Karoline Fuchs

(Karoline is one of my earliest plot bunnies on my tumblr and I actually loosely based her, and her family, off of historical figures from WWII. But telling you who would be far too easy)

Despite her young age, her life has been far from easy. Father? Executed. Mother? Arrested by the Gestapo and sent to a detention camp. She and her siblings then spent the next eight years living in a destitute orphanage. It wasn't long after that her eldest brother was shot in the street, also courtesy of the Gestapo. What remained of her family immigrated to America and changed their names to avoid discovery by the Reich, thus "Karoline Fuchs" was born. But ensuring their survival also meant separating; she hasn't seen either of her brothers in two years, one deciding to live in the Neutral Zone and the other in San Francisco while she remained in New York.

Karoline Fuchs was meant to be a clean slate, a chance to start over, but the Reich had destroyed everything she'd known; she couldn't just forget that, pretend that it had never happened. Joining the Resistance was the only logical path to take. Going to San Francisco was an opportunity to see "Louis" again, but it was primarily meant to be a very basic mission. She was to meet with someone from the West Coast Resistance and, with them, pass along a new film and set up a line of secure communication. In and out and back to New York in a week, tops. Unfortunately for Frank Frink, Karoline mistakes him for her contact and ends up dragging him further down the rabbit hole than he's comfortable with. But Frank finds he doesn't mind all that much, because there's just something about the unlikely spy.

"You're a fucking Nazi!" Frank roared, the betrayal cutting deep.

"Oh, brilliant deduction! I'm German, so I must be a Nazi!" she snapped sarcastically, irritated at the small-minded notion. "If you think things are that simple, then you're clearly not as smart as I gave you credit for."

"Then tell me I'm wrong!" he snapped. "You can't even do that, can you, Karoline? Is that even your real name?" he asked, half joking. But she wasn't laughing. Arms crossed and defiant, she wouldn't even look at him. Her silence was answer enough: no, that wasn't her name. "You gotta be kidding me." She wasn't. "Who are you, really?" he asked, desperate for some shred of truth. Had it all been a lie? It couldn't of been. He refused to believe that. "Who is Karoline Fuchs?"