(This is still slash! If strong men lovin' on one another squicks you out, then turn back now!)

It was a quiet moment, a rare one in their new life. BA wallowed in the warmth and relaxation that followed strenuous exercise. Times like these should be savored, because they sure as hell didn't last. And, yeah, there it was; movement next to him. The rustling of sheets and the squeak of rusty bed springs were about to put an end to the afterglow, and BA tightened his grip in warning. He wasn't cuddling, damn it, he just wasn't ready to get up yet. And Faceman made a fine pillow.

Two (or was it three?) hard orgasms left BA feeling pretty mellow, but apparently it would take brute force to keep pretty-boy in bed after sex. Well, BA could handle that. He squinted one eye open, prepared to issue whatever threats were needed, but he was distracted by the sudden, soft touch on his arm and the dreamy smile on Face's mouth. The lieutenant was stroking his arm slowly, nimble fingers drawing shivers down BA's spine, (hmmm…. maybe pretty-boy could go one more round… and where had he learned to do that thing with his tongue? that move probably wasn't even legal in this state….), but Face was looking at Hannibal. BA looked, too, and had to smile to himself. The Hannibal Smith Idea Factory was in production mode. The colonel sat on the edge of the bed, naked as the day he was born, all long, lean muscle, rolling an unlit cigar thoughtfully between his fingers. His silver-grey eyes were focused on the Plan taking shape in his mind. And, whatever it might be, it would be good. Dangerous, maybe. Exhilarating, definitely. After all, it was Hannibal who could see how they would all fit together; as a team, as friends, and recently, as lovers. BA closed his eyes again, content for the moment to let the future take care of itself.

"What are you thinking about?"

Well, BA thought, so much for the quiet. The only surprise was that the question came from Hannibal. Face laughed softly, rocking BA where they pressed together. "I was just about to ask you the same thing."

Hannibal gave the younger man a faint smile. "I was thinking about where we go from here. What we might need. What might be…missing." Face's hand stilled on BA's arm and the big man felt his breath slow. This sounded like the start of something they never discussed. Not since the first time they fell upon one another. Then, it had been BA's idle curiosity, afterwards, that led to Face's adamant, and surprising, refusal to even entertain the idea. Face's fierce protectiveness ensured the fourth member of their team was always elsewhere during these stolen moments.

Like tonight. It had been a bitch of a drive after a bitch of a job. All of them needed to burn off a little energy. But, Face made sure Murdock had something to do. Oh, it was a quick, lame excuse to leave, but the fool took it, and the bucket, wild eyed and happy.

"We can't keep doing this." Hannibal's deep voice rumbled through the room; a proclamation from God. Who would question? Well, Face…

"Can't keep doing what? Having hot sex in cheap motels? 'Cause, I gotta agree with you on that. These sheets are made from steel wool, and did you see what was in the bathroom? Behind the toilet?"

"Face…"

"The biggest spider in Iowa!"

"Face."

"And, I swear, it winked at me!"

"Face!"

BA suppressed the sigh that wanted to rise from his chest. He knew, as well as Hannibal, that Face could use an avalanche of words as both a weapon and a shield. He would talk, smoothly and steadily, until the listener, dazzled by a beautiful smile, and drowning in words, would agree to whatever he suggested. Face must have been pretty desperate, though, to try that trick with Hannibal. The colonel now pinned Face with a grim expression and spoke deliberately. "We can't keep this from Murdock anymore. It's not fair to him." Such a simple reason; the truth was always the best explanation.

BA waited with interest to see what Face would say next. He had a good idea why the lieutenant insisted Murdock remain innocent and untouched. Hell, they had been a team long enough, and had been through too much together, to have many secrets left. "You'd better keep your voice down. You'll wake BA." So, Face was going for distraction and misdirection. Nice try, but…

"I ain't asleep."

"BA isn't asleep," Hannibal echoed, deliberately sarcastic. Bosco grumbled as he sat up, impatient with the fuss. The quiet moment was well and truly ruined now. It figured the Fool was the cause, even indirectly. BA glared down at Face, taking a second to admire the way the young man filled the bed, tousled and elegant and glowing. In his natural element. It was easy sometimes to forget they were the same age, almost. Face looked almost indecently young and innocent. But, the experience in the cool blue eyes gave him away. Face, without his masks. Beautiful and dangerous. BA's scowl deepened at the silent challenge. "Why you hiding from him? You got something to be ashamed of? Or, you maybe think he doesn't like guys?"

Those were both fair questions, BA thought, if delivered a little aggressively. Well, no one got any where with a problem by beating around the bush. Best to hash it out now, like the colonel wanted. BA already knew the answer to the second question was probably a resounding 'no!'. Face had never been shy about sharing his adventures in bed. BA himself never worried about foolish ideas like orientation. He had learned long ago that the person inside the model was more important than what equipment might come standard. Which was why he rarely went for casual sex. Hard to find an interesting person willing to hook up for only a night. More and more he appreciated the current arrangement; convenient and pleasurable. They were missing only one thing…

Face's mouth tightened even further and he practically launched himself from the bed. He stalked to the pile of clothes discarded in the corner and began pulling on yesterday's shorts with angry, jerky movements. "I'm not ashamed. And it doesn't matter whether or not Murdock 'likes' guys. You know what I mean." Yeah, BA knew. They all did. Hard to hold onto secrets in this group, even if they never talked about them. (Osmosis, maybe) And, the Fool had a bad habit (one of many!) of talking in his sleep. Made BA want to reach into those fractured dreams and beat the memories out. He couldn't beat the ones who had hurt his friend… He breathed deep again.

"What happened to Crazy was a long time ago," he growled. Maybe if he said it out loud he could convince himself. He wasn't likely to convince Face.

"Time," Face muttered, and blue eyes slid past BA's shoulder to frown at something across the room. "That can't be right."

At first, BA was going to refuse to fall for the old 'something behind you!' distraction. But, it was too obvious to ignore. He looked over and saw the beaten clock on the tired night stand. "Eleven-forty five. Huh, Fool's been gone for a while."

Face's frown deepened. "Three hours. He should have been back by now." Hannibal stood and reached for the two pairs of shorts left on the floor.

"He's probably chasing after Billy," the colonel said, tossing clothes at BA.

"Ain't no dog." The response was knee-jerk and BA mentally kicked himself, as he pulled on his shorts, for falling into that verbal trap once again. Those two made it a game to see how riled they could get him over the Fool's non-dog. He had told himself time and again to just let it go; to not give them the satisfaction of his anger. But, even though he could get past the sock puppets (kinda cute, really) and the need for the Fool to name his silverware (at least the utensils were quiet), he couldn't give ground on invisible things. It was hard enough, sometimes, dealing with the things you could see; they didn't need a whole new set of problems over the things that weren't there. But, even as he prepared to defend his position, again, he could see that Hannibal wasn't playing. The older man was focused and intent on Face. The time had finally come to push for resolution, and Hannibal never backed away from a fight over what he thought was right.

"Were you ever going to tell Murdock?" he began. BA sure hoped the answer was yes; hiding from the authorities was one thing, but hiding from each other…

Face pulled his shirt over his head and emerged glaring. "Eventually, yes. But, not just now! With everything so chaotic… I just don't want to cause some kind of flashback." He paused, struggling with what he wanted to say; how to make them understand. "They had him for weeks, Hannibal." he blurted finally. "Weeks. You read the reports. You know what they did to him."

Hannibal nodded slowly, gaze steady as he stood strong against the memory of horror. "I read them. I haven't forgotten. But, like BA said, it was a long time ago. Ten years, now. I'm sure the Captain has come to terms with what happened." Hannibal deliberately used Crazy-man's rank, reminding them all what kind of strength was needed to be what they were. Rangers. Strong, in body and soul. BA silently approved. However cracked Murdock might be, he was definitely strong.

Face became very still and silent suddenly, his focus narrowing down to one point. One phrase in Hannibal's rational argument. "Come to terms," the young man mused, and goosebumps raised quickly across BA's skin. The air in the small room was suddenly thick and difficult to breathe. 'Rangers', BA thought again, irrationally maybe, as Face raised eyes as blue as sapphires. And just as hard. "Tell me, have you ever been raped?"

If the word hadn't been so ugly, if Face's eyes hadn't been so raw and filled with rage, BA might have enjoyed the sight of his CO momentarily speechless. Not much caused Hannibal Smith to flinch. Neither of the other men were fooled by Face's casual tone, the voice of a man commenting on the fine weather. His pain was almost a fourth presence in the room, a scar that never fully healed. And, even though the question was meant only to shock, Hannibal had even the fortitude to answer rhetorical questions.

"No," he said, holding the younger man's gaze, letting his affection show through. He didn't ask the natural follow-up question 'have you?' The answer would have been obvious to even someone who didn't know Face like they did.

The lieutenant nodded briskly, man to man, and tried for an educational tone. "Rape isn't something…" he started, and stopped, suddenly, looking as shocked as BA felt. Face's voice had cracked on the last word; emotion sneaking up on him. He turned quickly to the mirror behind him and began pushing his hair into some kind of order. Dressed in yesterday's clothes, about to go out and help a mad man find his invisible dog; but Faceman still had an image to keep up. It was almost funny. Almost.

He focused on his teammates in the mirror, as though their reflections were easier to face. "Something like that isn't something someone can just get over," he began. Even if his words were deliberately vague, at least his voice was even again. "It's not like a broken arm, healed and forgotten. And it doesn't' matter if it's been 10 years or 20, the person remembers. The body remembers. And, Murdock has other problems…" He breathed deep and pressed his hands flat against the scratched dresser top. "I know you're right. We need to tell him about us…. I need to tell him. Maybe invite him…. But, not just now, okay? It's only been six months since the Army blew us off. We've been bouncing from place to place…. you know Murdock does better with…"

"Structure?" Hannibal suggested, his deep voice warm with understanding.

Face looked relieved. "Yes, structure." He turned, finally to look at them. Plead with them. "We're all he has left. He needs to know that he can -" He stopped abruptly, and BA heard what he hadn't said. 'Trust us.' The big man wondered if he should get mad at that. Of course Crazy could trust them! Didn't they prove it every day? Every mission? What happened in bed wasn't anymore dangerous than taking on Mexican drug lords, or any of the insane Plans Hannibal unloaded on them.

But, somewhere in the last nine years, Face had become the accepted expert in all things Murdock. Maybe it happened when Hannibal assigned Face to keep track of the Med of the Month. Or, maybe it happened after that first nightmare, where BA came out of the bedroom of their rental house the next morning to find the two fools partially on the sofa and partially on the floor, sound asleep with Murdock using Face's foot for a pillow. But, however it happened, BA knew Hannibal would defer to the lieutenant when it came to knowing Murdock's reaction to the threesome. And, BA knew, Face would rather never have sex again than hurt his friend.

Hannibal nodded, already backing down. Or seeming to. Something in his eyes made BA wonder if the wily colonel wasn't about to shift the battleground to one more to his liking. But, he could wait patiently, until his opponent's guard was down. "I'm gonna go out and find him," Face announced firmly, already turning toward the door. Had he seen the calculation in his CO's eyes? Of course he had.

Face jerked open the door and stepped out quickly, intending to get enough space between his team-mates and the argument left unfinished. He needed time to get himself under control, before Hannibal could… But, apparently he moved a little too quickly. He yelped as his foot connected with something that had been pushed against the door. The clatter and thud that followed had the other two men racing out to confront whatever assailant had launched an attack. "What?" BA barked, his hand instinctively reaching for the weapon he hadn't bothered strapping on yet. Face didn't answer; couldn't answer. He was sprawled against the railing that ran around the balcony, staring at the thing he had kicked. An ice bucket, now on it's side, laying in a puddle of half-melted cubes. "Is that…?"

"Ours," Hannibal confirmed, already scanning their surroundings with sharp eyes. BA looked from the bucket, to Face's horror struck gaze, to Hannibal's calm facade. There really was only one explanation for why an ice bucket would be sitting at their door. And if the Fool brought the ice, but didn't bother to come in…

"Ours," Face finally echoed in a whisper. "Oh, shit, he came back and saw us." He seemed on the verge of panic, something that had never happened on a mission. But, this wasn't some kidnapper's ransom note, or a Plan gone wrong; this was Murdock, and Face had no defenses when it came to threats to the pilot's emotional wellbeing.

"He can't have seen us, man," BA told him firmly. "Fool don't have x-ray vision, no matter what he think." He spoke to Face, wanting to calm him down, but it was Hannibal he was looking at. Because, the colonel…. flinched? at the words. Really? What?

"He must have heard us, then! Shit!" Face whirled toward the parking lot below, his hands gripping the rail with white-knuckled intensity. "MURDOCK!" His shout shattered the dull night in this part of Iowa, and BA winced, picturing heads poking out of every door behind them.

"Shut up, fool! You want to wake the place?"

"Oh, shit, shit, shit," Face chanted, almost a prayer. "He saw us, heard us, and ran off!"

"Calm down, Lieutenant." That was Hannibal, already taking charge. "He wouldn't run far. He's just gone into hiding." He didn't dispute Face's deduction, though. The bucket was some pretty strong proof. The young man's expression suddenly brightened with hope at Hannibal's assessment.

"Maybe the van," he started. But, BA put a stop to that thought right away.

"He don't have a key," he reminded them, quickly scanning his Baby for lurking pilots. He wouldn't put it past the Fool to be perched on the roof like a damn vulture. But, the van was quiet and alone, in the back corner of the parking lot. Taking up two spaces. Away from any interlopers. BA was taking no chances.

And, Face knew perfectly well Murdock didn't have a key to the van. Murdock never had keys to anything; keys and the pilot were incompatible. They had all learned early on in the team-ship, that Murdock had an almost photographic memory for names, dates, and equations; and a really amazing ability to recite interesting bits of history (and stupid bits of trivia), but he had a mental block when it came to the location of keys. Jeep, house, gun locker, didn't matter. No key stayed in his possession for more than a day. After one spectacular loss ( a visiting General's limo), Murdock had muttered something about Muggle baiting. Face made sure afterwards that all team used locks were combination, and BA made sure that the Fool never had a key to any vehicle they might need. If Murdock needed to wait for a ride, or wait for someone to let him into the safe house, well too bad.

And, that did raise a question. The Fool didn't have a key to the room they were all sharing. He was just supposed to knock when he got back with the ice; giving the three men in the room time to scramble and try to look decent. So, did he just run off on a tear, chasing his own tail? Or, did he hear them? BA didn't think they were that loud…

BA came back quickly to the cluster-fuck on the balcony as Face whirled to confront Hannibal. "This," he began, pointing an angry finger at the colonel, "This is what I was afraid of!" Hannibal's mouth thinned, and BA waited for him to rip Face a new one; but there was a flicker of something in his eyes BA so rarely saw he couldn't name it right away. Guilt?

"Calm down," he said again. "Nothing's happened to him. And nothing will. Face, go question the desk clerk, maybe he saw which way Murdock went. BA, check the lower level. Laundry room, the housekeeper's closet. I'll check up here," and his eyes strayed for a moment to the roof of the motel. Face made a wounded hiss. "We'll meet back here in fifteen and expand our search if needed."

They scattered to their assignments; well practiced in hunting prey. But, they rarely had to hunt one of their own. And, God knew, Murdock was a slippery little bastard. BA stomped down the balcony, leaving Hannibal behind to search the upper level, maybe even climb the damn roof like a monkey, and contemplated the ruin of his evening. Past twelve now, and the colonel would still have them up at oh-dark-thirty to get back on the road. Pulling the Fool out of some cobwebby hole, kicking and babbling, for a loud, drawn out reunion with Face. Was hot sex really worth all this shit?

Well, yeah.

Face stalked down the stairs, BA following, channeling his anger and worry into action. Some hapless desk clerk was about to get interrogated, and *smiled* at, within an inch of his life. The lieutenant turned the corner at the bottom of the stairs, heading toward the lobby, and suddenly BA was alone. He savored the blessed silence for a moment, before moving to start a desultory search. Wouldn't the Fool just come back on his own, like a cat, when he got hungry enough? Probably; but if was upset enough, who knew what kind of stupidity he could create? And BA had a quick image of Murdock, standing on the shoulder of the highway back there, thumbing for a ride. He'd said something yesterday in the van about how lonely the long distance truckers must get…

BA shook off this nightmare vision firmly. No sense in borrowing trouble. What he needed was a plan. What he needed… He sighed as the answer patted him apologetically on the back. He would need to do something more dangerous than jumping out of any airplane. Something more frightening than facing ten armed insurgents. He would have to think, not logically like Hannibal, not emotionally like Face. He would have to think intuitively.

He would have to think like Murdock.

Quickly, before he could talk himself out of it, he closed his eyes and tried to empty his mind. The Fool's mind was never empty, whatever the Black Forest assholes used to say, but BA would need a clean place to start. He allowed himself a small blasphemy, 'What Would Murdock Do?' (oh, Momma was gonna smack him for that), before opening his imagination to the possibilities. These were endless, really, and it was hard to concentrate as he was intensely aware of how ridiculous he must look right now. Big, black guy with a Mohawk, standing at the corner of a shitty motel with his eyes closed. At midnight. With his chin up, like he's trying to channel the damn spirit world. Shit, just call the cops now.

But, he was also partly responsible for this mess, and Momma taught him to always clean up his messes. So, think like a fool. A crazy fool. A crazy, smart, courageous, handsome fool. BA never lied to himself; what was the point? He didn't run his mouth, like some others he could name, but he never had a problem admitting his feelings to himself. He'd been thinking about Murdock for a while now. Bright eyes seeing the world, not as it was, but maybe the way it should be. He'd wondered what those eyes would look like if BA was buried in his… He breathed deep; concentrate! There'd be time for all that later. Now was the time to listen… and slowly he became aware of a strange sound.

He'd been hearing it ever since they parked the van in the lot. But, city boy that he still was, he'd learned to tune out any unwanted noise. Which included most of nature. It was one thing he and Faceman agreed on right at the start; nature was dirty and unpredictable and was meant to stay outside. Civilized people stayed inside, preferably in five-star hotels with clean sheets and room service. Well, that was mostly Face, but the theory was good. But, Hannibal and the Fool loved being outside, fooling around with camping gear and bugs and shit. Maybe Murdock went to check out this noise; and something inside BA agreed that the Fool would just love to capture one of these… things and bring it back as a pet. All right. Into the woods. And, if he got poison ivy or ticks or something, someone was going to pay.

BA marched with purpose through the parking lot (pausing for a moment next to his Baby to make sure there wasn't a Crazy-man curled underneath) and plunged into the half-assed wilderness that stretched beyond. He wished he'd brought a flashlight as he pushed through the weeds. The moonlight was next to useless, cloud covered as it was. As he walked he wondered what the hell was making that noise. He wasn't completely ignorant when it came to the things 'outside'; part of the privilege of being on Hannibal Smith's team was traveling all over the world. And part of experiencing new cultures was seeing the nature that surrounded those cultures. He'd seen things that should never be seen outside an Animal Planet Special. Leaches the size of a good Polish sausage. A two-headed goat. And spiders that would make a Marine cry for his mommy. (And, that one had been pretty funny. Where Murdock got the camel spider BA didn't want to know; all he knew was Face unlocked the asshole Marine's footlocker and Murdock dropped the thing in and an hour later the Marine screamed like a girly-girl. Asshole deserved it.)

Hell, in Chicago he'd seen cockroaches that could carry off a small dog. But, nothing he'd ever experienced made a sound like this. Crickets? No, crickets weren't that deep, unless…. (and his over-stimulated imagination gave him the vision of giant mutant crickets, with bulging eyes…. damn those two fools and their Monster Movie Marathon!)

BA got himself under control with a growl. Concentrate on the search. Through the grass, toward the trees, looking for a fool. Maybe he decided to make a tree house and… oh, what the hell did he just step on? Quickly, he looked down, ready to defend himself against, well, anything. The thing in the grass hadn't attacked, though, and it was slightly squishy underfoot… He braced himself for the worse, or so he thought. The reality of what he saw was much worse than any imaginings. A battered leather jacket, a faded cap, scuffed shoes, surprisingly white socks, and pocket-shit (wallet, knife, etc.) BA stared at the evidence, feeling like a big game hunter coming upon the scat of some dangerous animal, (aha!). Gotcha. Soon back in a nice dry motel room. But, why strip down? Did he get some fool notion in his head, like that time he thought he was One With the Waterbuffalo? (And, Hannibal swore he would never let Murdock read Kipling again. After the colonel stopped laughing his fool head off.)

Elation at his find fading, BA lifted his eyes and stared at the algae encrusted pond that he'd been able to ignore until now. Until the very real possibility that his teammate decided to take a swim. In cold water. At midnight. After making a really shocking discovery. BA felt horror well in his chest, and he resisted a Face-like urge to bellow the pilot's name across the still water. No, breathe. Think, don't panic. He scanned the area carefully, looking for other places the Fool would go (without shoes, or his precious jacket). Damn. BA wouldn't go back to the others with just Murdock's stuff; he'd stay out here the rest of the night, before he'd face them. Looking. Helplessly, he muttered, "Where are you, fool?"

"Right here."

BA whirled around, instinctively bringing up his hands to block the threat from behind. His 'fight or flight' response had always been set a little to the right of fight, (okay, a LOT), and he was prepared to demonstrate why you should never sneak up on a Ranger. Good thing Murdock had stopped a prudent distance back before announcing himself. The Fool had used some damn accent BA didn't recognize; his 'Surprising BA in a Dark Field' voice, maybe. And, yeah, there he was, unhurt and whole, looking pretty calm, really. BA was so relieved to see him that he immediately started yelling. "What the hell's the matter with you? Coming up from behind, like that? You looking to get yourself killed? I'm gonna pound you into next week! Running off!" He went on for a while, explaining exactly how he felt about teammates demonstrating such irresponsibility. Murdock was strangely silent, watching BA rant, but at the first pause, he wedged in a protest.

"I didn't run off, I was here!"

"Like that make a difference!" BA started, but stopped suddenly as he became aware of Murdock's… state.

Unhurt, unharmed, yeah, but? BA stared. Crazy was covered in mud. Pants rolled to his knees, sure, but it was a fucking useless gesture. He was soaked to the chest, T-shirt clinging to wiry muscles, and his hands dripped green. His feet couldn't be seen under a layer of swamp muck, and his face had finger-smears of brown (war paint?) His hair stuck up in all directions in sticky clumps. BA had seen him in some bad conditions before, but this was… "What the hell happened to you?" Murdock blinked at him in mild surprise and looked down at himself.

"Hmmm. I seem to have gotten a little something…." He brushed absently at his arm. (A little?) "I wanted to know how deep the water went, and since I left my diving bell in my other van, I had to do it the old fashioned way." BA glared; as explanations from Murdock went, that was actually pretty clear. It still managed to piss him off, though.

Especially since now the pilot tilted his head at him, like a bird confronting something shiny in the grass. "And to what do I owe the pleasure of your company, Big Guy? Did you come out for a breath of air? A mid-night constitutional? Will you stroll about and contemplate life's vicissitudes?"

BA's glare morphed quickly into a growl. The Fool knew exactly why he was out here in this shit. That casual, innocent tone was intended to extract the maximum amount of irritation. "You run off and you ask me that? Hannibal pissed" (an exaggeration, but BA felt entitled) "and Face about to rip the town apart looking for you." Not an exaggeration, but BA's hope that guilt over Face's worry would fetch Crazy back were dashed.

Something that might have been a smile touched Murdock's lips. "Yeah, I heard Face making a ruckus." BA was honestly surprised, not that the Fool heard (hell, half of Iowa heard that), but that Murdock didn't come slinking back like a naughty puppy.

"You heard that?" A stupid question, yeah, but BA was feeling a bit out of his element. The maybe-smile grew a little.

"Yup. Heard him and saw him, too. Up on the balcony, practicing tragedy." Murdock nodded sagely. "Juliet's got nothing on the Faceman." No need to ask how Crazy had seen that; maybe he was hid behind a car in the lot, or maybe his eagle-eyes saw everything from the middle of the pond.

BA put his hands on his hips, to keep them from mischief. "You heard, but you didn't come. Why?"

Murdock raised his eyebrows, an elegant movement almost unseen under the mud. "I wasn't ready yet."

BA's hands tightened until he could feel bruises forming on his own skin. Why couldn't Face or Hannibal have been the one to find the Fool? They knew how to talk him down or talk him around. They knew how to use language to manipulate or inspire. BA preferred swift action and blunt facts, to the weaving of words and subtle persuasion. It was so tempting, as Murdock gave him that "Village of the Damned" stare, to just throw the pilot over his shoulder and let the other two deal with Crazy at his most irritating. Maybe as plan B… BA took a fortifying breath. "Are you ready to go now?" he demanded.

Murdock considered the question carefully. "Are you guys done?"

Well, that explained why the Fool was keeping company with the mutant crickets and the mud. Maybe. BA was actually relieved; it was always better to clear the air, and he was fully prepared to thrash out the issue right here. But, he was distracted suddenly by the tone of Murdock's question. Not angry, not accusing or worried. He sounded… wistful. Yeah. But, did that mean…? "Yeah, we done." (For now, a greedy voice murmured in his mind). He hesitated, wondering how far he could push the other man, to understand what… The whole situation had been bothering him for months, and he wanted an end. But, carefully now. "How much did you see?"

"Enough." Murdock looked up at him through those long lashes, and something in the air changed. Charged. Another cloud slid across the moon and BA knew Murdock hadn't moved, but he suddenly seemed closer. "I saw y'all wrapped around each other, like grape vines. Sweet grapes and curly tendrils, and y'all looked good. Ice cream at the county fair good." His accent thickened, warming BA's skin like a caress, distracting him. He needed to understand this; what had changed, how Murdock had changed. The Fool should have looked ridiculous, standing there barefoot and damp. But, he didn't. Not now. No, he looked like something out of a half forgotten story, a creature of the forest with luminous moon lit eyes. Mythical, almost. Fascinating and seductive. How had he never seen this before?

"You looked real good," Murdock murmured, voice low and honeysuckle sweet. Felt more than heard against his overheated skin. "Did it feel good, BA?" He couldn't stop staring; didn't want to stop. This was a mystery he didn't even know he needed to solve. All this time together and he'd never known this was here. This magic.

"Yeah, Crazy, it felt real good." He hardly recognized his own voice. It was hard to concentrate on stupid things like talking, when Murdock's body was turned just so, making promises.

"I'm glad. You deserved to feel good." Simple words, sure, but they sounded honey sweet in the soft air. And, as Murdock began to fiddle with the hem of his shirt, BA realized that Crazy-man had no idea of the effect he was having; to him this was just two friends having a conversation. What Face practiced as an art, Murdock did unconsciously. Natural as breathing, that seductive glance making his blood heat. A dangerous power, for both of them.

BA knew that grabbing the man like he wanted, whether to drag him back to the room or to throw him onto the grass, would be the worst thing. Like grabbing a live wire; he needed to be grounded. And, 'trust us' Face had said/hadn't said, so Bosco tried using his words. He didn't want to mistake what he thought he was hearing. "What about you, man? You deserve to feel good, too. You want it?" Not the smoothest line he could use, but he was done with dancing around the issue. Besides, it was the closest he could get to what Momma would call 'dirty talk'. Verbal seduction was what Face did; BA just wanted to get his hands on the wild thing standing in front of him. Show him pleasure. Tame him, maybe.

Murdock's eyes shifted quickly to something on fascinating on the ground, something only he could see, and just like that the spell was broken. Just two guys standing in a buggy field. "Don't matter what I want," Murdock muttered, shrugging. "Want you fellas to have what you need, and a triangle don't need four sides."

BA stared, frustrated. Once again, he wished Face or Hannibal were here with him; not to translate but to help convince Crazy that he was wanted. The corporal had no patience with metaphor, or the way Murdock twisted the language, playing with it like a piece of gum. But, his meaning this time was pretty clear; and BA didn't know how to talk to him on the same wave length.

Well, he could at least try this time. The four of them didn't talk about their love for one another (they were Rangers, for shit's sake!), but they all knew they could count on one another through Hell and back. Sacrifice for one another. And now, Bosco would show his love by trying to meet his friend half way. 'Triangle' he thought. No, 'square' was too simple for a counter argument. Nothing about Crazy is simple. Metaphor and symbols; one thing meaning another. Layer upon layer. Depth and levels, and suddenly BA had the answer. He scowled at the Fool and put on his most disdainful voice. "Triangle? Fuck, that shit's flat. Flat's boring, man. Pyramid is what I like. They got four sides. Need it to stand up to all that sun and sand and shit. Stand up for thousands of years."

He felt like an idiot saying that shit, but it was worth it. Murdock fixed him with those big eyes, starting to shine like the stars overhead, and damn, wasn't that fine. Was this how Faceman felt after a scam well done? Maybe Bosco would practice with more words. Later. Right now, the Fool was smiling at him like he was a fucking hero. Or something; cause Crazy still had to be a smart ass. "Technically, a pyramid has five sides. One on the bottom."

"Fuck you." So much for the art of debate.

"Time to get back 'fore Face shits a brick." Still Murdock stood, like he'd taken root in the field, stubborn as the damn trees.

"I thought you fellas didn't want me like that."

BA sighed. Not over yet; guess the mess they'd made was bigger and stickier. And, Face, he decided, was a fool. (He also didn't know what he was missing, keeping Murdock out. Hot, man.) Face had been putting his own memories and worries on Murdock. Wrapping him in cotton to keep him safe. Hell, nothing they did was safe. "Face thought," he started, but stopped himself because that wasn't right. That was passing the buck, and they were all equally guilty. "We thought you'd maybe not want to be with guys, because, well, of... you-know." That was clear enough, wasn't it? He didn't know if Crazy wanted to talk about It. BA sure wouldn't have if it were him. And, he could only stand so much emotional drama in one night.

Murdock was quiet and still for a full minute (which had to be some kind of record). Considering. And, remembering, maybe. And, predictably, what he said next wasn't predictable at all. "Let me ask you something. Has there ever been a time in your life that someone has told you, young-man Bosco, that you couldn't go somewhere or do something, because of circumstances you couldn't control, or because of who you were?"

A low, dangerous sound rumbled from BA's chest. He knew what Crazy was dancing around. It wasn't a subject that came up very often; none of them gave a damn about what idiots thought. They had more important shit to deal with. But, even though he couldn't manipulate words didn't mean he was afraid of them. "You mean prejudice. Yeah, there's been assholes."

Murdock nodded, calm. He wasn't afraid of words, either. "Someone told you what to do and how you should feel about it. Someone tried to take your power of decision from you for no good reason. And then, told you it was for your own good." He paused, to let that thought sink all the way down, to find the memories of frustration and humiliation. Then…"You don't like being told what to do." It wasn't even a question. His chin lifted, almost arrogantly, and his eyes caught the moon. "Neither do I."

BA considered the Captain for a long moment, realizing how badly the three of them had fucked this up. A cage was a cage; whether it was built by assholes with an agenda or by friends who cared. And, he wondered how he could make this right. "We should have just asked you." What he needed or what he wanted. When had they stopped talking to one another just started assuming? Well, no more of that.

Murdock nodded again. "Yup. Trying to protect me from something that's already happened is pretty stupid." And, before BA could take offense, he smiled. "Stupid, but sweet."

The moon must have finally come out from behind the clouds, because the field suddenly seemed full of light. A light that spread warmth through BA's chest; but it wouldn't do to give in to that smile too easily. "I ain't sweet," he growled. He was opening himself up for the familiar give and take of argument with the Crazy-man, hoping to finally end this soap opera and get back inside. But, Murdock's answer reflected the start of something new between them.

"Not sweet, huh? I guess I'll have to find that out for myself."

The warmth glowing inside BA traveled a little south at that. Definitely time to get back inside. To a bed. BA took a step toward the smaller man, intending to wrap him up and take him in, but the Fool took a corresponding step back, his smile curling slightly. Teasing. Shit. Oh, hell, no. He was not playing tag at this hour. But, before he could put his foot down, (or develop his plan of attack) Murdock asked, casually, "How many times have you guys done it?"

BA stopped his speed, angle, and distance calculations. Weren't they done with this part? The confessions and recriminations? The talking? Then, he remembered he maybe owed Murdock an explanation. Or, at the very least, the truth. "I dunno. A few." Well, the truth could be vague sometimes. Maybe Crazy would be satisfied… He took another slow step and watched as Murdock moved back and tilted his head again. Ready to do this dance all night if he needed to.

"'A few'", he echoed. "You don't mark each occasion with a notch in the van? No commemorative stickers?"

BA glared. "What? You want a number?" Murdock gave him a small, polite smile.

"Yes, please."

Bosco cursed again and ran an impatient hand across his Mohawk. He liked sex, was even (damn!) good at it, but talking about it…. What other details would the Fool ask for?

He saw Crazyman rise up on his toes slightly and glance at the tree line, as though considering making a break for it. And, BA knew that if Murdock got a head start he'd be out here the rest of the night. Dodging through the underbrush; pushing through spider webs. He sighed and gave up. "Five, maybe."

"Starting when?" Murdock returned briskly.

Another sigh. "Since LA docks. 'Bout two weeks after." (And, it had been more about relief than pleasure that first time. The grief and anger charging through all three of them, as the reality of their new situation finally reached bedrock in their souls, had to release somehow. Face, shouting at him about something stupid, BA grabbing his wrist as the fist came up to strike, Hannibal grabbing *his* wrist to keep him from doing something he'd regret. All of them looking at each other and realizing….)

Murdock looked at him now, his expression grave. "An approximate average of one sexual encounter per month can't be optimal for physical or emotional well-being." BA had braced himself for a speech about trust; but, it seemed Crazy was going with his Doctor Feelgood voice.

Bosco rolled his eyes, relieved. "Don't matter how often it is as long as it's good," he snapped back, and blushed. Shit, why were they talking about this when they could be doing it?

He was rapidly using up his store of patience, and Hannibal would be wondering why he hadn't reported in yet. Fuck it. BA lunged and grabbed, and to his shock, Crazy stood and let himself be caught. He felt the delicate wrist turn gently in the bracelet of his enclosing fingers as Murdock took one hesitant step toward him. The pulse was beating rapidly against his hold, like the wings of a trapped bird. But, there was no fear in Murdock's eyes (never was afraid of him), only freedom. And laughter. "So, once a month is good for you, big guy? 'Cause I wouldn't want you to strain something."

BA was about five seconds away from just hauling the Fool in and seeing if that crooked smile tasted as good as it looked. "I can take it as often as you can dish it out," he mumbled. Meant to sound bad-ass, but, damn, that Something was coming back, heating the air between them. Making him want to keep Murdock to himself for a little while longer; take his time unwrapping this gift. Hannibal could wait.

Murdock licked his lips, unconsciously heating BA's blood almost to boiling. "Maybe we can make a quick detour to the van?" he murmured.

It was good to know Crazy was on the same wavelength, but BA's response was automatic. "Not until I stand you in front of a fire hose." Swamp mud in his Baby? No fucking way.

The Fool grinned, opening his mouth to make some fool reply, and yeah, there went the last of BA's patience. He grabbed a fistful of pond-washed hair and pulled Murdock in for their first kiss. Taking advantage of that half opened mouth, pressed together suddenly chest to chest, BA felt the other man stiffen in pure surprise. The bigger man took a moment to remember the last guy who grabbed Murdock unexpectedly staggered away with a broken nose and a dislocated shoulder. But, even as BA started to move to defend himself, Murdock was melting against him. The fingers of Crazy's free hand were exploring everywhere, now. Shirt, hair, skin, everything within reach got equal attention, while that crazy mouth pressed eagerly into BA's assault. Hot, wild, and unpredictable, that kiss, and BA knew he was going to have use everything he had to keep up. Damn, he was looking forward to the challenge.

When he felt that sly hand tugging at his shorts, BA pulled back muttering, "Not here, man." Never mind his own need to just drop Murdock to the ground and *take* him under the moon. And, Crazy seemed to have the same idea. "Why not?" he asked, licking his lips as though memorizing BA's flavor. "I don't think the frogs will mind. Or, does their commentary bother you?"

"Frogs?" BA blinked. "Is that what's making that noise? Man, I thought that was crickets." It was Murdock's turn to blink, (crickets? really?) then the giggling started. Oh, hell, no. He was not about to stand and be laughed at by a crazy man (and the frogs, maybe, who knew?). One, very good, way to shut him up. BA pulled again, this time on Crazy's strong shoulders, and kissed him quiet. Well, almost quiet. BA was willing to accept, and encourage, the little noises of approval. Murdock's hands were fisted in his shirt, possessive now, past that first hesitation. Very good.

BA forced himself back, hoping to see the Fool dazed and compliant. Yeah, right. Murdock grinned again, and abruptly changed the subject. "So, it was Faceman's idea to keep me new in my original packaging? Displayed behind a velvet rope? Murdock Under Glass?" BA snorted in unwilling amusement, and started tugging Crazy-man back toward the motel by that convenient wrist.

"Face was just looking out for you." No need to get into BA's objections, or Hannibal's arguments to force the reveal. (And, BA still hadn't forgotten the mystery of the unlocked motel door….)

Murdock's eyes were full of affection, even as he nodded thoughtfully. Thinking of the best way to demonstrate his objection to being treated as *fragile*. "Face is a sweety-patooty, but I think I need to brush up my knot tying skills. On his socks."

It was BA's turn to giggle at that (a strong, manly giggle). "He hates that, man. 'Specially his dress socks." They were in the motel parking lot now, only a few dozen yards away from the bed, er, room. Man, these shorts were starting to chafe. And the feel of Crazy's wrist, laying contentedly in his fist, was seriously distracting. Were Face and Hannibal back yet? Did it matter?

"Oh, I know," Murdock said cheerfully, as they spotted the rusty stairs. "But, a little sock-yoga is good for the soul. Or sole. Keeps both flexible." They clattered up the stairs and beelined for their door. Both eager now. "Remember, BA", Murdock intoned, "A limber sock, is a happy sock."

BA pushed the key into the lock and pulled. Pulled the door open and the Fool inside. "I'll keep that in mind." Shut the door firmly behind.

Laughter now. Laughter inside and the night outside, just the way he liked it. Just the way it should be.