The faint sound of bombing in the distance did nothing to deter Captain Gilbert Sinclair from enjoying his tea. His office was underground, and, at any rate, it was quite far from Jerry's usual hunting grounds. It had been a quiet night, and he had just finished up a stack of paperwork. If things continued in this way, he might even get cracking on developing a new code. He had received several complaints about the childish, fairytale nature of the current set. Maybe this time he'd put his classical education to use. How would Hogan feel about trying to navigate a code based entirely on Beowulf?

A bomb that must have been mistakenly dropped close by caused a bit of dust to fall from the ceiling and into his cup. Sinclair frowned but took a sip anyway. War was no time to be wasting tea.

He was mid-sip and thoroughly unprepared when a bomb exploded in his office a moment later.

Corporal Mavis Newkirk threw the door open with a bang, looking ready to kill. Her face was red with rage and her eyes were on fire. Sinclair thought he might be incinerated on the spot.

"Corporal," Sinclair greeted hesitantly as he set down his tea.

"I've bloody well had it!" Mavis cried.

"What-"

"You can tell Papa Bear to take his bloody list and shove it up his arse!" Newkirk hollered, cutting him off. "Or better yet, tell me where to find that ruddy berk, and I'll do it meself!"

Whatever the problem was, it had Newkirk in such a tizzy that she wasn't even bothering to mask her Cockney accent.

"Now, Corporal-" Sinclair started.

"Not a dickie, Captain! I tell you, I've bloody well had it! And with or without your help, I'm going to track down that ruddy bastard and box his bloody stupid ears off!"

Sinclair couldn't help but be amused. There was no denying that, pretty as she usually was, Mavis was absolutely beautiful when she was angry. With that opinion, it was lucky for him that Mavis worked the radio, communicating with Papa Bear under the guise of Goldilocks; there was plenty to make her steaming mad.

"Are you smiling?!" Newkirk demanded, sounding offended that he would even dare. "Stop smiling!"

Beautiful or not, she was still a corporal and he was her commanding officer. Sinclair stood up and put his hands on his desk. Leaning forward, he gave her a dark look. "Now see here, Corporal," he said curtly, "you need to remember where you are and, more importantly, who you are. You're a soldier, so bloody well start acting like one. And that's an order. Captain to Corporal."

Mavis balled her fists, shaking with rage, but she dutifully took several deep breaths. By the end she had calmed down. Mostly.

"He's brown bread, sir," she said through gritted teeth. "I'm going to kill him."

Sinclair sighed and shook his head before dropping back into his chair. He didn't really blame her- Papa Bear was often quite unreasonable. Most of his team had various complaints about him. Even Sinclair, who didn't talk to Papa Bear nearly as often as the girls did, had caught himself imagining going over to Stalag 13 to give Hogan a piece of his mind as well. But he never would. The man was absurd. And occasionally insufferable. And completely crackers. But, by God, did he get results.

"I think you'll have to form a queue behind the Gestapo, Corporal," Sinclair said calmly, subtly reminding her that Papa Bear had enough on his plate without having to worry about going toe to toe with an irate girl from Stepney.

Mavis scrunched her nose and huffed, folding her arms petulantly over her chest.

"Now, what is this all about, Corporal?"

Tipping her nose in the air, Mavis mechanically unfolded her arm and held it out stiffly. In her hand was a sheet of paper, which Sinclair grabbed. "Papa Bear's list?" he questioned.

"Read it," Mavis sniped. "Captain, sir."

Sinclair prepared himself for something ridiculous as he held the list up to review it.

Aluminum foil

Ammunition

Bandages

Butter

Candy Bars

Cigarettes

Morphine

Plaster Powder

Safety Pins

Sulfa Powder

Surgical Gloves

Sinclair frowned. It sounded like someone was hurt. He glanced surreptitiously at Mavis- if it turned out to be her brother, she would regret all her rage. Not that she would ever know… unless… that was why she was angry?

Did she somehow know her brother was part of Papa Bear's organization, had deduced he was injured, and was now out for Hogan's blood?

Recently there had been hints- faint ones that perhaps he was imagining- that Mavis knew more than she was letting on. Sinclair was willing to let it slide. As long as his suspicions weren't confirmed outright, he was willing to adopt a "see no evil, hear no evil" stance on the matter. Because if Mavis did know, she would be transferred, for fear she'd unintentionally let something slip while communicating with Papa Bear. And he didn't want to lose her- she was a crackerjack radio operator. And she always fixed his tea perfectly.

Arms again folded tight, Newkirk tapped her foot, her eyes wide and lips pursed as she looked at him expectantly. "Well?!"

Sinclair gulped and finished the list. And there, at the bottom, he saw the real reason for her ire.

Bananas- ten pounds

Not only was it ridiculous, but it was out of the alphabetical order- as if Papa Bear had tacked it on just to annoy them.

"What on earth do they need with ten pounds of bananas?" Sinclair asked, looking up at Mavis as if she had the answers.

"He didn't say!" Mavis exclaimed. "Maybe they recruited a bloody monkey! He'd fit in perfectly with that lot, he would! This is worse than those blooming peanuts!"

"Ten pounds of bananas," Sinclair repeated. He tossed the list onto his desk and studied Mavis for a moment. Then he smirked. "Well, I don't see what's so unusual about that," he said nonchalantly.

As he predicted, Mavis turned red, infuriated. "Sod off! Sod off the lot of you!" she cried. "That's it! Next time you take down the list. You and Papa Bear deserve each other. Bloody birds of a ruddy feather. Why I never-" Mavis continued ranting to herself as she stormed out of his office.

Sinclair grinned as he watched her go. He had to remind himself that it wasn't very becoming of an officer to torment his enlisted staff. But Newkirk was a special case. It was just too much fun to tease her.

He wondered if Hogan found the same held true for her brother.

A few weeks later, Mavis was sitting at her desk, reading some papers. She giggled to herself and tried unsuccessfully to cover a snort. Sinclair came up behind her and read over her shoulder for a moment before pulling away and pouring himself a cup of tea.

"Tea, Corporal?"

Mavis jumped a little in her seat and looked over her shoulder while she quickly stashed the papers in her desk drawer. "Please," she said.

Sinclair poured her a cup and placed it in front of her. "Are your reports done?" he asked. Mavis nodded. "Any word from Papa Bear?" She answered with a quick shake. "Then I don't see why you can't take a few moments to read your letter. From your brother?"

Mavis, knowing she was caught, blushed and nodded.

"Anything new from Stalag 13?" he asked.

"The same old news, I'm afraid." But a fond sort of smile graced her lips despite her humdrum report. Sinclair just stayed quiet. He knew if he waited long enough, stretched out the silence, she would give more details.

"Well," Mavis continued, pulling at her fingers as she was wont to do, "it's just that my brother reminded me about when I was a little girl and about the imaginary friend I had."

"Oh?" That piqued his interest. He would never turn down the opportunity to get to know Mavis a little better. "What sort of imaginary friend?"

"A monkey," she grinned, "named Freddy. Who was simply bananas for… bananas!"

Sinclair laughed. "Jolly good," he said as he turned to leave. He paused in the doorway and looked back as she pulled out her letter again. "Bananas, indeed," he said to himself. "Maybe even ten pounds worth."