It took Hogan about twenty minutes to calm down. In between spouts of frustrated anger he'd managed to come up with a skeleton plan to get his wounded man into a hospital. It had no hope of working, but then did his plans ever?

By the time he returned to his quarters he was surprised to see Carter still awake, staring at the bottom of the bunk above him.

"Sergeant, shouldn't you be sleeping?" He asked, noticing a moment later that Wilson hadn't covered Carter's legs up. Hogan bent to settle the blankets in place, hearing Carter sigh.

"I was just thinkin', sir."

"About what?" Hogan settled on the edge of the bed, staring up at his own bunk, lost in the puzzle he was trying to force together.

"About those Hitler Youth guys, and all the stuff that went wrong in town. And about that…that little girl."

"Baby Bear?"

"Is that her name, Colonel?"

"That's what we're calling her."

Carter smirked slightly, "I guess she does kinda look like a bear cub. But sir, I was thinkin' that depending on how old she is, she may have been taught sign language at some point. And if we can figure out how to talk to her-"

Hogan was suddenly staring at him intently and Carter blinked, shifting his gaze to focus on the colonel.

"Sign language?"

"Yes, sir." There was another long pause and Carter's brow furrowed before he said, "Well, she's deaf, sir." His tone implied that it should have been obvious to the colonel and after a few minutes Hogan realized, it should have been.

"How could you have possibly known that, Carter?"

Carter blinked at the confused look he was being given and thought for a moment then drew in a breath to speak. Before he could, the door flew open and a tiny body streaked into the room, going to her hands and knees and scrambling under Carter's bunk as quickly as she could.

LeBeau, out of breath and red in the face, pounded into the room in her wake, soaked from the waist down and fuming. He paused when he noted the colonel and Carter staring at him, then took a few deep breaths to calm himself.

"Are you having a problem, Corporal LeBeau?" Hogan asked.

"Non, Mon Colonel, I am not having a problem. She is having a problem." LeBeau said, stepping into the room checking behind the door, then under the table.

"And that problem is?"

"An extreme aversion to cleanliness." LeBeau snapped, bending to check under Hogan's bunk, before he crossed the room to check under Carter's. When the Frenchman's face appeared under her dark shelter Baby Bear gave a high pitched squeak and scrambled out from under the bed, shooting out the foot of the bunk, and almost making it to the door before Hogan stepped into her path and scooped her up.

To the colonel's surprise the little girl clung tightly to him, her arms trembling, and her lungs and heart working twice as hard as they should have been. "She's terrified, LeBeau."

"If you had gone as long as she has without a bath, you might be terrified too." Louie groused. "When I tried to get her to undress she refused, so I gave her some privacy. When she still wouldn't do it, I tried putting her in the bath, clothes and all. I think I might have got her foot wet before she kicked me and ran back up the ladder."

Hogan's face contorted into a confused frown and sighed softly, "Alright, let me give it a try. Is Newkirk still down in the tunnel?"

LeBeau nodded, "Oui, making clothes, despite the fact that he can hardly stand straight."

"Alright," Hogan sighed, "I'll meet you down there."

LeBeau gave the girl one last wary glance. Once again she was a perfect angel in Hogan's arms.

"Des femmes et des officiers.", Louie mumbled as he headed back into the tunnels.

Hogan once more took a seat on Carter's bunk and balanced the little girl on his knee, facing the injured man. "Carter, you know any of that sign language?"

The wounded man thought for a few moments then raised his arms with a slight wince and crossed them over his chest. With the fingers on his hands slightly spread, he made claws that flashed in towards his shoulders a few times.

Baby Bear watched closely the first time he did it, then mimicked him readily the second time.

"What's that mean?" Hogan asked.

"Bear." Carter said, then awkwardly put his arms together as though he were rocking an infant.

At the familiar sign, Baby Bear perked up, rocking her own imaginary child. She signed "baby bear" with Carter, and the American grinned and pointed to the little girl.

"That's you!" He said, his voice a little weaker.

Hogan winced, knowing the strain Carter's body was under but the sudden break in communication had made a huge difference. Baby Bear was instantly calmer. "One more, Carter. Bath."

Carter thought for a moment then closed his hands loosely into fists with his thumbs extended. He put the knuckles of each hand against his breast then rubbed them up and down as though he were polishing his nails.

Baby Bear watched and made a face, then looked to Hogan with pleading eyes. Astonished as he was that the little girl could understand those vague motions, Hogan forced a stern look onto his face and repeated the gesture Carter had made, insistent.

Baby Bear pouted but returned the sign, or a slightly different variation of it, then repeated her name and something else.

Carter's face brightened and he laughed softly.

"What'd she say?"

"I think she likes the dirt better than the bath, sir."

By the time they reached the bath staging area Hogan felt like he'd gone from the world of seeing and hearing to a world of total darkness. The rift that sudden communication had healed was now a gaping hole again. As much as he wanted to wring the entire language out of Carter the man needed his rest…he needed a miracle.

Hogan had sent two men out to canvas the camp and find anyone else who might know sign language. They were to report to the tunnels immediately.

For the time being he had five words at his disposal and one excited little girl.

She was seven, she had told Carter, and her name was Bijou.

"She's French?" LeBeau asked surprised as Hogan explained.

Kneeling by the tub, Hogan winced at the water that instantly soaked his pant legs. Getting Baby Bear into the tub had involved a series of steps. Playing in the water then sitting in it, still clothed. Once they had managed to get the rag off, they'd found that her skin was covered with a bright red rash that perfectly followed the line of the cloth.

"That's why she fought you, LeBeau." Hogan had said softly and the Frenchman launched into a quiet list of curses in his native tongue.

The first few minutes were painful for her, but Bijou withstood the process, eventually relaxing in the warm water.

For twenty minutes both men worked quietly at their task, finding that Baby Bear readily took over some parts of the process, while staunchly avoiding others. They became so accustomed to the focused silence that when Newkirk came around the corner, the sound of the Englander accidentally kicking over an empty bucket caused both men to jump.

Hogan slung a glance over his shoulder, caught sight of the pale sweating face and rushed to his feet, intercepting Newkirk before he could fall down, pushing the overturned bucket under him. The Englander sank with gritted teeth until his butt was on the bucket and his shoulder against the wall.

"Decide to run a marathon?" Hogan snapped, making sure Newkirk was going to stay where he was before he stepped back.

"Girl had to have something to wear, didn't she?" Newkirk asked, his hands white-knuckled, clutching a collection of fabrics and sewing materials.

"Between you and Carter…" Hogan began, but he couldn't finish the thought.

While the Englander recovered Hogan and LeBeau finished their task, wrapping Bijou in towels and sending her toward the Englander before they filled the empty buckets with the used bath water, carting them back to the tunnel entrance.

By the time they had finished their third trip, Newkirk had the little girl dressed, but still wrapped in the towel to protect her wet head and bare feet from the damp of the tunnel.

Newkirk's nose had started bleeding again, but he'd staunched the flow of blood with a spare piece of cloth, careful to hide any spots of crimson. As Louie went above with one of the pails of water, intent on dumping it where it would draw the least amount of attention, Hogan knelt in front of the Englishman.

"What happened?"

"Had a bit of trouble gettin' her dressed. S'accident. Knocked her head into me nose."

Bijou looked like she might have been crying and Hogan sighed wishing he could tell her that everything would be ok. He wished he believed it himself.

"She needs shoes. Can't have her lookin' like an urchin with what she's got on."

"She's wearing a towel.." Hogan said.

"Nah sir.." Newkirk smirked, and gently tugged at the towel until Baby Bear let go of the folds, and gave a soft, "Tada!"

Hogan couldn't help but smile slowly when he saw what she wore. Baby Bear returned the expression shyly.

"Figured if she was found out somehow, she'd do better dressed that way...than with flounces and ruffles and the like." Newkirk cleared his throat, his voice fading a little as he trailed off.

"Good job, Newkirk."

"Thank you…Col-"

"Newkirk?" Hogan turned in time to catch the Englander as he slumped against the wall. He was steadying the nearly unconscious man on the bucket when the tunnel entrance snapped shut, and LeBeau jogged breathless into view.

"Colonel Hogan, Wilson just stormed into Barracks 2 with Klink and two of the guards. They have a truck outside the barracks and the guards are putting Carter on a stretcher."

"What!?"

LeBeau's eyes were wide, taking in Bijou and her unusual outfit, Newkirk's pale face and boneless stature. The colonel looked just about as alarmed as Carter had, confirming for the Frenchman that this wasn't a part of the officer's plan. As Hogan stood, brushing past him, LeBeau added, "I had to close the entrance, sir. Klink is probably standing right in front of the bunk bed."

Frustrated Hogan reversed directions. "Did Wilson happen to mention why he's taking Carter out of camp?"

"There wasn't time!"

"Was Olsen with him?"

"Oui, talking to Commandant Klink."

"They've both snapped!" Hogan barked, pacing so much that he was churning up a thin layer of mud on the tunnel floor. A moment later Newkirk moaned and Hogan turned his attention back to the Englander, yanking at the back of his shirt to get a look at the bruising over his ribs.

"Is it worse?" LeBeau asked.

"Yeah, it's worse."

"What do we do?"

Hogan squatted on his haunches for a few moments before he finally settled on the dirt floor. In seconds he had a barefooted, clean smelling German "boy" in his lap, wet hair pressed against his chest.

"Nothing." Hogan finally said, bitterly.