Dear Guest-Commenter: Hope google translator works for you. And thank you for dropping another note.

Third and final part ... hope it entertains.

"Hey, Frankie."

Frankie looked up from his part of the morning paper. Not that he was so terribly interested in it, but it was still better than Murdock's company. "Morning, Murdock. What're you doing here this time of the day?" Ouch, wrong start. Hopefully Murdock didn't mistake this as a complaint, because that's not what it was. It was mere puzzlement.

"Searching coffee," Murdock answered evenly. Apparently he took Frankie's question the right way. "This today's paper?"

Frankie looked at the paper in his hands. "Well, part of it, anyway. If you want the interesting parts, you better go search somewhere else. BA's got the sports pages, Johnny has politics, Face the financial pages... not that I care much about those." Frankie pulled a face.

"Okay, let me see... sports, politics, finances." Murdock stretched out a finger with each word. "So what else is there in a newspaper?" he strolled over, and plucked the pages from Frankie's hands. "Culture... Or what they call culture round here... Nah, keep it." Murdock handed it back.

"Why, thank you," Frankie mouthed, hidden from Murdock's view behind his regained paper.

"You got some sugar hidden anywhere?" Murdock asked, after he'd poured himself some coffee and milk.

"Ah..." Frankie looked up, suddenly realising that this was the opportunity to become suicidal he'd been waiting for: him and Murdock alone. "Murdock, can I ask you something?"

Murdock halted in his animated search for sugar and looked at Frankie, awareness in his eyes as well as some sort of don't-fuck-with-me-buddy-cause-you'll-only-regret-it-alertness

Well, Frankie had seen tougher situations. He'd survived East-Berlin and San Marcos. He had survived Murdock in the courthouse during the trial. He could survive this. "About yesterday..."

"I wasn't exactly being nice, I know." Murdock didn't sound overly apologetic, though.

"That's not it." Frankie cleared his throat. "I don't want you to apologize or anything." 'Face already did that for you...' And Frankie had to suppress a sudden smile. If only Murdock knew that. "I just want to put a thing or two straight between us."

Now Murdock was really surprised, this was not Frankie's usual tone with him, after all. So he pulled up one eyebrow and sat down opposite of Frankie.

"Well, you're not going to pretend that things between us are fine, are you?"

Murdock, still with that surprised look, shook his head.

"And I dare say it's not entirely my fault –"

"You were in it with Stockwell." Murdock's voice was icy and fiery.

"Well, I only have this one father. Forgive me if I want the best for him."

"This discussion is old, we've had it over and over." Murdock attempted to get up.

"Wait! I'm not angry with you for being angry with me for that. I mean, I understand that, I really do."

"I wonder..." Murdock quipped coldly, but sat back down.

"Never mind. It's something else..." Okay, and how to proceed from there? Frankie rubbed his eyes. Oh, why didn't he just hand Murdock a knife, and tell him to ram it into his chest? Wouldn't that be a lot simpler?

"So, what is it? My coffee's getting cold."

Jump right in, Frankie, it's only ice-water with sharks in it... "You don't have to be jealous of me."

"WHAT?!"

Frankie dropped his head. "I know you'd like to spend more time with the team, live here with them like I do. But I'd swap with you anytime."

"Including fourteen years in the loony-bin?"

Frankie looked up. Where the hell had that come from? Oh, yeah. Man's crazy.

"Frankie, I'm not jealous of you."

"Face thinks you are." Oh good, make it even worse while you're at it, Frankie-boy, why don't you?

"Face?" Murdock sounded winded. He hadn't counted with that.

"He... Yesterday, after you've been gone, he came to me... tried to... make me feel a bit better, I guess."

"About what I did," Murdock caught on.

Frankie shrugged with a conforming sound.

"Well..." Murdock said noncommittally into the silent kitchen.

"He –" Frankie started, but got interrupted by Murdock.

"He thinks I can't stand it that you have them around all hours of the day when I don't?"

"Ah... yeah."

"He's wrong."

Frankie's time to raise his eyebrows in surprise.

"Face thinks that, because it's what he'd feel in my position. I won't deny that I'd like to spend more time with the guys, but what can't be, can't be. I'll even admit that I was picking on you yesterday because I was frustrated about this. I'm human, I'm not perfect. But things will change, and if I have to make them change personally." Murdock was pointing an accusing finger right into Frankie's face for a moment. "I think, if he intended to make you feel better, he also told you that we all like you," he then said slyly, dropping his finger, reaching for his cup.

Frankie nodded. Yep, those guys really knew each other inside out. Even if – provided, Murdock was right – they drew the wrong conclusions sometimes.

"It's true, we do."

"Excepting you," Frankie objected.

"No, including me."

Huh? Frankie resisted the urge to look around for the hidden camera.

"You're a nice enough guy, and I don't hold anything against you," Murdock continued.

"Oh, no?" Frankie did nothing to stop the sarcasm rushing out with the two words.

"No. Even you teaming up with Stockwell. I still don't like it, but I can see why you did it. You made an understandable if bad decision in a very bad situation."

"But you don't forgive me," Frankie threw in.

"I... I don't know if I do." Murdock sounded very subdued with that confession. "However, it's beside the point. Whether I forgive you for that or not is my private issue."

"Oh?" Frankie jumped off his seat. "Well, forgive me if I have a different opinion on that one. I am sorry for what I did. I can't say I wouldn't do it again, because he is my father. But I am sorry. And it matters pretty much to me whether I have unresolved business with somebody."

"Ah, in that case..." Murdock gave Frankie a small smile. "I'm prepared to forgive you."

"Just like that?" Frankie felt like he'd just hit an invisible wall, head on, that had suddenly grown out of thin air in the middle of the kitchen.

"Well, I'm a forgiving person."

"Yeah, only took you... what, two months?"

Murdock shrugged. "Never knew it bothered you so much."

"Well, it does. I like people liking me."

"Who doesn't?" Murdock said, more to himself than to Frankie. Or probably just to the table, or his cup, or an elf that just popped up in his imagination. "What I don't like about you," he continued in a calm but serious tone, "is something you can't help: You are not on par with us. I know how arrogant that sounds, but we are good at what we're doing, very good."

"Extremely good."

Murdock grinned for a moment and wiggled his head. "If you say so, my friend..." But then he turned serious again. "Nevertheless, you are in this with us. We have to put up with what you have to offer, which is not bad, but not as good as it should be."

Frankie considered complaining, but then, Murdock only spoke the truth.

"But you're improving, and one day you'll be with us... maybe." Murdock fell silent and finally took a drink from his coffee. "Wah! No sugar and cold..."

"So you don't like me being the dirt spot on your shiny A-Team?" Frankie tried to sum up what Murdock had just told him.

"What? No!" Murdock put down his cup forcefully. "What I don't like is that we have to work with you when you could kill us. Not intentionally, mind you, but simply because you lack the experience. I don't like anything that endangers my friends."

Frankie felt a cold shiver running down his spine. It was a perverted – and short-lived – rush of ecstasy, to think that he had the power to endanger the A-Team. From the inside out, but still. "I'm doing my best," he said.

"I know. We all know that. But you still have a way to go." Murdock took another sip of his coffee, not complaining this time.

"But I won't walk that way any faster if you keep picking on me." Frankie wasn't through with the topic yet.

Murdock lowered his eyes for just a moment. "Yeah. I'll be a better boy from now on." He got up, and lifted his cup in a toasting motion, before he left the kitchen.

Murdock's done it again, teasing me. I guess he can't help himself. But I gotta grant him that: he's trying. He's really trying to get along with me. He's doing a pretty good job at it, too. Most of the time we're cool with each other. But probably ignoring each other does help with that. However, sometimes, we're actually having fun together. (He even called me muchacho once! Woohoo, where's the fireworks?) The missions are going better now as well, smoother.

Look at me... writing about how "missions go". I guess, Murdock was right, I'm getting better at what I'm doing. Maybe, when this is over... I guess I can't just go back to F/X. It is kind of boring, like Johnny said. – Still can't bring myself to call him Hannibal, but I suspect that'll come, just like everything else.

I'm afraid, I caught a bad case of "The Jazz". It's a thrill, chasing the bad guys, making a difference. Knowing you're on the right side of the line (mostly, anyway, what with Stockwell and all...). Knowing that what you do is of significance. If I blow up a car for a movie... so what? Anybody could do that. Maybe not quite as gracefully as I can, but who cares for grace with an exploding car anyway? But doing what I'm doing with the guys, that's different. I know there are only a few out there who could do that. (I'm proud of myself, yes.) I'm still not in their league, but it's awfully encouraging and motivating that Murdock should think I could get there one day... "maybe". I can make it if he says so, because he would not lie to me. And, when you think about it, Johnny must think the same thing, or he wouldn't put up with me. I've seen sides of that man I haven't known before. Johnny only does what he thinks is right, and what he thinks works. He's not the wacky monster-man like he's made everybody believe. He's... leader of the A-Team. That about says it all.

Once this Stockwell-disaster is over with, we'll most probably part, go our different ways. Staying in contact nonetheless, I hope. But no matter what, I will keep up this line of work, somehow. Going bounty hunting, maybe, just something to remain on the right side of the line and doing something significant.

Johnny's right. The Jazz is a bitch.

END