Well, time for another fic...I'll get Past Lives done soon, though, don't worry :)

Read, review, don't flame :) And thanks to everyone on OtJ (jfm, Ro, Spee, Jes, Myra...) who reviewed these posts there first :D

Face grinned smugly across the pool table at Frankie as he sunk the eight ball and won the game. "That's three to two, Frankie," he muttered happily.

"Ah, come on! Best of seven," Frankie begged.

After putting his pool cue away, Face crossed the room and stood in front of Frankie, his hand out and his grin wide. "Hand it over."

With a groan, he reached into his pocket and pulled a small piece of paper with a leggy blond's phone number on it out, then handed it to Face. "Next one's mine, though."

But before Face could reply, General Hunt Stockwell entered the house, his assistant and Murdock in tow. Murdock was dressed in the uniform of a mall security guard, and had obviously been pulled from his job to accompany Stockwell to the house.

"Nice uniform, Captain," Hannibal remarked from his place on the couch. "New job?"

"You are looking at the new Head of Security for Twin Pines Mall," he replied proudly as he pulled out his baton and whirled it around a couple of times.

BA turned his head and gave Murdock a confused look. "They put iyou/i in charge of security?" he asked incredulously, shaking his head in disapproval.

"We can discuss Captain Murdock's new job later, gentlemen," Stockwell muttered as the team settled themselves on the couches.

When everyone was seated, he signaled to his assistant to dim the lights. On the wall across from the team a photograph of a very familiar looking woman appeared. She was standing in what appeared to be a battleworn city in the desert, and behind her was an old stone building. The walls of the building were an ugly dark brown, a barbed wire fence surrounded the perimeter, and guard towers were posted at regular intervals.

Everyone, with the exception of Frankie, froze and looked uncertainly at one another.

"Amy," Face breathed.

"Four days ago," Stockwell started, seemingly oblivious to the team's reactions, "I received word that Miss Allen had come across evidence that a small business recently set up on the east coast was a front for funnelling money to a Libyan terrorist group. One of my agents was immediately dispatched to bring back both Miss Allen and the evidence. Said agent had forty-eight hours to return or report back."

Hannibal lit a cigar and muttered, "let me guess, you haven't heard a word from this agent?"

"Not quite," Stockwell replied with a tight smile. "Twenty-four hours after the agent was dispatched, we received a brief transmission originating in Al Jawf." The picture on the wall changed from Amy to a map of Libya with Al Jawf prominently featured. "We believe Miss Allen is being held here, at a small, heavily guarded compound west of the city." The slide changed to a close up of the area surrounding Al Jawf with a military stronghold now etched on the map. "Your job is to go in and get Miss Allen out, using your own untraceable weapons, of course."

"And what about this agent of yours?"

Stockwell smiled, making it clear that it was generous act on his part to answer at all. "My agents take care of themselves, Colonel, or they aren't my agents."

Later that night the team found themselves in an unmarked plane entering Libyan airspace. In the back of the plane Frankie and Murdock were preparing an unconscious BA for the jump, while Hannibal and Face checked the weapons.

Face took in a deep breath and released it slowly as he put down the bag he'd been holding, and closed it. "Hannibal, do you think she's...I mean, is she..." He had no idea how to ask what was on his mind, and to be honest, a part of him was afraid to ask anyway, afraid of the answer.

"She'll be fine, kid," the Colonel replied without looking up from what he was doing. "Amy's a strong girl."

"But what about this agent? I mean, Stockwell wasn't exactly very forthcoming with the details there." As much as he hated to vocalize it, he needed to know if he was the only one who had been thinking it. "What...what if this agent is a traitor? What if he's the reason Amy's sitting in a Lybian prison?"

Murdock stood and shook his head. "I don't think so, Faceman. If anything, Stockwell thinks this guy is expendable. Remember what he said about his agents taking care of themselves?"

"Yeah, but Stockwell also trusted that Brown Fox guy, remember?" He was becoming increasingly irritated out of concern for Amy, not that he'd ever actually admit that was the reason. When the hell was the jump, again?

"Relax, kid," Hannibal assured him with a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Amy will be fine."

Leave it to Hannibal to see right through him. Face sighed and ran a hand across his jaw in frustration.

"What about Stockwell's agent?" Murdock asked.

"We only deal with that if we have time," the Colonel replied after a brief pause. "Getting Amy out of there is our first priority."

At that moment a light went off in the cabin, signalling the approaching jump point. The team exchanged worried looks, then checked the equipment and chutes one last time.