It was with great reluctance that Charlie had to say her goodbyes to Vivian that afternoon. Being able to talk freely about the confusing and complex situation that existed between herself and Murdock had left Charlie feeling slightly less overwhelmed about the matter. Still, Charlie knew that the farther Vivian was from the dangerous reality Rick had created, the safer Vivian would be. The last thing Charlie wanted to do was drag yet another person into the mess she was currently wading through.

Charlie had felt a mixture of loss and relief as Vivian's flatbed truck had trundled from the cabin, followed closely by B.A., Hannibal, and Face in the van who were headed off to continue the task of tracking down Rick and her father. Murdock was once again staying at the cabin, though this time he had plenty to keep him busy as he worked diligently at getting the aging helicopter back in working order.

After tending to the domestic busywork she had distracted herself with the day before, Charlie's initial thought was to go find a spot near Murdock and keep him company as he worked. As she watched him from the doorway however, she realized just how terrible that particular plan was: echoing Vivian's reaction to watching the team work that morning, Charlie found that watching Murdock work was simply far too stimulating. Sweat glistened on his brow, and a smear of grease smudged across one cheek gave him an inexplicably roguish appearance. His long fingers twisted at bolts and tugged at cables, and the muscles in his arms strained and coiled as he attacked stubborn washers with a wrench, and finicky cogs with a screwdriver. Even with almost a hundred feet separating her from the pilot, she felt herself growing warm, incapable of blocking remembrances of those same capable hands playing her body like a virtuoso playing a musical instrument.

With an exasperated sigh, Charlie headed back into the cabin. She had left her duffle bag on the floor of the living room, and now moved to the bag, fishing around in it until her fingers settled on the novel she had packed. She pulled out a well-worn copy of The Catcher in the Rye, lovingly and futilely smoothing out a few upturned corners of tattered pages.

She walked back out the front door of the cabin, and angled herself towards a hammock she had spied yesterday, strung between a set of towering pine trees about fifty feet from the front left corner of the cabin.

Murdock looked up as Charlie walked past, and suddenly, his mouth felt dry. She was dressed in clothing clearly chosen for comfort rather than fashion, but his gaze was hungry as he watched her move. She wore a ratty old pair of very short gym shorts, exposing nearly the full length of her long, shapely legs. Above that, she wore a well-used t-shirt with an unravelling hem and the image of Mighty Mouse splashed across it. The shirt hugged her curves, clinging to the swell of her breasts. A pair of flip-flops clacked and snapped as she walked; she was unaware of the sensual sway of her hips as she did so. Her auburn hair, brilliant in the sunlight, was pulled back into a hasty pony tail. Stubborn tendrils of hair had broken free of the elastic holding her hair in place, curling and tumbling wistfully around her face. Murdock realized with a start that just by watching her, his body was responding physically, and he crouched slightly in his position behind the helicopter to conceal the increasingly blatant evidence of his arousal. What am I, back in high school? he chastised himself, slightly mortified.

Charlie looked up to see Murdock staring back at her with a peculiar look on his face, and she tried to maintain a casual appearance as she offered him a little wave. After a slight hesitation, he grinned broadly and waved back.

When she reached the hammock, she kicked off her flip-flops and clambered into the swinging rope bed. She cracked the book open and began to read, but it wasn't long before the hammock's gentle rocking made her eyelids heavy, and eventually, lulled her to sleep.

*****

When Charlie awoke several hours later, she was surprised to find that dusk had fallen. She looked down at herself and realized she'd been covered with a fleecy blanket she was sure she hadn't fallen asleep with.

"Hiya, sweetheart," came a familiar voice.

Charlie jumped a little upon hearing Murdock's voice, and realized he was standing beside the hammock. Her sleepy brain finally gathered that she must have just been woken by the pilot. She struggled to a sitting position and swiped at her bleary eyes, then turned to look at him, blinking a few times to focus. "What time is it?" she mumbled sleepily.

"Just a little before eight o-clock," he replied, trying to ignore how sexy he was finding the tousled red hair swirling around her shoulders. "I figure if you're falling asleep in the middle of the day, your body must need some extra rest, so the boys and I decided to let you sleep."

Almost fully awake now, Charlie furrowed her brow. "You should've woken me earlier," she told the pilot, her half-hearted reprimand revealing that she was not terribly upset she'd been allowed to carry on sleeping. "So the rest of the team is back?"

Murdock nodded, offering her a hand as she climbed out of the hammock. As she clasped his hand and disembarked, he informed her, "Hannibal thinks they found the warehouse, so they'll be confirming it tomorrow."

Charlie felt both hopeful and frightened. "How'll they do that?" she asked.

"You'll see," Murdock responded with a conspiratorial tone and a grin. "In the meantime, you oughta go put on something a little warmer – I finally finished work on the chopper, and you and I are gonna test her." He looked triumphant.

Charlie looked at him askew, sceptical, though still smiling. "Does Hannibal know this?"

"He does," Murdock confirmed. "He said it was fine as long as we stuck to just testing it."

Charlie's face showed mild surprise. "Really?" She paused for a moment of thought, then said, "I haven't even had dinner yet."

"I just wrapped a plate up for you and left it on the kitchen table; it should still be warm. Just grab it on your way back out, and you can have an in-flight meal," he countered merrily. When Charlie's expression remained unconvinced, Murdock prodded, "Come on, don't you wanna fly with the best pilot ever?"

Charlie laughed. "Alright, alright, I'll come," she finally conceded. "But no crazy aerial acrobatics," she warned. "I like food in my stomach to stay in my stomach."

Murdock offered her a crisp salute. "Yes, ma'am," he stated. "Now, go get ready and meet me by the helicopter."

Charlie nodded and disappeared into the house, returning a short time later. She carried a plate covered with tin foil and had swapped her shorts for jeans. She felt a slight nervousness arise as she approached the helicopter, and tried to stave off the apprehension by reminding herself she would be in the hands of an incredibly skilled, experienced pilot.

Murdock was already in the copter, beckoning her to join him and looking positively giddy with excitement. His enthusiasm was infectious, and once Charlie had settled herself in the seat next to Murdock, she too felt eager anticipation for the flight.

A gleam in his eye, Murdock turned to his passenger and asked, "Ready?" as he wiggled his eyebrows.

Charlie chuckled. "Let's do it," she affirmed.

Using the dizzying array of instruments before him, Murdock began pushing buttons, pulling levers, and flipping switches at an astonishing pace. Charlie heard the rotors above them start to whirl around, slowly at first, then gaining speed. The chopper began to rise up off the ground, and as they ascended, Murdock threw back his head and let out a high-pitched howl at the top of his lungs. Charlie chortled, and before she knew it, she was looking down at an ant-sized version of the cabin.

They flew for a long time, Murdock in a state of bliss as he familiarized himself with the feel of this particular helicopter, putting it through its paces.

Charlie nibbled at her meal of wieners and beans, courtesy of B.A., but ultimately ate very little, far too engrossed in the entirely new world surrounding herself and Murdock. As darkness continued to fall, tiny silver stars appeared from nowhere, bejewelling the velvet night sky. Murdock began pointing out various constellations, and she listened with rapt attention as he related the stories behind the names and formations of each celestial grouping. Their surroundings took on an almost magical quality, and it became clear to Charlie why Murdock was so passionate about flying. The physical distance between their problems on earth and their location in the sky made Charlie feel mentally distanced from the land-bound chaos they had left below. She suddenly felt an overwhelming gratitude towards Murdock for having brought her into this peaceful, ethereal universe. Impulsively, she reached over and grabbed his free hand, interlacing her fingers with his.

Murdock glanced over at his passenger, and she saw his face register momentary surprise, then dissolve into a dazzling smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling slightly as he looked at her.

The moment of connection was shattered almost immediately though when a loud snap from the engine pierced the relative quiet. "Uh… what was that?" Charlie asked, glancing around nervously, withdrawing her hand from Murdock's.

"Dunno," Murdock answered, trying to keep his tone casual. The control of the chopper didn't feel like it had changed, and the rotor above them appeared to be unaffected. When the engine began to make growling noises that gradually increased in volume though, the Captain decided it was time to put the copter down for an inspection, and he began surveying the terrain below for a good place to land. He turned towards Charlie briefly, and saw that she had her hands clasped together so tightly, her knuckles were white. "Nothing to worry about, honey," he assured her, his voice even. "We're just gonna put 'er down so I can take a look."

Charlie nodded, looking wholly unconvinced. She closed her eyes, and only when she felt the massive machine touch down on solid ground did she reopen them. Looking around, she could see that they had settled in a small clearing, surrounded on all sides by dense forest.

Murdock reached over and gave her thigh a reassuring squeeze. "Didn't I tell you we'd be fine?" he asked brightly with a wink, then hopped out of the cab.

Charlie unbuckled herself and clambered out to join him, her legs feeling a little rubbery with relief.

Over on his side of the chopper, Murdock found a foothold just above the skids, and stepped up on it. He popped open the cowling, the engine cover just under the blades. A quick survey of the engine revealed that one of the belts had somehow managed to snag something, leading to a slight kink that was making it very difficult for the belt to rotate easily. Murdock leapt back down from his perch and reached behind the seat in the cockpit, re-emerging with a screw driver. He jumped back up to his previous spot, and made a few adjustments.

"Everything okay?" Charlie asked with concern.

"Yup," returned Murdock. "I should probably do a little more tinkering with her when we get 'er home, but she'll be fine for the trip back."

Charlie sighed, her worries appeased. As Murdock returned his focus to the helicopter, Charlie thought she spotted movement out of the corner of her eye. She squinted into the dense bush. Their surroundings suddenly seemed very dark and foreboding, as it occurred to her that absolutely anything could be concealed in the thick foliage just a few feet from them, and neither she nor the Captain would have any way of knowing it. Suddenly, she saw a glint of light, and as she strained to see the source, she discovered two glowing eyes staring back at her. Panicked, she hissed, "Murdock!" Realizing he couldn't hear her and not wanting to shout, she slowly moved around the front of the copter to the other side. She tried to shut out the voice in her head that kept coming up with all the possible, and largely irrational, things the glowing eyes could belong to: Oh my God, what if it's a wolf? Or a mountain lion? Or… wait, are we in bear country? Where the hell is bear country? When she reached the other side of the helicopter after what felt like hours, she reached up and tugged at Murdock's khaki pant leg. He looked down, and seeing her frightened expression, immediately hopped off his perch.

"What's wrong?" he asked, looking a little frightened himself, though for different reasons.

Charlie moved directly in front of him, grabbing his shirt near the shoulder with one hand and pointing frantically at the glowing eyes with the other. The eyes were definitely closer now.

Murdock frowned and peered in the direction she was pointing. He encircled her protectively with one arm, pulling her against his body in case he needed to shield her. With his free hand, he reached into his jacket and pulled out his pistol, levelling it at the mysterious terror lurking in the shadows. When the creature failed to appear, he pointed his gun upwards and fired, feeling Charlie flinch at the sound.

There was an immediate scrambling sound in the brush, leaves and twigs rustling and snapping with the creature's frenzied movements. Finally, the beast emerged.

A terrified-looking and incredibly fat opossum waddled as fast as he could as he entered the clearing, and streaked (as much as any chubby opossum can streak) in a straight line across the lower half of the clearing before disappearing into another break in the forest greenery.

Pressed against his chest, Charlie could feel his body start shaking with laughter. She pulled away, mortified, as he holstered his gun.

Keeping a firm grip on one of Charlie's hands as she backed away while blushing furiously, he managed to blurt between chuckles, "Geez, that thing was terrifying!", then immediately set to laughing again.

Charlie frowned, feeling incredibly silly. "How was I supposed to know that's all it was?" she huffed defensively. She wheeled around to storm off, but Murdock held tight to her hand, and with a tug, she was spun back and pulled flush to him. She raised her eyes to his, her expression stern. "I do not appreciate being laughed at."

Murdock's laughter subsided, though his eyes still danced with mirth. He reached up and ran a finger along Charlie's jaw. "Now, darlin', I wasn't laughing at you," he insisted. "I was laughing at the whole situation. I was spooked too for a minute there."

Charlie's irritation began to fade at the touch of his hand, and she realized her thinking had become substantially muddled as she breathed in his familiar scent. "Well, I guess that's…" She paused, her thoughts jumbled. She took a deep breath and said with very little conviction, "I guess we should head back." She placed a hand against his chest, intending to push off and step back, but she couldn't seem to make her muscles work. She watched as all traces of humour fled from Murdock's eyes, and a very different look entered them.

He swallowed as he looked down at Charlie. "Guess we should," he murmured, though he too found his body unwilling to respond to his brain's efforts to back away. Instead, he felt his body react with seeming indifference to his intentions. The hand that had been gripping hers now turned to interlace the fingers of their hands together. "We should really go," he said again, in a low, husky tone, his other hand sliding down to the small of her back.

Like Murdock, Charlie too could feel her body reacting. She knew damn well she needed to put space between herself and the Captain, but the reasons why were rapidly vanishing, even as she tried to remember them. Looking into Murdock's warm brown eyes and sultry expression, she licked her lips and whispered, "Yeah, we really should…"

Despite their words, the pair stood unmoving, staring into one another's eyes. Quiet seconds ticked by. Finally, with an abrupt primal growl, Murdock muttered, "Oh, the hell with this," and hungrily sealed his lips with Charlie's. The force of the kiss caused Charlie to back up slightly as she clung to the pilot, and she felt the cool exterior of the helicopter press against her back. She returned Murdock's kiss with equal force, lifting off his baseball cap and sending it flying through the air, before sliding her fingers into his soft hair. Their tongues intertwined fervently, delving desperately into one another's mouths in a frantic attempt to alleviate their mutual staggering need.

Murdock finally rocked his mouth from hers and moved to her ear, nibbling on it, smelling traces of a soft perfume she had dabbed on that morning. "Fire me," he rasped, his breath warm against her ear.

It took Charlie a moment for his words to register, her focus being far too occupied by the delicious feeling of his body against hers, and the magic his lips and hands were working. "Wh- …what?" she asked on a whimper.

With her head thrown back, Murdock zealously moved to the expanse of neck offered to him. Between hot kisses, he demanded again, "Fire me. Just for tonight." He moved further down her neck. "Re-hire me later. Just stop being a client tonight."

Even with his clarification, Charlie had to let his words echo in her head a few times before her brain could make sense of them. When she finally grasped what he was asking of her, she was reminded of Hannibal's orders, and a tiny voice in her head told her she should stop. The need she was feeling was so overwhelming however, she was unsure if she could deny it. "Murdock, I…" she began, her voice marked by uncertainty.

For a moment, Murdock's own hesitation surfaced. His breathing heavy, he stopped kissing her and looked up. He saw his own desire reflected back at him in her face, and in a split second, decided life was too short. He reached behind her and lifted her legs, winding them around his hips as he pushed her against the helicopter. He stared at her intensely. "Fire me," he growled, his gaze unflinching.

Feeling his need pressing against her, feeling her own aching need, Charlie looked into the handsome face in front of her. Finally, she took his head in her hands and pulled him so that her lips were at his ear. "You're fired," she whispered triumphantly.

Murdock unleashed a primal rumble, and brought his lips back to Charlie's, kissing her with a fire far beyond anything she had ever known before. The slow, leisurely foreplay and gradual building of pleasure that had defined their first joining was entirely absent as they tugged at each other's clothing, straining against one another.

With one swift movement, Charlie yanked Murdock's t-shirt up over his head, and as soon as she had sent it flying, he returned the favour with her own top. He fumbled with her bra clasp as she eagerly ran her hands over his chest, his springy chest hair tickling her palms as she caressed the familiar contours of his body.

Her bra clasp finally sprung free, and Murdock wasted no time in pulling the undergarment from her, letting it fall heedlessly to the ground. Her breasts heaved in front of him, and he lowered his head to one, his adept fingers seeking out the other. Her breath caught in her throat as his mouth tugged at her nipple, his tongue moving across the sensitive tip of it, while he rolled her other nipple between his fingers, his thumb sliding back and forth over the top of it. Writhing as her pleasure rapidly elevated, she ran her fingers down his stomach and reached into his pants. She wrapped her fingers around him, sliding her hand up and down, while using her other hand to trace circles over and around the tip of his erection with exploratory fingers.

Murdock groaned, and reached down to still the movements of her hands, rasping hoarsely, "No, Charlie…" He struggled to keep control, desperate to keep the encounter from ending so prematurely.

Charlie gave him a sultry smile, the knowledge that she could have such an effect on him making her feel especially sexy. "Good to know," she purred, and reached for his belt, unfastening it hastily, before unbuttoning and unzipping his khakis.

His pants on the ground, Murdock took Charlie's other breast into his mouth, not missing a beat as he kicked the pants from his legs; they landed in a heap next to the chopper. His hands moved to the waistband of Charlie's jeans, and they were both breathing with short, quick gasps as Murdock quickly pushed both her pants and her underwear down her legs, pulling one leg free before passing the empty pant leg between their bodies and yanking it off the other leg, where the garment fell and pooled on the ground.

With her arms around his neck and her legs around his hips, Murdock was now completely surrounded by Charlie's naked form. He ran his hand down the length of one leg, marvelling at its smooth, supple texture, then reached around to cup her full backside in his hand. His lips moved back to her mouth, devouring her as she reciprocated in kind. Murdock shifted, and one of his hands roved across the front of her body and down her stomach, reaching between her legs. Charlie cried out as his fingers found the most sensitive part of her, bringing her to a level of ecstasy she hadn't even known existed.

Murdock's gaze was positively smouldering as he watched the beautiful woman wrapped around him close her eyes, breathing hard and desperate for release. Close to losing it himself, he reached down and yanked off his boxer-briefs, moving with surprising agility for a man holding up a stark naked woman. He placed both hands under her bum, and lifted her slightly. He paused, drawing out the moment.

Charlie's eyes opened and locked on to Murdock's, her body twisting and quivering. "Murdock, please…" she moaned.

The raw need in her tone elicited an immediate reaction from Murdock. He lowered Charlie until he was finally sheathed within her.

Gasping and whimpering, Charlie reached up behind her and found a handhold above her on the helicopter, which she gripped and used for leverage as she began to ride Murdock, bracing herself by placing her other hand on his shoulder.

Murdock groaned, matching her pace as he thrust up into her, his breathing ragged.

Their movements grew faster and more fervent. In the distance, a very fat opossum heard strange, loud noises he had never heard before, and found them to be a little frightening.

Charlie bucked against Murdock faster and faster, until her head spun, and all she could hear was fuzzy white noise buzzing in her ears. Finally, she cried out repeatedly as wave after wave of release crashed over her, every nerve in her body twitching, every muscle in her body spasming at once as she reached her climax.

A guttural noise that was very nearly a howl escaped Murdock's lips, as he too joined Charlie at the precipice of desire and found his release as well, his body tensing and shuddering as he reached his own explosive orgasm.

Covered with a thin sheen of sweat, entwined in each other's arms, the pair leaned into each other, depleted and sated. His legs now weak, Murdock held Charlie tight while they slid as one down the side of the copter until they collapsed on the ground. Murdock briefly moved to reach behind the seats in the cockpit, and grabbed a flannel safety blanket stowed in the back. He returned and laid down next to Charlie, the warm, sweet grass soft against their backs. He threw the blanket over them and they snuggled together, both wearing contented grins.

As her pulse slowed, Charlie looked up at Murdock. "Wow," she breathed.

Murdock looked down at her. "Yeah," he said in a low tone, smiling like an idiot.

A comfortable silence stretched out between them, the sounds of night blanketing the couple as they held one another under a canopy of endless stars. Charlie finally sighed and turned her face up to Murdock. "I think we've gotta head back," she murmured, sounding remorseful.

He reached down with a tender expression on his face, and gently caressed her cheek. "I know," he concurred, sounding just as unhappy about it as Charlie did.

Charlie twisted and fitted the full length of her body to his, her leg sliding lazily between both of his as she traced idle patterns on his chest with her finger tips and tried to ignore the inevitable for just a few more minutes. She was surprised to feel his body react, as his need began to rise and push against her. She looked up at him, grinning.

"Damnit," he muttered. "We've really gotta go."

Charlie snickered at how thoroughly put out the pilot looked. "Fine, alright," she conceded, rolling her eyes.

Murdock put a finger under her chin, and tilted her face to his. "Hey, you know it wouldn't be my first choice, sweetheart," he reminded her.

Charlie sat up, holding the blanket against herself for cover, her bedraggled hair tumbling in glorious waves down her back. She turned to look down at Murdock, now lying with his hands clasped behind his head. "I know," she reassured him.

Eventually they both stood, and searched the surrounding area for their carelessly discarding clothing, dressing as slowly as they could. When they were fully clothed again, they looked at one another, knowing they couldn't delay their return to the cabin any longer. Wanting to savour the last of their secretive encounter before they returned to Hannibal's rules, Murdock stepped forward and slid one arm around Charlie, pulling her close. He gently took hold of her chin with his thumb and forefinger and angled it slightly upwards. He dipped his head down and kissed her tenderly, but thoroughly. Her hands encircled his neck, and she returned the kiss whole-heartedly.

He finally stepped back, searching her eyes with his own. He looked for a moment as though he wanted to say something, but couldn't manage to. Ultimately, he merely sighed, and murmured, "Right, let's go."

Charlie nodded. "Let's go," she repeated.

They reluctantly took their respective seats in the helicopter, then lifted off, disappearing into the warm embrace of the night.

*****

By the time Charlie and Murdock touched back down near the cabin, it was nearly eleven o'clock at night. Murdock flipped a switch and the engine rumbled to a halt. Then he turned and reached for Charlie, bringing her to him for a lengthy, bittersweet kiss. All too soon Murdock was pulling back, and leaning his forehead against Charlie's, his eyes closed. "Just needed one more for the road," he told her in a hushed tone.

"I know," said Charlie sadly, placing her hand against his cheek, her fingers brushing a wayward strand of golden-brown hair from his brow. "Guess it's time to re-hire you," she murmured.

Murdock slowly moved from her and returned to sitting up straight in the pilot's seat, watching her all the while. "Guess so," he returned.

Charlie smiled, but the smile didn't reach her eyes. "You're re-hired, H.M. Murdock," she declared.

He nodded, trying to keep his own demeanour upbeat.

They shared one last longing look, and then they both stepped from the helicopter.

Charlie held up a hand and waved at Murdock as she started for the cabin. "Goodnight, Murdock," she offered, before walking to the front door and disappearing into the house.

Murdock watched her go, then sighed. Feeling far too wound up for sleep, he opted to make himself comfortable in the now-familiar chair on the porch, hoping the quiet might give him the opportunity to try making sense of the maelstrom of emotions swirling around in his brain.

His quiet contemplation didn't last long however, as a creak from the front door opening interrupted his thoughts. Murdock looked up and saw Face emerge from the cabin. The Lieutenant held two bottles of beer in his hand, both speckled with droplets of condensation. He passed one to Murdock, who smiled back with gratitude. The pilot twisted off the bottle top on his beer, finding the whisper of escaping air strangely comforting.

Face settled down on the other chair adorning the porch, and mimicked Murdock's opening of the bottle.

Both men sipped the cold beverages in silence for a few minutes. Eventually, Face spoke. "Quite a long flight tonight, Captain," he remarked, looking at his friend closely.

Murdock's mouth twitched upwards at the corners. "Had to make sure she was running right. Better safe than sorry, Facey," he replied, trying to sound casual.

When Murdock glanced back at his beer, Face rolled his eyes. "And that's the only reason it took so long, is it?" Face then asked, not fooled in the least by Murdock's effort to act nonchalant.

Murdock turned to look at the Lieutenant, plastering what he hoped was an innocent look on his face. "Yeah, of course it is, Faceman. I mean, there's not much trouble two people flying in a helicopter can get into."

Face looked at his friend narrowly. He brought his beer to his lips, and took a long swig, savouring the taste with a thoughtful expression. After a few beats, he said, "You know, I always thought I was the one on top of all the latest fashion trends, buddy."

Murdock frowned at Face, looking thoroughly confused.

"But apparently, you heard about some new, hip way to wear shirts before I did."

The Captain looked down at his shirt, and immediately groaned. It was on inside-out. "Shit," he muttered.

Face smirked and raised his bottle to the pilot before taking a gulp. He swallowed and said, "You didn't actually think you could hide whatever's going on with Charlie from me, did you?"

Murdock grinned sheepishly. "The thought had occurred to me," he said dryly.

Face snorted. "Come on, buddy. I would have had to be deaf not to hear the noises coming from the bedroom that night you two bunked together at the apartment."

Murdock had the decency to blush slightly. "Ah… you heard that, did you?"

Face nodded. "Made me wonder if I should ask you for tips about your moves."

"Couldn't hurt," the pilot returned with a wicked grin.

"That'll be the day," the Lieutenant fired back before taking a healthy swig from his bottle.

The two men sat in silence again, staring into the darkness for a while.

Eventually, Face blew out a long breath and propped his feet up on the porch rail. "So, what's the deal with you two?" he asked guardedly.

Murdock sighed. "I'm not sure," he replied, shaking his head. "But I'm pretty sure there is some kind of deal."

"I'd say I think you're crazy about her, but it seems redundant," Face offered wryly.

Murdock stuck his tongue out at Face. He then took a gulp of beer, and mused, "I gotta tell you though, Face, she's pretty fantastic."

Face looked shrewdly at the other man. He paused for a moment, unsure if he should ask his next question. His curiosity ultimately won out. "Murdock, are you in love with Charlie?"

Murdock sighed into the night air. He didn't reply immediately, unsure of the answer himself. He took a long, slow sip from his beer. At last, he said, "I dunno, Faceman." The Captain shrugged, then looked over at Face. "I'm not even sure I know what love feels like. I mean, I thought I did, with an ex-girlfriend or two, but with Charlie…" He trailed off briefly, then continued. "With Charlie, it's an entirely different feeling."

Murdock's response told Face all he needed to know, but the Lieutenant decided to keep the conclusion he'd drawn to himself. He decided instead that there was a more pressing issue that needed addressing. "Murdock," Face began. "I feel for you buddy, but you know as well as I do that girlfriends and the A-Team just don't mix."

"Maybe they could," Murdock returned, a hint of hopefulness in his tone.

"Murdock, let's be realistic here," Face implored. "We're fugitives."

"I'm not," Murdock was quick to correct his friend.

"You live in the V.A.," Face continued.

"I could find a way to leave for good."

"We travel all the time."

"Have you heard of this new-fangled invention called the 'telephone'?" Murdock flung back.

"We run the risk of being killed every time we go on a mission."

Murdock opened his mouth to speak, but couldn't seem to refute Face's last point. Instead, his voice held clear exasperation and he sounded slightly defeated as he lamented, "Faceman, come on, there's gotta be some way Charlie and I can make it work… you know, if we decide to." The last words of his sentence were hastily tacked on.

"Maybe so, but girlfriends mean distractions, and competing interests."

"Such as?"

Face sighed. "Look, Murdock, you know why we always win?"

"Because you're so handsome?" Murdock asked teasingly.

The Lieutenant pulled a sour face at Murdock before continuing. "Although I am terribly dashing, we win because we're one another's top priorities. We work as one. I know if something goes wrong, or I wind up in trouble, I can count on the Team to fix it." He paused and sipped at his beer.

Murdock frowned. "How would that change if Charlie and I were together?"

"Because women throw in a different priority," Face declared. "When it comes right down to it, a woman you love will always trump the Team." He ran a frustrated hand through his sandy blond hair, then looked intensely at his bottle of beer as he said, "We've all had to make sacrifices for the Team, Murdock. Relationships of any kind are at the top of the list."

The pilot picked idly at the label on his beer. "Well," he said after a while. "You certainly are a Gloomy Gus." His tone belied the levity of his words.

Face's lips twisted into a wry smile. "I think I'm more of a… Realistic… Roy?" he finally finished with a shrug.

Murdock laughed in spite of himself. "Realistic Roy sounds like the worst action figure ever."

Face began to laugh too. "He'd have, like, a beer gut, and a comb-over… and realistic dream-shattering action."

Murdock doubled over laughing, and Face joined him, both glad for the welcome release from their morose conversation.

Once their laughter subsided, Murdock turned to Face. "So, uh… Hannibal doesn't know about what you… overheard that night at the apartment?" he asked, looking guilty.

"You mean, does he know about you and Charlie screaming down the walls?" Face was clearly enjoying the Captain's discomfort.

Murdock turned a little red. "I hardly think we were 'screaming'," he grumbled, pouting.

Face snorted. "Think again. But no, I didn't tell him."

"And my super-fashionable way of wearing my shirt?" Murdock inquired, pulling the front of his shirt away from his chest for emphasis.

"I could probably be persuaded to keep it under my hat," Face offered, looking mischievous.

Murdock groaned. "Alright, what do you want?"

The Lieutenant's face burst into a dazzling grin, his teeth gleaming in the night. "Well, Hannibal's gonna need a wig tomorrow, but I haven't decided which one yet. I thought to be on the safe side, we should have them all ready to go. Which means you can go to the van and brush them all out."

"Aw, come on, Facey!" Murdock whined.

"Plus, all the makeup and prosthetics are just everywhere," Face continued, making sweeping, melodramatic gestures with his hands, and clearly enjoying himself. "So, you can clean that mess up. That way I'll have some free time to not tell Hannibal about your… shenanigans."

"Faceman!" Murdock sputtered.

Face stood and smiled down at his flustered friend. "Oh, come on, I bet you'll have fun."

Murdock grimaced, and ground out, "Not likely." He reluctantly got to his feet and thrust his hands into his pockets. "Do I really have to brush them all out?" he asked, sounding a little desperate. "Even the wino wig?"

Face's smile was positively devilish. "Better safe than sorry, buddy, just like you said, remember?"

Murdock muttered something unintelligible under his breath in response to having his own words thrown back at him.

Face chuckled and opened the cabin's front door. "See you tomorrow morning, Murdock!" he tossed back to the pilot in a sing-song voice.

Murdock grumbled and started to trudge towards the van.

Face paused at the door to the cabin, turning to glance back at his friend's retreating form. It was difficult to tell in the darkness, but Face could have sworn he saw Murdock flip him off.

*****

Colonel John Smith was a man of many impressive skills, but his favourite skill to employ by far was his acting. He took a great deal of pride in his ability to create personas, and was thrilled whenever the opportunity to do so arose. For Hannibal, there was something thoroughly exhilarating about becoming an entirely different person.

Having received confirmation that last night's helicopter test had been a success, Hannibal had announced to Charlie and the team over that morning's breakfast that it was time to move to the next stage of the plan.

Currently seated in the van with Face, the Colonel's excitement was palpable. Face, on the other hand, had the distinct look of a man on his way to the dentist, his body language suggesting he did not share in Hannibal's giddy anticipation.

The Lieutenant looked out the van window at the building they were parked in front of. The dingy, bleak warehouse had grabbed the attention of B.A., Face and Hannibal yesterday. As they had done with several other warehouses Charlie had directed them to, the three men had watched the building for a few hours, looking for signs of activity. Their patient surveillance had eventually paid off when two men had walked out of the building. Both men had come to a halt a few feet from the door they had just exited, and sparked up cigarettes for an apparent smoke break. Once they had reduced their cigarettes to stubs, they had turned around and disappeared back inside the foreboding structure.

The fact that two men had exited and re-entered a building that was supposed to be abandoned was suspicious on its own, but a quick peek through a set of binoculars revealed that both men had guns peeking out from beneath their jackets as well. Hannibal, Face, and B.A. had all felt certain that they had found what they were looking for.

Now mere moments from putting phase two of Hannibal's plan into action, Face absently drummed his fingers on the van's steering wheel. B.A. and his M16 were moving on foot around to the rear exit of the building, ensuring the Sergeant would be prepared if things went South and he needed to run in, or if one of the warehouse occupants got nervous and decided to run out. All that remained was for him to radio Hannibal and Face once he was in position, and the con could begin.

High above the van's parking spot, Murdock was circling around the warehouse, watching for snipers or any other threats, while simultaneously keeping an eye out for anyone who might get spooked and leave the building through an exit the Team had missed in their cursory inspection of the structure's exterior. He was accompanied by Charlie, whom Hannibal had refused to let stay alone in the cabin.

The Colonel leaned forward in the passenger seat, peering upwards through the front windshield in order to get a view of the sky above the van. He immediately spotted the chopper, the call letters of a fake radio station plastered along the sides and bottom of the machine, an added precaution intended to prevent the hovering copter from garnering suspicion.

Growing impatient, Hannibal reached up and flipped down the passenger-side visor, re-checking his appearance for the umpteenth time in the visor's tiny mirror. He was clothed in a finely-tailored, robin's egg blue suit, finished with wide lapels and an ostentatious velour trim of navy blue. Under the jacket was a crisp white dress shirt with a collar and cuffs that were so over-sized, they verged on ridiculous. A black bolo tie lay against Hannibal's chest, and a pair of rhinestone cufflinks shaped like little horses flashed at the ends of his sleeves. The belt he wore was large and gaudy, and black leather cowboy boots peeked from beneath his pant legs. The Colonel had completed the look with a wig of thick grey hair, a matching fake moustache, a wide-brimmed white cowboy hat, and an ample amount of loud, flashy jewellery.

His self-inspection was cut short by a crackle on his walkie-talkie, immediately followed by the gruff voice of B.A. "I'm ready, Hannibal," the Sergeant declared.

Because they were all on the same channel, B.A.'s message was relayed to Murdock up in the chopper, and the pilot was quick to echo the Sergeant's words. "Ready here too, Hannibal," Murdock confirmed.

Hannibal smiled broadly, the jazz already pumping through his veins. "Right," he replied into his own walkie-talkie as he held down a button. "Here we go!" he announced into the walkie-talkie and to Face.

Face took a deep breath and stepped slowly from the van; by contrast, Hannibal jumped eagerly from the vehicle.

They walked together towards what appeared to be the main entrance of the warehouse. While he'd put together an outrageous ensemble for Hannibal, Face's role only required him to wear a business suit, so he'd chosen a sober, charcoal grey one from his own personal wardrobe. The Lieutenant's accessories were equally pedestrian, consisting simply of a pair of glasses, and a clipboard.

When they reached the door, Hannibal and Face looked at one another briefly, then nodded to each other. Face opened the door, and they began their patter the moment they stepped inside.

Speaking loudly, Face said, "You are really gonna love this place, Mr. Wickersham. It's a real find, and quite a steal too."

Hannibal adopted a southern accent for his character. "Well, now boy, I surely hope yer right as rain about this place, yes siree. I ain't in no mood to traipse around this city when I got me a sick mare back home needs tendin' too." As he spoke, Hannibal's eyes darted rapidly around the room. He spotted a few cameras mounted near the ceiling, and several large drums imprinted with the word "flammable". He also noted a metal catwalk that encircled the room high above himself and Face.

The two men heard voices from one corner of the huge, open main floor they had walked into. Because the voices were coming from behind a door a fair distance from them, neither Hannibal nor Face could make out any specific words, but they could both identify at least four distinct voices. The voices stopped abruptly a moment later, and the sound of a heavy metal door sliding open was heard. Face and Hannibal had continued their charade without stopping as they assessed the building.

"Yes, I understand that, Mr. Wickersham, and I certainly don't want to be responsible for your horse getting sicker. Now, you'll find that this building has ample space, and it's completely wired for industrial use. I also want to show you –"

Face's speech came to a sudden halt as a figure stepped from the shadows of one corner of the warehouse.

Hannibal squinted into the darkness, trying to identify the man emerging. The stranger's features became clearer as he moved towards light, and it didn't take Hannibal long to determine that the man wasn't Rick. Charlie had showed the Team a photograph of her ex-boyfriend, and the man approaching looked nothing like the man from the picture. Hannibal noted the man's hand hovering at his side, near his belt, and discerned immediately that this man was armed and prepared to shoot if he needed to.

"Can I help you?" the stranger ground out.

Hannibal plastered a lovely but forced smile on his face, and walked towards the man with his hand outstretched. "Clarence Wickersham the third," he announced proudly. "Owner of Wickersham Textiles, finest textile merchant south of the Mason-Dixon line. I reckoned it was time I expand my fine little enterprise, and this gentleman right here's helpin' me do it." Hannibal looked over at Face as though he had just remembered the Lieutenant was with him. "Oh, I'm sorry, sir; now, where are my manners?" The Colonel gestured to Face. "This here's m' real estate agent, Lawrence Bickerstaff, but I call 'im Larry. Lawrence is just so hoity-toity, don't ya think? Now, what's yer handle, son?"

The man in front of Hannibal and Face was staring at Hannibal slack-jawed, completely thrown by the Colonel's lengthy rambling. Without thinking, he instinctively replied to Hannibal's request for a name, saying, "Garth." In the next moment, Garth realized what he'd said, and cursed under his breath. He struggled to process the barrage of words Hannibal had just assailed him with, and gave his head a little shake to clear it before he spoke again. "Uh, I mean… this place ain't for sale, old man," he growled. He did not shake the hand Hannibal offered.

The Colonel did his very best impression of a man feeling righteous indignation. "Now, see here, boy! That is most certainly not the way a young man ought to address his elders. I reckon you musta been raised in a barn, speakin' like that."

Before Garth could fling more insults at Hannibal, Face jumped in. "Look, Mr…. uh, Garth was it?" Face spit out the name with disdain, like it was something unappetizing he'd stepped in. "I work for Landsdowne Realty – perhaps you've heard of us?" Face reached into an inside breast pocket of his jacket and pulled out a business card, meticulously printed for just such a con.

Garth took the card from Face and looked at it. "No," he grumbled, looking a little lost.

"Well, Mr. Garth, let me assure you that this property is most certainly for sale." Face pulled off his glasses and breathed on them, wiping them with a handkerchief that appeared from nowhere before resting them on his nose again. "You see, we at Landsdowne Realty specialize in acquiring large parcels of land for industrial purposes. Now this particular one used to belong to a Mr…" Face flipped up a piece of paper on his clipboard, and mimed reading the page underneath. "Ah, here it is. It belonged to a Mr. Hooperton. According to our records, the city seized the property after Mr. Hooperton's death, because Mr. Hooperton, it seems, was not a fan of paying taxes."

Garth did not stir from his stupor, and a muscle ticked in his jaw.

Face blinked a few times as he waited for any kind of response from the shifty gentleman in front of him. Receiving none, he carried on, his voice perky. "At any rate, we became aware of this opportunity, and quick as you please, snapped it up, and for a very fair price, I might add." As he spoke the word 'snapped', Face snapped his fingers to emphasize his point; Garth looked like a man who needed visuals.

Hannibal saw an opportunity to jump in, and took it. "And lucky ol' me, I found Larry here, and I'm thinkin' this might just be the place for Wickersham Textiles to lay down stakes for our new warehouse."

Face turned to Hannibal with an eager smile, looking excited. "Gee, really, Mr. Wickersham? Oh, I knew you were a smart business man the minute I saw you! You're making a wise choice here, sir, a wise choice."

Garth finally regained his voice, growing agitated with the animated vignette in front of him. "Look," he bit out. "Like I told you earlier, this place ain't for sale. You two are in the wrong place, so why don't you just mosey on back to your boss, and tell him this ain't the place he bought." The man took a menacing step forward, pulling his shirt up slightly to show both men the butt of a gun tucked into the waistband of his pants.

Hannibal didn't flinch, but Face threw up his hands defensively. "Whoa, whoa. Listen sir, I feel pretty confident that my company owns this property. Perhaps you could come by the office, you know, and we could discuss this like reasonable men? I mean, there's no need to-"

Hannibal spoke up, cutting Face off. "Now, Larry," he soothed, walking over to Face and clapping a hand on his Lieutenant's back. "Any good cowboy knows that you just don't argue with a man when he's got a gun." He tugged the brim of his hat and nodded to Garth. "'Sides, this man sounds pretty confident. I reckon yer office made a mistake there, Larry. Matter of fact, I've got me an appointment with another realtor later today that I oughta be gettin' to. Maybe he can show me a place I can actually buy."

Face adopted a look of horror. "Mr. Wickersham, let me assure you, this place is for sale! If you'll just come with me back to my office…" Face trailed off, the tone of his voice one of sheer desperation.

"Well, Larry, how 'bout I get back to you tomorrow after I see how this afternoon's meetin' goes." Hannibal began walking towards the front door.

Face wheeled to look at Garth. "I'll bring the company lawyers!" he yelped. "I'll bring city officials! I'll…" He trailed off as he saw Garth's hand begin to inch towards his gun. Face swallowed. "Alright, fine, fine. Maybe I'll just send you a 'Thanks for Blowing the Deal,' card, huh?" Looking angry, he threw his clipboard on the floor, appearing for all intents and purposes like a man at the end of his rope. "But you don't fool me, Garth," he barked. "My company owns this place. I was 'Realtor of the Month' for four straight months! You think I got that by showing the wrong properties? I-" Face paused, acting as though his frustration had boiled to a point where he couldn't even speak any more. He whipped around to see Hannibal on his way out the door, then looked back at Garth, his attention appearing torn. He looked between Hannibal and Garth one final time, as though trying to decide which priority to pursue. He finally turned to Garth, threw up his hands and blurted, "Gah!", then immediately pivoted and ran after Hannibal. "Mr. Wickersham! Wait, Mr. Wickersham! If you'll just…"

Though thoroughly unsure of what had just happened, Garth could not help chuckling at the panic in 'Larry's' voice as he yelped and squealed, racing after the older man until they both disappeared from sight.