Illusions and Hallucinations

Author's note: I want to make it clear that I am not taking a break from The Murdock and the Mudsucker; but I am finding it more difficult to effectively put the A-Team in a murder mystery scenario than originally planned, so I've decided to run this story alongside it so there'll be something new to read while I continue to work on the updates for the first story. A word of warning to the readers, this is going to be quite different from the two previous stories in the Brutus series, so reviews are highly appreciated here so I'll know what everybody thinks of it. Hope you enjoy!

Face tried to read the sign on the road up ahead when the headlight shone on it in the dark, but it passed by in a blur and as the van sped up he felt the whole vehicle starting to skid to one side. "Murdock, watch out!" he warned the man driving, "You're going to run us off the road entirely!"

"I'm sorry, Face," Murdock replied, "I just want to make sure that we lost the men in green and don't have to worry about them sneaking up on us again."

"Well don't do that again," Face said, "You get this thing going too fast, we're going to get top heavy and roll over, we don't need that happening."

"I know," Murdock told him.

They heard a low growling moan coming from the back of the van and Face turned in his seat and said, "Sorry about that, B.A."

"Tell that fool to hurry up and find a doctor," B.A. told Face, "It's getting worse."

Murdock whispered to Face, "We just lost the army, we can't risk getting to a doctor, somebody would report us and we'd be surrounded before we could get out."

"Well Murdock," Face told him, "He's only gotten worse since the last time we stopped anywhere, where're we going to take him?"

"What about Maggie Sullivan?" Murdock asked.

Face caught sight of the next road sign they passed and he shook his head, "Not an option, we're too far from Bad Rock to make it quick enough. The way I see it, we don't need to get him to a doctor so much as we just need to find some place to stop for the night; if he can actually rest then that's going to make all the difference."

"The question is where?" Murdock asked.

"Yeah," Face agreed through gritted teeth, "If a hospital would report us, so would a motel probably."

They could hear the moaning coming from the back of the van and knew they didn't have a lot of choices, and they didn't have a lot of time either.

"What're we going to do, Murdock?" Face asked.

Murdock shook his head gloomily for a minute as he tried to think, and then, he almost stomped on the brakes when the idea hit him. "I know, we can stop off at Jean's house."

"Jean?" Face repeated.

It had been almost two months since any of them had last seen Murdock's wife, Jean Rhodes, though they had been in and out of Los Angeles for six of those eight weeks.

"You think that's a good idea?" Face asked.

"Sure," Murdock looked at him, "Why wouldn't it be? You know she always said if we needed a place to hide out, to let her know, well now we do."

Face picked up the phone, "I'll call ahead and see if she's even there. It might be easier if we break the news to her before storming into her driveway. I just hope she's there tonight."

Face counted the seconds between the rings, on the third ring he heard the receiver being picked up and heard a very familiar voice answer tiredly, "Hello?"

"Jean," he said, wanting to make sure they weren't interrupting anything before he dropped this bombshell on her.

There was a slight pause before the woman on the other end of the line answered, "Hey Face, what's up?"

"Jean, is there someone staying at your house tonight?"

"Just me, why?"

"We're going to be coming in and making an emergency stop there. Is that offer to stay with you still good?"

Again a small pause before she responded, "What's going on, Face?"

He hesitated for a second before answering, "I'll tell you, Jean, but we need to know if we can come in, it'll help if you can be at the door ready when we get there."

"What happened?" Jean asked.

Face wished more than anything that he didn't have to say this. "There's something wrong with Hannibal."

The outside lights were on and Jean was hopping down the porch steps as soon as the van came up the block. She ran out to the driveway where Murdock pulled up at an above normal speed and suddenly hit the brakes. He and Face were the first ones out and went around to the back to help B.A.

"What happened?" Jean asked Face as they went around to get the back doors open.

"It's a long story," Face told her, "We need to get him inside before somebody hears him."

Murdock got the doors open and had his arms out like he was waiting to catch a fly ball, "Okay B.A., we're here, you can get him unloaded now."

"About time," B.A. said as Murdock took one end of the makeshift stretcher they'd put together and the two carried Hannibal out, but not without any trouble. The stretcher hadn't been made just to carry Hannibal on, in the porch light Jean saw leather hospital restraints around his wrists confining them high above his head, and his ankles at the bottom of it, and he was struggling against them, screaming at them to let him go.

"You tied him up?" she asked.

"We had to," Murdock answered, "He won't listen to anybody, he's becoming a potential threat to himself."

Jean ran up and got the door open as they hauled Hannibal in and as they carried him into the living room she could hear the older man screaming something at the others though she couldn't make out what it was. She joined them in the living room and saw B.A. and Murdock set Hannibal on the floor for a moment.

"Let me go," Hannibal told them as he struggled against his restraints, "Get me out of here!"

B.A. huffed and asked Jean, "This couch pull out?"

"Yeah," she said as she helped Face take the cushions off and pull out the hide-a-bed.

Murdock helped B.A. lift the stretcher up and put it on the mattress of the pull-out bed and each undid a set of Hannibal's restraints and tipped the stretcher over so he fell off of it and onto the bed.

"It's about time!" Hannibal told them as he tried to get up, "What was the big idea?"

"What's wrong with him?" Jean asked.

"He's sick," Face answered.

"That's a lie," Hannibal told him, "I'm not sick, now let me up!"

Face ignored their colonel and, turning to Jean he asked her, "You got a thermometer around here that we could prove it?"

"In the junk drawer in the kitchen," she answered, "I'll get it."

"I'll help you," Murdock said as he followed after her.

Jean had only gotten out of his sight for a couple of seconds, but when he found her in the kitchen standing by the drawers under the counter, he could see she was shaking. Jean didn't know Hannibal as well as the others did but she knew him well enough to know he never acted anything like this, and he imagined it was just as much a shock to her as it had been to them.

"What happened to him, Murdock?" she asked as she fished through the drawer.

"Well you know how Hannibal is," he started to explain, "He'd never tell anybody when he's not feeling well. We noticed the last couple of days that he was acting…different, shall we say? Very un-Hannibal-like, and we didn't know what it was, then we found out he's got a high fever. He's been going in and out of delirium, sometimes he doesn't know who we are, or where he is, and the last time he tried to get out of the van while we were going 95 miles an hour, we had to restrain him before he got himself killed."

"Has this ever happened before?" Jean asked.

"Oh I'm sure he's been sick before," Murdock told her, "But he never lets on when we're around. I never really thought about it but I guess he lucked out and only got sick when we weren't on a mission and he was able to rest…but even so I don't think he ever got like this."

"And of course taking him to a doctor is out of the question," she said as she finally found the thermometer.

"Until further notice, yes," he replied, "We just got away from the military police again."

"Never a dull moment with you guys," Jean noted as they went back to the living room.

Hannibal apparently didn't have the strength to pull himself up and actually fight anybody, but as he lay against the flat mattress of the couch's interior, he looked up at B.A. and Face and alternated between who he yelled at that they were crazy and that there wasn't anything wrong with him.

"We'll see about that, Hannibal," Jean said as she walked over to him, "I trust you remember us being in a very similar position to this, only you were the one playing doctor, and I was your unwilling patient, remember?" He made no sign of acknowledgement of what she said and she told him, "Open your mouth, Hannibal."

He glared up at her and just stared at Jean for a minute, then, reluctantly, he opened his mouth. She stuck the thermometer in under his tongue and warned him, "Don't bite down on that, it's not a cigar."

Hannibal sneered at her and spoke over the thermometer but it was too muffled to be understood. When enough time had passed, Jean took the thermometer out and showed it to Face, "103 degrees." At that, Hannibal started to admit defeat and slumped back against the mattress.

Face took a step back and asked, "What're we going to do now?"

"We could chance the hospital," Jean said, "One of us could keep an eye on the administration nurse to make sure she doesn't call out to anyone."

"We could," Face agreed, and shook his head, "But I don't like it. We could be walking into a trap if we did that."

"We could keep him here until further notice and monitor him," Murdock told the others, "And if he shows any sign of getting worse then we will take him to the hospital."

"A fever of that temperature can be treated without doctors, I'm sure?" Jean asked.

Face said only, "I don't remember much but I'm told I had a few of them that high or higher during Vietnam," he shuddered as he recalled, "And there were no doctors to help at that time...nobody was there to help. But we survived, so it can be done."

"Like all other things, just not comfortably," she replied.

Face turned to Jean and asked, "Do you have anything we can give him for his fever?"

She shrugged, "I usually don't keep much medicine in the house, but there's probably some stuff in the kitchen."

"I'll get it," Face said as he cut through the dining room to the kitchen.

"Two days like this?" Jean asked Murdock.

"It's been a gradual process," Murdock explained, "First he just got short with everybody and was always blowing his top at every little thing, always screaming at us if we didn't do something right or get it exactly like he said to, then it progressed until he was ready to chew us up and spit us out if we didn't agree with his plan. But we didn't really catch on that something was wrong until we realized he hadn't gone through any cigars since the day before."

Jean nodded, "That's a bad sign alright."

She felt his forehead with the back of her hand, Hannibal's eyes were closed and he almost looked asleep, but he responded to the touch and leaned into it for a second and grumbled something under his breath.

"Well I guess we better get him out of these heavy clothes," Jean said as she reached for his coat.

"I'll do that," Murdock told her, "He might hurt you. You get his boots off, and be careful because he might kick."

Jean shook her head and said, "I never heard of a fever making anybody a split personality."

Murdock shrugged and replied, "Some people get dangerous when they're sick, when they don't feel well they become a threat towards others in a defense mechanism."

"What is that, hangover from Vietnam?" Jean asked.

"No, just basic human nature in some people," he answered.

"But Hannibal?" she responded.

By now some of the fight had left the colonel so he didn't resist much when Murdock pulled his jacket off of him, and Jean managed to get his heavy boots off without too much incidence. Then Murdock got Hannibal out of his long shirt and the only thing he had on underneath was a white undershirt that had clearly seen better days. As Murdock got one of the couch cushions settled behind him to prop his head up on, Jean pressed her hand against Hannibal's arm and felt the heat in it as well. When she pulled her hand away she looked at a circle on his arm that was whiter than the rest of his skin and she asked, "What's that, bullet wound?"

"No, smallpox vaccine," Murdock answered, "They never go away, and they're worse when you get a second dosage in the army."

Jean looked at him and asked, "You got one too?"

"I do, but you can't see it," he answered.

Face came back with a bottle of ibuprofen and some water and he managed to get Hannibal to swallow a couple of the pills. After that he settled back against the cushion and seemed to go to sleep.

"I think he'll probably sleep through the night," Jean said, then looked at her watch and said, "I know it's late but did you guys manage to get anything to eat earlier?"

"We're fine," Face answered.

"Then I guess everybody can turn in," she said, "You'll find your rooms pretty much the way they were the last time you were here."

It was obvious that Face and B.A. were both exhausted and about ready to drop, and were glad to finally have a chance to stop running for the night. B.A. took the downstairs guest room and Face went to call dibs on one upstairs, only Murdock remained and he sat next to the hide-a-bed and kept his eyes on Hannibal.

"Hey Murdock," Jean jerked her thumb towards the ceiling, "You can go on to bed too, I'll keep an eye on him."

Murdock kept his eyes glued on the Colonel and told Jean, "That's alright, I'll stay right here."

Jean didn't say anything and just nodded, then she said, "Alright, I'll stay up too."

"You don't have to do that," he said.

"Well I like him too," she replied as she sat down in the chair beside him, "So tell me what you guys have been up to, and where does Decker come into the equation again?"

Murdock spent a couple of hours telling Jean about their missions and escapades from the past few weeks, but through it all his voice was monotone and his eyes never left the sleeping Colonel. Jean looked at Hannibal now and then, trying to see what it was Murdock was watching so intensely, but she didn't see anything. All she saw was a sick, middle aged man who was getting the first rest he'd had in several days. Hannibal did appear to be in poor shape, but Jean was sure this wasn't the first time that had happened, maybe just the first time, or the first time in a long time, that his men had seen him this way. It was definitely the first time she'd seen him like this; for no longer than she had known Hannibal, the man always looked like he was in control, and always acted as such. He was never left in a position of vulnerability, but the way he looked now seemed to be a testament to the saying the bigger they are, the harder they fall. Hannibal was always on the top of everything, and now he had slipped, and when he fell, he fell.

Murdock was already wide awake the next morning when Jean woke up; he didn't look like he'd ever gone to sleep the night before, he never left the chair by Hannibal's bedside, he had never stopped watching the man. Jean sat up in the chair she'd fallen asleep draped over the arms of, and got to her feet and said, quietly so she didn't get the whole house up, "Murdock."

"Mm?" he grunted.

"Murdock," she said a bit louder.

"Eh?" he finally turned his head to look at her.

"Go on to bed," Jean told him, "I'll watch him."

She didn't have any idea what in the world she was supposed to be watching or watching for, but she thought it might convince Murdock to finally leave the living room and get a few hours' sleep.

"Yeah, okay," he replied as he stood up. Jean heard him groan and it was obvious he had to have been sitting up all night in one position the whole time.

Jean watched as Murdock left the room and heard him go up the stairs; once he was gone she went over to the hide-a-bed and looked at Hannibal up close to see if he was still asleep or if he was just playing possum.

"Hannibal," she said quietly, and when he didn't respond she got closer and said his name a little louder, still no answer, so she got right next to his face and asked, "Are you in there?" Still no answer, so she tried again, "I know you're alive, I can hear you breathing."

But it seemed that nothing was going to wake the Colonel up until he was ready to wake up. Jean felt his forehead again, the fever was still there. She cursed under her breath, this wasn't looking good. On one hand, ever since Hannibal stopped accusing his Teammates of mutiny, he didn't seem to be displaying any symptoms to offer any insight as to what was wrong. All the same, Jean went over to the bookshelf on the opposite wall and picked up an at-home medical book she'd had for a few years and started looking through it to see if she could find anything that might be of any use to them.

Face had been blissfully lost in a deep sleep, having a nice dream about a beautiful woman he had recently met, when suddenly he felt himself caught in the middle of an earthquake. He realized that it wasn't a part of the dream and he opened his eyes and saw that Murdock was the cause for him being shaken like a rag doll in a dog's mouth.

"Murdock, what's going on?" he asked as he sat up, "What's wrong? Is it Hannibal?"

"Hannibal's still asleep," Murdock told him as he let go of the lieutenant.

Face stared at him wide eyed, "Hannibal's asleep so you decided to wake me up? Why?"

Murdock stepped onto the bed and asked Face, "Do you think Hannibal's going to be alright, Facey?"

"Oh of course he is, Murdock," he answered, "It's probably just the flu or something like that."

"You think so?" Murdock asked.

Face didn't like this line of questioning, especially this early in the morning, and he was anxious to change the subject, "Yeah, it happens all the time."

"But people die of the flu, don't they, Face?" he asked.

"In the 1916 pandemic maybe," Face told him, "But not today, you're in bed for a couple days, you spend two weeks hacking up stuff, and then you're back to normal."

"But what if it isn't the flu?" Murdock asked, "What if it's something else?"

"Like what, Murdock?"

"Well, like some tropical disease," Murdock told him.

"Murdock, we haven't been anywhere near the tropics," Face said.

"That doesn't matter," Murdock said, "People can still get them and never even go to the tropics, they can die from them."

"Murdock," Face was trying to stay calm and trying to get Murdock to do the same thing, "Hannibal is not going to die, he just needs to get some rest."

"I hope you're right, Faceman," Murdock said, but he didn't sound convinced.

Hannibal felt the sunlight on his eyelids and he forced one eye open to look around because he couldn't even remember where he was, and then opened the other eye to get a better look. They were in a house now, he didn't remember coming into it, and he didn't know whose it was. Then he saw the woman asleep in the chair beside him and he remembered, rather he remembered this was Jean's home, but he didn't remember coming here. He sat up and pulled the sheet with him, and he managed to croak out, "Jean?"

At the mention of her name, Jean's eyes popped open and she sat up, "Hannibal, you're awake."

"Yeah," he said, "What's going on?"

"You're sick," she said, "At least that's what I'd guess. They brought you in last night and said you were delirious, didn't know who they were."

"They…Face, B.A.?"

"Yeah, they're around," she said, and pointed, "B.A.'s in the spare room down here, and Face and Murdock are upstairs. Do you remember anything from last night?"

"Last night?" he asked, "What's today?"

"It's Sunday," she answered.

"Sunday?" Hannibal wracked his brain and tried to remember what the last day he could remember was, "I don't even remember what happened on Friday. I remember on Thursday we were driving back from that church in South Carolina…but after that I don't remember anything."

"Well since you're awake now, you can take your medicine again," Jean reached over and handed him a glass of water and two more pills, "You got a high fever and we're trying to bring it down without any outside intervention."

Hannibal tiredly nodded and swallowed the pills. When that was done, Jean asked him how he was feeling in general, and wasn't shy about the fact she was asking to run a comparison to some of the diseases she'd been reading about in the medical book. Hannibal answered that for the most part he just felt tired, and wanted to go back to sleep. Jean didn't let on but this worried her, she knew Hannibal Smith well enough to know he only let on to things that bothered him; and when that happened he could be sarcastic, cynical, spiteful, on rare occasions even downright mean, but he never let on to when something was wrong with him, he never said when he needed to rest. But she agreed that it would probably be the best thing for him, so she took the pillow from behind his head, fluffed it up and put it back into place and let him lie back down and go back to sleep.

"Thanks, Jean," he tiredly murmured as he closed his eyes, "You're a good kid." He reached over with his left arm and Jean wasn't sure what he was reaching for, but he patted her stomach with his hand, then turned on his side and went to sleep.

Once he was out cold, Jean stood up and went over to the wall where a framed portrait of her mother hung on a nail and wire; she took the photo off the wall and turned the wire so the frame spun around, revealing a gun conveniently hidden behind it. She ripped the small pieces of tape that held the gun into place and slipped it down the waistband of her jeans. Then she replaced the portrait and pulled her shirt down over the top of her jeans so the gun wasn't visible, she just hoped Murdock didn't try hugging her later. It was obvious that Hannibal was in no condition right now to fight, and definitely in no condition to come up with a plan. So if Decker or Lynch or any of the army men came to her door today, she would make sure they didn't gain entrance to Hannibal; she would make sure of that by any means necessary. In the meantime, she knew at least two men would be up soon so she went into the kitchen to start on breakfast.

"Maybe you guys ought to get out of here for a while," Jean told Face later that morning, "If Decker manages to pick up the trail, he'll be here and he's going to be looking for you guys."

"What would you do if he did?" Face asked.

Jean didn't answer that. Instead she said, "If I have to, I can get Hannibal to the hospital, and if I take him in, maybe nobody would make the connection. I can always say he's my grandfather."

"No," Murdock said, drawing everybody's attention, "We're staying right here. We don't leave unless Hannibal goes with us."

Jean raised her hands in surrender, "Just a thought, but in the meantime, get B.A. to move the van into the garage, no sense in advertising your presence."

"I'll go tell him," Murdock said, and headed to the living room.

Jean leaned over to Face and asked him, "What do you think is wrong with Hannibal?"

"I'm not sure," he admitted, "Murdock's worried Hannibal's going to die."

"Oh Hannibal isn't going to die," Jean replied.

"Well you know that and I know that," Face told her, "But what about Murdock?"

Jean looked at him and said, "Murdock will never die."

"You know what I mean," Face said, "I've never seen him this worried about Hannibal before."

"Maybe there's a good reason for that," Jean thought, "Incidentally when was the last time Hannibal was in a hospital?"

Face shrugged and said, "A couple years ago when we were in a helicopter crash."

Jean stared at him. They went into the living room and woke Hannibal up to take his temperature again.

"102," Face said and shook his head, "It's taking its time to go down."

"We'll try the traditional route and chill it out of him," Jean replied, "But if that doesn't work then we have to try sweating it out and if that doesn't work, then we gotta get him to the hospital."

"You've done this before?" Face inquired.

"Just on myself," she answered, "After all the times I've been in the hospital I usually avoid the place like the plague, I prefer staying at home and I'm a firm believer in self treatments…but I'm not sure I'd recommend the same for Hannibal. But you know him better than I do, what do you think?"

Face leaned over Hannibal and practically got in his face to see what the Colonel would do; Hannibal turned his head and opened one eye and smiled weakly at the Lieutenant, saying only, "Hi, Face," then he fell back asleep.

"We'll wait," Face told her, and added to himself, but not for long.