It's neck was being strangled mercilessly by her hand as she refused to let it go. Uniforms were scrambling to release her long fingers from their mission and failing until one of the men plunged the syringe into the lady's own neck. Her body fell limp into the waiting arms, the fire and fight gone; snuffed out like a candle without sympathy.

The commotion now settled, he was guided with patient force into his room. Resigned, he noted the bolt slide across and the keys rattle as they were withdrawn hastily. 'Tetchy are we?' Murdock thought while replaying the scene in the corridor. It wasn't as if argumentative or difficult people weren't a common occurrence- he was in an institution- but he couldn't recollect ever seeing a lady-patient. Oh well, he took himself over to the barred window and watched the trees sway. They synchronized to a three quarter tempo, a waltz. Unconsciously Tchaikovsky's Swan Lake was hummed as he sat there watching the pines dance and clouds roll past behind them as he waited.

The Good Doc always eyed him like a hawk; a sudden pang of guilt filled him as he thought of those poor little field mice who had to put up with this everyday of its' life. Scurrying around, hiding from the fearless predators and always looking over its' shoulder while he had the VA as a haven. 'The rest of the team didn't,' He sighed unhappily.

"Something you want to share Murdock?"

"Nothin' really, was just thinking..."

"Yeah? What about?"

HM looked right through the Doc, remembering another man's voice say the same thing. It was years ago on the other side of the world but the memories darted up as if they were happening.

The canopy swept back the sun's rays. Hiding them behind the patchy green carpet that trapped in all the drowning, hot, muggy air. Hell was unrelenting. He was staring at the young Lieutenant's boots, caked in blood and mud- heck he wouldn't be surprised if there were tears in that mixture as well- his body pressed flush against the other man's despite the stuffy heat. "Facey, why'd ya..."

"Volunteer as a punching bag? Can't let you have all the fun bud," Face tried to laugh with his trade mark smile, but failed as the movement jostled his ribs contorting the reassurance into a tight, cringing gasp. "Forgot about those..."

A branch snapped. Shattering the dim sense of comfort they'd found in the silence. Immediately both sets of eyes scanned the dense growth radially. Murdock could hear his heart pounding in his ears; surely they'd hear it too. Grasping for any object he could turn into a projectile. He felt the cool, smooth surface of rock and clutched it tightly into his palm. Some part of him noticed Face do the same. Sweaty fingers pressed on his wrist, they'd both act on the count of three. A fleeting movement caught in the shadows hitched their breath. It ceased all movements and the pair were helplessly transfixed the spot. Two meters more to the right a green dot flew through the tiny clearing. They both jumped and felt their hearts stop.

The stones dropped into the leaves they were found in. Face's brain caught up with the play milliseconds faster than the Captains as no explosion was heard, his expression was blank and confused. "A bird?" If he did sound slightly hysterical, neither man said anything. They both stifled relieved laughs as the anxiety drained from them.

"Cutest darn Charlie-bird I've ever seen." Murdock joked, ignoring the fact that bird had nearly scared him to death.

The pattern continued, repeated itself countless times, every sudden noise had them wound up to the point of imploding. It was an excruciating self inflicted mental torture. Each time it could have been Charlie; they had to be ready. They went together or not at all. Hours later, when Hannibal and BA returned with help, their minds and bodies gave up. Relaxing into the comforting voids of unconsciousness, still leaning against each other.

"James? James?!" Sigh... "Captain."

His mind jerked back to the present. A chill ran through him, it was a lot colder without his team around... His therapist jotted down blind notes as he kept watching the Captain. The faint scratches of pen on paper grounded the pilot's sense of reality, calming the last of his racing pulse.

"Billy's tryin' to dig his way outta here."

"No one ever said that he had the best bone in the garden." The older man chuckled half heartedly. Murdock had the strongest sense of creativity and widest range of metaphor's he'd ever dealt with. "You had a flash back." There was no doubt or question to the psychiatrist's statement. "Why does Billy want to leave?"

"I've tried telling Billy to stop being silly, but just like when Little Bo-peep lost her sheep; the cows are tryin' to come home." The former pilot pouted.

"But aren't the cows at home where ever they are?"

"Can I think about that one?"

"Take your time, we're done for the day. Are you going to see what the Art class is doing today?"

The patient grinned, any melancholic mood flicked off like a switch. "Nah, think I might revise the great Operas." Murdock over pronounced the last word with a dramatic flourish, making it sound more like 'op-rraaas' before raising his right arm in a crisp, formal salute then mock it by cascading the offending arm all the way down to his toes in a bow.

"I'm not going to be treating BA next, am I?" He quipped to which Murdock's devilish smirk and the mischievous glint in his eyes, as far as the Doc could surmise, meant he would take that as a challenge depending on what was said next. So he decided to retreat rather quickly, "I only want to see their fake names in the visiting books. Why don't you go make a start on the second act?"

An hour later the theatrics was interrupted by an arrival. The VA was safe- his kidnappers had even reported to the staff first- and the music rooms were a common area, so he felt no need to turn and find out who traipsed into the space like a drunk elephant. It wasn't until he realized that his voice was being echoed by the piano that he resurveyed that specific corner. It was the same girl who'd attempted to keep her guitar from being confiscated the night before.

Her head had tilted sideways with the left ear turned closer to the instrument, studying the sounds from the piano while the other listened to the pilot's baritone voice. Shadow Un at least paid some attention to her charge because Shadow Deux was nearly asleep Murdock noted with some humor. Once that piece finished the girl turned and looked at him clearly for the first time, her small face lit up with an irrepressible smile that begged him to go on. He did what any gentleman would do and obliged her with the dip of his head; launching into Don Giovanni when the door opened again. This time his rather shell shocked Doc entered, paused and pulled the two orderlies on suicide watch.

A few minutes it seemed they wouldn't return and Murdock couldn't seem to keep his curiosity in check now. "You a nurse in a M*A*S*H or somethin'?" Dark hair cascaded over her pretty face as she shock her head, no. He paused, trying to come up with any other military scenario that would have mentally damaged such a young girl. There was only one, "Your Father's one of the Brass ain't he?" She nodded, the smile momentarily lost.

Maybe it was because of the time with Face and Hannibal that she seemed off, he looked at her again with fresh eyes. There was a spark, a little bit of menace and fun, in her. Yes, the girl had a bit of the jazz going on. "You're not a mute like they think you are."

"And your not insane,"

"Howling Mad Murdock," He offered with his hand.

She took it, "Kay Anderson, you won't tell them will you?"

"With those big puppy dog eyes? No way chica." A floppy, reassuring grin sprawled over his face and reigniting Kay's. "What's with the scam pretty lady?"

A faint rattle sent both of them into action; Kay began a new tune and Murdock mumbled over a few random lines not caring that each one was from a different opera. The Shadows were back.