Blurry vision. That was what the child had opened her eyes to. Blurry vision and a mostly dark and cold room. It had cement walls, a metal door with a peep hole that opened from the outside, and a very small, barred window far from the kid's reach. The exact opposite of her own bedroom. All she knew was that her home of two years was not where she currently laid her head.

And what was with the accents connected to the voices outside of this room? What was this room, anyway? It resembled something she'd only read about in comic books or graphic novels that told of the current war. A war in which one of her countries had only just taken part. An event she had learned mere moments before coming to and finding herself in unfamiliar territory.

The rather loud voices, with accents she did not recognize, had let the date slip. Had she been asleep for two days? The last thing she remembered was it being December 8th. What happened to the 9th that it was now the 10th? And why was she the kind of tired that suggested she had flown across the ocean to visit her maternal grandparents? The very grandparents she was living with while her American father and French mother were away.

The last letter received had said that her father would be expected home as he was almost to the end of his rotation. That was two years ago, and her father didn't know her mother had disappeared months later.

After that, a letter arrived from her paternal grandparents, telling of her father and how he was captured and placed in a German POW camp. This news had only been given to her grandparents as a precaution. Not every army operated under the Geneva convention's rules, so his location was unknown to those outside of the military.

Her parents hadn't been around for two years, so they wouldn't notice her disappearance, but her grandparents certainly would. And, knowing who the child's father was and his rank, they would be sure to inform the local base. Where that information went next was anyone's guess.

"What is this child doing here?" There was that accent again. "We want evidence, not a child. What could a child possibly gain us? Germany wants to win the war, not lose it!"

Germany, huh? Explains the accent. Wait! I'm where?!

She pressed her ear up against the door as best she could.

"This was the closest place we had to hold her without drawing attention, Major."

"And the Commandant… Has he been informed as to why Gestapo has commandeered one of his cells?"

The confusion in the subordinate's voice was clear. "Was he supposed to know?"

"Of course not. For one thing… Gestapo does not report to a bumbling buffoon. And for another, that blasted POW officer will try to find out who we have in our possession… What do we know about this child?" came the only other voice she'd heard more than once in the last hour.

This Hochstetter man had made a point of not using anyone's name, including their current location.

"Our agent didn't learn much before grabbing her, Major. Father is an officer in the United States Air Force, mother hasn't been around for a while. That is everything he had gathered from her grandparents with whom she lived until two nights ago. She was still unconscious when their plane landed near the airfield."

So, it was two days. But what did her father's rank have to do with her current situation? Not every officer held access to government secrets.

~*H*H*~*H*H*~

"Any word from London?"

"Not a one," Sergeant Kinch answered the British corporal as a message was coming in. "Hold on." He started writing the phrases that were translated from Morse Code. "Underground," was all he said. He may have recognized the code, but he couldn't make heads nor tails of what it could possibly mean.

Eaglet in zoo. Thirteen bars 'neath two moons.

"Two moons… Well, everyone knows that means two nights."

"That's great, Newkirk. We can decipher one word of this code. Moons."

"Right. Doesn't do us much good if we can't break down the rest of it. But what about this last part? Keep package on standby," Newkirk added. Most missions that included such phrasing referred to inanimate objects. Only when sending an escapee through the underground did it mean someone's life.

"Whatever the package is, it can't leave camp," Kinch figured. "Take this to Colonel Hogan. See what he can make of it."

Newkirk grasped the note, placing it in the fold of his turtleneck, just in case there were any unwanted or unforeseen guests in their quarters. The last thing any of them wanted was to be found out. And having a coded note from the underground, however mixed it appeared, would have been the icing on the cake for their captors. Even better would have been knowing who the head of their organization was and how to get under his skin.

Closing the barracks two entrance behind him, he ignored the curious gazes of the other core members, acknowledging their presence long enough to ask if their senior officer was in his room. The door was closed so he couldn't determine this visually. But the nod of this barrack's only Frenchman told him to continue Kinch's order/request.

The man occupying the room could sense the hesitation of Newkirk's part as he entered the room, closing the door behind him. The man had been listening to the lid of a coffee pot, their way of eavesdropping on the camp's most confidential conversations. He watched as Newkirk felt around his shirt collar to find where the note had shifted.

"Kinch and I can't make sense of it, Colonel. The one thing we could translate was that what or whoever this package is, it cannot leave camp," Newkirk explained.

Colonel Hogan took the message that was placed on the table.

Eaglet in zoo. Thirteen bars 'neath two moons.

"Either a young colonel, or a colonel's child has been taken by the Gestapo," Hogan explained as he walked about the room, deciphering with each step. Newkirk's head fell into his hands. He honestly would rather it be the first option. But what if it wasn't. "Looks like they've been here for two nights, already. This will be their third." Hogan put his hands on the table. "Identification on chains."

"What are we looking for, Sir?"

"No idea. Whoever the package is, they're wearing dog tags," Hogan assumed. "New prisoners must be seen by the senior POW officer. Wonder how I missed their arrival."

Newkirk had a few suggestions as to how it was missed. Many of which dealt with them being outside the wire on one of their many missions. Or down in the tunnel listening to any message that came in from London or the Underground.

"Maybe Klink's replaced you, again," came the bloody awful suggestion. The last time he had been replaced was a comedy routine in and of itself. A comedy routine that nearly blew the whole operation, but entertaining, nonetheless.

"Please, don't ever mention Crittendon, however right you may be," Hogan begged, lightheartedly. The last time he had been outranked by that officer, the tunnel had almost been discovered. Seemed like every scheme that colonel took part in backfired. How he ever got expert in anything was beyond laughable.

"Begging your pardon, Sir. Seemed like a logical step is all."

A knock interrupted them as the shared joke came to an end. The door opened at the greeting Hogan gave. It was Kinch on the other side. There was more to the message.

He passed it over to their commanding officer, hoping to get a translation of both parts.

"Crittendon outranks me by quite a few years. Can't be him. He's not a new colonel," Hogan said, noting the breath of relief from the room's other occupants.

"We haven't had any ranks higher than an allied major since General Barton came through," Kinch said, thinking aloud. "It could be a bomb."

"Bombs don't usually have chains as markers for identification," Newkirk said, adding, "But I'll let our demolitions expert confirm that."

Kinch nodded, understanding the first part of the message was being translated for him. They were more than likely looking for a colonel, young in age or rank.

"Check the dog tags. I'll open that window the first chance I get. They have to go through the delousing station at some point. A bomb would explain why the Gestapo has been here for the last two days and hasn't ordered my presence."

Now for the second part that had just come through.

"A dozen valleys…" the message read another word. Kinch knew that, but he would wait for another time to question the colonel's change in wording.

"Twelve years old," Hogan said with a sigh. He didn't bother with the rest. Not yet. They were to save a child by keeping them in camp. It may be considered safe, but a POW camp was no place for a child. Especially theirs. "Forget the dog tags. We need to find a different angle."

~*H*H*~*H*H*~

Inside the commandant's office, four gestapo men guarded the room. One at the door, one near the girl. And two in front of the window, keeping the child from view. There was a fifth, Major Hochstetter, who did most of the talking. Occasionally interrupted by Colonel Klink, the camp's commanding officer.

"I don't understand, Major. What does this child have to do with military intelligence?"

"Colonel Klink. Our agents have reason to believe that this child is somehow related to the underground."

The child remained silent, wishfully glancing toward the window only to look back at the floor whenever one of the guards would catch her. Would she ever feel the ground of either native land again? Come to think of it… would she ever find herself outside those gates? Alive?

She did not understand. What underground? How could she possibly be related to this… whatever it was? Sure, she communicated with her parents in code, especially her mother. But what did that have to do with where she was now?

~*H*H*~*H*H*~

This was not the first time a surprise guest had made their way into the camp, especially by way of a Gestapo escort. But it was the first time the current prisoners had not seen the new prisoner entering the compound or the main office.

The three prisoners who currently knew of the underground's most recent messages had been standing around the coffee pot, listening in on their favorite enemy who could somehow be seen as a friend if this war ever came to an end. Not a loyal friend mind you, but a friend.

Silence filled the room. Confusion rested upon Kinch who had yet to be told the rest of the translation. Anger filled Newkirk at what was probably a new low. Removing a child from their home, especially for unknown reasons. And finally, Hogan at the realization of who might be in that room.

A child in a prison camp was, unfortunately, common knowledge at the time. Only, this wasn't a place meant for civilian POW's who weren't even from the mainland. This was a military establishment through and through. So, why was a child there, and how did the guards get her through without the prisoners and their fearless leader noticing?

~*H*H*~*H*H*~

The child, who was still nameless at this point, sat curled up in a corner of her cell. Her back was to the wall so she could watch the door, and her knees folded into her chest. Things were looking rather bleak at best now that this was her third day here, only being conscious for one of them. It was broad day light though difficult to tell with a single bright beam coming through the window that still very out of reach and somehow small enough that, even if she did manage to climb up to it, getting through would not have been possible.

The situation was frightening. As far as she was concerned, no one had told her why she was there. What did her family have to do with this underground that made her so important? Would she ever find out?

A shiver ran down her spine. It seemed like a naturally cold cell to begin with when she'd awakened earlier that day. And these people didn't bother to bring any of her winter clothes before kidnapping her.

The girl had a thin long-sleeved shirt, a dark skirt and dress shoes, the school uniform. And that was it. No coat, or winter clothes that covered her legs.

She didn't get a good look at the man who barged in on the meeting with… what was his name… Klink? Whatever his name was, he and Hochstetter didn't seem all that surprised by the action. That told her it was a rather common occurrence. But the guards moved very fast. Circling to keep her from view.

A good look didn't matter though. The man hadn't seen her face or heard her voice. And anyone who knew him could see he certainly tried without being obvious.

There was that shiver again. It was the kind of shiver that let her know heat was nearby. Where was the warm draft coming from? The window seemed very well sealed. Being December, it was the opposite of the air that crossed her bare shins. No lights came through any part of the door. It had to be coming from the wall.

Tally marks were on the walls to show how many days a prisoner had been locked in here. Some even put a name beside their own groupings. She recognized several from the daily posting on her school's billboard of those missing in action. What brought a smile to her face were the two names she not only recognized but knew. What were the chances that all three of them would wind up in the same place?

"Oh, my… I haven't seen him in seven years," she said recalling the last time she'd seen her British cousin. Overseas flights were expensive, so visits were less likely to happen. "He was gone by the time Dad came over here to help." Peter was her favorite. Not one cousin questioned that.

The smile vanished. "Dad's here, too?" she glanced at her bracelet. For once she was glad that two charms went missing around the same time as her mother. Her presence in Germany was starting to make sense, though she still wasn't sure what that had to do with this underground nonsense.

If Dad and Peter are here… that means… she crawled toward and knelt beside a sink that hid her from the door. She could feel air being sucked out of the cell through the higher cracks. Warmer air was coming in near the floor. She couldn't stop the grin that was growing on her face. Just like back home, she thought as she pulled the cinderblocks away from the wall. How'd they ever miss this?

She crawled through the opening, then closed it behind her. Okaaaaayyyy, that part was not just like home. How did that not make a sound? The blocks moved as if on hinges and a cushion designed to look like mortar. What have you gotten yourself into, Andi?

Walking down the halls of the tunnel, she saw many things that most would have considered unthinkable.

"You did it," she said in awe of the well-lit cavity before her. She knew it all too well. Of course, it was on a much larger scale than the one she remembered back home. "You said you would if you ever got caught." It was more to herself thinking she was alone.

~*H*H*~*H*H*~

It had been hours since the interrupted meeting earlier that day. The kid, who they now knew was a girl, had been taken back to wherever they were keeping her in camp. Since that location had yet to be learned, tunnel access wasn't likely.

The remaining two of the core group had been informed of the messages, their translation, and that the kid, whose name they still didn't know, was somehow connected to them.

"You did it," came a voice they had never heard or didn't recognize. "It's so much bigger than back home."

Someone's in the tunnel!" Carter practically yelled, thinking they had been found by the Krauts.

"Hide!" came a whispered shout from the Frenchman, LeBeau.

The members gathered what they could, preventing it from falling into the wrong hands.

"Hello!" the men heard again. This time they slowed their actions.

"Colonel?"

"I hear it, Kinch… If I didn't know any better… No, it can't be."

"Can't be what, Sir," Newkirk asked.

Hogan made his way past the for other men. He looked in the direction the voice was coming. There was indeed someone in the tunnel. Their back toward the men.

All he had seen when he barged into Klink's office was a bracelet and a hair color. It was the same color he was seeing on the child who stood before him.

"Only one person outside of this camp knows the entire layout of these tunnels," a deep, American voice said from behind her. "So, I'm not even going to ask who you are or how you found an entrance." It was a voice she knew well. But her face was not one the man recognized. It had been a good two years since he'd last seen her. He might have changed a little, but she had changed a lot. Her hair was longer and darker. The gold turned bronze as she'd aged. Height had changed substantially. The top of her head reached just below the man's chin, making her rather tall for her age.

"You mean someone other than us? What in blazes are you talking about Colonel?" came a British voice she recognized just as well. "Blimey! It's a girl. She can't be more the fifteen."

"Well, you're not wrong there, Newkirk. She isn't," Hogan said pinching the bridge of his nose. "Because she's twelve."

"Because she's twelve," the girl said, mimicking Hogan's voice.

"You know her?" Carter asked, failing to realize his question was answered before it was even spoken.

"Have a cousin, Andria, about that age now," Newkirk said. There was a sadness in his voice. "Don't think I've seen her since she was 'bout five years old. Even then, she could emulate anyone's voice if she listened long enough."

First, her name. Then recalling a talent not many people knew about? One she had learned from a cousin. All of this on top of knowing how to access the tunnels and their layout? To Hogan, this could only be one person. The one person he did not want to see here. Would give almost anything to have her somewhere else… somewhere safe.

She hadn't confirmed or denied anything yet. But to Hogan, that didn't matter. He knew exactly who she was. The combined messages from the underground suddenly made sense.

Eaglet in this case referred to a colonel's child. Not a bomb.

Thirteen bars was the camp.

Two moons (now on the third) equaled two nights.

And twelve peaks (Andis Mountains) told him two things. The child's age, and her name.

"What are you doing here?"

"A question in which there is no answer," Andria mumbled.

"Not good enough," Hogan said, knowing there had to be more to it. Everyone at camp knew how they'd been brought here and why. Young Andi should have been no different.

"Would it change your opinion at all if I said consciousness was not my friend for two days?" Andi asked hoping to change the hard look coming from Hogan. "I remember a restroom break at school… the next thing I knew, it hurt to open my eyes. The room was dark. Walls were made of concrete. Locked metal door. Window higher than I could reach without using the bed as a stool. A barely noticeable draft coming from the wall near the floor. Should I mention where that draft led me? And a two-day gap… Imagine waking up and the first voice you hear is Major Hochstetter. I mean, does the man have more than one vocal setting, because I've only heard the one so far. The last thing I knew before waking up here was the date. December 8th. The guards didn't know I could hear them. Great day to go missing, right? Using the destruction of Pearl Harbor as a diversion for my capture."

(AN/:: Andi would have been living in London at the time of the raid, so for this character, it was the 8th. Not the 7th.)

This was news to the men. All any of their contacts had discussed, including London and US military, had been what was going on in their current locations in Europe. No mention of what was going on back home as if it would distract them from their mission at hand.

But why was she brought to this stalag? There were quite a few reasons, but Hogan could only think of three. At least one of which had to do with lineage. Another was how this kid could talk her way out of almost any situation, and this camp had the false reputation of absolutely no successful escapes. But the third was one he wished would never have crossed his mind. The third reason would guarantee leverage against someone if the first reason didn't as they were quite similar.

"Were they right? Those gestapo people? Am I linked to this underground they keep talking about?" The answer seemed fairly obvious, much like it was for Carter's question, but this one needed to be asked for her own sanity if nothing else. It seemed obvious since she really was there. And very much awake.

"In due time," Hogan assured her. "Right now, we need to get you back in there before someone comes to look in on you. You're the only kid here so your absence is going to be more noticeable than any of ours."

"Even more than yours?"

Hogan's nod was imperceptible. "Even more than mine." He turned to face his men, letting them know he'd handle it from here and answer whatever questions he dared once they were all back in their barracks and the girl was back in the cell.