AN ABLE BEGINNING WITH A RELATIVE TWIST

What would have happened had things been different when Nancy Clay and HM Murdock met? Just having some fun with an alternate story to Angels Shooting Fire which on reflection was kinda sappy (well, I'm kinda sappy, so that's the way it goes). This version is more in keeping with the A-Team genre (probably still a little sappy – I can't help it).

Enjoy and please R&R – I really appreciate the feedback!

So far this is an innocuous story. Don't anticipate a rating any higher than T.

No, I don't own the A-Team, Mr. Cannell does. I just like to play with them in my head – but certainly don't make any money as a result.

I'd also like to thank Shawn Colvin, whose songs appear periodically throughout the story, including one off her new album, These Four Walls. If you've never had a listen, I highly recommend it!

Columbia

Antonio Palumbo, a tall, handsome man with olive skin, smooth black hair and large, brown eyes, paced the second floor veranda of his Columbian hacienda in agitation. The minor skirmishes between his organization and that of his rival, Lorenzo Perez, had escalated into an outright war four weeks ago. Perez had had the audacity to raid his stronghold, and during the raid, Perez had kidnapped a woman. Palumbo wanted her back.

He walked behind the desk and took a seat, beginning to sift through the backlog of paperwork waiting for him. Drugs were big business, and his operation was one of the largest in South America. While many people had an overly romantic vision of what being a drug czar entailed, the truth was quite the opposite – there was still payroll to approve, business correspondence to review, and a million other mundane tasks required of any CEO.

A tall man, with blond hair, beginning to grey, walked through the office door and closed it behind himself, "Mr. Palumbo, I need to speak to you," Richard Nolan had come to a decision, and wanted to act on it, before he lost his nerve.

"What is it, Richard?" Palumbo asked impatiently.

"I have some information regarding Ruby James that may interest you," Nolan said enticingly.

Palumbo sighed in irritation, "Don't play me, Richard," he said impatiently, "I'm not in the mood for games."

"Perez doesn't have her," Nolan stated flatly, taking a seat, and sifting uncomfortably when Palumbo's head snapped up.

He looked at Nolan through narrowed, wary eyes, "Then where is she?"

Nolan smiled smugly, exuding more confidence then he felt. He knew if he didn't play this card right, he'd likely end up dead, "Likely in Langley, Virginia, by now."

"The US?" Palumbo's look was shaded, but he had set his pen aside and was listening intently.

"Yes – she was working for the DEA," Nolan looked at Palumbo directly, "So does Littleford . . . and so do I."

"Then tell me why I shouldn't have you killed, right now," Palumbo asked rising from behind the desk.

Nolan smiled confidently, not moving, "You scratch my back and I'll scratch yours. I have no loyalty to the DEA," he looked at Palumbo calculatingly, to gauge his reaction, and noted the wary acceptance, as Palumbo retook his seat, "For example, I imagine you want to know what we've been doing down here for the last 14 months . . . and you want to know who Ruby James really is."

"And what do you want?" Palumbo asked folding his hands.

"I figure my years in the DEA could make me valuable to you. Perhaps valuable enough to finance my retirement," Nolan suggested with a smug smile.

"We shall see, Richard," Palumbo said, with an inscrutable smile, "We shall see."

Airfield Introduction

Captain HM Murdock had just finished another shift at work, and was driving out to visit his unit, the A-Team, and Frankie Santana, a special-effects artist who had ended up embroiled in the mess that had landed them in their current situation. He was headed to the outskirts of Langley, Virginia to the Stockwell Compound, where the Team had been staying for the past year. Actually, the term 'staying' was really a euphemism for being incarcerated. Since they had agreed to the deal General Hunt Stockwell had offered they'd been allowed little freedom beyond the confines of the Compound – except for missions.

As he neared the Compound he saw Stockwell's limo pulling in the drive and decided to bypass the visit for tonight. Stockwell didn't like Murdock, and had made it clear to him early on that he wasn't welcome at the Compound unless invited, and he definitely hadn't been invited. That left him at loose ends for the rest of the evening.

Murdock really hadn't made a lot of friends in Langley, yet. There was the young woman who lived in the apartment near him, Erica. He had really liked her, but as she had begun to find out about his past, she'd started avoiding him, and had finally outright told him to stay away. He hadn't held down a job long enough to really get to know anyone, and since the encounter with Erica, he'd tended to keep to himself, preferring general anonymity to outright rejection.

He ended up at the little airfield outside of Langley, where Stockwell kept most of his aircraft, and that the Team had been flying out of for their missions. The one friendship he had struck was with the man who owned and ran the field, Doc Weston, and he thought he might as well stop and visit.

He walked into the main hangar and raised a hand in greeting to Doc, a grey-haired, portly man with a weathered face, and surprising green eyes that were alive with mischief. Doc was working at the front desk on a pile of paperwork, "What's up, Doc?" Murdock asked in a perfect imitation of Bugs Bunny, leaning on the counter and grinning at Doc with an imaginary carrot waggling in the air.

Doc smiled and shook his head, "Hey, HM. What are you doin' out here?"

Murdock shrugged and stood up, laying both hands flat on the counter, "Just got off work – need to unwind some."

"Still working over at Hamilton's?" Doc asked.

"Yep, at least until the next trip," Murdock said.

There was a clattering from over in the maintenance hangar that caught Murdock's attention. He looked over his shoulder, catching his first glimpse of a nicely restored Taylorcraft BC-12D sitting in the hangar.

"Nice wings," Murdock said with a low whistle, turning to take a better look, "Jesse workin' on it?" he asked, referring to Doc's most recently hired mechanic.

"Had to let Jess go yesterday," Doc said with a sigh, "I swear I'm never gonna find a mechanic worth keeping."

A young woman in grease-stained shorts and a ratty striped tank top, with long, reddish-brown hair pulled up in a haphazard ponytail came around the side of the plane, a wrench in one hand and a shop rag in the other. She shoved the shop rag into a pocket, stepped up on a riser and leaned under the open the hood.

Murdock looked on in surprise, "Who's that, Doc?" he asked quietly.

Doc looked over and smiled, "That would be the owner of the T-craft – Nancy Clay," he laughed as the word 'shit' floated across to them, "She's been out of town for awhile, and is trying to catch up on maintenance."

"A mechanic like that could really improve your business, Doc," Murdock said jokingly.

"Sight better pilot than mechanic, but the view isn't bad," Doc said with a smile.

"She a decent pilot?" he asked curiously.

"One of the best out of this port," Doc said, adding with a nod, "Present company excluded, of course."

"She's single," Doc concluded significantly, looking at Murdock sideways, "And you two have a lot in common."

Murdock looked at Doc sharply, "Doooc . . ."

"You know, kid, you been hangin' out here more and more lately. It's not healthy," Doc smiled, "I mean, really, what normal young man would be standing here talking to an old fart like me when the scenery is so much better over there," Doc winked and picked up his pile of paperwork to head into the office.

Murdock watched Doc settle at the desk in the office, but made no move, until Doc looked up and prodded him, "Are you waiting for an invitation? Go!"

Murdock shoved his hands in his pockets and wandered over to the Taylorcraft. It was a really nice little airplane – he'd learned to fly in a similar plane. He wandered all around it, noting with interest that the interior appeared to be original.

Nancy was cursing under her breath at a stubborn bolt, when Murdock rounded the plane, "Nice T-craft," he said casually, as he moved towards where she was working.

The wrench slipped off and Nancy knocked her fist into the side of the plane, "Dammit," she said vehemently, then looked up at him, "Excuse me?"

"Nice plane," Murdock said, motioning under the hood, he added tentatively, "Having problems?"

Nancy stood up, laid the wrench on the side of the plane, and wiped her hands on the shop towel hanging out of her pocket. Her gaze was wary, "I'm sorry, do I know you?"

"I . . . uh, no, we haven't met . . .," Murdock said with an uncertain smile. What would Face say now?

He pointed to the frozen bolt, "You try some WD40 on that it'll probably come loose," he offered, then decided that that probably wasn't what Face would have said, BA maybe, but definitely not Face.

She looked at him calculatingly, and he felt riveted by her eyes, which were wide set and sky-blue.

She seemed to come to a silent decision, and nodded, "Worth a try," she said, then turned "I'll hafta see if Doc has any . . ."

"There's some right over here - I'll get it," Murdock said eagerly, heading over to the shop cabinet, and pulling out a can. He walked back and handed it to her, "Spray it on and wait a minute, it'll probably come right off."

Nancy took the can with a cautious smile, "Thanks," she said turning and leaning over the engine to do just that.

Murdock's gaze wandered slowly up her legs, which caused him to blush as he realized what he was doing. When Nancy stood back up he was fiddling with the tools on the nearby bench, looking anywhere but at her.

"Hey, I don't think I caught your name?" Nancy said.

He turned and looked at her, had he forgotten to actually introduce himself? He thought in disbelief, "Murdock, um, HM Murdock," he said, holding out a hand.

Nancy reached to take his hand, then looked down, "Oh, sorry, 'bout that," she said, quickly wiping it on the shop rag, still hanging out of her pocket. She reached out and took his hand in a firm grip, "It's nice to meet you HM Murdock, I'm Nancy Clay."

"Yea, I know," Murdock said, realizing belatedly that that probably wasn't something Face would say either, "Uh, Doc told me."

She smiled at his discomfort, "You fly?" she asked.

His face lit up as a wide grin spread across it, "Yea, I love to fly," he said.

Nancy considered him for a moment, then turned back to the plane, "Think that bolt is free now?"

Murdock did a double-take, before realizing that it was a tacit invitation to follow, and walked over to the plane with her, "Probably . . ."

She had picked up the wrench and sure enough the bolt broke loose with just a little effort. She looked up at him as she unscrewed it, "If you help me finish this up, we could take her up for a midnight flight," she offered.

He smiled, slipping off his jacket, "I thought you'd never ask."

"You can take a couple minutes to think about it," Nancy said, a spontaneous smile lighting her face.

"Don't need it!" he said, reflecting the smile, then leaning under the hood to see what she was working on.

"I'm just doing a general tune up," she said, "I've been out of town for most of the last 14 months, so it's been awhile since I've given her the attention she needs."

Murdock gave a low whistle, "That's an A-65, looks brand new."

Nancy smiled proudly, "Yep, I rebuilt her, myself," She chuckled, "When I turned 15, Dad gave me a choice – a new car, or an old plane. It was no contest – Aunt Bea won hands down . . . even though she didn't run."

"My kinda girl," Murdock said under his breath, and blushed when she looked at him and said, "What?"

"Nothing," he said more loudly, "So you grow up around here?"

"No, in Chicago," she said, "How 'bout you? No, wait a minute, let me guess," she looked up into his eyes curiously, "Texas?" she ventured uncertainly.

"Just outside of Houston," he said in surprise.

Nancy smiled at him, "I wasn't too sure, there's only the slight remnant of a drawl left. You haven't lived there for awhile, have you?"

"No. Been livin' in LA for the last 10 years," he said.

"You just move to Langley recently?" she asked curiously.

"Yea, about a year ago."

"What brought you here?"

He shrugged, looking at her uncertainly, "Just decided it was, you know, time for a change of scenery."

Nancy glanced at his jacket, "Were you in the Tigers?"

"No, a friend gave that to me," he said, "I was regular Army. Flew Voodoo for a short time, but ended up flyin' a slick."

"Vietnam?" she asked.

"Yea," he said, "End of the war, spent a couple years in country."

"Couple years?" Nancy asked in surprise.

"Re-upped," Murdock said, with a shrug, "Guess I wasn't too sure how to live state side."

She was considering him with interest, "I imagine it was a much different world," she said, "Would require quite a bit of adjustment."

"Took me awhile. I . . .," he stopped, coming to a decision after just a few seconds hesitation, "I spent some time in the VA when I got back . . . in the psychiatric ward."

Nancy's gaze didn't waver, "Post Traumatic Stress?" she asked quietly. When he shrugged, she bent under the hood again, saying ruefully, "Doesn't matter. Once they name something, makes it unlikely they're gonna cure you of it, anyway."

Murdock hadn't expected that reaction, "Well, I can't really blame the Doc," he said, feeling a need to defend Dr. Richter, "He tried, but I wasn't very cooperative. I really wasn't in a big hurry to . . . face things on the outside."

"I can identify," she said, speaking as casually as if they were discussing the weather, "After awhile, you want to get better, but you really aren't too sure what they're expecting. It's like you've forgotten how to be normal."

Murdock was considering her curiously, and she looked slightly uncomfortable, but tried to explain, "They didn't have a label for it when I was a kid – but looking back on it, I'd say PTS would have been a pretty decent diagnosis."

"What happened?" he asked.

"My Mom was killed," she said distantly, then she looked at him and shrugged, "I was there, but I don't really remember."

"Maybe that's why I decided to take Human Psych when I went to college," she said with a grin, "The shrinks in Chicago hadn't been able to figure me out so I had to do it myself."

"You seem normal enough to me," Murdock said, then chuckled self-consciously, "'Course, I did spend the last 10 years living in the mental ward of a VA hospital."

Nancy bent back under the hood, "Did you get that little piece of paper that says you're sane, or did they just give up and let you slide?"

Murdock shrugged, "Doc said I was hopeless – too sane to be crazy, too crazy to be sane. In the end, he figured there was nothin' more he could do to help, so he signed my release."

"So, are you enjoying the big, wide world?" she asked.

"Yea, it's OK," he said, then looked over at her and smiled thoughtfully to himself, "And gettin' better all the time."

They worked companionably for the next hour, completing a thorough tune up and enjoying each other's company. They talked mostly about the different aircraft each had flown and their various flight characteristics, as well as discussing Aunt Bea's restoration.

Nancy stood up from under the hood, pushing some stray hair out of her face and leaving a smudge of grease on her forehead, which matched another that was on her cheek.

Murdock was watching her, and when he went to stand up, knocked his head into the hood, "Ouch!"

"Are you OK?" Nancy asked.

Murdock stood up, rubbing his head, "Yea, only external damage," he said. He held out a shop rag, "You got some grease on your face."

He wiped tentatively at the smudge on her cheek, but the towel was dirty and merely moved the smudge around, "I don't think I'm helping," he said ruefully.

Nancy took the towel from him hastily, surprised at the reaction that his touch had aroused, and hoping it didn't show on her face. She held it out to show him how dirty it was, "I think a clean towel would probably help," she said, laughing self-consciously.

"Sorry," he said with an apologetic smile.

She grabbed a clean towel off the bench, wiping her face, getting most if not all of the grease, and then wiped her hands.

"Ready to give her a try?" she asked in anticipation.

He nodded, and as she jumped up into the cockpit, Murdock put the hood down. After he'd stepped away, she turned the engine over and it purred.

Her smile was broad as she leaned out, "She sounds terrific, HM," she said happily.

Murdock gave her a thumbs-up and she motioned to him to get in, "C'mon, we can clean up when we get back."

Doc hollered from over by the desk, "Hey – flight plan."

"Low eastward sweep, Doc – and I'm loaded. Shouldn't be gone more than an hour," Nancy said, smiling cajolingly at him, "File one for me, huh?"

Doc pulled a blank form over, as Nancy and Murdock settled into the plane, shaking his head. As they pulled out into the end of the runway, Doc checked the radar and radioed out to make sure they were clear. Air space here was generally pretty free, but they were on the outer edge of the flight pattern for the air force base.

Nancy pulled a headset on, and indicated the other for Murdock. The cockpit of the plane was cramped, and their shoulders brushed frequently as they ran through the preflight in preparation for takeoff. Murdock was finding it difficult to concentrate with her so close, but before long the excitement of heading into the sky took over.

"All set, Doc?" Nancy said into the head set when they had finished the preflight.

"You're cleared for takeoff – head southeast, Nan," Doc said, "There's maneuvers tonight."

"Roger," Nancy said, checking the windsock and beginning her takeoff run.

Murdock watched with interest as she took off in a fairly strong crosswind, holding the plane steady and adjusting as necessary to counter the wind. As they lifted off, she turned, a broad smile on her face, "Takeoffs are a little rough in this kinda wind, but you can't beat her once she's in the air."

She banked and headed southeast, keeping fairly close to the ground.

"She flies nice," he said approvingly, "Looks like you gotta be pretty light on the controls."

Nancy nodded, "She's touchy, takes a gentle hand," she looked at him out of the corner of her eye, noting the joy that was apparent on his face, "You wanna give her a try?"

"You bet," he said, his smile widening happily. He gripped the wheel as Nancy yielded control.

"Just take it easy, flyboy," she said, chuckling, "She's no Voodoo, and certainly nothin' like a slick."

"You ever fly a chopper?" he asked, banking to get a feel for the give in the control – it was just like he remembered.

"Yea, but not much air time," Nancy said, "It's a lot different than a plane . . ."

"Just takes a little practice," he said encouragingly, "You can handle this girl, you can surely handle a chopper. I'll take you up some time, if you'd like."

"I'd like that," she said, glancing at him sideways. She had never met anyone who had appeared more at ease in the sky than standing on his own two feet.

"Couldn't have asked for a nicer night for flying," Murdock said happily, "look at those stars. It's so clear you could navigate by 'em."

Murdock launched into an explanation of star navigation, pointing out constellations, and how they were used by the ancient seafarers. Nancy interjected some of the mythology that had led to the constellation names, and the related storied. They talked as they flew for the next 45 minutes, then headed back to the field. After running through post-flight and tying the plane down, they walked back into the hangar to clean up.

Murdock dropped the last of the tools into the tool box, "I really enjoyed that," he said, looking at Nancy gratefully, "It's been awhile since I flew just for the joy of it."

"It was fun," she agreed thoughtfully.

He glanced around, hoping to find something else to pick up to delay ending the evening. Finding nothing, he picked up his jacket, and looked at her, his glance uncertain but determined, "I was wondering if, well, if you'd like to maybe go out to dinner . . . sometime?"

"Dinner?" Nancy said in surprise, recovering quickly, she asked, "Um . . . how about tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow?" he looked at her with a wide smile, "Tomorrow would be great!"

"Great," she said, nodding. They looked at each other awkwardly for a minute, then Nancy chuckled nervously, "Well, it really is late – we should probably get going and let Doc hit the hay."

Murdock nodded, "Yea," then snapped his fingers, "I need to know where you live."

"That would probably help, huh?" she said, "I've got some paper out in the car."

They turned and walked out to the parking lot, waving to Doc as they left. Murdock walked with her to her car – an candy-apple red convertible Volkswagon beetle.

He held the door for her as she got in. Nancy leaned across the seat, and grabbing a piece of paper from the glove compartment, she scribbled her address and phone number on it.

She held it out to him, "It's just off the main drag, but if you have any trouble finding it, call."

He looked at the address, "I think I know where it is," he said, "I'll pick you up about 6?"

"Six it is."

Happy Reflections

Murdock got home, and found his answering machine light blinking. Hannibal had called, "Hey, Murdock. You might wanna lay low for awhile. The General seems to be digging in here, and he's not in the best of moods. We'll give you a call when the coast is clear."

He sighed as he hit the 'erase' button. The last time the General had spent any time there, it had been almost a week before he'd gotten to see the guys again. And that was only because a limo had shown up to 'invite' him to a mission briefing.

He headed into the bedroom and stripped down to his t-shirt and underware. At least he had something to look forward to. Unfortunately, Saturday, 6 pm seemed like an awful long time away. As he lay back in bed, he went over the evening in his mind. He closed his eyes and could imagine Nancy's petite form leaning under the hood of her plane, the light catching on the strawberry-colored highlights in her hair. Strawberries, he loved strawberries, especially when there was a short cake to go with them.

Nancy arrived home, and went straight upstairs to take a shower and get the worst of the grease and dirt cleaned off. She stripped down in the bathroom, and grimaced at her reflection in the mirror. Her hair was a mess, and she still had smears of grease on her face. She shook her head, she had been certain all evening that the only lady HM had been interested in was Aunt Bea. The dinner invitation had caught her totally unaware, which was a testament to how comfortable she felt around him, right from the first 'hello'.

She started the shower and stepped under the steaming water, scrubbing thoroughly at her face. She couldn't remember the last time she had enjoyed an evening as much as she had this one. She found herself looking forward to dinner the next night with anticipation, which was a pleasant change from how she usually felt when awaiting a 'first date'.

She automatically started working a profile for HM Murdock – intelligent, funny, and a bit shy, but she didn't equate that with any lack of self-confidence. There was something that she couldn't put her finger on, something that she was missing. She made a mental note to stay more on guard than she had tonight and pay closer attention. Something about HM Murdock intrigued her, and that had an undeniable allure. She was going to have to watch her step.

Another Day

Nancy had gotten up Saturday morning only to make coffee and grab the paper before lying back down and enjoying a lazy morning in bed reading. Having been on assignment for the last 14 months out of the country, she was really enjoying this idle time at home. By noon, she was getting hungry and decided to get dressed and head downstairs for some food.

After a quick lunch of peanut butter and jelly, she wandered outside to tackle the weeds in the flower beds. This was a task she generally enjoyed, but was at the moment dreading. It had been over a year since she'd spent any time to speak of in Langley, and the flower gardens were a testimony to the neglect. She'd spent an enjoyable morning the day before at the greenhouse picking out a couple flats of flowers, but now they all had to be planted. There was no more putting it off – the gardens had to be cleaned out and redone.

Murdock had gone to his favorite diner, Mabel's, for breakfast, then gone back to his apartment and read the local paper front to back, followed by the NY Times, Newsweek, and finally the Rolling Stone, before deciding it was time for lunch.

After finishing a meal of Swedish meatballs over egg noodles, he'd pulled the note with Nancy's address and phone number out of his jacket and looked at it. He was pretty certain he knew where it was, but it couldn't hurt to make sure. He'd swing by there on his way to the grocery store.

Master Gardener

Nancy had cleared about a third of one of the front gardens, trying to leave the perennials she'd planted when she'd first moved in and take only the weeds, though this was proving rather fruitless.

Murdock was driving by in his little red truck when Nancy stood up, pushing sweat-soaked hair out of her face and taking a long drink from a half-frozen bottle of water. She caught sight of him and waved spontaneously.

He pulled into her drive, got out of the truck, and jogged over to her with a wide smile on his face, "Hey," he said, suddenly nervous and aware that he hadn't been invited, "Sorry, I didn't mean to drop by unannounced. I was headed out for groceries and . . . just wanted to make sure I knew where I was going tonight . . ."

"It's OK," Nancy interrupted, smiling at him, "A little company is always welcome. I'm trying to get the flower gardens under control – they've been neglected even more than Aunt Bea. It would be a long afternoon if you hadn't stopped."

"Can I help?" he asked.

"You don't have to . . .," Nancy said, flustered.

"Don't have anything better to do, and I'm not going to just sit around and watch you work," he said easily, as he took off his jacket and tossed it over the railing that led up to the front door, "I'm not much of a gardener, though – what's the drill?"

"Well," she said, considering what she had done so far, "There's really not much left to salvage. If you want to grab the hoe, you can start on the other side and just rip out everything that isn't flowering. It's mostly weeds anyway."

He took the hoe with a big smile, "Let's get to work."

Nancy watched as he started hoeing enthusiastically in the opposite garden, and after a few seconds, picked up the long-handled claw and set to work as well. They soon had the remainder of the weeds cleaned out.

Murdock leaned on the hoe, considering the pile of weeds, "Where do you want these?"

"There's a compost bin around back," she said, "I'll go get the wheel barrow."

After loading the last of the weeds into the bin, Murdock turned to her, "So, master gardener, now what?" he asked, grinning.

Nancy ran a dirty hand back through her bangs, pulling them off her forehead and leaving muddy streaks in the process, "Well, I don't know about you, but I'm thirsty," she said, and turned to lead the way in the rear entrance of the townhouse.

Murdock followed her through the back hall, which ran along the stairs to the upper floors, past a neat and orderly living room and into the kitchen. She went straight to the sink and washed her hands, then pulled two glasses out of the cupboard and filled them with ice and water.

Nancy handed one of the glasses to Murdock, and they both drank thirstily, leaning against the counter by the sink. Nancy turned and refilled her glass, catching a glimpse of herself in the reflection off the window.

She grimaced and glanced sideways at Murdock, who had just finished his glass of water and was leaning over to refill it.

"You are developing a real talent of catching me at my worst," she said, almost apologetically.

He turned the water off and looked at her curiously, "What do you mean?"

Nancy set her glass on the counter, and nudged him out of the way, turning the water back on, "I mean, last night I was in my grungiest clothes and elbow deep in grease, and this morning, I'm sweaty, dirty and a total disaster," she leaned down and splashed ice cold water over her face, rubbing at the dirt on her forehead, trying to get the worst of it off.

"I think you look great," he said with a shrug, "a little grease and dirt never hurt anybody."

She wiped her face on a dry kitchen towel, stating simply, "You are crazy."

"I thought we established that last night," he said, grinning. He reached out and plucked some dried leaves out of her hair, "Though I will admit, I'd draw the line at actually going out to dinner like this."

Nancy smiled self-consciously, aware once again of the involuntary reaction his closeness elicited and picking up her glass and taking another drink to hide it, before saying drolly, "Oh, I'll clean up before dinner, but first, we need to get those two flats of plants in and watered – whadaya say?"

Murdock folded his hands and bowed, "Aftah you, Mastah."

Nancy smiled and turned to lead the way out, "Let's go, flyboy."

They had finished laying out where the plants were going to go, and had gotten about half of them in the ground. Murdock stood up, watching as Nancy moved onto the next plant, sweat dripping off the end of her nose. It had turned into a scorching day, and the humidity was high.

He touched her shoulder, "How about some more water?"

Nancy brushed her hair out of her face, looking up at him, "There's more bottled water in the freezer," she said gratefully, "I don't know if it's frozen, but it should be good and cold."

He headed into the town house, as she sat back and considered how much there was left to do.

Trixie and Joe

A couple in a navy blue SUV pulled up to the curb. The woman was tall and lanky with sandy, curly hair and bright green eyes. The man was powerfully built, with blond hair cut in a butch and piercing, steel grey eyes.

"Hey, Nan," the woman called as she got out of the vehicle. She glanced curiously in the driveway, noting the unfamiliar truck.

Nancy stood up with a wide grin for the new arrivals, "Hi, Trix. Hi, Joe," she called, with a friendly wave.

Trixie James Martin was Nancy's partner, and had been her best friend since junior high school. She had married Joe Martin, a homicide detective with the Langley Police Department, early last year.

Joe put an arm around Trixie as they walked up to join Nancy in the yard, "Hell of a day to be gardening," he said, "Gotta be 100 out here in the sun."

"It's a hundred every summer day in Langley that it isn't raining," Nancy said, "I didn't figure you two would surface for at least another week," she added teasingly.

Trixie and Joe looked at each other significantly, and Nancy put her hands on her hips, "So why did you decide to rejoin the human race?"

"Well, we have some news," Trixie said, then blurted, "Nan, I'm pregnant."

Nancy looked at Trixie in shock, "What?"

Just then, Murdock came walking out of the town house, carrying two bottles of water. Nancy was still trying to integrate this new information, when he handed her a water bottle and smiled at Trixie and Joe, "Hi."

Trixie and Joe both looked more than a little surprised to see a man walking out of Nancy's apartment, but Joe recovered quickly, and held out a hand, "Hi, I'm Joe Martin and this is my wife, Trixie."

Nancy looked at Joe, then Murdock, and found her manners, "Um, Trix, Joe, this is HM Murdock. HM, Trixie and Joe Martin."

Murdock's expression was amused, "Yep, that's what he said," He held out a hand to Joe and Trixie, and they shook.

Nancy motioned into the house, "We could go sit inside, where it's cool . . ," she said absently.

Inside, they found seats in the living room. Nancy had barely sat down, when she stood up again, "You want something to drink?"

Trixie, who had been gazing curiously at Murdock, stood as well, "I'll help you," and grabbing Nancy's arm, she steered her into the kitchen.

Joe watched them go, then turned to Murdock, "I think I've seen you around Mabel's," he said conversationally.

"Yea, I live right near there," Murdock said, "It's a great little place."

Joe nodded, glancing again towards the kitchen, then back at Murdock, he leaned back and got comfortable, "They'll be awhile," he said practically, "You from around here?"

"Nope," Murdock said, "Originally from Texas, but most recently, from LA."

Joe caught sight of Murdock's jacket, which Nancy had brought in and dropped over the end of the couch, "That yours?" when Murdock nodded, Joe sat forward curiously, "You in the Tigers?"

"No, a friend of mine gave it to me," he said, "I was an army pilot."

"Vietnam?" Joe asked, and again Murdock nodded. He sat back, "Me, too," Joe said.

In the kitchen, Trixie turned to Nancy, "Who is he?"

Nancy leaned against the counter, crossing her arms, "I told you, HM Murdock. I met him at the airfield last night," she said, "How long have you known you're pregnant?"

"Just found out," Trixie said, "You just met him last night?"

"Yes, he helped me give Aunt Bea a tune up, then we took her up for a spin," Nancy said, "How far along are you?"

Trixie was chewing on her lip, "Just missed my period, so about a month, but I haven't been to the doctor – have my first appointment in about an hour," she said, "What do you know about him?"

"From Houston originally, Vietnam veteran, huey pilot, lived in LA for the last ten years at the VA, just moved to Langley about a year ago," Nancy supplied, "Are you going to take a sabbatical?"

Trixie stopped and looked at Nancy, remembering why she had insisted Joe stop, "Nan, that's why I wanted to come see you . . ."

Nancy looked at her friend knowingly, "You're going to quit."

Trixie sighed, "We've talked about this, Nan," she said quietly, her expression seeking understanding, "Joe and I have seen each other less than two months in the last year. That's no kind of marriage. And with a baby on the way . . . I don't want to miss my kid growing up."

Nancy leaned forward and gave her friend a warm hug, "Of course you don't, Trix," she said, "I'm really happy for you . . . really. You've gotta do what's right for you and Joe and the baby."

"I hate leaving you in the lurch like this, Nan," Trixie said, looking at her apologetically.

Nancy shrugged, and turned to pull glasses out of the cupboard, "Don't worry about me," she said as she got the drinks, "I've been considering a change of scenery, too. This past year has sucked."

"You aren't seriously considering quitting?" Trixie asked incredulously, "That's going to be difficult, isn't it?"

Nancy shrugged, "Nothing worth doing is easy," she said, adding offhandedly, "I ran into Riley Adams the day before yesterday. He's looking for an operative . . . maybe even a partner."

"Do you really want to be a private investigator?" Trixie asked, "Seems like a step back from where you are. . ."

"You sound like my Uncle," Nancy said snidely.

"I'm not your Uncle," Trixie said, her jaw clenched, "It's just that you have other options. They'd be glad to have you back at the Bureau and you know Casey would love it if you came to work for him."

"And I'd end up back in the same damn place I am now," Nancy said irritably, "No way. At least as a PI, I'd have some control over my life."

Trixie looked at Nancy ruefully, "That's gonna take more than a job change," she said quietly, "Maybe HM is a move in the right direction, though."

"I'd say he is a move in the opposite direction from control," Nancy responded quietly.

Trixie raised an eyebrow, then picked up one of the glasses from the counter, "You just met HM last night," she said thoughtfully, "Have you asked Carla to run a background on him?"

"No," Nancy said, "We haven't even gone on our first date, yet. I don't see what the rush is."

"Nan, you know protocol," Trixie said severely, "Especially after what happened down in Columbia. You have to be careful."

"If HM was a hit man, he'd have killed me already," Nancy said dismissively, as she picked up the other glass, "Besides, I hate to have Carla informing Uncle that there's fresh meat too soon – you know how he is. If HM asks me out on a second date, then I'll contact her for the background check."

She turned and started back towards the living room, "Besides, by now Joe probably knows as much from his interrogation then Carla could find out," she quickened her pace, "Speaking of which, we should probably go rescue HM."

Trixie chuckled, "A definite advantage of being married to a homicide detective," she said, "He's not shy about asking questions."

"No, he's definitely not," Nancy agreed.

Joe and Murdock were laughing about something when Nancy and Trixie came in. Nancy walked over and handed Joe his drink, then dropped onto the end of the couch. Murdock was sitting in a rocking chair and Trixie sat on the arm of Joe's chair.

Joe looked up at his wife discerningly, "You told her?"

"Yes, she told me, Joe," Nancy answered for her, turning to Murdock she clarified, "Trixie's pregnant . . . and has decided to find another job."

Murdock grinned, "Congratulations! This your first?"

Joe nodded, "Yea, we've only been married a little over a year and a half," he said, "Trixie's been eluding me for awhile, but I finally managed to tie her down."

Trixie made a face at him, then turned to Murdock, "So, HM, Nan says you're a pilot," she said, "You work for Doc?"

"No," Murdock said, "Right now I'm working for Hamilton's Turkey Farm."

"You're a pilot for a turkey farm?" Trixie asked curiously.

"No," Murdock said, shaking his head, "Actually, I'm just a general laborer."

"Oh," Trixie said in confusion, "How long have you been there?"

"A month or so," Murdock said vaguely.

"You haven't always worked for a turkey farm, then," she said, sounding relieved.

Nancy was mortified at the tact Trixie's line of questioning was taking and looked at Joe desperately to end the conversation.

Joe suppressed a smile and sat forward, deciding to save his wife from sticking her foot any further down her throat, "HM was one of the slick pilots that pulled my unit out of Khe Sahn," he said, casually, "You stay with that unit during your entire tour, HM?"

Murdock shook his head, "No, I ended up . . . mmm, flying for a special forces unit."

"Really? Bet that made life interesting," Joe said, looking at Murdock curiously, "The special forces were always hitting the hot zones."

"Yea, working with the special forces kept things interesting," Murdock agreed noncommittally, wondering if he should have even mentioned it.

He was saved from any further questioning as Trixie looked at her watch and jumped up, "We gotta get moving, Joe, or we're going to be late for the doctor's appointment."

They headed towards the door, and Trixie took Murdock's hand, shaking it vigorously, "It was really nice to meet you, HM. You and Nan'll have to come over for dinner sometime soon."

Joe smiled tolerantly as his wife walked out the door, then turned and shook Murdock's hand, chuckling, "Listen, it was really great to meet you HM – we will have to get together sometime. Bye," he waved as he followed his wife to the SUV.

Nancy's face was red, and she passed a hand over her eyes, "Sorry about that," she said quietly, "Trixie's kind of a mother hen . . ."

Murdock smiled, "S'OK, Short Cake," he said easily, "They seem like really nice people."

"Short Cake?" Nancy asked, looking at him peculiarly.

He looked down at her, surprised that the nickname had come out, "Uh, shouldn't we get the rest of those flowers planted, before they cook in the sun?"

The distraction worked, and she grimaced as she hurried down the front steps and looked at the plants laid out and rapidly wilting in the afternoon heat, "Geez, I hope they're not dead."

They set to work and soon had them all planted. The sun had finally dropped far enough behind the building so that the front gardens were in shade.

Nancy pulled a sprinkler out and set it so that it was running on the one garden, then turned to Murdock, who was stepping out of the front door with his jacket, "I ought to get going, if I'm going to get a shower, get cleaned up, and get back here by 6," he said.

She nodded agreement, "Thanks for all the help, HM," she said, "I probably wouldn't have gotten done if you hadn't come along . . . again."

"Happy to be of service," he said with a slight bow, then he looked up at her, his eyes dancing with amusement, "Looking forward to seeing you tonight with neither grease nor dirt on either of our faces."

Nancy's hand flew up to her forehead, where she felt the tell-tale grittiness of dirt under her fingers, "I'll try to be presentable by the time you get back."

"You're pretty presentable now," he said, "Just not very clean," he reached out and brushed some loose dirt off her cheek.

Nancy felt herself flush as his fingers brushed her cheek, and smiled self-consciously at him, "Clean and presentable, then."

"See ya, in about an hour and a half, Short Cake," he said lightly, as he strode out to his truck.

Nancy looked after him curiously, "Short Cake . . .," she murmured curiously.

Out of the Frying Pan . . .

Nancy stood in front of her closet in underwear and a bra, looking at her wardrobe in dismay. On one side of the closet were black pants suits and white button-down shirts. There were even a few dark ties, which she had steadfastly refused to wear. These were her work uniform, and she hated them with a passion.

On the other side were her 'normal' clothes, and there was a rather meager selection. She had laid a new pair of black pants on the bed that Trixie had convinced her to purchase but she had never actually worn, and was now trying to decide what shirt to wear with them. She glanced at the clock – it was 5:30 – and sighed audibly. The selection hadn't changed in the last 15 minutes, and it was unlikely to change in the next 30. She finally reached in and pulled out a sleeveless burgundy fitted button down shirt.

She pulled on her pants and shirt, and then assessed herself in the full-length mirror. Trixie had been right, the pants were flattering, softening the full curve of her hips. The shirt hugged her breasts and waist then flared slightly, accentuating her figure in all the right places. Her hair fell in soft, shiny curls over her shoulders, the color of the shirt causing the red highlights to stand out. She put on some lip balm and minimal blue eyeliner, before looking at the remaining makeup and deciding against anything else. Over the past year, she had spent a lot of time outside in diffuse sunlight, and her skin had developed a healthy tan that didn't require any enhancement. By quarter to 6 she was down in the living room, flipping through a book and waiting nervously for Murdock to show up.

Murdock stood in his bedroom, dressed in a pair of khaki slacks and a plain white t-shirt, with an array of shirts on the bed and the phone cradled to his ear, "The problem is, Face, that I don't know what to wear," he said desperately. He had finally broken down and called the Compound, where thankfully the General had not answered the phone. But he had trouble getting Face on topic, as his friend was very curious about whom he was going out with.

"You aren't wearing a pair of khakis, are you?" Face asked.

Murdock looked down at his pants, and quickly unzipped them, "Of course not," he said hastily, kicking the pants aside, and grabbing his one pair of dark slacks.

"Thank God," Face said, "What color are the pants you are wearing?"

He looked at them critically, "Blue?" he ventured.

"Jeez, Murdock, this isn't an ink blot test," Face said impatiently, "They're probably that navy pair I got you for your birthday."

"Yea, those are the ones."

"OK, what about the shirt I got you to go with them?"

Murdock walked over to the closet, and reached in the back, pulling out a long-sleeved, white oxford with burgundy pinstripes. Trying to brush the dust off the shoulders, he said hesitantly, "Uh, Facey, I don't think so."

"What's wrong with it?" Face asked.

"Well, it's been sitting in my closet, and it's sorta odd colored on the shoulders."

"OK, then what do you have?"

Murdock hung the oxford back up and turned to the bed, "How about a plain light blue shirt?" he asked, holding up one that Hannibal had gotten him last Christmas. The guys were always trying to get him to give up the crazy t-shirts.

"Plain light blue, huh?" Face asked thoughtfully, "That should work, what about a tie?"

Murdock looked at the three ties he owned, and shook his head, "I think I'll go without," he said ruefully.

Face couldn't help but smile, "You'll be fine," he said, "No tie will say you're casual and confident."

"Casual and confident, huh?" Murdock said uncertainly, as he buttoned up the shirt and considered his reflection in the mirror. He didn't feel either casual or confident. Looking at his feet, he realized he still had on white socks and grimaced, "Listen, Face, I gotta go or I'm gonna be late."

"Call me when you get back and let me know how it went," Face said, "Oh, and don't forget flowers."

"Flowers?" Murdock said, as he pulled his white socks off, "Where do I get flowers?"

"Stop by one of the street vendors and buy some."

"Face, this isn't LA," Murdock said irritably, "There isn't a street vendor on every corner."

"Oh, right . . . so try a florist," Face offered.

"A florist? I really gotta get movin', Faceman. Thanks for the help!" Murdock said, pulling a dark pair of socks out of his dresser.

"Good luck, Murdock," Face said, laughing at the grunt, "Have a good time."

Face hung up the phone, and turned around, where Hannibal, BA and Frankie had all been sitting listening to his end of the conversation.

"So, Murdock has a date, huh?" Hannibal asked.

"Yep," Face said, "He's going out with some woman he met at the airfield last night. And boy was he nervous."

"She a pilot?"

"Apparently, and a pretty good one, too," Face said, "Murdock was impressed, and that's not easy to do when it comes to flying."

Hannibal sat back, "A lady pilot that impresses Murdock, huh? Sounds intriguing, can't wait to meet her."

Into the Fire

Murdock pulled up in front of Nancy's townhouse right on time, clutching a fistful of daisies in his hand. He walked up to the front door, which opened before he even rang the bell.

Nancy was standing there smiling nervously at him, "Hi, you're right on time."

He stared at her in surprise, realizing he hadn't seen her with her hair down, "Hi," then deciding that he was staring, he thrust the flowers out at her, "These are for you."

Nancy took the flowers and motioned him inside, "I'll put them in some water."

He followed her into the kitchen and watched as she filled a vase with water, looking at the roots on the bottom of some of the stems with interest, "Where did you get these?"

Murdock smiled sheepishly, "At the park," he admitted, "The florist I passed on the way here was closed."

"Well, flowers weren't totally necessary, but you sure do get an A for effort," Nancy said, smiling.

He was staring at her again, as she turned with the vase full of flowers, "You smell, uh," he did a mental head slap before finishing, "I mean, look really nice."

"Couldn't have gone anywhere but up," she said ruefully as she set the vase on the table. Then she looked up at him and smiled shyly, "You smell and look pretty nice yourself."

Her acceptance of his odd flattery served to set him at ease, and he asked, "Where do you want to go for dinner?"

Nancy looked at a loss for a moment, blurting out the first place that came to mind, "How about Charlie's?" she suggested, "I'm always in the mood for a good burger, and Charlie's makes the best."

"That sounds great," Murdock said, "Are you all set?" at Nancy's nod, he grinned and said enthusiastically, "Well, then let's blow this popsicle stand and get some grub, I'm starving!"

Charlie's was a small neighborhood bar and restaurant with a large screen TV in the bar area to pull in the sports crowds. They were shown to a booth in the back and handed menus.

Nancy glanced around, it was Saturday night, but there was no huge sporting event on this evening, so Charlie's was fairly quiet, though she saw a couple of Joe's coworkers sitting at the bar. One of the men called hello to her, and she raised a hand in greeting before picking up the menu.

"You hang out here a lot?" Murdock asked, noting the man at the bar watching them with apparent interest.

Nancy looked uncomfortable, "Not really, it's just that, well, several of Joe's friends come here, and I've . . . m-met a lot of them," 'and if I'd thought of that earlier, I wouldn't have suggested coming to Charlie's' Nancy thought to herself.

"You 'met' a lot of them?" Murdock asked, raising an eyebrow with interest.

"Well, you know, going out with Trixie and Joe, they usually invited one of Joe's friends," she admitted, her cheeks turning red.

"So they set you up, huh?" he asked, his eyes glinting with amusement, "None of them would be the jealous type, would they? I'd imagine most of Joe's friends carry . . . and probably know how to use 'em."

"I doubt any of them would bother," she said with a shrug, then nodded towards the bar, "Though for other reasons, I wouldn't put it past Brett to pull something. However, he'd be much more likely to plant crack on you and bust you for possession."

"Vice?" Murdock asked, at Nancy's affirming nod, he added, "I'll make it a point to avoid him."

"Yea, so do I," she said, chuckling.

Her eyes narrowed as she considered him, "You know, there's something I've been wanting to ask you since we met. . ."

"Yea?"

"What does the HM stand for?"

He shrugged, "Nothing."

"Nothing?" Nancy said disbelievingly, "It can't stand for nothing."

"Why not?" Murdock asked nonchalantly.

"Well, I don't go around telling everyone I'm NR Clay . . ."

"So, the N stands for Nancy, what about the R?"

Nancy hesitated, "Ruby," she said, "Mom picked Nancy, and Dad picked Ruby – obviously they didn't care how it sounded."

"Ruby's an unusual name – what made your Dad pick it?" Murdock asked curiously.

"Ruby was the name of his favorite person," Nancy said, smiling, "It was my Mom's name. But, as smoothly as you articulated that avoidance tactic, I'm still expecting an answer to my original question – what does the 'HM' stand for?"

"The HM doesn't stand for anything," Murdock said, again, then relented and explained, "It did, I was named after my father. But after he dumped me on my grandparents and disappeared, I decided I didn't really want to share his name. So I had it legally changed."

"Legally changed . . . to just HM?"

"Just HM," he affirmed.

The waitress appeared with their drinks and appetizer and they placed their food orders before she left. They spent the next several minutes concentrating on eating the nachos, which were loaded with cheese, onions, jalapeños and bacon bits, and had come with fresh salsa and sour cream.

While they were eating, a short, dark-haired man, who looked like a manager, stopped by the table, "Hey, Nan," he said familiarly, "long time no see."

Nancy smiled at him, "Hi, Charlie, how've you been?"

"Not bad, not bad . . . Wondered what Brett kept looking at over here. Guess now I know," he said, looking at Murdock with interest, then he turned back to Nancy, "I heard you got yourself waylaid in Columbia with some diplomatic mess. When'd you get back in town?"

"I went to see my Dad in Chicago, and just got back into town a few days ago," Nancy said. She indicated Murdock, "Charlie, this is HM Murdock, HM, this is Charlie Clark – he owns this dump," she winked at him.

Murdock held out a hand, "Hi, nice to meet you."

"Likewise, though if I were you, I'd find some better company to enjoy your meal with."

"You missed me, Charlie, admit it!"

"Yea, like I miss a toothache," Charlie said, his smile belying his words. He added mischievously, "Though it has been awhile since we had any decent music in the place."

Nancy's look turned sour, "Drop it, Charlie."

Charlie pressed, a teasing gleam in his eyes, "C'mon, Nan – the piano's still over in the corner . . . you do remember how to play?"

"Charlie . . .," Nancy said warningly.

"Guess you haven't had enough to drink yet!" Charlie said, laughing, "OK - I'll let you go for now," he stepped aside, as the waitress set their meals in front of them, "It was nice meeting you, HM. I'll see you folks later – enjoy your meals!"

Murdock looked at her curiously as they started eating, "So, guess that means the guitar and piano in your living room aren't just for show."

Nancy shrugged, "I play, but not usually in front of other people."

"How about one other person," Murdock said hopefully, "I'd really like to hear."

"I might be convinced to make an exception," she said, "If you promise not to laugh."

"Cross my heart," he said, making a corresponding motion with his hand.

Nancy smiled slightly, then motioned to his burger, "How is it?"

"You were right," he agreed, with a full mouth, "Really good burgers."

They ate leisurely, laughing and talking about wide-ranging topics, starting with music, progressing naturally to movies, which led to Murdock providing a discourse on his favorite movie star, Humphrey Bogart. Discussion of The African Queen led to a tangent debate about the women's rights movement. Something in that discussion led Murdock to ask her about her college career. Nancy offered some general information, before managing to turn the topic back to Murdock, by asking him why he hadn't gone to college. Murdock explained that his grandparents had passed away just before he graduated high school, with no will, which meant he became a ward of the state, which took what little money his grandparents had. It was nearly 8 when the waitress came to take their empty plates and ask if they wanted any dessert.

Murdock looked at Nancy, who was shaking her head, "I guess not," he said, "Everything was really good."

The waitress dropped the bill and left.

"I am stuffed," Nancy said with a deep sigh, "I think an appetizer and a meal was a little too much."

"Does that mean you're not up for coffee and pie at Mabel's?" Murdock asked, pulling out his wallet.

Nancy blew out her cheeks, "I don't think I could eat another bite, but coffee doesn't sound bad."

He threw enough money on the table to cover the bill and tip, "Good, 'cause I have a sweet tooth."

"I might be able to fit in a piece of pie myself in a little while," she said, "But I'll only go on one condition . . ."

"Which is?"

"It's my treat."

The conversation continued on the road, with Murdock turning the conversation away from himself by beginning a discussion of the importance of having a will to avoid the government taking everything. At the diner, they took another booth, this time near the door. The waitress, who greeted Murdock like an old friend, brought coffee over and they ordered pie.

Their conversation never lapsed, and they moved comfortably from one topic to another. Nancy was interested in his time at the VA, and they discussed the various treatment regimens that he had tried over the years, and the merits of each. He asked about her treatment as a child, and they discussed the many advancements in psychology and psychiatry over the last 20 years, and how the field of psychiatry and drug therapy had definitely improved since the days when the chemically-imbalanced had been forced to resort to commonly-available depressants, like alcohol, and stimulants, like caffeine.

"Speaking of self-medicating - you are never going to get to sleep tonight," Nancy said. She had switched over to water after her first cup of coffee. Meanwhile, Murdock had drained his fourth cup of coffee, "I'd have a heck of a buzz with that much caffeine this time of night."

"Naw," Murdock said, "you want a real buzz you drink Mountain Dew - the caffeine and sugar combo is killer. After a six-pack you need coffee to bring you back down!"

Nancy shook her head in amusement, "Sounds like addictive behavior to me."

Murdock's look sobered, "Knew a lot of guys during the war that went way beyond the caffeine and booze," he said quietly, "Started down that path myself . . ." his look was distant

She looked up into troubled brown eyes, "But you didn't get consumed like so many . . .," she said consolingly.

He looked at her, and smiled, "No, I'm definitely one of the lucky ones. I had a commanding officer that took an interest in me. I don't think I'm exaggerating when I say he saved my life – in more ways than one."

"Do you keep in touch?" Nancy asked.

Murdock looked at her, "Yea, we keep in touch," he said, then changed the subject, "What made you get into diplomatic work with a phych degree?"

"Sometimes things don't work out the way you think they will," Nancy said evasively, "I started in a more applied job when I first got my degree, but there were problems, and I ended up, well, dropping back and punting."

"And you punted into diplomacy?"

"Actually, no, I punted into law," she admitted, "But don't tell anybody. I don't often admit that I'm JD."

"You're a lawyer?" Murdock asked in surprise.

"By degree only," Nancy said, "I've never really practiced law, though the training, particularly in international law, comes in quite handy in my current position."

"I'd imagine," Murdock said.

"What about you?" Nancy said, "I would think a pilot with your experience could find work at any airfield. Why do you work at a turkey farm?"

Murdock shrugged, "Most people aren't nearly as understanding as you are when it comes to my time at the VA."

"I can't believe Doc wouldn't give you a job."

"If it were up to Doc, he probably would," Murdock said quietly.

Nancy looked at Murdock curiously, but further inquiry along that line was interrupted.

It was almost midnight, and the waitress picked that moment to stop by their table, a tolerant smile on her face, "I hate to do this to you kids, but we're closin' up," she said.

Murdock looked at his watch, "Jeez, look at the time. Sorry Blanche, didn't realize it was gettin' so late. Hope we haven't held you up."

"You ain't hurtin nothin', HM," she said smiling, "I hated to interrupt. You two seemed to be having such a nice time."

Nancy handed Blanche enough money to cover the bill, with a generous tip.

"Sorry for taking up space for so long Blanche," Murdock said, as they rose to leave he pressed another bill into her hand, "Buy Terra an ice cream cone on me. G'night!"

He held the door for Nancy and they walked out to his truck. He drove slowly back to her place.

"You must eat there a lot," Nancy said.

"I eat there a fair amount, it's convenient," Murdock agreed, "and Blanchey's a sweet lady. She's raising her granddaughter on her own, and I don't think she's got two nickels to rub together."

Nancy looked at him appraisingly, "You're a really nice guy HM Murdock."

"You're not so bad yourself," he said, smiling.

Weak Moment

They rode in comfortable silence the rest of the way to her townhouse. He parked in the drive and walked Nancy to the door. She pulled her key out and opened the door.

Nancy turned and looked at Murdock uncertainly, motioning into the apartment she asked, "Would you like to come in?"

Murdock nodded, "Yea, I would."

She turned and led the way into the apartment.

When she got into the living room, she was at a loss, and looked at Murdock awkwardly, "Do you want something to drink?" she asked tentatively.

Murdock's eyes had landed on the guitar, "No, think I've had enough to drink for a couple days," he said, "But I do seem to remember you promising to play me a song," he added coaxingly as he sat down on the end of the couch.

"I don't recall really promising . . .," she disagreed, walking over and running her fingers over the strings of the guitar.

"Pretty please with sugar on top . . .," he begged, "I promise not to laugh, guffaw or even giggle!"

Nancy looked at him calculatingly for a few seconds before picking up the guitar and walking to the couch. She sat down on the opposite end from Murdock, leaning against the arm and strumming randomly for a few seconds before settling into a tune:

Over by the wildwood, it was a hot summer night.
We lay in the tall grass, til the mornin' light come shining

If I had my way I'd never get the urge to roam.
Sometimes I serve my country
Sometimes I stay at home.

Just don't put me in the frame upon the mantel
Where memories turn dusty, old and grey.
Don't leave me alone in the twilight.
For twilight is the loneliest time of day.

Never gave a second thought, never crossed my mind.
To what is right and what is not. I'm not the judgin' kind.
I could take the darkness and the storms from your skies.
We all got certain trials burnin' up inside.
Don't send me no distant salutations.
Or silly souvenirs from far away.
Don't leave me alone in the twilight.
For twilight is the loneliest time of day.

Don't put me in the frame upon the mantel.
Where memories turn dusty, old and grey.
Don't leave me alone in the twilight.
For twilight is the loneliest time of day.

Nancy looked at Murdock uncertainly as she finished the song. His expression was unreadable, and he was sitting there quietly, just looking at her. She finally broke the silence, "Was it that bad?"

Murdock blinked, "I – I'm sorry," he said shaking his head and talking almost to himself, "I'm not sure what I expected . . .," he looked at her earnestly, "You are really good."

Nancy considered him seriously; trying to decide if he was just being polite or if he truly liked it, "You can tell me the truth . . ." she began in admonishment, standing up to put the guitar back on the piano.

"I am telling you the truth, Nan," Murdock interrupted, "I was just kinda, well, surprised after all the hemming and hahing you did about playing, I figured . . ." he looked at her apologetically, "Well, I expected it to be OK, but . . . you have real talent, why don't you play for other people?"

She had resumed her seat on the couch, and looked a bit uncomfortable with his praise, "It's not like I could make a living at it," she said dismissively.

Murdock raised his eyebrows, "What does that have to do with it?"

She took a deep breath and sat up ramrod straight, her hands on her knees, "Music is a frivolous past time and a waste of energy," she said haughtily, then looked at him and smiled self-deprecatingly, "That's my Uncle talking – I've heard that litany since . . . who knows, forever, and I guess in some corner of my mind it sticks. Music is a waste of valuable time."

"'Music expresses that which cannot be said and on which it is impossible to be silent.'" Murdock quoted, then smiled at her repentantly as he continued, "Not to be disrespectful, but your Uncle sounds like a butt-head."

Nancy laughed, "You are the first person I've ever met that could quote Victor Hugo in one breath, and call my Uncle a butt-head in the next."

"I hope that's a good thing," he said anxiously.

Nancy smiled her reassurance, "Actually, my Dad feels pretty much the same way about my Uncle."

"And what does your Dad think about your music?" he asked curiously.

"Dad's always supported me no matter what I wanted to do. He's a really terrific person, especially considering he's a practicing lawyer," she looked at Murdock thoughtfully, "I think you'd like him."

"Yea, but the real question is would he like me?" Murdock asked in amusement.

"It doesn't really matter because I do," Nancy said impetuously, the stood up suddenly, trying to recover from that rather unexpected disclosure, "Um, are you sure you don't want something to drink?" she asked, motioning vaguely in the direction of the kitchen.

He caught the edge of panic in her voice, "Naw, if I drink anymore I'm gonna be floating home," he said, standing, "Speaking of which, I should probably head out."

Nancy felt an odd mixture of relief and disappointment at that statement. She couldn't quite figure out what it was about HM Murdock that fascinated her, but she certainly couldn't deny the attraction. Now she just nodded and followed as he led the way to the front door.

At the door, he stopped and turned to look at her, "I really enjoyed myself tonight, Nan," he said warmly, "And today, and last night . . ."

"So did I," Nancy said in agreement, smiling thoughtfully.

Murdock moved closer to her, reaching to take her hand, "I'd like to see you again . . ."

Nancy had been studiously avoiding Murdock's touch all evening, but now she let her guard down, "I'd like that," she said. Their hands met, and Nancy felt a warm tingle as they moved closer, and his other hand slid behind her neck. He ran his thumb along her jaw line, then leaned down, moving slowly and watching closely to gage her reaction.

Nancy knew she couldn't resist his touch, and tilted her chin up and moved to close the distance between them, feeling like she was moving in a dream, but meeting his lips unhesitatingly, nonetheless. The kiss started lightly, exploratory, but quickly deepened as they moved into each other's arms and gave in to the feelings they'd been holding in check all evening.

A minute later, Murdock finally pulled back, albeit reluctantly, and looked at her ruefully, "I should really get going . . .," he said, huskily.

Nancy looked at him. There was a part of her that wanted him to leave, but that part was losing the battle to one that wanted him to stay. She didn't trust herself to say anything, so instead she reached over and flipped the deadbolt to the locked position. Murdock smiled and pulled her, unresistingly, back into his arms for an encore kiss.

Duty Calls

Murdock woke the next morning, early as was his habit, and looked at the ceiling in confusion for a moment before remembering where he was. He rolled over and looked at Nancy, sleeping peacefully beside him. He reached out a hand and brushed the mass of tangled hair out of her face. She stirred slightly, then slipped quickly back into deep sleep. It had been only a few hours ago that their passion had finally been spent and they had drifted off to sleep, but his internal clock didn't allow him to sleep past 6, except under very unusual circumstances.

He smiled at the memory, as he settled down next to her. He imagined their clothes were still scattered about the entryway, where they had been discarded. He had been surprised by how ready and willing she had been, given the panic that had gleamed in her eyes when she had admitted that she liked him. That had been an accident, but she hadn't left any doubt in his mind that she did like him, quite a bit.

After their encounter in the foyer, he had taken her up to her bedroom, and taken more time to really make love to her properly. Afterwards they had lain there, talking softly about nothing in particular. The moon had risen and shone brightly in her bedroom window, and she had sat up, looking at him curiously. When he had realized how starkly the scars on his chest stood out in the light, he had withdrawn, turning his back on her.

He still marveled at her reaction. She hadn't said anything, simply traced one particularly bad knife wound scar on his shoulder with her finger, before leaning down to kiss it. She'd continued across his back, tracing each scar before kissing it gently, until he had finally rolled to face her again. They had made love again, slowly and tenderly, exploring each others bodies in detail. She had scars, too, and he had returned the favor, tracing each then kissing it gently. When they had finally joined, it had been like no experience he'd ever had before.

He pulled the sheet down gently and retraced a fine, silvery scar that followed the line of her collar bone. It looked almost surgical, as did the other scars, which occurred in similarly unusual patterns across her torso. He was curious, but wasn't going to ask her where she had gotten them. He knew from personal experience that those types of questions were difficult to hear and even more difficult to answer, causing a reliving of things better left in the past.

When Nancy woke up, she looked up into warm brown eyes and smiled drowsily.

Murdock returned the smile, "Good morning, Short Cake," he said affectionately.

Nancy's eyes snapped open, as she realized that she wasn't dreaming, "Um . . . Good morning."

"Are you OK?" Murdock asked carefully.

Nancy sat up, and as the covers slid off, she snatched them back up, turning and looking at Murdock uncomfortably, "I, uh, I don't usually," she stopped, not wanting to insult him, "I mean, I'm not usually . . . this impulsive."

He put a hand on her arm, and smiled in understanding, "Maybe I'm impulsive enough for both of us," he said apologetically.

Nancy still appeared to be a little panicked, and Murdock sat up and looked at her tenderly. Running a hand over her hair, he cupped her face in his hand, then leaned forward and kissed her lightly on the lips, "I should go," he said quietly.

Nancy looked into his eyes, losing herself in the memories of the night before, "No," she said simply, leaning in to meet him for another kiss.

About then, the phone rang once then abruptly stopped, and Nancy shrugged it off, "Must have been a wrong number." But when it rang once again, and again stopped, she put a hand on his chest, and listened. This happened twice more, as Nancy turned and swung her legs over the side of the bed.

"It's Trixie," she said, standing and grabbing her robe, "I've gotta give her a call – it's probably about work."

"Maybe I should get going," Murdock said, disappointment edging his voice.

Nancy turned as she tied her robe, a small part of her screaming to let him leave so she could sort out what was going on. That voice was quickly silenced in her head, as she leaned down to kiss him, "I'll just be a minute," she said, then turned and headed out of the bedroom stopping at the door to look back, "If you want to get a shower, it's right through there."

Murdock gazed after her, torn between giving her some room and pressing his advantage. He had a good idea what she was going through, having seen Face struggle similarly, until a certain reporter had left for Jakarta. He considered the ceiling for several minutes after she'd left, finally deciding that a cold shower would probably help clear his head, and delayed the need to make a final decision about whether to stay or leave. He stood up and headed into the bathroom.

Downstairs, Nancy started coffee, while dialing Trixie's number.

It only rang once before Trixie picked it up, "It's about time," she said shortly, "Didn't you check your messages?"

Nancy glanced over at her answering machine guiltily, "Actually, no, I didn't," she admitted, "Don't tell me our vacation is over already."

"Well, actually, I'm not sure," Trixie said, "The General wanted me to find you and give him a call – he said he'd let me know when we needed to come in then. He apparently thought you were still in Chicago."

Nancy sighed as she pulled the coffee down off the shelf, "Couldn't we just tell him I am?" she asked glibly, then smiled, "I wouldn't mind a few more quiet days at home. I'll just lock the door and pretend I'm not here."

"Sorry, partner, but I'm not going to lie for you."

"We're due at least two months," Nancy said irritably, slamming the coffee filter shut, "It's only been one."

"We've been back almost six weeks . . . and besides, you're preachin' to the choir, sister," Trixie said, "I'll have to give him a call back and see what's up, then I'll call you back – and you better answer the damn phone."

"I will, I promise," Nancy said.

Trixie was dying to find out about Nancy's date, and couldn't wait any longer for her to offer the information, so she decided on a simple leading question, "So, did you have a good time last night?"

"Yes, I did," Nancy said simply.

Trixie sighed when she realized Nancy wasn't going to volunteer anymore.

"So," Trixie prodded, "What did you and HM do last night?"

"I told you," Nancy said, "We went out to dinner."

"And after dinner . . .," Trixie said leadingly.

"We . . . got to know each other," Nancy said, as she heard the shower start upstairs, knowing Trixie would not approve. Hoping to head off any further questioning, she continued, "I thought you were going to call the General and find out when we need to come in."

"OK, but this conversation is not over."

"Yes, ma'am!" Nancy said facetiously.

"He spent the night, didn't he?" Trixie asked, suddenly.

"Who?" Nancy asked innocently, and after a moment of silence, added, "You know what a busy social calendar I have. Now, would you please call the General so that I can see if I can fit him in?"

"Smart ass," Trixie said flatly, "I'll call you right back."

Nancy took the handset and walked upstairs, hesitating at the bathroom door briefly before going in and shutting the door behind her.

"You gotta go?" Murdock asked, sticking his head out of the shower.

Nancy looked at him, and found herself inexplicably relaxing. She put the phone handset on the counter and slipped off her robe, "Not right this minute," she said. Stepping into the shower, she leaned over and turned the water temperature up.

Five minutes later, Nancy and Murdock were just starting to really enjoy themselves in the shower when the phone rang again.

"Sorry," Nancy said, pulling away regretfully, "I've gotta get this."

She leaned out of the shower, grabbing the handset and pressing the 'talk' button, "Hello?"

"Hi, it's me," Trixie said unnecessarily.

"So I guessed," Nancy said, slapping Murdock's hands, which were wandering rather distractingly.

Trixie could hear the shower and other suggestive background noises and could make a good guess at what she was interrupting, "You don't need to hurry," she said in amusement, "The General said the briefing is tomorrow at 10am."

"OK," Nancy said, as Murdock nuzzled her neck, "I gotta go, Trix, I'll talk to you later."

"OK," Trixie said, adding mischievously, "You and HM have a good time."

"Mm-hm," Nancy mumbled before hanging up.

"And don't forget to call Carla," Trixie said hastily, finishing to a dead line.

She shook her head with a puzzled smile as she hung up the phone. Joe was watching her with interest, "Is HM still there?" he asked in surprise

"Sounded like it," Trixie said, "And from the sound of it, they're getting to know each other very well."

"This is Nancy Clay that we're talking about, right?"

"It sounded like Nancy," Trixie said thoughtfully, "You don't think there's anything to be worried about with this guy, do you? You talked to him for awhile yesterday – he's on the up and up, isn't he?"

"Trix, you don't need to be suspicious of everyone that comes along," Joe said quietly, "HM is a good man. If he wanted to hurt Nancy, he could have already. There's nothing to worry about."

"You're right," Trixie said, nodding, "I'm just a mother hen, like Nan always says. I'm sure HM is just what he seems – a really nice guy."

"I gotta get to know him – must have some kinda special powers," Joe said facetiously, as he turned his attention back to his paper, "Abel to break though Nan's emotional barriers faster than a speeding bullet!"

Half an hour later, Nancy and Murdock were dressed and drinking coffee in the kitchen.

"You don't have to go into work until tomorrow?" Murdock asked.

"Nope," Nancy said, sitting down and taking a sip of her coffee.

He reached across the table and took her hand, "So, what do you want to do today? And please tell me no more gardening."

"No more gardening," she assured him with a smile, "I don't really want to do anything in particular. How about you?"

"I just want to spend some more time getting to know you," Murdock said, looking at her discerningly to check her reaction, then sat up straighter, "But I gotta get some clean, comfortable clothes."

"You know, I was kinda surprised when you showed up in something other than khakis and a t-shirt," Nancy said, consciously ignoring the implications of his previous statement.

"Well, a friend of mine discouraged my usual attire," he said, "But I'm done trying to impress – I want my normal clothes."

"I personally like your normal clothes," Nancy said, suppressing a grin, "To be honest, you look a little goofy in a button-down shirt."

"I look goofy all the time," he said self-effacingly.

"OK, so you look goofy and uncomfortable."

"That clinches it," Murdock said, standing up, "I'm going to get some clean clothes."

He walked towards the kitchen door, and stopped, "Wanna come with me?" he asked hopefully, holding out a hand.

She looked at the outstretched hand indecisively for a moment, before nodding and looking up at Murdock with a smile, "Sure."

Glimpse of the Past – Clue to the Future

At Murdock's apartment, they walked in the door, and up the steps, holding hands. On the second floor they passed a young woman. Murdock smiled half-heartedly at her, "Hi, Erica."

"Hi, HM," she said continuing to the head of the stairs, but looking over her shoulder curiously as Murdock opened the door and led Nancy into his apartment.

The message light was blinking on the answering machine, and Murdock punched the play button out of habit. Face's voice floated out, "Murdock, you need to call, ASAP, the Ge . . ." and Murdock hastily punched the button, again, to cut the message off, "My friend," he said, dismissively "Probably wants to know how our date went."

"So, what are you going to tell him?"

"I'll have to let him know when it's over," he said teasingly, leaning down for a quick kiss, "Make yourself at home – I'll just be a few minutes."

Murdock walked down the hall and into the bedroom, closing the door, and leaving Nancy alone in the living room. He picked up the phone by his bed and dialed the Compound, as he started gathering clean clothes.

Hannibal answered on the first ring, "Hey, Murdock."

"Hi, Colonel, what's up? Face left a message . . ."

"You need to be here by 0800 tomorrow, and come packed and ready to roll, just in case," Hannibal said, "We have a ton of surveillance documentation coming in to review before the mission briefing."

Murdock's shoulders slumped, "Tomorrow morning?" he asked dejectedly.

"You're lucky I'm not asking you to come in today," Hannibal said sharply, then relented, "Listen, I'm sorry Murdock, but you had to know this was coming when you saw that Stockwell was here."

"I know," Murdock said, "I was just hoping it would be a few days."

"Did you just get home?" Hannibal asked.

"Actually, I just stopped by to grab some clean clothes," Murdock said, as he moved around the tiny room gathering more clothes to pack for the next day, "How long are we gonna be gone, Colonel?"

"Probably about two weeks," Hannibal said, "We'll know better after the briefing tomorrow morning."

"Alright," Murdock said, resignedly, "I'll see you in the morning, Hannibal."

"Enjoy yourself, Murdock," Hannibal said, adding with mock severity, "But don't be late tomorrow. Hang on, Face wants to talk to you."

"Hey, Murdock, how'd things go with the lady pilot last night?" Face asked.

"Good, Facey," Murdock said shortly, "Listen, I gotta get going. We can talk more tomorrow."

Face was taken aback by Murdock's response, usually he liked to take his dates apart in detail, to get Face's read on whether the woman was interested or not, "OK, I'll talk to you tomorrow, Murdock. Bye."

Face put the phone down slowly, it bothered him that Murdock had been so short with him on the phone. He turned to find Hannibal watching him, "So, Lieutenant, what do you think?"

"He didn't say anything about his date, other than it went 'good'," Face said thoughtfully, "You don't think that means she gave him the cold shoulder, do you?"

"No, actually, I don't think the date was really over. Murdock told me he'd just stopped by to pick up some clean clothes," Hannibal chuckled, "Sounded like his date was going better than 'good'."

"Oh," Face said.

Murdock hung up the phone and opened the closet, hastily pulling out his duffle. If he packed and threw it in the truck, it would mean he could spend that much more time with Nancy, and he was planning on making every minute count.

Meanwhile, Nancy wandered around the apartment curiously. The kitchen was small, galley-style and was neat and orderly. She moved into the living room/dining room. The living room had minimal furniture – only a couch and coffee table with a console TV in the corner. Along the wall separating the kitchen and living room was a tiny dining table with two chairs. The dining table and coffee table were scattered with newspapers and magazines, in varied states of being read. The last piece of furniture was a book shelf that lined the short hall that led to the bathroom and bedroom. The book shelf held several old psychiatric text books, a good-sized collection of comic books, a pile of library books, and some scattered memorabilia, which she examined with interest.

There were a couple old model airplanes, and a shelf full of record albums. She skimmed the titles – classic and psychedelic rock like the Moody Blues, Jimi Hendrix, and The Doors were scattered among more current music choices including Billy Joel, MatchBox20, and Alice in Chains, among others.

Next she picked up a photo of Murdock, in dress uniform, with three other men. She gazed at it for awhile with a nagging sense of recognition, but finally decided that it was hopeless to try to force the memory. It would come to her, eventually. There was a photo of a group of men standing outside a Huey. Another photo showed a weathered old man standing on the edge of a grass airstrip next to a Taylorcraft similar to Aunt Bea. Another was a faded and worn photo of a young woman in a meadow full of daisies with young boy. The last photo on the shelf was a formal portrait of an elderly couple, who were unmistakably related to Murdock.

The bedroom door opened, and Nancy turned, as Murdock took the two steps down the short hallway, looking at the picture she held in her hand.

"That's my grandparents," he said, unprompted, "My Mom's folks. I don't know what woulda happened to me if it weren't for them."

Nancy set the picture down, and indicated the one showing the young woman with the little boy, "Is that you and your Mom?" she asked curiously.

"Yea," he said with a reminiscent smile, "That was just a year or so before she died. I used to always love the time we spent at Gram and Gramp's place."

Murdock pointed to the next one, "That's Lumpy Grant, he taught me how to fly in that Taylorcraft – little older model than Aunt Bea, but a great little plane."

He picked up the next picture, "This was my first chopper crew, as air chief," he said, pointing to one of the men, who had on a Flying Tigers jacket, "that was my first peter pilot, Larry Miller. Got into flying 'cause his Dad was one of the original Flying Tigers," Murdock set the photo down, and looked at Nancy sadly, "He was badly injured during a retrieval – gave me that jacket right before he died."

He started to head into the living room, but Nancy stopped him, indicating the photo of Murdock and the three other men in uniform, "What about these guys?" she asked, "Who are they?"

"That's the only family I have left now," he said unhelpfully, moving on out into the living room, and dropping his duffle bag behind the couch, leaving Nancy looking curiously at the photo.

"Nan, I'm going to be leaving town tomorrow," he said as he turned and leaned on the couch, which successfully distracted her from asking anymore about the Team, "I'll probably be gone a couple weeks."

"Where are you going?" she asked, setting the photo down and turning her full attention to him.

"I gotta go help some friends," Murdock said vaguely.

She leaned on the couch next to him, "You leave tomorrow?" he nodded, and she continued, "What time?"

"Gotta meet 'em at 8am."

She crossed her arms, feeling herself draw away, "If you're gone two weeks, I may not be here when you get back . . .," she looked up at him uncertainly.

Murdock put an arm around her shoulders, "But you won't be gone forever, right?" he said encouragingly, "I'll see you when you get back in town."

Nancy shrugged, "It's just . . . well, it may be awhile . . . depending on the assignment."

Murdock crossed his arms, looking at her curiously, "Trying to give me an easy out?"

"You've only known me a couple days," she said, looking up at him, almost defiantly, "I'm just trying to be realistic. It's not like we've made some kind of commitment."

"I see," he said, the corner of his mouth twitching, as he tried to keep from smiling, "So, if I decide to go out with someone else, you'd understand?"

Nancy turned and faced him defensively, "Yes, I would," she said, though she was rather nonplussed by the amused expression on his face.

"Why - do you have somebody waiting in the wings?"

"What?" she asked incredulously, "No, I just don't want you to feel obligated since we . . . well, you know . . ." She couldn't seem to bring herself to say 'had sex' and her cheeks felt hot with embarrassment – how was it that he could make her feel so flustered. It wasn't as if he was the first man she'd ever had slept with.

Murdock had his arms crossed now, enjoying her discomfiture, as he pushed her, "Since we made love?" he asked.

"Yes, since we . . . made love," she said quietly, his choice of wording giving her pause.

Their eyes met, and Murdock smiled at her tenderly, "We made love," he repeated, "That means something to me. Does it mean anything to you?"

Nancy had been thrown by his choice of words, and found herself caught off-guard yet again. It was a feeling with which she was becoming very familiar the more time she spent with HM. She took a deep breath, perhaps that was the underlying problem, "Yes, it means something to me," she said candidly, "This whole situation is . . . it's totally out of character for me. You have me incredibly off-balance."

"Yea, I'm working at that," Murdock admitted with a smile, "I get the distinct impression it's about the only chance I've got to win you over."

As he stood up, he took her hand, "C'mon, we've still got the rest of the day, together," he said cheerfully, "What do you want to do? What about a picnic?" he looked at her hopefully.

Nancy looked at him in confusion, but found herself nodding agreement, "That sounds good . . .," she said, her thoughts tumbling about as she attempted to recover from the last few minutes. Suddenly, she snapped her fingers, "I know the perfect place for a picnic."

"I've got all the fixin's," Murdock said, indicating the kitchen.

Nancy allowed herself to be swept into the kitchen, where they spent the next half hour packing sandwiches, chips, fruit and iced tea for a picnic, then loaded it into a backpack. They drove out to the airfield, and took Aunt Bea out to a grass landing strip that ran through an alfalfa field. It was a beautiful summer day with blue sky and big cottony clouds. Though it was still warm, there was a nice breeze, and the humidity had dropped.

They stretched out a blanket in the shade of one of Aunt Bea's wings and ate a leisurely brunch, then lay back in each others arms, looking up at the sky and playing 'I Spy' with the cloud shapes.

"That one is definitely a pirate ship," Murdock said insistently, "It even has a Jolly Roger over it."

"If anything, it looks, maybe, like a deformed bunny to me," Nancy said, shaking her head, "But I am rapidly coming to the realization that your imagination is much more active than mine."

"Or much more twisted," Murdock said, "Cloud shapes aren't a whole lot different than inkblots, and I've always sucked at those, too."

Nancy leaned up on an elbow and looked at him, "You just see the world a little differently than most people," she said, "I, on the other hand, totally lack imagination. For me an inkblot was always just what it looked like – no pretty pictures, no hidden messages – just an inkblot. Just goes to show that there really are no right answers."

"Yep, no right answers," he agreed, "that's 'cause they're all wrong!"

Nancy laughed at his woeful expression, which made him smile. He reached up a hand and brushed the hair out of her face, gently caressing her cheek. He slid a hand behind her neck, gently pulling her down for a kiss. Nancy pulled back and looked at him searchingly, "HM, what do you think we're doing?"

"Well, I don't know about you, but I'm falling in love with the most intelligent, interesting, and beautiful woman I've ever met," Murdock smiled at her, "And just for the record, you keep me pretty well off-balance, too. I just think that I'm a little more used to that feeling than you are. What do you think?"

Nancy considered him for a moment before answering truthfully, "I've never felt this way about anyone . . . I'm not sure what that means, but I do know I don't want it to go away."

Murdock smiled as he ran a thumb along her jaw line, "That's very encouraging."

They spent the rest of the afternoon lazing around in the shade of Aunt Bea's wing, finally heading back to the airfield about 6pm. On the way back to Nancy's, they stopped at the grocery store to pick up something for dinner.

After checking out, they were walking past the gumball machines by the door when Murdock suddenly stopped and dug a quarter out of his pocket, "Hot dog!" he said gleefully.

Nancy turned and looked at him curiously, "What are you doing?"

The quarter machine had already delivered his prize, "Seeing as how I won't have a chance to get something proper before I leave tomorrow morning . . ." he opened the little plastic container, and held out a cheap metal necklace with a tiny heart hanging off of it.

"It's perfect," Murdock said happily, draping it ceremoniously around Nancy's neck, and giving her a kiss on the cheek in the process, "After all you do have my heart on a silver string . . ."

Nancy pulled her hair out of the circle of the chain, and held up the little silver heart to look at it, then smiled up at him, "It's lovely."

"You lie," Murdock grinned, "but at least it'll remind you of me while I'm gone."

"Thank you . . . really," Nancy said, "But honestly, there's no chance that I'll forget you, HM."

When they arrived at Nancy's townhouse, they put the groceries away. Then while Murdock grilled chicken, Nancy prepared a tossed salad. Murdock came in from the back patio, carrying the chicken on a platter, and walked up behind Nancy. He set the plate down on the counter, then put his arms around her waist, after pulling her hair back so he could nuzzle playfully at her neck.

Nancy chuckled as she wiggled in his arms, "HM, you're going to make me cut off a finger . . ." she said. He took the knife out of her hand and put it on the counter, as she turned in his arms, and they kissed.

Nancy pulled back, "We need to eat," she said chidingly.

Murdock sighed, "OK," he agreed reluctantly, "But promise that we'll pick up right where we left off."

"Promise," Nancy said, slipping out of his arms to finish the salad.

They ate a leisurely supper, then at Nancy's insistence cleaned up the dishes before wandering back into the living room to relax. Nancy curled up on the couch next to Murdock, settling into the crook of his arm, and fingering the heart on the necklace thoughtfully.

Murdock reached down and took her hand, smoothing the necklace down on her shirt, "Wish I had time to buy you a proper gift," he said ruefully.

"I wouldn't trade this for anything, HM," she said warmly.

Murdock smiled at her, "I hope you don't mean just the necklace."

Back to the Grind

Murdock woke the next morning and looked at the clock – 5:30 am. Nancy was still sound asleep, laying in his arms, and he settled back down. There was no need to wake her this early.

At 6:30 he reluctantly nudged her awake, "Hey Short Cake, I gotta get moving."

Nancy looked up at him, "I know," she said sadly, "I was just enjoying this."

"How long have you been sand bagging?" he asked with a smile.

She sighed, "Not long enough."

Murdock kissed her forehead, then sat up on the edge of the bed.

"I'm gonna get a quick shower," he said, glancing down to where Nancy still laid looking up at him lazily, "Then I'll make some breakfast – whadya want?"

She shrugged, "I'm not picky," she grinned, "Especially if somebody else is doin' the cookin'!"

It was a few minutes before Nancy was able to muster the ambition to get out of bed. When she got into the bathroom, Murdock was already done with his shower and getting dressed in his usual attire.

"Too slow, too late," she said in disappointment, leaning against the doorjamb.

He grinned, and leaned down to give her a kiss, "I'm going to go down and make breakfast . . . don't fall asleep in the shower."

Murdock went downstairs and surveyed the cupboards, finally deciding on eggs and toast and sausage. By the time he had breakfast done, Nancy had come down, dressed in a pair of shorts and a tank top, as she had been unwilling to put on her usual uniform this early.

She brought in the newspaper from the doorstep, and they ate and read, with sporadic conversation, trying to ignore the fact that Murdock was going to have to leave soon.

Murdock stood and took his dishes to the sink, looking absently at his watch, "I gotta go, Short Cake," he said, gulping down the last of his coffee, rinsed his cup, and set it on the counter.

Nancy stood up and walked with him to the door, where they stood and quietly held each other for a few minutes. Murdock finally kissed the top of her head, "Hopefully, I'll see you in a couple weeks," and with one last kiss, he turned and walked resolutely out the door.

She closed the door and sighed, thinking it was going to be a long couple weeks.

Reality Strikes

Murdock pulled up outside the Compound a few minutes late, feeling lucky to have dodged a speeding ticket. He walked in the front door without knocking and was met by Hannibal, who had obviously been waiting for him.

"You're late," Hannibal said.

"Sorry," Murdock said, looking absently at his watch.

"I'll let it slide this time, since there are extenuating circumstances," Hannibal said, smiling, "Face, BA, and Frankie are back in the record room reviewing the surveillance documentation. We better get back there."

As they walked, Hannibal looked at Murdock sideways, "So, you and this lady pilot seem to have hit it off rather quickly," he said leadingly.

"She's a special lady, Hannibal," Murdock said, smiling thoughtfully, "Kinda lady gives a guy thoughts about settling down."

"Sounds serious," Hannibal said with a raised eyebrow, "And maybe a little premature. You've only known her a few days."

"I'm looking forward to spending a lot more time with her," Murdock said certainly, "A lot more time."

"Definitely serious," Hannibal said, stopping outside the door to the record room, "Hopefully we'll get to meet her when we get back."

Hannibal opened the door, revealing BA, Face, and Frankie sifting through scattered surveillance photos and notes.

BA looked up as they entered, "Hannibal, we gonna be flyin'?" he looked at Murdock accusingly.

"Not a whole lot of choice, Sergeant," Hannibal said with finality, then asked the group in general, "What do you think of the surveillance records?"

BA lapsed into a sullen silence, as Face indicated the jumble of materials in front of him, "Well, it's gonna take a little time to sift through all this, there's an incredible amount of detail, and the surveillance spanned about 14 months," he said, "The General said the agents that had this assignment are coming in at 10 for a briefing, right?"

Murdock sat down and looked at the main aerial photograph, which had been supplemented by several, closer up shots. All were different views of a hacienda that appeared to be settled in a remote area, surrounded by thick rainforest.

"Where is this place?" Murdock asked.

"Columbia," Hannibal supplied, "Stockwell has had two agents down there for the last 14 months watching this guy," he held out a news photo of a smiling, handsome, dark-haired man obviously of Latin decent. The tag read 'Antonio Palumbo, Columbian entrepreneur and philanthropist.'

Murdock was only half-listening to Hannibal as several scenes flashed through his mind's eye. Charlie asking Nancy about being waylaid in Columbia. Nancy talking about being on assignment for the last 14 months. Nancy needing to head into work today at 10am. He shook his head. No, it was just a coincidence. It had to be.

Murdock bent back over the photos, "Looks like they have a couple helipads on the roof," he said absently, "Exactly what are we going to be doing?"

"That's what we find out at 10," Hannibal said, "for now, let's get as much information as we can from these surveillance records."

Nancy walked down the stairs and threw her suit jacket over the back of the couch, walking into the kitchen to refill her coffee cup. She'd made herself another pot of coffee after draining the one Murdock had made while she finished reading the paper. She was wired, which wasn't helping with the agitation she invariably felt when she was going to be seeing the General.

The doorbell rang, and she quickly drained the cup of coffee she'd just poured, cursing as the hot liquid ran down her chin and onto her white oxford shirt. Trixie was early, and she sighed, wiping at the spilled coffee irritably as she hurried to open the door.

Trixie came in looking very neat in her black suit and white oxford with a understated pin at the throat and a hot pink hankie popping out of the jacket pocket. Unlike Nancy, rather than outright defiance against the male-oriented dress code, Trixie had chosen to feminize it subtly, making it marginally more palatable to wear.

She looked at Nancy critically. Her pants were disheveled and she was still working at trying to clean the coffee off the wrinkled white shirt, which was only haphazardly tucked into the pants.

Trixie finally reached out and took the dish towel, "Just go up and change your shirt," she said in a motherly tone, "We've got time."

Nancy made a face at her, but complied, returning a few minutes later buttoning up another white oxford – this one with no coffee stain.

Trixie watched as Nancy twisted her hair and clipped it on top of her head with an alligator clip that she had clenched in her teeth. Finally, she picked her jacket up off the back of the couch, and shrugged into it, "I'm ready," Nancy said.

"You aren't gonna tuck your shirt in?" Trixie asked critically.

Nancy glanced down at herself, and shrugged, "Nope."

Trixie chuckled, shaking her head in resignation, "Always trying to get the General going, one way or another," she said in amusement.

Nancy shrugged, "Gotta get my kicks somewhere."

"We've got a little time," Trixie said, "How about a cup of coffee?"

Nancy shrugged again and walked into the kitchen, pouring Trixie a cup of coffee, and draining the last of the pot into her own cup. She turned and handed the cup to Trixie and they sat down at the table.

"Nice flowers," Trixie said, indicating the daisies.

"HM gave them to me," Nancy said matter-of-factly.

Trixie took a sip, then looked at Nancy curiously, "So, Did HM stay again last night?"

"Not that it's really any of your business, but yes," Nancy replied, her foot tapping incessantly on the floor.

"Don't get defensive, I was just curious," Trixie said, her eyes dancing, "Though I have to say that you let him get awful close, awful fast. That's very unlike you."

Nancy played with her mug, looking thoughtfully at the liquid inside, "He caught me in a weak moment," she finally said, looking up at her friend, "I don't know, Trix . . . something about him just . . .," Nancy stopped, trying to find words to express what she was feeling.

"Makes your head swim?" Trixie supplied.

"I suppose that's one way to put it," Nancy agreed cautiously, "To be totally honest, on one hand, he scares the shit out of me. And on the other hand, he makes me feel . . . I don't know, content, comfortable . . ?"

"Well, I do declare," Trixie said, fanning herself and batting her eyes, "It sounds like the brash and independent Ms. Clay has finally met her match!"

"Yea, well, we'll see if it survives him finding out who I really am," Nancy said, "The truth is going to be a bit of a shocker. He's the first guy outside of law enforcement that I've ever dated."

Trixie nodded, then looked up at her, "Have you talked to Carla yet?"

"No," Nancy said, hesitating, "I'll touch base with her today, if I see her."

"Yea, like she'll be around," Trixie said snidely, "You know she avoids you like the plague."

Nancy smiled in self-satisfaction, "Yea, she does, doesn't she?"

"I guess this means you and HM will be seeing more of each other . . ."

"I think we've seen just about all of each other there is," Nancy said drolly.

"You know what I mean," Trixie said, "Anyway, Joe will be glad to hear it, he really liked HM. And I think he's good for you."

"Well, thank goodness," Nancy said theatrically, "I was really worried that you and Joe would approve."

"Smartass."

Nancy stood up and drained her coffee, "Let's get this over with," she said in agitation, "I'm still hoping this is just a briefing and we'll get at least a few more weeks off. I really want to be here when HM gets back from his trip."

"Where's he going?"

"I don't really know . . . Out of town," Nancy said, picking up the two coffee cups, as she considered how little she knew about where HM was going or what he was going to be doing, "He said he needed to go help out some friends and will be back in a couple weeks," she said, shrugging off the nagging uneasiness, "I warned him that I might be gone again, but I'm really hoping I'm not."

"You never know," Trixie said, "I'm planning on handing in my resignation next week, if all goes well. You'll be without a partner, so you may be stuck in town until they hook you up with a new one."

"And maybe I'll resign, too," Nancy said.

"Yea, right," Trixie said, "Only you have a lot more to lose than I do."

Nancy shrugged noncommittally as they headed out to Trixie's car. At the end of the drive, Trixie took a right instead of a left, and Nancy looked at her curiously, "Aren't we going out to the airfield?"

Trixie shook her head, "Nope. We're headed to the Compound."

"The General hasn't used that place in awhile," Nancy said in surprise.

"Yea, I wondered about that, too," Trixie said, a smug smile on her face – she very rarely knew more than Nancy about what was going on with Stockwell Enterprises, "Then I ran into Jeff and Mary Kent at the grocery store last night, and Jeff told me some interesting news . . ." she stopped for effect.

Nancy smiled tolerantly, "And that news would be . . . ?"

"General Stockwell has acquired the services of the A-Team!"

Nancy looked at Trixie in surprise, the A-Team . . . the photograph from Murdock's apartment flashed in her mind's eye. That's who those men were. That was why they looked so familiar.

"Nan, are you alright?" Trixie asked, looking at her curiously, "You look like you just saw a ghost."

"How did he . . . acquire the services of the A-Team?" Nancy asked hollowly.

"Well, I'm not sure," Trixie said, "We were in a grocery store, so we really didn't get a chance to discuss the particulars. Jeff just told me that they were staying out at the Compound. But as I recall it was about a year and a half ago they were on trial – 'member, it was all over the news right before we left for Columbia that they'd been convicted of murdering their commanding officer."

Nancy nodded mutely, and they rode in silence for several minutes.

Trixie finally broke the silence, obviously having been mulling over the situation, "You know, it's curious. I thought they were supposed to be executed. I wonder how the General finagled their release? I'll bet there's a heck of a story behind the scenes there. Maybe we'll find out today . . ."

She looked over at Nancy, who normally would have been developing alternate scenarios right along with her, "Nan, what's the problem?" Trixie asked, seeing the tension in her friends face.

"I've seen them . . .," she replied quietly.

"Really? Where? Jeff said they'd been pretty much confined to the Compound . . ." Trixie said.

"Actually, I saw a photograph of them," Nancy corrected herself, then turned and looked at Trixie directly, "In HM's apartment."

Trixie let that sink in for a moment, then tried to explain it away, "Maybe he knew them, that doesn't necessarily mean anything – Joe said they were famous . . . or infamous, depending on whose side you believed, the military or the Team."

"He was in the picture with them," Nancy said, "Remember, he told us he flew for a special forces unit . . . "

"Yea, but Joe said that seemed a little weird," Trixie said dismissively, "The Alpha Teams used whatever chopper crew was available. They didn't have one assigned."

"Don't you think that it's a bit of a coincidence that the General acquired the A-Team about a year ago, which is about the time HM moved here," Nancy asked, growing more agitated.

"Not only that, but yesterday, after we stopped by his apartment," Nancy went over the whole discussion in her head, nodding with certainty, "That's when he said he had to leave town for a couple weeks to help some friends. I'll bet those friends are the A-Team and he's going with them to Columbia on whatever mission the General has cooked up for them."

They had pulled up outside the gate, which had an Abel detail working it. Trixie and Nancy both flashed their IDs silently. As Trixie pulled through the now open gate, following a long drive back through thickets of trees and undergrowth, she said calmly, "Nan, you're getting all upset over a simple coincidence."

They pulled into the wide end of the drive, the Compound house coming into view, along with the other vehicles lined up in the small parking area, including a now-familiar little red truck.

Nancy sat back and crossed her arms, "Simple coincidence, huh?" she said shortly, "Then perhaps you can explain why HM's truck is here."

Trixie looked at it, perplexed, "Are you sure that's his?"

"Yea, I'm sure," Nancy said, "I really don't want the General to know . . . at least until I sort things out with HM."

Trixie took a deep breath as she turned off the ignition, "Well, then we'll just have to make sure he doesn't find out," she said reasonably.

She glanced at the clock, "Listen, Nan, we're about 15 minutes early. Why don't you let me go in and see if I can corner HM and explain what's going on, before you walk in and shock the hell out of him. That way there's no surprises – especially with the General around."

No Coincidence

Trixie walked into the house, finding a man with dark hair, slicked back into a pony tail, coming out of the kitchen with a steaming cup of coffee. She smiled at him, "Hi, I'm Trixie Martin," she said, "Is, um, is the pilot here?"

"He's down that hall," Frankie said, looking at her curiously, "second door on the left."

"Thanks," Trixie said, turning and walking through the living room, she gave the others there a casual glance before following his instructions.

She opened the door without knocking, and cleared her throat. Murdock was alone in the room, poring over the surveillance photos in an attempt to locate a landing zone closer to the hacienda than the nearest airfield. He turned and looked at her, registering not shock, but resignation.

Trixie closed the door, "I don't think I've ever seen anyone so unhappy to see me in my life," she said, as she turned back to him, "You certainly don't appear to be overly surprised, though."

"I kept telling myself it was just a coincidence," Murdock said quietly, "I was really hoping it was just a coincidence."

"I just wanted to come in and make sure you knew before we all showed up at the briefing and blew things in front of the General. It would be best, at least for the time being, if he didn't know about the two of you."

Murdock was looking down at the photo in front of him. He'd drawn a circle around a promising location. He now tapped his pen thoughtfully on the table, "I don't want the General to know any more than Nan does," he said, "In fact, probably less."

"I doubt that," Trixie said as she sat down in an adjacent chair and considered him thoughtfully, "HM, I don't know what happened between you and the Team and the General. But, you've got to know that Nancy cares about you. I've never seen her open up so quickly to a man before."

"I care about her, too," Murdock said, "But this is really going to complicate things. If this was just about me, it would be much easier . . . but this is about the Team, and I can't let them down."

"You two need to talk, but this isn't the time or place," Trixie said.

"I don't know that there's really anything to talk about," Murdock said quietly, "I won't do anything that could jeopardize the Teams' pardons."

Just then the door opened and Hannibal stuck his head in, "Murdock, it's about time for the briefing. Wrap it up and get out here."

"Be right there Colonel," Murdock said, adding as an afterthought, "I've found a landing zone about 10 klicks east of the hacienda and over a ridge – should provide a good backup position."

"Good," Hannibal said, noticing Trixie, he asked suspiciously, "Who are you?"

Trixie smiled, standing and holding out a hand, "Trixie Martin, Abel 12," she said in a friendly voice.

Hannibal regarded her with glittering ice-blue eyes, then looked at his watch, pointedly ignoring her offered hand, "It's time for the briefing," he said flatly as he turned and walked out of the room.

Trixie allowed her hand to drop to her side, "Nice to meet you, too . . ."

Murdock didn't say anything, just stalked past her and followed his commanding officer out to the living room. Trixie sighed, this was worse than she thought.

Meanwhile, as Trixie disappeared into the house, Nancy had gotten out of the car and paced in the driveway for about a minute, before turning and heading resolutely into the house. General Stockwell's limo was here, which meant he was inside. And she fully intended to find out how he had managed this little coup.

Inside, she found a couple men sitting in the living room talking quietly, though the conversation ended abruptly when she entered. She recognized one of them as a member of the A-Team, the big African-American sergeant, and he was talking to another man she didn't recognize, with a big toothy smile and slicked-back, dark hair. She nodded in greeting, and was met with curious, wary gazes.

She could hear voices down the west wing, but she turned and headed back to the General's private office, at the rear of the east wing of the house. The door was closed, so she knocked, and pushed the door open upon hearing a muffled, "Enter."

She closed the door behind her, as the General looked up from his desk, "Hello, Nancy," he said warmly, then his eyes narrowed and he added severely, "Tuck in your shirt, Able 5."

Nancy sighed, but she knew when to pick her fights, and this wasn't one of them, so she obediently tucked in her shirt, as General Stockwell waved her to a seat, "It's good to see you," he said calmly, "I trust your father is well . . ."

"Dad's fine," she responded shortly, knowing that Stockwell really didn't give a shit about her father's health, "I was surprised when Trixie and I got called into work two weeks early," she added forthrightly as she took a seat in front of his desk.

"Couldn't be avoided," the General said.

Nancy considered General Stockwell silently for a moment, then asked casually, "What's this I hear about the A-Team working for Stockwell Enterprises?"

"I suppose work is one way to view it," Stockwell said with mock thoughtfulness, "The A-Team is working for their pardons."

"Working for their . . .," Nancy rolled her eyes and shook her head in dismay, "You're blackmailing them?"

"They came willingly enough," the General said calmly, "I wouldn't call it blackmail. It is a simple exchange of services – theirs for mine."

Nancy was thinking of what Trixie had said that morning, "But, how did you arrange this? They were due to be executed," she sat forward and looked at him accusingly, "Who did you pay off to stop that?"

"No one," Stockwell replied, "I simply afforded resources to an individual who could make sure that the execution failed."

"And just who would that be?" Nancy asked, "Not making unholy alliances, again, are you? You know how I hate it when you start calling in favors from your old CIA buddies."

"This was not an old CIA 'buddy'," Stockwell said tartly. Then a Cheshire-like smile spread across his face, and his look turned thoughtful, "Though he is an ex-agent. The Captain had a vested interest in ensuring that the execution failed. He came to me . . . not that I hadn't prompted the initial contact. In the end, it was their choice."

Nancy felt her stomach lurch. All her instincts were telling her that the Captain he was referring to was Murdock. She couldn't believe he was ex-CIA. Perhaps she should have asked for that background check earlier.

She tried to cover her discomfiture with another question, "What are they going to be doing in Columbia? I thought that the DEA wanted to take Palumbo down personally. That's why you called Trixie and me back in."

"That's not the only reason," Stockwell said, considering her seriously, "The DEA is not in a position to make a move at this point in time," he added quietly, his eyes reflecting concern, "Palumbo has taken Littleford prisoner."

Nancy sat forward, "What about Nolan?" Nolan and Littleford had been the DEA agents that Nancy and Trixie had worked with.

"Nolan's still under cover," Stockwell said, "But Palumbo is sending a clear message to the DEA – make a move and Littleford pays the price."

"He's probably already paying the price," Nancy said practically.

"I'm sending the A-Team in to bring Littleford and Nolan out," Stockwell said, "Then the DEA is free to do whatever they like."

"They're going to need support," Nancy said.

"They're resourceful," Stockwell said, "That is what they are compensated for."

"If you really want to ensure their success, you'll send me with them," Nancy said quietly.

"Recent indications are that Palumbo made you," the General said harshly, "You'll be marked if you set foot in Columbia right now."

"But I'll be with the A-Team," Nancy argued, "And they're there for one purpose, which is going to make them marked, too. I don't see what the difference is."

"You know what the difference is," Stockwell said tightly.

"We agreed when this started," Nancy said evenly, "I'm treated just like any other agent."

"I wouldn't send any other Abel agent in there, either, under those circumstances."

"But you'll send the A-Team?" she asked.

"They are trained killers," the General said indifferently, "They can handle themselves."

"Well, whether you like it or not, I'm going with them," Nancy said firmly.

"It's neither appropriate, nor necessary," Stockwell said dismissively.

"I believe it is both appropriate and necessary," Nancy disagreed, "I've been down there for the last 14 months and developed the network and information that they're going to need to get Littleford and Nolan out, making me necessary. And since Stockwell Enterprises depends upon their success for an ongoing working relationship with the DEA, it is perfectly appropriate."

Stockwell's jaw clenched, "Whatever you have to offer, you can provide here," he said, "There's no need for you and Abel 12 to go traipsing to Columbia."

Nancy gazed at him levelly, "Not Abel 12, just me."

"If you go, so does Abel 12 – you're a team."

The General looked at his watch, "It's time for the briefing, this conversation is over."

"This conversation is far from over," Nancy said angrily.

"You are being insubordinate," the General said sharply.

"If I were just another agent, I would agree," Nancy said, choosing a conciliatory tone, "But since I'm your business partner, I would hardly call this insubordination."

"Silent partner," the General clarified, "a position, I'll remind you, which you chose when you became an agent."

"Well, I'm not so sure the silent partner role was ever, technically, my thing," Nancy said with a slight smile, which quickly vanished, "And I'm not at all happy to learn that a company, of which I own half, has resorted to blackmail to obtain new recruits."

"You own 48," Stockwell corrected, "and the agreement with the A-Team is hopefully just a starting point to create a more lasting working arrangement."

"Surely you could have approached them on a less confrontational tact, and offered them a job in exchange for their pardons," Nancy argued, "Then, perhaps, you wouldn't be dealing with a group of men who likely hate your guts. Just how do you plan to convince them to stay?"

A rare smile crossed the General's face, and he removed his glasses and looked at Nancy warmly, "You remind me so much of your mother at times like this . . ." he said reminiscently.

"You are evading the question," Nancy said harshly.

Stockwell's usual impassive expression returned like a mask as he replaced his glasses, "The A-Team is not your concern, Abel 5," he said, "I will take your proposal regarding the Columbia mission under consideration. Now, let's head out to the briefing room."

"It's a living room, General," Nancy said, suppressing a smile at his sharp glance. He didn't reply, just turned and stalked down the hall, leaving her to follow.

Very Brief

General Stockwell walked into the living room, followed closely by Nancy, who ducked in front of him and joined Trixie to stand on the far side of the video screen. The lights flicked off and an aerial of the hacienda appeared on the screen, "I hope you gentlemen have had a chance to review at least some of the surveillance data."

"Hardly time to scratch the surface," Hannibal replied, "You could have given us a little more time."

"You'll have time . . . and assistance," Stockwell said calmly, continuing the briefing as if uninterrupted, "This is Antonio Palumbo's hacienda, located in the middle of the Columbian rainforest."

A photo of Palumbo flashed on screen, "Antonio Palumbo has managed to develop an extensive distribution network for his drugs, and the DEA approached me regarding a joint effort to develop the information necessary to allow an incursion into his home turf. That work has been underway for the last 14 months."

"The DEA agents involved are Richard Nolan and Frederick Littleford," Agency photos of Nolan and Littleford appeared on the screen, "As well as two Abel Agents, Abel 5, Nancy Clay, and Abel 12, Trixie Ja . . . Martin," he indicated Nancy and Trixie with a nod of his head.

"Abel 5 and Abel 12 developed much of the surveillance information you've been reviewing, while Nolan and Littleford managed to infiltrate Palumbo's network," Another photo appeared, showing Nolan with aviator glasses standing over workers i

n a field, then changed to show Littleford framed in a window of the hacienda, sitting at a desk.

"Shortly after our team was pulled out, Palumbo discovered Littleford was DEA and took him hostage. Nolan has managed to remain undercover, but his situation is tenuous at best," the General turned the projector off, looking at Nancy warningly as she made a derisive noise.

"The DEA wants its agents back," he said, looking out over the assembled men as the lights came up.

"Abel 5 and Abel 12 will be available to answer any questions you have about the surveillance data," Stockwell said, "They spent 14 months in Columbia, observing the activities at the hacienda, and should be able to provide you with whatever information you need for the extraction."

"You leave at 0600 Wednesday morning, gentlemen. Abel 8 is gathering the supplies you'll need for the trip, here's what he has inventoried so far," he handed the inventory to Hannibal and turned to Murdock, "he will await your loading instructions, Captain. You'll be taking the cargo plane. If there's anything else you need, let Abel 8 know."

"Colonel Smith, when you have completed handing out assignments, I'd like to see you in my office."

"Good luck, gentlemen, and good day," General Stockwell said, and with that retreated abruptly to his office.

Hannibal turned to Face, handing him the inventory, "Check it over Face, and let Jeff know what else we need. Frankie, make sure Face packs some of your magic – looking at those gun towers, I'd say we're gonna need all the help we can get. BA, get the hardware ready."

"Murdock, head back to the record room and let's get the rest of that surveillance data digested. I'll be back as soon as I'm done with the General. I want to see this LZ you've identified," he said, "Then once Face finishes the inventory, you'll need to complete the flight planning."

Now he turned to where Nancy and Trixie were standing silently, "You two are with Murdock and me for now. Much as I hate to admit it, we need help getting through everything and making sense of it," he crossed his arms and looked at them narrowly, his distrust apparent.

Trixie stood up and looked at Hannibal coolly, "We aren't the enemy, Colonel," she said evenly, "We'll help however we can, but you're going to have to trust us."

"Trust is earned, not given," Hannibal said looking Trixie directly in the eye, and sparing Nancy a brief glare before turning to his assembled men, "Alright, guys, let's move it, we leave in just over 45 hours."

As the A-Team headed out to their respective assignments, and Hannibal stalked down the hall to the General's office, Nancy stood up, "Friendly kinda guy, that Colonel Smith, huh?" she said as she slid past her partner and followed Murdock down the hall.

Hannibal walked into Stockwell's office, "You wanted to see me?"

"Abels 5 and 12 will be accompanying you to Columbia to aid with the recovery."

"We don't need their help," Hannibal said, his teeth clenched on his cigar, "My team is tight and outsiders generally just muck things up."

Stockwell turned and looked at Hannibal sharply, "This isn't a negotiation, Colonel. They will be going with you. They've spent the last 14 months down there, and they have contacts and resources that will help ensure that you get those agents out alive. There is no way, in less than 48 hours that they can possibly tell you everything they learned over those 14 months."

Hannibal took a deep breath, "I'll want their files, then – I wanna know what I'm getting."

"Their personnel files are off limits, Smith," Stockwell said, shaking his head, "I'll tell you what you need to know."

"Skill sets?"

"Abel 12 is a crime scene analyst by training, good interpersonal skills, an excellent long-range shot, camera or gun, good hand to hand, and I'd put her analytical skills up against anyone I've ever worked with."

He paused, and Hannibal nodded, "OK, how about Abel 5 . . ."

Stockwell took a deep breath, "Abel 5 is a good all around field agent. Excellent pilot – I might even put her up against the Captain, though she has much less time in the air. She's a black belt, thinks fast on her feet," he sighed, "She does, however, have some issues with authority."

"One thing you should know," Stockwell added, "Palumbo may have made Abel 5 while they were down there. She's been in the hacienda – which is an asset, but she could be a target."

"Do I have any choice?" Hannibal asked.

Stockwell shook his head, "No."

"So now, we not only have to get two DEA agents out of the lion's den, but we gotta babysit two Abel agents while we're doing it?" Hannibal asked disgustedly.

Stockwell stood and looked at Hannibal critically, "Abel 5 and Abel 12 are two of my best agents," he said coolly, "Think what you like about me, but my agents can take care of themselves and do not require babysitting. You will treat them with respect or you'll be accompanying the MPs back to Fort Bragg – it's your choice, Colonel."

Confrontation

Murdock had settled at the table when Nancy came walking in, "Hey, don't I know you from somewhere?" she asked, smiling teasingly and hoping to diffuse some of the tension.

"Kinda wishing the answer was 'no' right about now," he said, looking at her warily.

Nancy's smile disappeared and she looked at him sharply, "You are wishing, or am I wishing?" she asked, crossing her arms.

Murdock shrugged noncommittally, this whole situation had him a little on edge, and he really didn't feel like dealing with it here and now.

Nancy sat down agitatedly and pulled forward the photo on which Murdock had drawn a circle, with 'LZ' written next to it, "You call that a landing zone?" she asked incredulously.

He looked at it sideways, "It'll be tight, but yes, I call that a landing zone."

Trixie came walking in and sank between them, "Well, this is going just swimmingly, isn't it?" she asked, slumping uncharacteristically in the chair, "Your Colonel definitely dislikes anything labeled Abel," she could usually defrost just about any temperament, but Hannibal was definitely going to be a tough nut to crack.

"Well, it's not like we're honored guests here, or something," Murdock said, irritation edging his voice.

"That's hardly our fault," Nancy argued.

"Guilty by association," Murdock said flatly.

Nancy turned and looked at him directly, "You know, I'm getting the distinct impression that you agree with your Colonel," she said heatedly, "Good little soldier, aren't you?"

"Being good soldiers is what's kept us alive and out of the stockade for the last 10 years," Murdock responded sharply.

"Yea, spending ten years pretending you're nuts is a much better way to live," she returned.

"Preferable to spending 10 years working as an Able automaton," Murdock retorted.

"Cool it, you two," Trixie said sharply, just as the door to the hall opened and Hannibal stuck his head in, "Murdock, we need to talk."

Murdock took a deep, calming breath and stood up, joining Hannibal in the hall, "What's up, Hannibal?"

"I want you to take Abel 5 to the airfield," he said tersely, missing the shocked look that flickered across Murdock's face, "The loading and flight planning can wait until tomorrow. I want you to take her on a run with a chopper – test her skills."

"Why?" Murdock asked, trying to keep his voice even.

"She's going with us," Hannibal said, "Weren't you saying you wished you had a peter pilot for this one? Listen, I want you to run her through her paces. The General says she's good, but I want your honest opinion."

"Do you really think this is a good idea, Hannibal?" Murdock asked anxiously.

"No, I don't," Hannibal said, chewing agitatedly on his cigar, "But we don't really have any choice," he looked at Murdock directly, "See what you can learn about her. Based on what little the General said, she could be trouble."

"Colonel, is Tr . . ., uh Abel 12 going with us too?"

"Yes, I'm afraid so," Hannibal said.

But, Colonel, she can't . . .," Murdock hesitated.

"What is it, Captain?"

Murdock looked at the ground, he wasn't sure how he was going to explain how he knew about this, but Hannibal should know, "She's pregnant."

Hannibal considered Murdock through narrowed eyes, then turned abruptly and pushed the door open.

"Abel 12, is there something you'd like to share?" Hannibal asked, striding into the room and standing in front of Trixie, arms crossed.

Trixie looked at him warily, "Well that depends what we're talking about . . ."

"Let me put it this way," Hannibal said, "Are you prepared to head to Columbia with us?"

"No, I am not," Trixie said in surprise.

Nancy had stood as well, "Trixie can't go to Columbia," she said quietly.

"Apparently the General thinks she can," Hannibal said, looking at Nancy with passing interest, "He informed me that both of you would be accompanying us to Columbia."

Trixie turned to Nancy, "You asked to go to Columbia, didn't you?" she asked accusingly.

Nancy's jaw was set, "Yes, but I didn't intend for you to go."

"You should have known that if you were going, I was going," Trixie said irritably, "I am, after all, your keeper."

Nancy winced, "I'm sorry, Trix," she said sincerely.

"Don't worry, Colonel," Trixie said, turning to Hannibal, "I won't be joining you in Columbia," she turned and headed out the door, with Nancy following.

Hannibal looked after them in satisfaction, "I don't know how you knew that, but I sure am glad you did," he said, turning to Murdock cheerfully, "Hopefully that'll get both of 'em out of our hair."

Trixie knocked at the General's office door and walked in without waiting for an invitation. He looked up in surprise, as she stopped in front of his desk, her arms crossed, "General, I am not going to Columbia," she stated with finality.

He raised an eyebrow, "Your partner has requested to go to Columbia," he said, as Nancy joined them in the office, pulling the door shut behind her, "And while I am not wild about the idea, it does have its merits. Therefore, you will be accompanying her. It's only for two weeks, at the most."

Trixie took a deep breath, "General, I'm pregnant," she said flatly, "and I haven't been feeling all that great lately. I cannot go to Columbia. I'd be more of a liability than an asset."

"Pregnant," he repeated, his look impassive, "And exactly when did you intend to tell me?"

"After I had actually gotten test results and was sure," Trixie said evenly.

The General considered her silently for a moment, before replying, "Very well, you don't have to go to Columbia."

"Thank you," Trixie said in relief.

The General's gaze refocused behind Trixie, where Nancy was leaning against the door jamb, "You won't be going, either."

He and Nancy locked eyes for a moment, before she said slowly, "I am going to Columbia."

His jaw clenched, and he was about to reply when the phone rang. He put a hand out to pick it up, "I've been waiting for this call," he said in dismissal, but before actually picking up the phone, he looked at Nancy seriously, "This discussion is not over – you can't go to Columbia alone."

Nancy smiled humorlessly as he picked up the phone, "I won't be alone," she said, before turning and following Trixie out of the office.

Stockwell sighed, Nancy was always a challenge, but he knew he'd have to seriously consider her insistence on going to Columbia. He doubted it was a whim, she usually had a good reason when she behaved this way, though unfortunately, he had a good idea what she was concerned about. Once she got an idea in her head, she was generally loathe to let it go, until proven false, and so far, he had been unable to do that.

Confession Interrupted

Hannibal sat back as Murdock moved to the table and sat down. He had been behaving strangely all morning, "Murdock, what's up? You aren't yourself today," Hannibal said, "Is it that woman you've been seeing?"

Murdock felt a brief surge of panic until he realized that Hannibal hadn't put two and two together, he was simply casting about for reasons that his pilot was acting so peculiar. He didn't trust himself to say anything. He'd never been good at lying to Hannibal. So he tried a casual shrug, bending down over the aerial photo and hoping that Hannibal would accept his silence.

Unfortunately, Hannibal wasn't that easily deterred, "Murdock, we need to get this sorted out," he said in a fatherly tone, "I can't have you distracted in Columbia. We all need to be sharp. Now what's wrong?"

Murdock looked up, considering what he was going to tell Hannibal. He wanted to explain what was going on, but he really wasn't sure he wanted to do it in the Compound. He'd known Stockwell long enough to suspect that the entire place was bugged, "Colonel, we need to talk, but, you know . . . maybe it would be better if we went outside," he looked at Hannibal pointedly.

Hannibal stood up, "OK."

Just then, Trixie came striding back into the record room and Hannibal regarded her with visible irritation.

She walked past him and sat down, mistaking the source of his irritation, "Don't worry, Colonel," she said sourly, "You're shot of me."

Nancy came walking back in as well, and an amused expression crossed Trixie's face, as she said, "You'll have a harder time getting rid of Nan, though," she said, "And she can be a real pain in the ass – I should know."

"Did you ever hear of 'forgive and forget'?" Nancy asked, shaking her head, "Stockwell wasn't upset, and you didn't really have to change your plans. No harm, no foul."

Hannibal's jaw was set, "So, you're still going with us?"

"Yes, Colonel, I am," Nancy said flatly, her gaze direct and defiant.

Hannibal's eyes sparked, "We'll see about that, Abel 5."

A small smile curved her lips, "In the words of Pat Benetar, 'hit me with your best shot' . . . Hannibal."

Hannibal turned to Murdock, "We'll talk later," he said sharply as he shot Nancy a cutting glance, "Test her skills in a chopper. I want her landing that thing in a thicket without a scratch. Understand?"

"Yes, sir," Murdock said resignedly, turning to Nancy he motioned towards the door, "Let's go," he said as his long legs carried him quickly down the hall.

Nancy followed him, her expression rebellious, "If you're his best shot, this is going to be a cake walk," she said quietly.

"Are you naturally annoying, or does it take a lot of practice?" he asked irritably, his stride lengthening.

"What can I say," she said facetiously, having to practically jog to keep up with him, "I'm a natural."

Murdock shook his head, "I really don't see the point in alienating Hannibal."

"Alienating him?" she asked incredulously, "He never gave me a chance to alienate him. He started off hating me."

By now they had walked out on the front steps, and Nancy grabbed Murdock's arm and forced him to stop and look at her, "So, tell me, Captain," she said forcefully, "Are you going to fall in line or break ranks?"

Murdock's mouth was set in an uncharacteristically grim line, "I'm not sure I'll have a lot of choice in the matter," he said quietly.

Nancy let go of his arm, wishing she hadn't pushed him so hard, but finding it difficult to stop, "Everybody has a choice."

"Let's get something straight, Abel 5," Murdock said, allowing his anger at the entire situation free reign, "We haven't had a choice in things since the day General Stockwell got involved. We either fall in line, or end up standing in front of a firing squad. Besides, I don't see you falling all over yourself to tell the boss about us."

Nancy looked at him hollowly, finally replying quietly, "It doesn't sound like there is an 'us'."

Murdock felt guilty as he looked in her eyes and saw the hurt there, but there was nothing to be done. He was just trying to be realistic, "No, I guess there isn't."

He turned abruptly and walked towards his truck, "Get in, and let's get to the airfield."

"Go on," Nancy said, "I'll be there shortly."

He looked at her over the top of the truck. He wanted to tell her how sorry he was, wanted to erase that heartrending expression off her face, but he couldn't. He sighed, "Fine, don't be long. I'll have the chopper ready when you get there," he sat down in the truck and slammed the door.

Nancy watched him back out and spit stones as he pulled out in a cloud of dust. She needed some time alone to cool down before facing him again, but that meant she was going to have to find a ride to the airfield.

She glanced around the parking area. Her gaze landed on the General's limo, and she rubbed her hands under her eyes, catching unshed tears – she'd be damned if she was going to cry over a guy she'd known for three days. She quickly composed herself before heading over to the driver's side door. Frank Turner, who had been the General's limo driver for several years, was sitting in the front seat, reading a newspaper and listening to the radio.

She tapped him on the shoulder, "Frank, could I hitch a ride to the airfield. I need to pick up a company car."

Frank smiled, "Sure, Nan, hop in."

He looked in the rearview mirror at her as she got into the limo, "Everything OK? I heard you and that pilot fighting . . ."

"I'm fine," Nancy interrupted sharply, pointedly turning and staring out the window. Frank considered her for a moment before reaching over and putting up the privacy window.

Murdock had driven, probably much too fast, straight to the field. He hurried into the main hangar and stopped at the desk, "Hey, Doc, need a chopper for the afternoon."

Doc nodded and pulled the keys out of a lock box behind the desk, handing them to Murdock along with a flight plan, "So, HM, seemed like you and Nan hit it off the other night . . ." he said leadingly.

It seemed like Friday was a long time ago, and Murdock had pretty much forgotten that Doc was the one that had introduced him and Nancy.

He leaned forward, "Doc, why didn't you tell me she worked for Stockwell?"

Doc looked a little taken aback, "Well, I told you that you had a lot in common," he said, "Besides, I figured you'd talk about it . . ."

Murdock sighed, for a guy who had dealt with spy-types for a long time, Doc sure was naïve, "For future reference, Doc," Murdock said, "That's information that would be helpful before I ask a woman out on a date."

"You and Nan went out?" Doc asked, a broad smile crossing his face, "That's great!"

Doc just wasn't getting it, Murdock glanced over his shoulder, "Keep it down," he hissed, "It's not great, it's a disaster."

"I'm not sure I understand what the problem is?" Doc said in confusion.

Murdock shook his head, "I'll have to explain later," he said, "Just do me a favor, and don't mention that Nancy and I went out, OK?"

Doc shrugged, his confusion still apparent, "Whatever you say, HM."

Murdock nodded in acknowledgement, and turned and headed out to Stockwell's hangar, where he planned to check on flight preparations, and hopefully get a chance to talk to Face before Nancy showed up.

"Hey, Murdock, I wasn't expecting you quite so early," Face said as Murdock walked into the hangar.

"Face, you aren't going to believe this . . .," Murdock started, then stopped abruptly as Jeff Kent, Abel 8, came around a stack of supplies.

"Lieutenant," he said, then nodded in greeting when he caught sight of Murdock, "Listen, I'm going to go pick up these items," he waved a list that Face had obviously provided, "But I've gotta tell you, you're rapidly hitting weight limit. You might want to reconsider the inventory and see if there's anything you can cut out."

"What did you base passenger weight on?" Murdock asked.

"The usual," Jeff said, "five men."

"There'll be an extra passenger this trip," Murdock said, "That's another 70 kilos you're gonna lose, Faceman."

"Who's the passenger?" Jeff asked curiously.

Murdock looked at Jeff, he liked the man instinctively, but like all the Abel Agents, he was cautious around him, "Looks like Abel 5 is going to be joining us," he said, trying to keep his voice neutral.

Murdock caught the suppressed smile, "Really?" Jeff said as he tried to hide his amusement, "Nancy's goin' with you? And what does Colonel Smith think of that?"

"He's less than thrilled," Murdock replied, looking at Jeff curiously, "What's so funny?"

"It's just that Nancy . . . well I don't imagine you really know her," Jeff said with passing curiosity about the odd look that crossed Murdock's face, "But she really hates being treated like she's helpless. I can just see the fireworks the first time one of you tries to . . . you know, protect her."

Face had turned and was listening attentively, "So she's a real live Abel Agent, huh? Not just a victim of affirmative action."

Jeff's smile broadened, "Now, you see, that's the attitude that could get you in trouble," he said quietly, "Just take a little friendly advice – Nancy can take care of herself, and she can get real pissy with anybody that treats her like she can't."

He waved the list, "I should get going. I'll be back with the rest of this stuff in a couple hours."

"Thanks, Jeff," Face said, then looked at Murdock, "Abel 5 is really going with us? What about Abel 12?"

"No, Abel 12 isn't going," Murdock said, looking over his shoulder as Jeff stopped and picked up his jacket before heading towards the hangar door.

"Well, that should make the mission interesting," Face said.

"Yea . . .," Murdock said hesitantly, glancing back as the door finally closed behind Jeff, "Listen Face, I've got a problem . . ."

Face nodded absently, as he started reviewing his list for things he could eliminate, "Only one?"

"Face, I'm serious," Murdock said, following his friend, "I've got a big problem."

"So, what is it," Face asked.

Murdock hesitated, "You know that woman I'm seeing right now . . ."

"Yea . . ."

"Well, she's, um . . ." Murdock took a deep breath, "She's Abel 5."

Face's jaw dropped, as he turned to consider his friend in astonishment, "Abel 5 is . . . you . . . you slept with an Abel agent?"

"Well . . . yea, I guess that's one way to look at it," Murdock said quietly, crossing his arms and leaning on the desk.

"Does Hannibal know?" Face asked.

"I tried to tell him, but got interrupted, so no. Hannibal doesn't know . . . yet."

"Whoa, Murdock," Face said, leaning next to him, "That is a serious problem. You don't think she's told the General, do you?"

"No, she didn't tell the General," Murdock said, looking at Face in surprise.

Face raised an eyebrow, "You sure about that?" he asked uncertainly, "After all, she is an Abel Agent."

"You know, Abel Agents work for the General, just like us," Murdock said defensively, "It doesn't mean they're the bad guys."

"Let's get something straight," Face said irritably, "They work for the General voluntarily. Hannibal, BA, Frankie, and I do not."

"And I suppose I do?" Murdock asked angrily.

"At least you can come and go as you please," Face argued, allowing his ongoing irritation at their confinement to show through, "I don't see you bunking at the Compound."

"Typical," Murdock said, standing and pacing, "I've always had it easy while you guys have suffered, haven't I?" he asked resentfully.

"I didn't mean it that way, Murdock . . .," Face said appeasingly.

"Then how did you mean it, Face?" Murdock asked, "None of you know what I go through when you're not around. I'm always the odd one out," he laughed humorlessly, "Kind of appropriate, isn't it?"

"Murdock, c'mon," Face said, putting a hand on his shoulder, "you've never been the 'odd man out'. You're part of the team."

Murdock looked at Face ruefully, "Yea, when I'm needed."

Jeff walked out into the parking lot and saw Nancy getting out of the General's limo, "Hey, Nan, car problems?" he asked.

Nancy leaned down at the driver's window, and when she turned and looked at Jeff she wore a distracted smile, "Hi, Jeff," she said, "No – it's just that I got a ride to the Compound with Trix this morning and we ended up going two different directions."

"You shoulda caught a ride with Murdock," Jeff said, "He just came from the Compound."

Jeff was caught off guard by the look that crossed Nancy's face, but by the time it had registered, it was concealed. That made him even more curious about the strange look on Murdock's face – something was up.

Nancy nodded absently, "Yea, well, he took off, and I had to find another ride."

"Are you OK, Nan?" Jeff asked. He couldn't be certain, but he'd swear it looked like she'd been crying, "You seem kinda upset."

"I'm fine," Nancy said tersely, turning towards the hangar.

"Nan," Jeff said, stopping her with a hand on her arm, "What's the deal? Murdock just said you're going to Columbia with the Team. And he seemed real agitated about something. Now you. What's goin' on?"

Nancy looked at Jeff searchingly. Since he had married Mary, she had felt uncomfortable around him. Given their history, she had ultimately decided it was best if she just avoided seeing him outside of work. He was a really nice guy, and she'd always considered him a friend, but she was never too sure how he felt about her.

"It's just that this whole mess with Palumbo has me a little on edge," she said with forced levity, "The General isn't real happy with me right now, and the Team isn't thrilled about me crashing their party. Guess I'm just feeling a little under siege at the moment," she smiled thinly at him, "I'll be fine, really. Thanks for asking."

She turned and walked swiftly towards the hangar. Jeff watched after her curiously. Her behavior was strange, even for Nancy. He'd known her long enough to know when she was covering – she hadn't outright lied to him, but it was hardly the whole truth. Something was bothering her, and he had a sneaking suspicion it had something to do with the A-Team pilot. That, in and of itself, was enough to peak his curiosity.

Uneasy Truce

Face was wishing he could take back what he'd said to Murdock, when the hangar door opened again, and Nancy came walking in. She strode purposely over to the bench, shaking off her suit jacket and dropping it over a chair.

She turned to Murdock and Face, rolling up her sleeves, "So, you ready to 'put me through my paces', Captain?" she asked, looking at Murdock defiantly. Overt anger always helped bury other emotions, and over time Nancy had become very practiced at it.

Murdock was caught short as her blue eyes flashed at him. He sighed, he wasn't up to an entire afternoon of fighting with her, "Just cool it," he said wearily, "I'll be ready to go soon," he glanced at Face, who was looking at Nancy with blatant curiosity, and motioned to him, "This is Face, Face, this is Nancy Clay."

Nancy murmured a perfunctory 'nice to meet you' and held out a hand, but Face was busy conducting his own personal inventory of her. The first thing he noticed was her eyes, which were wide-set, large, and a remarkable shade of sky blue. But other than that, he thought her looks were perhaps slightly above average. For one thing she was quite short, he estimated probably only about 5'3", maybe 5'4". Her auburn hair looked like it had undergone several do-it-yourself trims, and could use a professional cut and some styling. She wore no makeup and her clothing was standard Abel attire, which did nothing to even hint at a figure. All in all, she was definitely not a woman Face would have even given a second look.

Nancy finally allowed her hand to drop and raised an eyebrow at Murdock, "He's pretty, but does he speak?" she asked sarcastically.

Murdock couldn't help smiling, but suppressed it quickly as Face's eyes narrowed, "I'd say it's nice to meet you, too, but I'd be lying," Face responded petulantly.

"Let's see, is that because I called you a 'pretty boy'?" she asked drolly, a slight smile tugging at her lips, "Or because I work for Stockwell?"

"Or could it be both?" Face said, "In my experience, when someone looks like the enemy, dresses like the enemy, sleeps with the enemy, they usually are the enemy," he looked at Murdock significantly.

Nancy's gaze turned stone cold, "You really know how to win a lady over, don't you Lieutenant," she said.

"I don't see any ladies here," Face said scathingly, "I only see one of Stockwell's minions."

Nancy crossed her arms, "You know, you're a real friendly lot. Wonder the General hasn't fitted you with chains and muzzles," she glanced at Murdock, adding shortly, "I'll be waiting outside."

Face turned to Murdock as the door closed behind her, "OK, you're going to have to explain to me exactly what it is you see in her, because I ain't seein' it buddy."

"You weren't exactly friendly, Face," Murdock pointed out.

"She's one of them," Face said dismissively, missing the troubled look that crossed Murdock's face, "What do you expect?"

Murdock sighed, he had hoped maybe at least Face would see what he did when he looked at Nancy. Now he was beginning to doubt whether the weekend had even been real, "I gotta go, Face," he said shortly.

"You gotta end it, Murdock," Face said earnestly, looking at his friend worriedly, "This just can't have a happy ending. You must realize that."

Murdock nodded, "Yea, I guess . . ."

"We can talk later, OK?" Face said solicitously.

Murdock turned to follow Nancy out, "OK, we'll talk later," he agreed, though he honestly wasn't sure he saw the point. Face had made it pretty clear where he stood. Murdock just wasn't so sure it was going to be that easy to walk away.

Nancy was standing facing a row of choppers, her arms crossed, and her expression cross, "So, do any of your friends get to know a person before they judge them?

"You weren't exactly pleasant to start with, were you?" Murdock started irritably, then sighed, "Listen, Face isn't usually that rude. To be honest, I can't say I know about your routine behavior. Both of you were pretty brutal in there."

Nancy pursed her lips, "I guess I wasn't very nice," she admitted, "I tend to engage my mouth before my brain when I'm feeling outnumbered."

"Hasn't been the easiest morning, has it?" he asked gently

Nancy was caught off guard, "It started out pretty good," she said self-consciously.

"Yea it did," he agreed, glancing at her sideways, "How about we just try and get through the afternoon without any more arguments. Deal?"

Nancy looked at him ruefully, "Deal."

At the chopper, Murdock put her through a quick orientation as they went through the pre-flight then sat back, "Let's take her up."

Once up in the air, Murdock had her head towards a nearby open field, "We're gonna go through some landing exercises," he said, "You'll likely co-pilot for me, and if anything goes wrong, I wanna make sure you can handle this little lady," he grinned, as his spirits lifted with their altitude, "A little lady handling a little lady – sounds kinky."

"Crude, Captain," Nancy said, shaking her head, but smiling just the same.

He pointed to a small patch of dead grass in the middle of the field, "I want you to set down right there."

Nancy pulled up and set down easily, looking at Murdock, "That was tough," she said sarcastically.

"Take her up to 100 feet."

Nancy lifted off, hovering at 100 feet, "OK, now what?"

"Take her down slow, and pay attention," he said briskly.

Nancy started her decent, "Slower," Murdock said sharply.

She gritted her teeth and slowed her decent.

"10 degrees starboard," he said and as Nancy overcorrected, he said, "I said pay attention – 10 degrees, not 20."

She pulled back and continued her decent, "15 degrees port."

She turned, this time closer, though she still had to correct.

"Better, now 30 degrees starboard, and drop."

Nancy did as directed, dropping at slightly over 30 degrees.

"What was that all about?"

"You gotta get the feel for the chopper," Murdock said, "You gotta learn what 10 degrees, 5 degrees feels like – it's important when dropping through a canopy. And you gotta slow your decent."

He took Nancy through a dozen more similar exercises. Then he had her fly up towards the mountains, showing her how to maneuver to keep it out of the trees, but low enough that they were off radar.

They pulled up above a small meadow clearing, and Murdock looked at her, "This is more open than the one we'll be using in Columbia, but it's a good place to start," he said, "Take her down slow, and pay attention."

He directed her through the canopy without incident, and Nancy turned and grinned at him, "That wasn't so hard!"

"Yea, but that was like parkin' your VW bug in a Mack truck space. You need to get to where you can do just the opposite."

"Take her back up," he said.

They moved higher up in the mountains, and Murdock pointed, "There's a good one."

Nancy looked at him, "You gotta be kidding me."

He looked at her and grinned, "Trust me?"

Nancy considered the hole in the canopy, then looked at Murdock with a grimace, "Do I have any choice?"

He shook his head, "Nope. Remember, slow decent and pay attention."

As they lowered through the canopy, Nancy could hear the rotors flicking through the branches. Her knuckles were white on the stick, as she carefully followed Murdock's direction. When she felt the skids touch down, she let out a pent up breath.

"Good job," Murdock said admiringly, "You got the makings of one heck of a slick pilot."

Nancy turned and looked at him, a wide grin on her face, "Thanks!"

Then she looked down at the fuel gage, "Uh-oh – fuel's getting low."

Murdock leaned over and tapped the gage, "No problem – plenty to get home. Let's try one more clearing."

After the next landing, they headed back to the air field. Murdock looked at her sideways. She was concentrating, a definite indication that she wasn't nearly as comfortably in the chopper as she was in her Taylorcraft. But he was impressed, she had made quick progress this afternoon.

"So, Captain, do I pass the test?" Nancy asked.

"I give ya an A minus."

"Why the minus?" she asked.

"It's a matter of principal," he said with a sideways smile.

The airfield came into sight on the horizon, just as the engine sputtered. Murdock leaned over and tapped the gage again, "We'll make it."

Nancy looked at him with raised eyebrows, "You're walkin' for the gas if we run out."

"No," he disagreed good-naturedly, as the engine sputtered again, "You're the subordinate pilot – that means you get to hike for the go juice."

"But you're the idiot that said 'we've got plenty to get home'," she reminded him.

"Even ace pilots make slight miscalculations once in a while," he said grimacing as the engine sputtered again.

"Should I set down here?" she asked nervously.

"Let me take her," he said, taking the controls and banking.

"Where are you going?" Nancy asked skeptically.

"Just adjusting course slightly so we can take better advantage of the tailwind," he said.

They made it back to the field and Murdock set down, just before the engine died altogether.

Murdock looked at her triumphantly, "Told you we had enough to get home."

Nancy slid the headset off, "Admit it, you were worried."

"Not for a second," Murdock said, setting his headphones down and turning to her, "You did great this afternoon."

Nancy looked at him searchingly, then smiled slightly, "Thanks – I had a good instructor," she looked at him with raised eyebrows, "Even if he can't calculate a fuel allowance."

He grinned at her, "Who calculated anything?"

"Obviously, not you," she replied, returning the grin.

They started through the post-flight check. The afternoon had passed without any more angry words, but then they both had trouble being in a bad mood when they were flying. They seemed to have reached an uneasy, unspoken truce, at least for the moment.

Hannibal walked up as they were working through the post-flight check, "How did it go?" Hannibal asked, glancing across Murdock to where Nancy sat with a clipboard in her lap.

"Good, Colonel," Murdock said, "Nancy's a natural in a chopper."

"Hardly natural," Nancy disagreed, "But definitely a lot more comfortable now, with some instruction and practice."

"Good," Hannibal said, "Are you about done here?"

Nancy glanced down at the clipboard, the post flight was just about done, "I can finish this up if you need to go with Colonel Smith," she said, looking at Murdock.

Murdock looked at Hannibal, who smiled, "I appreciate that, Abel 5 . . ."

"Nancy," she corrected.

". . . Nancy. But I actually need to see both of you," Hannibal said, "I'll see you in the hangar in 10 minutes?"

"10 minutes, Colonel," Murdock acknowledged.

Front Door Opening

When they entered the hangar 10 minutes later, Hannibal, Face, BA, Frankie, and Trixie were standing around a large folding table that had a map of the region of Columbia where Palumbo's hacienda was, with several marks on it showing the hacienda, the location of the poppy fields, the nearest airfield, and Murdock's LZ, among others. There was also one of the aerials that Trixie had shot of the hacienda using night-vision lenses on the camera. They had managed to get close enough to be able to get some detail on the gun turrets and the inner courtyard. There was also another small aerial and a few scattered pages of notes.

Hannibal glanced up as Nancy and Murdock joined the group gathered around the table, "I thought it might be easier to get all of us in one place. Trixie and I spent the last few hours pulling all the pertinent information that she could recall together and mapping it out," he indicated the items on the table.

Murdock was scanning the small aerial, "Is this a new one, Hannibal?"

Hannibal nodded, "The General gave me this one this afternoon. It doesn't cover as much area as I would have liked, but beggars can't be choosers."

Trixie pointed to the hacienda, "They've reinforced the perimeter since we were down there," she said, "That incursion by Perez must have struck a nerve."

"That's what I was afraid of," Hannibal said, "It's gonna make it difficult to get Nolan and Littleford out."

Nancy was looking at the helipad, "Palumbo has a couple choppers that make runs in and out of the hacienda," she said thoughtfully, "That has to be continuing, it's the only reliable way to get supplies."

Hannibal looked at her questioningly, "Yea?"

"If we could get one of his supply choppers, and fly in as if we belonged . . ." she said with a shrug.

Hannibal grinned around his cigar, "The front door is the best way to go!"

"Great, the front door," BA said humorlessly, "But first we gotta find the chopper on the outside . . ."

"That might be easier than it sounds," Nancy said, her eyes sparking with mounting enthusiasm, "Palumbo uses a complex supply network, with rotating schedules, but there's one that he uses routinely at least once a week."

Trixie snapped her fingers, "Sure," she said excitedly, "He never goes more than a week for his tobacco."

Nancy smiled, "Yep, in the rainforest, even a humidor can't keep it fresh for more than a week."

"We just need to lean on the supplier," Murdock said.

"Still need to coordinate the attack," Face said, "And it's gonna be a small window if we go with Palumbo's chopper."

"Also," Trixie said, sobering, "Those choppers don't hold much."

"Four passengers at most," Nancy said, "It'll take two choppers to get all of us out of there."

Hannibal chewed on his cigar, looking at the photos thoughtfully, "How long do you think we'd have before Palumbo realized that the incoming chopper was unfriendly?"

"You could get within visual," Nancy said, her gaze thoughtful, "There's another problem, the helipad has two armed guards at all times."

Hannibal pulled the large overhead photo of the hacienda forward, "Where is Littleford likely to be held?" he looked at Nancy expectantly.

She stepped forward and looked at the aerial, "Likely in the holding cells, here," she said, pointing unhesitatingly at the northwest quadrant of the inner courtyard.

"How long would it take to get from there to the helipad?"

"On the run, you could probably make it in two or three minutes," Nancy said, her look thoughtful, "But with a wounded man, could take as much as ten."

"You said Nolan was managing the growing operation," Hannibal said, looking at Trixie, "and reports in once a day by chopper – so that's another option."

Nancy looked at Trixie uneasily, and Hannibal looked at them narrowly, "Am I missing something?"

Trixie considered her partner seriously, "Tell Hannibal your suspicion, Nan, he'll listen . . ."

"It's unlikely . . ." Nancy said uncertainly.

Nancy looked very uncomfortable, and Hannibal looked from her to Trixie and back, finally prompting, "I don't care how unlikely it is, I want to hear all possible scenarios. We need to go in with all facts, theories and WASPs."

"WASPs?" Nancy asked.

Hannibal grinned, "Wild Ass Suspected Problems."

Nancy relaxed visibly, "Well, I have a feeling that Nolan isn't exactly the loyal DEA agent that his superiors think he is."

"Well, now, that could complicate things," Frankie said with a low whistle.

Trixie looked at Nancy, "I think that's more than a WASP at this point," she said, "I think Nolan is the reason Palumbo found out about Littleford. And I doubt if he stopped there."

Hannibal stood, "I need to go see the General about this little revelation," he said seriously, "I want you all to head home and hit the hay. We reconvene tomorrow morning at 0900."

"Woo-hoo, 0900," Face said, grinning, "We get to sleep in!"

"Enjoy it, Lieutenant," Hannibal said, "It's likely the last good night's sleep any of us will get for awhile."

Face groaned and Hannibal laughed, "Alright, that's it. See you in the morning."

As the group broke up, Hannibal started towards the door, only to be stopped by a very agitated Nancy, "The General will not be happy to know I told you about my suspicions, Hannibal," she said, "He warned me to keep my 'feelings' to myself from now on."

"I'll broach it as my own theory, if it makes you feel better" Hannibal said, "Personally I think you're probably right. It fits with recent events. Certainly explains how a seasoned DEA Agent gets made in deep undercover."

"Well, the DEA thought I was just trying to cover up my own screw-up," Nancy said bitterly, "And the General seemed inclined to agree with them."

"Did you screw up?" Hannibal asked directly.

"Maybe," she admitted, after a moment of serious consideration, "But I don't make frivolous accusations, and even if I screwed up, there was something more going on there. Something wasn't right," her foot was tapping incessantly while she spoke.

Hannibal put a hand on her shoulder, "Nancy, head home and get some rest," he said kindly, "I'll see what I can ferret out about Nolan."

Ending 'It'

He turned and walked away, as Trixie came up to stand beside her, "So," Nancy said, "You obviously won the reticent Colonel Smith over. He was treating me much less like an enemy this afternoon."

Trixie smiled, "Yea, well, that and I told him that you and the General were certainly anything but bosom buddies – shared enemies make very uneasy alliances, though, so if I were you I'd still watch my step," she turned and looked at Nancy curiously, "So, what about you and HM?"

"There is no 'HM and me'" she said, crossing her arms and glancing back towards where Murdock was standing talking with Face, "It's clear that the Team comes first. I think that leaves me pretty much nowhere."

Trixie looked at her friend discerningly, "You need to give it some time, Nan. I think you both need to come to grips with the new playing field before you make any final decisions."

"Yea, I guess," Nancy said noncommittally.

Trixie sighed heavily, deciding that now wasn't the time to push it, "Do you need a ride home?" she asked.

"No," she said, "I'm gonna take a company car home. But I do have a favor to ask," Nancy looked at Trixie hopefully.

"What?" Trixie asked, suspiciously.

"You don't need to look so worried," Nancy said, a tired grin crossing her face, "I made an appointment with the garage for the bug. If Joe dropped you off in the morning, you could follow me to the garage, so I could leave the car."

"OK, I'll see you around 8 in the morning and we'll take care of it," Trixie said, "Are you ready to head out?"

"Yea," Nancy said.

Outside, headed towards the main hangar, Nancy realized she didn't have her jacket, "Listen, Trix, you go on, I gotta go back and get my jacket," she said, "I'll see you tomorrow."

Face looked at Murdock, "So, what are you gonna do about Abel 5?"

"Her name is Nancy," Murdock said irritably, "and to tell the truth, I really don't know," he looked at Face questioningly, "How do you think the General would react?"

"Not good, Murdock, not good," Face said, "I don't really understand the big deal, anyway, she doesn't even seem your type. Just end it and be done with it."

Murdock looked at Face indecisively, then nodded hesitantly, "Yea . . . yea, you're probably right," he said, sounding like he was trying to convince himself, "I'll talk to her as soon as I get a chance."

"The sooner the better," Face said, "Trust me, you'll be relieved once it's over."

Face took one last look through his supplies inventory, then ripped it off, "I think that's it, Murdock," he said, handing him the inventory, "I've run the numbers twice – we should be good on weight."

Murdock took the list, and picked up his clipboard with the flight planning forms on it. He glanced up as Nancy walked back into the hangar and watched as she walked over and picked up her jacket, then turned to head back out.

Murdock shoved the inventory list onto the clipboard, "Thanks, Face," he said absently, dropping the clipboard on the table and turning to follow Nancy, "Hey, Nan, wait up."

He loped to where Nancy was standing, waiting with the hangar door held open.

"Nan, I think we should talk . . ." Murdock started, as they passed through the door and it closed behind them.

"So, talk" Nancy said impatiently, walking rapidly towards the main hangar. She really didn't feel like talking, especially with Murdock.

"Well, I was thinking that we're gonna be stuck together for the next week or two," he said hesitantly, "and I don't want things to be, you know, awkward."

"Awkward?" Nancy said disbelievingly, rounding on him, "You don't want things to be awkward? Well, I'd say it's a little late for that, Captain . . . like maybe two or three days."

"Okay . . .," Murdock said, "I guess sarcasm is one way to deal with anger . . .,"

Nancy crossed her arms, deciding that ending it was the only option, "Listen, you want it to be over, fine, it's over."

"Nan, it's not that I want it to be over . . ." Murdock reasoned.

She sighed, "Listen, Murdock, I understand the problems that my . . . position is making for you. It's OK," she smiled at him half-heartedly, "I'll live, you'll live, and between us we only lost a few days on a relationship that couldn't go anywhere."

"If things were different . . ." Murdock said lamely, then ended earnestly, "It's just that we have so much to lose."

"Yea, I know," Nancy said, "Trust me, nobody knows better than me what an ass the General can be," she shrugged and crossed her arms, "It's OK, really."

Murdock looked at her dejectedly, trying to think of something to say, that would make everything alright. Unfortunately, he was drawing a total blank.

Nancy took a step backwards toward the main hangar, "I should get going," she said uncomfortably, "I'll see you tomorrow, HM," she turned and hurried away.

Murdock watched until she disappeared inside the main hangar, then turned and walked slowly back to Stockwell's hangar. He walked over and sat down at the table, pulling the clipboard over and looking at it unseeingly. Face was wrong, he didn't feel relieved, he felt miserable.

Nancy walked into the main hangar and up to the desk, waiting as Doc finished with another customer. She smiled thinly as she moved forward, "Hey, Doc, I need a company car."

Doc took a set of keys out of the lock box, along with the sign out sheet, "Here you go, Nan," he said as he pushed them across the desk to her, "So, what's goin' on?"

Nancy glanced up at him, then leaned over and started filling out the sign out sheet, "Not much, Doc," she said vaguely.

"Really," Doc said, looking disappointed, "I really thought you and HM had hit it off the other night."

Nancy looked up at him sharply, "Well, I guess you were wrong, Doc," she took a deep breath, to steady herself, as she shoved the sign out sheet back over to him, "Listen, I'll probably see you tomorrow," she said.

His expression was apologetic, "I'm sorry about that, Nan. I knew HM and the General didn't get along real well, but he always seemed pretty friendly with the other Abel Agents. I didn't realize it would be such a big deal."

Nancy licked her lips, and glanced towards the door. She really wasn't prepared to deal with Doc's guilty conscience right now, "It's OK, Doc," she said, quietly, "I . . . uh, really gotta get going," she said tightly as she turned and walked out of the hangar.

Doc sighed as she disappeared out the door, thinking he'd really miscalculated that one.

Not so Happy Reflections

Trixie walked in at home and Joe came out of the kitchen, "You're earlier than I thought you would be," he said, looking happy to see her all the same.

Trixie dropped her jacket on a hook by the door, and walked over and gave Joe a hug and a lingering kiss, "Have I mentioned how happy I am that I found you?"

"Actually, I found you," he said with a smile, "But with a greeting like that, I don't really care what story you tell."

Trixie sighed and after one last kiss, slipped by him and dropped into the couch, "You wouldn't believe the day I've had," she said, sitting back and kicking off her shoes, "And I had it easy compared to Nan."

Joe sat down next to her, "What happened?" he asked, putting an arm around her.

Trixie slid into his arms, "You remember HM telling us that he used to fly for the special forces?" Joe nodded, and she continued, "Well, he didn't fly for just any unit, he flew for the A-Team."

Joe looked at her in surprise, "You mean . . ."

Trixie nodded, "Yea, he was there today . . ." she said, and proceeded to relate the basic occurrences of the day.

"Man, that's the pits," Joe said when she was finished, "I really thought maybe Nan had finally found her match. First time I ever remember her let somebody in like that."

"Yea," Trixie agreed, "I think she really fell for the guy."

Nancy shut the door and locked it, kicking her shoes off and hanging the car keys up on the peg board. She went up to her room and changed out of her uniform and into a pair of sweat shorts and a t-shirt, then headed back down to the kitchen to find something for supper.

As she wandered around the kitchen, looking idly for anything that sounded even remotely good, her eyes landed on the daisies that Murdock had brought her Saturday. They needed water, so she took the vase over to the sink and added water to it, then took a couple of wilted flowers out. She noticed that the flowers that had wilted all had shorter stems, and so had been dry for awhile, and smiled to herself. Murdock had obviously not been very careful when picking them at the park, and she smiled as she pictured him pulling a fistful of daisies in a rush, looking around nervously like a little boy afraid to be caught doing something bad and hoping no one had seen him.

She walked back over to the table and set the vase back in the center. She sat down, then reached up and plucked out a couple of strands of stray grass that Murdock had pulled with the daisies, then dropped her chin in her hand. She'd had some bad days, but today ranked right up there with the worst. She'd really thought she'd found someone special. She shook her head, she had found someone special, Murdock was a great guy.

This entire situation was just adding justification to her thoughts of leaving Stockwell Enterprises. She hadn't been happy with the way things were going for awhile now. She was tired of having her life dictated by her job. Trixie's decision to marry Joe had catalyzed the beginning of the end of her life as she'd known it for the last 8 years. Trixie would soon be living a normal life, and there were times when she really thought that she should join her.

In fact, she'd thought, when she'd met Murdock, that it was a sign that she really should follow Trixie's lead. He had seemed like a nice, average guy; the kind of guy that she could settle down with.

Now it seemed he was more of an omen than a sign, a nice guy, but not nearly as average as he appeared. Kind of reminiscent of her life – looked average to the world, but the truth was totally unexpected. She sighed, what really bothered her was that even now, she couldn't stop thinking about him. Average or not, she cared more about Murdock than she wanted to admit. And that scared her.

The easy way out was to forget it, just like he'd said this afternoon. It was over, and she should accept it and get on with her life. A life where the General would find her another partner, and she could remain an Abel Agent. At least that way, she didn't have to think about what she wanted – she could just let the job continue to dictate.

She stood up, picked up the flowers, vase and all, walked over to the empty trash can, and dropped them in. The vase landed upright, remaining intact. The daisies looked rather comical, if a little sad, sticking out of the top of the trash can, as Nancy turned and strode out of the kitchen, dinner forgotten.

Murdock walked into the Compound at about 10:30 that evening, having finished the preliminary loading planning, just to keep from dwelling on Nancy.

Hannibal came walking out of the kitchen with a plate full of food, silverware, and a glass of milk, and set them down on the table, "Saved some for ya," he said, "The others have already gone to bed. You're making a late night of it."

Murdock sat down, and picked up the fork, picking through the spaghetti and sausage unenthusiastically, "Thanks, Hannibal."

Hannibal sat down across from him. Murdock not plowing into a late supper was really peaking his concern about his pilot, "We never did get a chance to talk about what's been bothering you . . .," he said, looking at Murdock worriedly.

Murdock pushed his plate away, then picked up his milk and drained the glass, which helped to settle his empty stomach. He looked up at Hannibal, and motioned to the door.

Hannibal followed without asking any questions. Murdock strode across the back deck, and out into the yard. He didn't stop until he was by the tree line, well away from the house. He turned to face his commanding officer, "Hannibal, you wanted to know why I've been acting so weird today . . ."

Hannibal waited expectantly, and Murdock continued, "Well, it does have to do with the woman I've been seeing . . .," he hesitated.

Hannibal nodded, "She found out about your time at the VA . . .," he said, voicing the suspicions he'd developed after talking with Face earlier this evening.

Murdock shook his head impatiently, "No, Hannibal, it's nothing like that. You see, Nancy has known about my time at the VA since the first night we met."

Hannibal's head snapped up at the mention of her name, "Nancy . . . ?"

Murdock nodded, "Yes, Nancy Clay, Abel 5, is the woman I spent last weekend with."

Hannibal turned and pulled out a cigar and lit it, puffing thoughtfully, "Well, that clears up several things," he said thoughtfully.

"Face already told you, didn't he?" Murdock asked.

"Well, he mentioned that you were having problems with the woman you were seeing, but he didn't say who she was," Hannibal admitted. He turned and looked at Murdock, "Did she tell the General?"

"Like I told Face earlier, she didn't tell the General," Murdock said impatiently, "She doesn't want him to know anymore than I do. I get the impression she has her own issues with him."

"I'll have to agree with you there, especially after the discussion I had with Stockwell this afternoon."

"You mean regarding Nolan as a turncoat?" Murdock asked.

"Yea," Hannibal said, "He was less than enthusiastic about 'my' theory. Then he asked directly if I'd talked to Abel 5 about it. I told him that we had discussed several things, and that she might have mentioned that she didn't trust Nolan."

Hannibal paused, honestly, he'd felt almost sorry for Abel 5 at the time, "He said that she had broached a similar theory in front of the DEA, when they had their first debriefing. Apparently the DEA was very polite in front of her, but after she'd left, they told the General that he should learn to control his agents better, and that if they were going to offer wild accusations about a trusted DEA field agent just to cover up their own errors, then they were going to rethink their long-term relationship with Stockwell Enterprises," he chuckled, envisioning the General after that little lecture, "Of course Stockwell had to backpedal pretty quick to keep the company out of trouble. And I doubt he was too easy on Abel 5 when all was said and done, either."

"Which is why she was so reluctant to say anything," Murdock said in understanding, "I take it the General sided with the DEA over her."

The end of Hannibal's cigar brightened briefly, before he responded, "Well, as you might expect, the General sided with the money. He couldn't have a field agent, not matter how valid their accusations, mucking up a lucrative, long-term contract."

"Did he believe her?"

"That I'm not sure about," Hannibal said, "I believe her, though. And I think she's right on the money. We go in treating Nolan as the enemy. I told the General I'd bring him back, but he's coming in leg irons, 'cause I'm not taking any chances."

They were both quiet for a minute, then Hannibal spoke, "So, Abel 5 is the woman makin' you think of settling down," he said, his tone amused.

"Yea, I guess that might be kinda hard to understand," Murdock said as he shoved his hands in his pockets and leaned against a tree, smiling thoughtfully as he considered the humor of the situation.

"Actually, I don't find it hard to understand, at all," Hannibal said.

Murdock looked at Hannibal in surprise, "Really? Face thinks I'm nuts wanting to be with her. He says I should just end it . . ."

"Is that what you want?

Murdock was silent for a moment, before responding simply, "No."

Hannibal nodded acknowledgment, then grinned as he asked, "So, does that mean you're still hearing wedding bells?"

"Not sure if they're wedding bells or alarm bells, now," Murdock responded with a chuckle, then his look sobered, "I really care about her, Colonel – we really connected this weekend. I hate to let that go."

Hannibal considered that thoughtfully, "You talked to her about what's going on with the General . . ."

"Not in any kind of detail, but I think she has a basic understanding of the issues, she works for the guy after all," he said, after a moment, he added, "I talked to her about us . . . our relationship," he paused again, ending hollowly, "I told her that it was over. That there was just too much at stake for me to chance it."

Hannibal could hear the regret in Murdock's voice, "It's a nice gesture, Murdock, but I think we've all sacrificed enough for those damn pardons," he said firmly, "We'll have to work out the particulars when we get back – until then it's probably best if you two keep it under wraps. Besides, we all need to be sharp down in Columbia – you and Nancy included."

Murdock relaxed visibly, "Thanks, Hannibal," he said sincerely, "I just wasn't having much luck playing like Face suggested."

"Yea, well, Face was probably being a little self-serving with his suggestions," Hannibal said, "He and Nancy are going to have to learn to get along - soon."

"Good luck with that, Colonel," Murdock said wearily, as he stood up, "Listen, I'm gonna hit the hay. It's been a long day. I'll see you in the morning."

He turned and walked slowly across the yard and up onto the deck. Hannibal watched as he disappeared into the house. Left outside with just his thoughts and his cigar, Hannibal considered their current situation.

He took a long, thoughtful drag on his cigar, the tip glowing brightly, and his thoughts wandering as crazily as the smoke that curled out of his nostrils, only to be whipped away by the light evening breeze. This past year had been a huge adjustment for all of them, and just when he thought things were calming down, something happened to churn the waters again.

BA missed his mother, and at first had really balked at the restraints put on their movements. Eventually, though, he had resigned himself to getting through the missions and getting his pardon, his focus turning to the long-term advantages of being a truly free man.

Frankie's motivation was simple, he just wanted to get the whole mess over with, and get back to LA and his career. Having not been on the run for the past 10 years, he wasn't as pessimistic as the rest of them tended to be.

Face had presented his biggest challenge, unaccustomed as he was to having his movements limited, particularly to an area as quiet and staid as Langley. Face had continually looked for a quick fix to their current situation, partially out of distrust for Stockwell, which they all felt to some degree, and partly out of a long-standing discontent with his life.

He had to admit to himself that beyond worrying a bit about Murdock being out on his own, away from the VA, he hadn't really given his pilot much thought, once they'd passed the initial move. For all intents and purposed, Murdock appeared to be settling in without any problems. He had found his attention focused on Face. Face, who had considered leaving the team to get away from Stockwell, and the claustrophobia he felt being confined to the Compound.

He took a deep breath; he had underestimated Murdock's problems with the adjustment. After 10 years living in the VA, in a very controlled environment, he'd been thrown into the general population and left to fend for himself, cut off at times, even from his friends. He wondered what had happened with that other woman, Erica, that Murdock had been seeing, and realized with a guilty jolt that he hadn't heard Murdock mention her for awhile now. The only time they really saw each other was when they were headed out for mission, and generally, at those times, Hannibal's focus was on the task ahead. Obviously, it had been awhile since he had sat down and really talked to Murdock.

Fireworks

Nancy woke up in the morning and rolled over. When her eyes focused on the clock she sat up suddenly, muttering 'shit'. It was ten minutes until eight and she hadn't even gotten a shower yet.

Trixie and Joe were pulling up outside her townhouse at about the same time. Trixie rang the doorbell and when Nancy didn't come to answer, she pulled out her keys and opened the door.

She walked straight over to the bottom of the stairs, "Nancy, are you awake?"

"Yea, just running late," Nancy called down, "I'll be a few minutes, still gotta get a shower."

Trixie turned and looked at her husband, shaking her head, "You want some coffee?"

"Sounds good to me," Joe said, smiling.

They walked into the kitchen and Trixie pulled the coffee maker out. She turned to empty the old grounds into the trash and stopped short. She set the coffee filter aside and pulled the vase and flowers out, looking at them quizzically.

"Looks like Nan didn't want them anymore," Joe said.

"Yea, one guess why," Trixie said, walking to the sink and adding water to the vase, "These are the flowers HM got her on their first date . . . make that their only real date."

Trixie set the vase down on the table, then returned to making coffee, "She's got it bad, Joe," she said, pouring water into the reservoir.

"It'll work out," Joe said certainly, "They just gotta get through this little road block."

Trixie flipped the coffee maker on, and the smell of rich coffee quickly filled the room, "I am soooo glad I'm out of the dating scene."

"Coulda been outta it a lot sooner if you hadn't been so damn stubborn," Joe said, grinning at her.

"You know you love a challenge," Trixie replied teasingly.

Joe moved in for a grope, "Yea, I do," he said, then a look of dawning understanding crossed his face, "Maybe HM does, too," he suggested.

Trixie put her arms around his neck, "Let's hope so," she said, before reaching up for a kiss.

Nancy walked in a few minute later, her hair dripping wet, in a pair of jeans and a yellow button-down, "Alright, enough of that shit," she said to the involved couple in mock irritation, "This is a G-rated kitchen."

Joe gave his wife one last blatant pinch on the butt, before releasing her. Nancy had stopped by the table, and was gazing at the flowers, "So, who retrieved the daisies from the trash?"

"Guilty," Trixie said, turning to hand her husband a cup of coffee, "And if you think you can toss out your feelings for HM, like you tossed those flowers, you're sorely mistaken."

"Obviously, seeing as how the flowers seem to have become un-tossed," Nancy said resignedly, "Is the coffee ready yet?"

"Yea," Trixie said, "So, what's the game plan with HM?"

"There is no game plan, Trix," Nancy said, "He said he couldn't risk it, and I honestly don't blame him. You know how the General can be when he gets a bug up his butt."

"So you're just gonna give up, just like that?" Trixie asked disbelievingly.

"Just like that," Nancy said, slipping by the couple and pouring herself a cup of coffee.

"Boy, he must really have you on the hook," Joe broke in, then looked at his wife smugly, "Told you he broke through in record time - has her running scared from herself already."

"Excuse me?" Nancy said, eyebrows raised.

"You can't stand the thought of letting somebody, a man, get close enough to really get to know you," Joe said, "And I think what really scares the shit out of you is that it didn't take HM long to get your number."

"That's ridiculous," Nancy said dismissively.

Trixie looked at Nancy discerningly, then turned to her husband with a smile, "That was a very astute analysis, my dear," she said in admiration, "I believe you have hit on the crux of the issue."

"If you two are done with your psychoanalysis," Nancy said impatiently, "We should probably head out and get the bug to the garage."

Trixie and Joe looked at each other and said in unison, "Classic avoidance tactic."

Nancy 'harumphed' in disgust and walked out of the kitchen. Joe and Trixie grinned at each other knowingly as they followed her.

Murdock was the first one awake, and headed straight to the kitchen to start coffee. When it was ready, he poured himself a cup and sat at the kitchen table, reading the newspaper. When he was done with that, he decided it was time to make some breakfast. He was in need of some good comfort food, and figured that pancakes and sausage would work nicely. The rest of the team tumbled out as the smell of the coffee and food worked its way through the house.

Nancy grabbed the keys for her Volkswagen and the sedan off the peg board as she walked briskly out the front door and headed towards the drive, where the two cars were parked nose to nose.

Joe locked the door behind himself, then caught up with Trixie in the lawn, "Hey, beautiful, I'm gonna head into work."

As they said goodbye, Nancy turned at the drive, and sighed, "Alright, the lawn, like the kitchen, is G-rated . . ."

They exchanged one last kiss, and Trixie turned and headed towards Nancy, as Joe walked to the street, where the SUV was parked.

Trixie walked up to Nancy and wrinkled her nose, "You're just jealous," she said.

"Maybe a little," Nancy admitted, then held out the two sets of keys, "Do you want the Stockwell-mobile or the bug?"

Trixie grabbed the sedan keys, "No offense, but I'll take the sedan," she said, turning and heading for the driver's side door of the sedan as Nancy headed for the bug. Trixie unlocked the sedan and pulled the door open, and that's when the blast happened.

Joe, who had just been pulling away from the curb, was blinded by the explosion, which rocked the SUV on its wheels. He slammed it into park and jumped out. He could see Nancy lying prone in the lawn about eight feet from where she had been a moment before, getting into the Volkswagen. Trixie had been blown back about 6 feet into a privet hedge that ran between Nancy's yard and the adjacent property. Neither of them was moving. The front end of the sedan was engulfed in flames and there was broken safety glass and metal shards from the sedan littering the entire area.

Nancy's neighbor, Dan Landry, an EMT, came running out in his robe, and yelled at his wife to bring his kit. Joe ducked into the SUV and got on the radio, "Martin to dispatch. Code 996 at 2320 Vine. Two victims down, need fire and paramedics. Repeat code 996 at 2320 Vine. Two victims down, need fire and paramedics. Martin Code 6A."

Joe didn't wait for the reply, "Fire and paramedics dispatched, squad en route."

He hurried over to where his wife was lying slouched against the privet hedge. Some other good Samaritans had brought fire extinguishers to bear on the flaming sedan, and were working on getting the fire out. Dan was knelt by Nancy, who seemed to have come around, and was waving him away. Dan's wife Nel, came to sit with Nancy, while Dan hurried over to join Joe. It appeared Trixie had gotten the worst of the blast, whether due to proximity, or limited egress was uncertain, but the hedge had definitely done more harm then good, holding her in where she took the brunt of the shock from the explosion.

By now, the sirens could be heard approaching, the first on scene was a black and white, and Joe stood from where Dan was examining Trixie, and shouted to the first officer to set up a perimeter and get the gathering crowds pushed back to make room for the fire and ambulance.