would be sweating like a pig later, no doubt.

About half an hour into the road work, he noticed Carter acting horrified. His face was bleached white and had walked shakily towards Kinch to pretend that he was helping him with his section of the road.

"Kinch, I, um, I lost something," he muttered un between heavy breaths.

"Oh?"

"Yeah, I kinda sorta, you know, lost the map of the tunnels-"

"What?" Kinch asked in a strained tone, speaking low so the guards wouldn't hear him. Carter fervently worked harder, as if funneling all of his fears into shoveling.

"I had it with me in case Hogan wanted us to check on a tunnel, or do something with them, you know? I always have it on me whenever we have work detail, and I could have sworn it was in my breast pocket!"

"Well, what am I supposed to do? Shouldn't you have told Hogan?"

"I was hoping you'd find it. I already asked one of the guards if I could go back to the jeep but he won't let me. Besides, you're better at sneaking around! Sure, Newkirk is better than the both of us, but he and Le Beau would only get mad at me! That, and no one will miss you; no one ever does!"

"Gee, thanks,"

Carter looked at him desperately. "Please? Just go back there and see if it fell out. I swear I won't do it again!"

Kinch sighed as he stopped shoveling. He wiped tiny beads of sweat when he answered.

"Fine, but I'm only doing this because that map could cost us our operations, and Hogan doesn't need any more stress than he has already,"

Carter smiled, regardless of Kinch's annoyance. "Thanks so much buddy!"

He then got working on Kinch's spot of the road as he sneaked off, going past the guards and quietly stepping behind the backs of the Luftwaffe guards. They seemed more interested in their quiet chat and the work of the prisoners in front instead of the area behind them. Kinch took advantage of this and first searched the inside of the truck.

He found nothing but dirt and dust. He then checked around the vehicle, coming close to the woods at the edge of the road when he was at the front of it.

And then Kinch saw it. On a small boulder at the forest's edge, folded neatly and placed delicately upon the snow layering the rock, sat the map of the underground tunnels. He almost laughed at the sheer simplicity of it, only to realize it could not have simply been laid there. As the sergeant hesitantly reached out for it, it was picked up by a gust of wind and it flew into the woods.

"Dang it," he hissed under his breath. Kinch hopped over the boulder and into the thicket of trees to catch the prize. Every time he was millimeters away from grasping on to the map, it fluttered away quickly and flew out further. Kinch stumbled over a root or two trying to grab it again, his bulking clothing making the whole ordeal awkward. Finally the wind ceased and it floated gently in front of a snow covered bush, landing on the pristine whiteness beneath it.

"Finally," Kinch muttered to himself. Just as his fingers brushed against the yellowed paper, however, a tiny, pearly white claw of a hand snatched the map from its spot, and the thief jumped up from the bush and hung onto the tree like a small monkey.

"Child of the West, it is time to heed our warnings,"

Kinch couldn't reply, as he had forgotten how to speak.