The new day dawned damp and cloudy, the heat sticking their shirts to their backs as they quickly packed up the camp. Within minutes they were off once more, Ray on point, three soundless figures following him through the dense undergrowth, silent as monks, eyes scanning the gloomy jungle all around them. They knew that the soldiers they had been trailing were close, maybe just hours away through the trees, so caution was essential, their very lives, never mind Face's life, might just depend on it.

As it was they had been travelling a mere forty minutes in tense silence when Ray lifted his hand for them to stop. Hannibal, next in line, but a good twenty feet back, instantly dropped low and passed the hand signal backwards, readying his gun while he did so. Ray crept forward, out of Hannibal's immediate sight and the colonel felt his heart speed up in anticipation of what was to come. It was obvious that Ray had found something, and really, they were too far back still to have caught Charlie up yet, if they had continued at the pace they had been setting so far then it should have been early afternoon before they came upon them. So, what was this? What had Ray seen? A body... the voice in Hannibal's head kept repeating, someone has died and they have left him behind, moved on without him, but who? Not Face, please, not Face.

Ray had disappeared so far into the gloom now, that Hannibal had no idea where he was and was left with a rare and unwelcome feeling of frustration building up inside him. Face had so much to offer, he was maturing into a damn fine young man as well as being an exceptional soldier. Hannibal was impressed beyond words at how he was turning out, the way he looked out for Murdock, juggled the acquisitions Hannibal threw at him, how he was managing his developing relationship with BA, his quick mind, how he could refine Hannibal's plans, offer his own suggestions. Hannibal was proud of him, and was starting to think of him as something more than a man in his unit, something more than just another soldier – and thinking like that was dangerous, was the fast track to nothing good.

Suddenly, Ray appeared in the foliage ahead of him, a silent spectre, gesturing at Hannibal to come forward, his face white and drawn, and with a heavy heart, Hannibal started edging forward.

What he found, took his breath away and as he straightened up in the little clearing where Ray was waiting for him, he quickly scanned around, trying to work out exactly what had gone on. Everyone he could see was dead, and judging by the flies and the smell, had been for at least a day. The nearest body to him was laid at the foot of a sturdy tree, neck broken, long lengths of twine still grasped tightly in his dead hands. Next to Ray there was another corpse, throat cut wide open, the dried blood crusted all over his uniform providing a meal for a hundred or so flies, and the final two lay right in the edge of the jungle, gunshot wounds in each of their heads. Four bodies, four NVA soldiers, no sign of anyone else.

"What do you think?" Ray asked quietly. "You think Face did this?"

Hannibal looked from the gunshot wounds to the slit throat to the man with the broken neck and let out a long sigh. "It's entirely possible," he answered.

"So where's he gone then?"

Hannibal flicked his eyes around the scene of horror once more and then bent down to pick up a length of blood and sweat stained material laid at the foot of the tree as he pondered his answer.

They stayed in the clearing for two hours as they combed it for signs of their man and finally Hannibal had managed to put together a series of events that he felt stood a reasonable chance of being accurate.

"Okay," he said, drawing his men around him, "looks like these Charlie were escorting a prisoner, who may or may not have been Face," Hannibal threw a warning look at Murdock and the pilot nodded, realising that it would be crazy to raise his hopes too high at this point in time, "and they stopped here to make camp for the night." His blue eyes flicked around until he saw the dirty scrap of linen on the ground and bent to retrieve it. "The prisoner was bound and blindfolded, and this guy here" he gestured at the broken body at the foot of the tree, "must have untied him, intending to retie him to this tree for the night."

BA's eyes narrowed, thinking of Face, the anger building up inside him as he thought of him being treated like that.

"But, the prisoner surprised him, broke his neck, took his knife and dispatched that guy," he nodded at the second corpse, "before helping himself to a gun and waiting for the other two to come back."

All eyes fell on the bodies of the men just outside the clearing. "Come back?" Ray asked, confused.

Hannibal nodded. "They must have gone off to scout the perimeter or something, and the prisoner got them as they came back. Look at the way the bodies are facing, they were heading in here, not running off."

All four men nodded. "And... the prisoner?" Murdock asked, obviously making a huge effort not to say, 'Face'.

"Well," Hannibal was still holding the dirty scrap of material, "he was obviously disorientated, wounded maybe and had no idea where he was, so I'm guessing he headed down there," he pointed off to the side of the clearing where the ground started to slope downwards, "so he could find a stream, follow it to a river. Where there are rivers there are bridges and roads and eventually people."

All eyes drifted to the side of the clearing. "So, that's where we goin' then?" BA asked brusquely and when Hannibal nodded, he picked up his pack and slung it over his shoulder. "Well, come on then," he said, his eyes narrow and focused, "let's get goin'."

There was no obvious trail to follow from the clearing, but within two hours, with the team travelling in a fan formation, BA had called over to Hannibal. Fighting through some particularly dense foliage, Hannibal joined him and looked down where the big guy was pointing. "I've been followin' someone's trail here, Colonel," BA explained, "I wasn't sure at first, but it's getting clearer an' clearer with every step," there were deep frown lines on his forehead as he spoke and Hannibal understood why in an instant. "We still followin' then?"

"Of course," Hannibal replied, meeting his eyes. "I know what you are thinking, BA."

"Faceman wouldn't leave a trail like this, one a blind man can follow. He's no amateur."

"Unless he wasn't thinking straight," Hannibal offered quietly, fingers brushing the blood that clung to a frond of elephant grass. "Unless he was injured, exhausted, running a fever..." BA frowned. "Don't give up, big guy," Hannibal patted his arm. "We follow this trail and find out what's at the end, worry about what comes next after that. Right?" BA nodded and they set off once more.

Within an hour the sound of water reached them and Hannibal slowed everyone down, took point himself and edged forward through the lush jungle. The going was heavy, but he almost stumbled out onto the water's edge with the abrupt way the foliage suddenly cleared. Catching himself just in time, Hannibal dropped down into cover and carefully scanned the muddy river bank. He could see that this was a well used spot, hoof prints covered the ground at his feet and he could see a path through the jungle to his left that was obviously used by river buffalo as they came down here to drink. Their huge, heavy feet had turned the entire riverside area into a mud bath, however, with hundreds of deep impressions, each made by a single hoof. He let his eyes travel further downstream, fighting the gathering gloom of the approaching night and suddenly he stopped as he made out a shape fifty yards downstream, half in and half out of the water.

Signalling to Ray to come and take over his position, Hannibal carefully, carefully slid out of his hiding place and down into the thick buffalo churned mud, keeping close in to the higher, more solid bank as he crept towards the mystery shape.

Hannibal was fairly convinced that his team where the only humans in the general vicinity, he'd seen no birds disturbed, heard no alarm calls other than those unavoidably triggered by his team, but his long tour of duty had taught him that suspicion was his friend. He'd seen and heard of many instances where the VC had used dead or injured soldiers and civilians to set a trap for the Americans to walk into. Facts of life like that were a hard but unwelcome truth of this conflict they were fighting.

The light was failing fast, but Hannibal was now close enough to be able to see that the shape in the mud was indeed a person, but further than that, he couldn't make anything else out. The figure was covered in mud, literally coated in it, and from where he was crouching, Hannibal could see that they had fallen onto the muddy river side from the bank above and had obviously tried many times to claw their way back out again. However, due to fatigue or possibly injury, that hadn't been possible, and Hannibal could see the trail in the mud where they had slid back through the mire until they came to a rest with their legs in the turgid water of the river.

All was silent around him, and with one last glance around and the knowledge that Ray was covering his ass, Hannibal broke from the cover of the bank and made for the still, mud covered figure. His heart was pounding as he crept closer and closer, a glimpse of clean trouser leg told him that this was, indeed a US serviceman in front of him, he edged even closer and risked reaching out a hand to grab a mud caked shoulder to turn the figure over and his heart almost stuttered to a halt, even though he'd expected it, even though he'd probably hoped for it, actually seeing Face laid there in front of him like that was a lot to take in.