Disclaimer: No recognizable characters are mine. No money made.

Due to some encouragement, here's another A-Team fic. My Hannibal crush is still going strong . . .

Enjoy!

This wasn't going to end well.

Here they were, rocketing down the road—thank god for B.A.'s superb driving skills—with Murdock close to a panic attack and Face asking insistently right in his ear,

"What's the plan, Boss? What's the plan?"

Shit if he knew.

The agents after them hadn't started shooting yet; luckily they were in a more or less residential area. Hannibal didn't know how long that particular bit of luck would hold out.

Murdock's panting little breaths became interspersed with high-pitched whines.

"You pull yourself tagether, fool!" B.A. barked at him. "Don't you puke in my van!"

"Concentrate on driving!" Face shouted back at the black man.

"Face—calm Murdock down. There's sedatives in the kit if you need them," ordered Hannibal, above the tension growing amongst the occupants of the van.

Murdock's wheezy panic took a different shrill pitch when he heard the word 'sedative'; now he began begging not to be sedated—"I'm fine, I'll be good, no sedatives, please!"—in between his pantings. Face muttered something insolent but moved back from between the two front seats to attend to their pilot.

"Bosco, you keep going."

"Where'm I going?"

Hannibal watched the car with the Feds in it through the side mirror. As B.A. swerved, taking corners too tightly, his view of them was lost.

"Colonel? Any options?" the black man persisted.

In the back of his mind, he did have an option. He tried to keep that horrible choice there, out of the forefront; he tried to come up with something—anything—else. But as if he could only concentrate on one plan at a time—which is not the case, goddamn it! He was John Hannibal Smith!—nothing else came even close to presenting itself.

"Just keep heading west," he told the driver with a suddenly dry mouth.

With leaden fingers, he dug his phone out of his front pocket and dialed.

Why here? Why did it have to be here?

"What you say?"

Hannibal hadn't realized he'd spoken out loud till B.A. questioned him.

"Nothing," he replied, still hearing ringing on the other end of the line. Making sure he wasn't speaking this time, he hoped feverishly the phone would be answered, then hoped in the same thought that it wouldn't.

"Murdock's coming back to us," Face announced. "Right, buddy? Hanging in there?"

Murdock's reply was bright. "Just a slight lapse, chaps!"

"Fabulous," B.A. muttered.

Hannibal kept an eye on the mirror for another appearance of the Fed's car.

"They're still behind us!" Face told everyone. He had a wider view from the rear windows of the van.

"Shit—" Hannibal started, and then the ringing stopped as the phone was picked up. Without any preliminaries, his men heard him snap into the mouthpiece, "I need a favor. Open up the garage and wait for us. We'll be there in ten minutes."

And again, without typical good-byes or explanations, he hung up and began rooting through the glove compartment.

"Bosco, try to lose them on these streets. Make the next right, then two lefts, then another quick right. There'll be an open right garage door. Pull in and cut the engine."

B.A. glanced at him in disbelieving curiosity but didn't question the directions. Face stuck his head between the seats again.

"Who's waiting for us, Bossman? This is residential; there won't be any repair garages or chop shops around here!"

"Trust me, Face," he told all of them, but his grit his teeth as he said it.

B.A., with more impressive driving, was able to lose the agents for precious seconds. He took the turns Hannibal told him too, even while the former Colonel was distracted digging through a bundle of papers in his lap, and like Hannibal promised, the right side of a detached double garage was open.

"Here?" Face choked. "How is this going to help us? This is a garage next to a bungalow!"

"Both classic cape and craftsman bungalows have two bedrooms upstairs and one downstairs," Murdock told no one in particular.

With the exception of B.A. growling, "He's doing that 'information overload' commercial again," Murdock was ignored.

"Listen to me," Hannibal ordered. When he used that voice, his men were immediately attentive. "Bosco, get out of the cab as soon as it stops. Leave your door open. Murdock, grab our gear—Bosco'll help—and get in the house. Face, change the plates. Be fast. Got it?"

The "yes sirs" he received were reminiscent of the military.

B.A. barely slowed his van as he turned into the driveway. They were in the garage and the door was pulled shut behind them almost before he was out and assisting Murdock with their duffels. He knew Hannibal's orders and so was making his way to the door near the house before he noticed a woman getting into his vacated driver's seat.

"Hey!" he cried.

"Move it, Bosco!" Murdock said, shoving at the big black man.

"But my van—"

"Hannibal's got it. Can't you tell he's got a plan?"

Not quite happy with the situation, he nonetheless allowed Murdock to hurry him to the door.

Face worked efficiently at the license plates, but he overheard Hannibal telling the woman,

"I'm so sorry! I never wanted to have to do this—"

"Get in the house, John!"

"—there are federal agents on our tail—"

"Get in the house with your men!"

Face finished the transfer and was surprised to find himself behind Hannibal as they rushed to the back door of the house. The woman followed them and locked the door behind them.

The two younger men in first stood awkwardly in the kitchen, while Hannibal skirted Face, still attempting to talk to the woman.

"I'm sorry!" he kept apologizing. "We can hide upstairs—"

"Bungalow, Boss!" Face reminded him as he went to the front room to watch out the window.

"What 'bout my van?" B.A. asked over everyone.

"—or just head out the back door again, if you'll keep our bags—"

"John—stop it!" the woman commanded. She physically shushed him with a hand on his mouth. She took the papers he still held, and turned her attention to Murdock and B.A. "Go to the fireplace—move the grate. You can hide there. And don't worry about your van—I just readjusted the seat."

The black man looked confused but once again, Murdock pushed him through the door towards the living room.

"Their car just drove by!" Face shouted.

"Hey Boss!" Murdock cried joyfully. "There's a ladder here! Like a secret passage!"

Hannibal mimicked the confused expression B.A. had given her, but she only smiled and herded him to the living room.

"Quick, gophers! In the hole!" Murdock exclaimed, and didn't hesitate to climb down. B.A. followed, and then Hannibal ordered Face to go too.

When the three had disappeared, he paused long enough to tell her with a grin that was almost normal, "You've never been sexier to me than right now."

"In the hole, gopher," she told him, returning the smile while pushing him lightly on the chest. He almost took her hand before catching a glimpse of a dark car slowing down in front of the house, and hurried down the ladder as well.

B.A. closed the hatch as soon as Hannibal had cleared the ladder. Sound from above was abruptly cut off.

The overhead incandescent lighting flickered a bit before it burned steady. The four stood in the small room, looking at the supplies around them. Two bunks were permanent, with two more folded into the walls above. Shelves held non-perishable food, water, and books. A door at the foot of one bed opened to a small bathroom with an even smaller shower, complete with a supply of soaps and towels. At the far end of the room, a large TV screen dominated the wall.

"Jesus," Face breathed. "Who is this woman? Was she waiting for the apocalypse?"

"No," Hannibal answered with a sinking feeling, the smile he'd managed up above vanishing. "I think she was waiting for us."