Velms: Well...maybe ;)

lunaz: Thanks :)

Jago: Heh. Yeah, I figure with all the time spent in the VA, Murdock's gotten to know a lot more about psychiatry than most people :P

"You gave him a WHAT?"

Murdock yanked out of Hannibal's grip and backed off, glaring at the colonel.

"A gun! Okay? You know? Lil black thing, you point it at someone an' pull the trigger, it goes bang? A gun?"

"What were you thinking? He's suicidal! Why the hell would a suicidal man need a gun?"

Murdock looked at him for a few minutes. "Is that some sorta trick question, Colonel?"

He barely had time to blink before Hannibal had seized him again and slammed him into the wall.

"Do you think this is funny, Murdock? Is that it? Huh? You think this is some kind of game?"

The pilot didn't so much as blink. "Sure Hannibal. Go ahead and beat me to a pulp. That'll really help your case with Face, you beatin' up on his best friend."

Hannibal dropped his hold and backed off, mind whirling.

"Was it loaded?"

Murdock folded his arms. "If I say yeah, are you gonna throw me into the wall again?"

"No, but I might throw you out the window." Hannibal sat down. "You want to explain what's going on in your head, Murdock? I thought you were going to try and talk Face out of this, not give him your blessing and a .357!"

"He doesn't wanna die, Hannibal. If he did he'da emptied that gun into his head. That means it's gonna be easier to try and talk him outta it, as you put it."

Hannibal opened his mouth, then closed it again. "Alright. Then tell me something else, Murdock: Face gave that kid the code words and told him to call us. So why is he now acting like he wishes we'd never found him?"

Murdock shrugged. "Rough guess? He can't look at you without seein' what went down between the pair a you last time. He feels guilty about it, an' he feels angry 'cause he holds you at least partly responsible for him takin' off, an' that makes him too ashamed to talk to ya." He paused. "Jus' 'cause he doesn't wanna die, Colonel, it don't automatically mean he wants to come back on the A-Team, an' if you go thinkin' it does, you're gonna open up a whole new set a problems."

Hannibal was silent for a few minutes, thinking this through. Eventually he said again, "Alright, but I'm not going to hide from him, Murdock. If Face wants to hide from me, that's his problem. I won't go into his room, but I'm not going to skulk around the rest of the apartment either! And if he comes out, I'm not going to pretend he doesn't exist."

Murdock frowned thoughtfully. "No, that wouldn't work. Just...let him do things in his own time, okay? I know you, Hannibal. You go harin' round life's corners on two wheels – an' that's when you're bein' cautious – an' sometimes I think you forget that not everyone's as thick-skinned as you are!"

Hannibal opened his mouth again, realised Murdock was probably right and didn't much like coming to that conclusion.

"Where are you going?" he said instead.

"The VA are gonna be lookin' for me by now. I'm gonna find a call box an' tell 'em I lost me in Montana."

Hannibal's jaw dropped. "Montana?"

"You're right. Too far north. Better make it Texas." Murdock considered. "Maybe Fort Worth. I always wanted to go there."

"Why don't you call from here?"

"Someone might trace it. 'Course, they might trace the public call box too, but I'd rather they turn up in the middle a Chicago than knockin' on our door. I'll be back after I'm gone. Try not to talk to Face if you can avoid it, okay?"

Hannibal started to reply, but Murdock had already ducked through the front door and closed it behind him.

A minute or two later, Face's door opened and the lieutenant emerged. He looked surprised, and none too pleased to see Hannibal.

"What are you doing here?"

"I live here, Face, at least until the rent runs out or Decker shows up. Same as Murdock." Hannibal started to add, same as you, then thought better of it.

As Face walked over to the kitchen area, Hannibal added, "You want something to eat, kid? I can fix you a sandwich."

Face froze, then half turned with a cynical smile. "Ah. So not only do you not trust me to shave myself, you don't even trust me with a butter knife either."

Hannibal stared at him, a little taken aback. He'd meant it as a peace offering; he'd hoped that by fixing Face that sandwich, it might encourage the lieutenant to start talking to him, or at least stop seeing him as the enemy. Thoughts of Face giving an encore performance with a knife instead of a razor blade hadn't entered his head.

"What? No. I didn't say that, Face."

"Didn't have to." Face put both hands in the small of his back and stretched, wincing at the dull spike of pain in his wrists, then looked away. "You know what, I think maybe I'll just skip the sandwich, read a book or something."

Hannibal shifted his weight. "Not because of me?"

"Why else?" Face turned to go and Hannibal caught hold of his arm.

"Face, what did you do with Murdock's gun?"

The lieutenant closed his eyes, looking more tired than Hannibal had ever seen him. "Well, obviously not what you thought I might do with it."

"Where is it?"

"In the bedroom." Face was careful not to say my room; that would have implied he was staying.

"I want it."

Face gave a listless shrug. "Take it, then. I don't care. Maybe I'll make that sandwich after all."

"Are you saying that because you think I might be leaving the kitchen?" Hannibal's voice had taken on a slightly strained tone now; the tone of a man trying desperately to keep a hold on his temper.

"I don't give a damn what you do, Hannibal, so long as you don't do it near me."

Hannibal closed his eyes. This wasn't working. This really wasn't working.

"Face...will you just stand still long enough to listen to me?"

The lieutenant turned an icy look on him. "Why should I, Hannibal? You don't seem inclined to listen to me."

He pulled out two slices of bread, hunted around for a few minutes for a plate, then started buttering his sandwich with such force he tore the bread.

Hannibal waited a few minutes to see if Face was going to say anything else, then sighed. "Face—"

"What, Hannibal? You want something?" Face abandoned his sorry-looking sandwich and spun to face the colonel. "Well, that's just tough luck because I don't care! You got that? I. Don't. Care."

He strode away, shoving past Murdock, who'd just come back in, and into his bedroom, slamming the door behind him.

In the ringing silence that followed, Murdock gave Hannibal a long look. "You talked to him, didn't you?"

The colonel shrugged. "A little."

Face opened his door, stalked out, grabbed his sandwich, stalked back into his room and slammed the door again so hard that the picture next to it tumbled off the wall.

Murdock glanced from the fallen picture to Hannibal again. "I won't ask how it went."

Face screamed.

It didn't last long; reflexes he'd developed in childhood had clamped a hand over his mouth before the rest of him was fully awake.

A hand touched his arm and again, he reacted without thinking, lashing out at this new threat. He wasn't strong enough to do any serious damage, but he felt his hand go around someone's throat and moved it further up under the jaw, cutting off the air supply completely.

"Face. Face! It's me!" Murdock grabbed the lieutenant's shoulders. "It's okay! It's okay! Cool it! It's just me. It's okay," he repeated in a somewhat strangled voice when Face didn't show any signs of relaxing immediately. Fumbling at the nightstand, he manged to find the lamp and turn it on.

The lieutenant winced in the sudden light, then frowned as if trying to place him.

"...Murdock?"

"Yeah...Face...throat..."

Face stared at him, then at the grip he had on his friend's throat and snatched his hand away.

"Oh god, Murdock, I'm sorry, I just—"

"Ah, that's okay, Faceman. Hannibal warned me you might do somethin' like that." The pilot massaged his neck. Face didn't think he could ever remember Murdock actually being upset by anything. "You wanna midnight feast? I'm gonna have one."

"Uh...yeah. Sure." Face rubbed his forehead. Now the shakes of the nightmare had worn off, he discovered he was ravenous; the sandwich he'd had earlier had been the first thing he'd eaten in days.

"Be right back!"

Face lay there, mind whirling as he listened to the various bangings, crashings and slammings coming from the other side of the door (Murdock believed that a midnight feast wasn't a proper midnight feast unless you'd snuck around the kitchen in pitch darkness to make it).

With all the noise, the inevitable happened and Face heard Hannibal's bedroom door open. Seconds later, the light clicked on.

"AIIIIIEEEE!" Murdock let out a theatre screech and then started hissing (Face could imagine the pilot writhing in simulated agony all too well). "The...light! It burns! It burns!"

"Murdock..." Hannibal's voice was flat, resigned. "What are you doing?"

"Faceman got the munchies so I'm makin' him a midnight feast, Colonel. You mind turnin' the light out? You're kinda spoilin' it."

Great. Now he's going to start quizzing Murdock about me.

To Face's surprise, however, Hannibal just sighed and said, "Okay, but try and keep the noise down. And don't run us out of pickles this time."

"Ten four, Colonel."

The light clicked out, Hannibal's bedroom door closed and a minute or two later, Face's opened to reveal Murdock bearing a tray containing four chicken sandwiches, two candy bars, four cans of soda (two regular, two diet) and two apples.

Only Murdock would call something like this a midnight feast, Face thought as Murdock placed the tray on the bed, unwrapped his candy bar and took half of it in a single bite. As he reached out for a sandwich, Face caught sight of a sleeping bag and pillows in the corner and raised cynical eyebrows.

"Is that the suicide watch, Murdock?"

"Huh? Oh—" Murdock swallowed his mouthful and shook his head. "No, it's jus' you got this room an' Hannibal got the other an' BA's gonna take the other room when he gets here an' the couch ain't big enough for me to stretch out on."

"Well...you should still sleep somewhere else. I'm not exactly restful company, in case you hadn't noticed."

"Aw, Faceman, I ain't gonna bail on ya." Murdock cracked open his soda and swigged from it. "Anyway, Hannibal snores."

Face managed a grin. "Oh, you noticed that too, huh?"

"Sure did. Just, uh—" Murdock lowered his voice to a more conspiratorial level— "don't ever tell him."

"Tell him what, Murdock? That the great and powerful Hannibal Smith isn't perfect?" Face's voice dripped sarcasm. "No, don't ever let him in on that little secret. The shock could kill him."

"Face..."

It was such a good imitation of Hannibal that Face, who had been paying more attention to his sandwich, started and looked around guiltily, then caught sight of Murdock's grin and glared at him.

"That's not funny!"

"Oh yes it is!" Murdock scrunched loudly at his apple. "Anyway, like I was sayin', I ain't sleepin' in Hannibal's room 'cause he snores too loudly."

"Yeah. Hannibal snores. And I scream." This in a bitter tone.

"Sure, Face, but you only scream for, what? A couple seconds? Now Hannibal, he snores all night." Murdock finished his apple and started work on one of the sandwiches. "I'd rather bunk in with you than him, no matter how weird your ideas are."

Face blinked, then glanced at Murdock. "What do you mean, weird?"

Murdock swallowed the last bit of his sandwich, washed it down with soda and then became serious again.

"Well, for starters, Faceman...you didn't really think we'd kick you off the Team 'cause a what happened to you, didja?"

Face went very still for a minute or two, then said, "Did Hannibal...did he tell you what happened?"

"Nah, didn't say a word." Murdock took a huge mouthful of soda and gulped it down in two swallows. "But I still say if you thought we were gonna boot you out 'cause a...well, whatever it was, then you're as mad as me. An' that ain't good, Faceman. I don't like competition."

Face managed a grin. "Murdock, you're not mad."

"Sure I am!" Murdock leaned back, stretching luxuriously. "I'm mad you didn't come an' try talkin' to me about whatever it was that got you so frazzled."

Face closed his eyes. He did so slowly, as if the movement was physically painful.

"I didn't want anyone to know. I didn't even wanna know!"

"Sure, Face, but ain't it bad enough runnin' from Decker and his goons without runnin' from us as well?"

The lieutenant opened his eyes again, a little groggily. "I'm not running from you guys, Murdock."

"You're not?" Murdock took another swig of soda. "My mistake. Musta been the fact that you snuck out in the deada night an' didn't tell us you were goin' or even where you were goin'."

Face didn't quite meet Murdock's gaze. "Yeah, well, easy mistake to make, I guess."

"No kiddin'. We're your friends, Faceman."

"We?" Face echoed bitterly.

Murdock swatted him on the arm. "Yes, we! Hannibal's been outta his mind since you left. An' you know he got a guilt complex—"

"Oh c'mon, Murdock. That guy never felt guilty about anything in his life! He gets on the jazz and the rest of the world can go hang, including us."

"Now Face, that ain't fair an' you know it! How come you're the only one allowed to feel bad about somethin'?"

"It's not...I don't...I just didn't want him to know. I didn't think he'd understand and I was right."

Murdock shrugged. "Well, maybe not understand in the sense of, boy, I know what that's like, but that don't mean he'd hate you for it."

"I didn't want him to pity me either, Murdock!"

"Naw, Hannibal don't go in much for pity." Murdock finished his sandwich, got to his feet, wandered over to the bed and poked Face's toes. "Move your legs, Faceman, I wanna sit down."

Face moved them obligingly and Murdock hoisted himself onto the mattress, sitting cross-legged, then dragged Face's legs onto his lap and leaned on them.

"Okay. Now are you gonna tell me what's goin' on inside that sneaky little head a yours, or am I gonna have to grab your feet an' tickle it outta you?"

"Don't you dare!" Face jerked his feet away from Murdock, although he couldn't suppress a grin. Swinging his legs around to the side in an effort to avoid temptation, he leaned back against the wall. A comfortable silence descended, broken only by Murdock's eating (unlike some people, the pilot firmly believed that if you were lucky enough to have a good meal, it was your duty to let the whole world know about it).

"You know...I would have told him." Face's voice was very quiet, but sincere, and Murdock toned down his eating a few decibels. "I just...I wasn't ready, Murdock. And you know what else? I thought I could trust him. You know? I thought he'd let me do it in my own time. Instead he just kept piling the pressure on until he got me to crack." The lieutenant buried his face in his hands.

"Aw, c'mon." Murdock scooted up and patted Face on the back, pretending not to notice the harsh edges of his friend's ribs and spine. "He's sorry."

Face raised his head to stare at Murdock. "Sorry! Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

"Not right now, but maybe in a couple weeks once the world's stopped tumblin' around you. In the meantime...are you gonna eat that candy bar?"

"Help yourself." Face could feel his eyelids drooping, his body demanding rest. "Murdock?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry about your throat."

Murdock patted him again. "Aw, that's alright. Ain't no one here knows about it 'cept you an' HM Murdock." He unwrapped Face's candy bar and wolfed it down in a few bites, then hopped off the lieutenant's bed.

"HM. Yeah." Face leaned back, snuggling down among the pillows, torn between a desire to sleep and fear of the nightmares. Something occurred to him, something he'd wondered about for a long time and he voiced it (rather drowsily) before it could get away.

"Murdock?"

"Yeah, buddy?"

"What is your first name?"

Murdock grinned, shook his head but didn't answer. When he looked over at Face again, the lieutenant was already asleep.

Okay, so another chapter done (and now things are going to get interesting ;)) Hope you liked it and if you read, please review!