This chapter may or may not need a higher rating. No need for graphic language or exact placings of…er…parts. But the show's not over yet! Certain plans must be made!

(And I still write love scene with my hands over my eyes. Just…eh…there's nothing new under the sun, is there? Though you might not want to ask poor B.A. that question…)

Lynch snickered as he watched Murdock flinch away from the hulking physical therapist, who was perhaps pushing the poor guy's leg just a little too hard – the pilot was showing definite signs of strain. Probably didn't know his own strength, Lynch decided, but the guy had come highly recommended by that Russian woman back in L.A. He made a 'timeout' gesture with his hands and Murdock gasped, relieved to finally be lying still again. He was shaking his head, mumbling in what sounded a little bit like Swahili.

"That's enough for now, Igor. You can go now."

The physical therapist nodded and gathered up his exercise mat and weights. Once he was gone, Murdock finally sat up. Lynch helped him to his feet and he staggered over to the bench in the little exercise room, sitting down and stretching his leg out. "Sure as God made little green apples, that man's gonna kill me dead."

"Ah, you'll be fine," Lynch shook his head. "And I know you want to be in tip-top shape before the retrial."

"Well, yeah…" Murdock rubbed the back of his neck, wincing. "I'd much rather walk in there under my own power, anyhow."

"You will. Hey, listen, why don't we go get some lunch? Want the wheelchair?" Lynch grinned wickedly, knowing how he would respond to that, and Murdock didn't disappoint him.

"Oh, you're just a friggin' comedian, aren't you?" he growled. "And yes, I'm hungry. I want…pizza. It's weird, actually…I have these bizarre cravings sometimes, and stomach cramps."

"Cravings?"

"Yeah. Pickles and honey, and peanut butter 'n' onions."

Lynch stared at him, remembering his old friend's strange notions about flavor combinations, but that sounded a little beyond the pale, even for Murdock.

"I'm not putting anything like that on a pizza, James. No way."

"Geesh…save a guy's life, and he still won't eat your cookin' or let him pick the pizza toppings."

Lynch got up and gave the pilot his hand, pulling him to his feet. "Yes, and I would think that as you saved my life, you wouldn't actually set out to end it. What was that stuff you cooked, in Mogadishu?"

"Jerked goat in special sauce. Damn…there it is again," Murdock said, touching his stomach. "Cramps. Really hurts sometimes, too. And I feel nauseated a lot, too. And I've got heartburn." He winced again and made a face.

"Maybe you should get it checked out," Lynch suggested. "Though it's probably just nerves."

"Nerves? I don't have any nerves…"

Seaborn had taken a seat next to Peck, as it was in the front row and she had plenty of legroom. The lieutenant was extremely solicitous, finally demanding that a footstool be found for her, and that a pillow be found for her back (which wasn't hurting, but an extra pillow was nice anyway) and he kept asking her if she needed anything.

"I'm pregnant, not an invalid, Lieutenant," she said at last, relaxing. She felt the babies kicking again – two bumps on the right, another bump on the left – and smiled.

"Are they…you feel them moving?" he asked her, eyes wide. She had finally caved in and showed them the ultrasound photos, and all three men had actually gotten a little misty-eyed and had passed the picture around on the plane during the pre-flight. They had all turned to stare at her belly and murmur amongst themselves, and she had heard Hannibal whisper 'very small'. As if she didn't realize that giving birth to two babies at once was going to be rather unpleasant.

"Yes."

"Can I touch?" he asked her eagerly.

"No."

He looked affronted. "I'm not gonna cop a feel, Seaborn," he said grumpily.

"The only member of your team that will be touching my stomach will be the father of these babies. Period."

"Hannibal! She's not being fair!" Face bleated, twisting around to look back at his CO. "She won't let me touch her tummy!"

"Shuddup already. Those are James's kids, not yours," Hannibal said from the seat behind him, not even lifting his head from the magazine article he was reading about, on livestock breeding. "Read something. I'm finding sheep extremely engrossing. But you do have that glow about you, Seaborn."

"Oh…thank you," she said, blushing.

"Not just a pregnancy glow, either," Face acknowledged. "You glow like a woman in love."

She turned even pinker then and took a sip of water. She finally extracted a crossword puzzle book from her bag and handed it to Peck, along with a pencil. He frowned at the puzzles and finally settled in. "You know, those kids…they'll have red hair and green eyes and sharp minds," he told her, not wanting to further embarrass her. "Be ready for an adventure, for the next eighteen years."

She laughed, softly, and shrugged. "I've already got images of them in my head, actually. The boy is tall and lean, with dark hair and green eyes, and he's so smart its scary to talk to him, because he remembers everything and picks up languages right and left…"

"And the girl?" Face asked, grinning, forming a picture of his own in his head. She'd be hot, that was for sure. Enough so that Murdock would probably threaten to kill him if he even looked at her.

"Red hair, green eyes…taller than me, I suspect. Very slim…"

"Fiesty," Face grinned. "Hot-tempered, prickly…and spoiled rotten by her father."

"You think James would spoil his kids?" she asked, lifting her head off the pillow and looking directly at Peck.

"The girl in particular," he nodded. "He'll be overprotective, that's for sure. I can see him sitting on the couch, cleaning his rifle, whenever the boys come around – and believe me, they'll be coming around in droves. Truckloads of 'em, and every time they knock on the door and say, 'Hi, Captain Murdock, I'm here to take your daughter out', he will hear 'Hi, Captain Murdock, I'm here to have sex with your daughter', and let's just say you'd better have some tranqs and a First Aid kit on hand, 'cause things could get ugly."

Seaborn giggled, covering her face with her hand.

"He'll teach the boy to fly and will encourage him to join the Army, but he'll probably become a lawyer or something. That's how it always works out, anyway. And believe me, the girls will be buzzing around him, too."

"Hm. Well, I suspect I could still teach them marksmanship. I'm better at that than James, anyway."

It almost dark when the plane touched ground, and then it was a lengthy wait to be cleared to disembark. Seaborn's three prisoners were actually quite jovial when they climbed down the stairs and stood on the tarmac, being patted down carefully by four burly US Marshals. Seaborn was worn out by the time they finally got inside, and she was grateful to finally sit down and rest while other Marshals dithered over documentation. The prisoners were all draped over chairs, snoring away, exhausted from the long flight and having to behave so well.

She was just starting to doze off when she felt someone shaking her shoulder. "Miss Buchanan?"

Opening her eyes slowly, she was not a little startled to see Agent Lynch standing there, looking amused. She got to her feet, relieved to not feel any dizziness, and smiled politely at the CIA operative.

"Good to see you, Miss Buchanan," he said, and tilted to the side just a little. His eyes widened just a smidgen and she raised her eyebrow. "Or…both of you."

"All three of us," she nodded.

His eyes widened more than just a smidgen then. "I'm here to take the A-Team off your hands, ma'am."

"What?" She glanced over at the little clot of Marshals still standing around, looking only mildly put out but mainly eager to just get back on the plane and go home.

"Don't worry. They're to be held in a secret location and will be treated with the utmost courtesy until the trial, which is scheduled for April the twenty-fourth, by the way."

She frowned. Her due date. "And…and…Captain Murdock…?"

"He's already there."

Her heart started pounding. "Really? I…I mean…really…well, good."

"He's resumed physical therapy already, but had taken care of much of that on his own while in Germany. I'm afraid he lost a good deal of weight over there, and I don't think he was treated extremely well, but after less than a day, he's showing signs of improvement."

"Is he all right?" she finally asked, wringing her hands. "I mean…I mean…otherwise…"

"He's clean-shaven…eating almost nonstop, getting his color back, and the light is back in his eyes again, I'm pleased to report. Do you want to see him?" he asked her.

She touched her belly. "I can't say that he's quite ready to see me just yet."

Lynch's eyebrow lifted, again just a smidgen. He tilted again, frowned, and finally nodded. "I see. Well. When is your flight back home?"

"Tomorrow afternoon. Three o'clock."

He nodded and handed her a piece of paper. "If you change your mind, the men are at this address, which I'm sure you'll forget as soon as the plane lifts off the ground tomorrow. And again, I can assure you, he and the rest of the A-Team will be treated very well. At my orders."

Hannibal snatched Murdock into a grip that nearly suffocated the pilot, and once he was released, it was B.A. lifting him off his feet and hugging him so fiercely he could have sworn he felt a rib crack. Then, while he was still reeling from overly affectionate greetings, Face grabbed him and it all started again. B.A. pretended he was bleary-eyed because of some unknown Chesapeake Bay allergen. Hannibal snuffled and kept smacking him on the back and ruffling his hair, and Face wouldn't let go of him. He finally just had to duck out of his friend's embrace and limp over to the dining room table, where he sat down in a disturbingly luxurious chair.

"Okay, okay…let's all take a deep breath."

Face sat down opposite him at the table and leaned forward, hands folded on the table. He finally looked at Hannibal, who took a side to Murdock's left, and B.A. sat down at his left.

"So…how're the Astros doin' this season?"

"Very funny," Face said, grinning.

"I'm hungry," Murdock said. "It's weird…past coupla weeks, I've been really, really hungry, but at first, I never could seem to gain weight. Now, I eat constantly and yet I've got stomach cramps and nausea and…what?" He noted that they were all staring at each other. Hannibal looked strangest – if Murdock hadn't known any better, he would have thought the man was about to start crying. "What the hell is wrong with y'all?"

"Just…uh…we're all just so happy to see you again, son," Hannibal said.

Murdock blinked, knowing that was true enough, but this was weird. They were all sitting there, blinking and sniffling, as if they had just seen Steel Magnolias. "Well…anybody need some hormone pills or somethin'?"

B.A. started to say something, but a warning look from Hannibal made him clap his mouth shut and look down.

"Something's wrong. Right? Is something wrong? Lynch told me that the trial was just a…a…blip. A formality, and I have a tendency to take his word for stuff like that, and then we'll be free…but something's wrong? What is it? Somebody tell me, so I can become hysterical, cry for two hours and eat an entire cheesecake!"

"It's nothing like that. But…you say you're having…cramps?" Face asked, brow furrowing.

"Yeah. Cramps. And cravings…I mean, weird stuff. Weird even for me, that is. Like, right now, I really want jelly donuts. I was kind of like when I tried to do a hunger strike, back when I was at a VA in…someplace…and all I could think about was cheeseburgers. I was seein' cheeseburgers everywhere. Even the nurses looked like cheeseburgers, which frankly was an improvement on most of them, and frankly I had a hard time imaginin' Bill Clinton puttin' down a slut and saying 'We really need to investigate patient abuse in VA hospitals, because a nutjob in Alabama is starving to death and screaming for cheeseburgers!' But lately, I've just been eating and eating…anything I could get my hands on, 'cept the green Jello, which I just hate and stapled to the walls. I've gained six pounds in the past two weeks, which is a lot for me, lemme tell ya…"

"Cramps, huh?" Face said, sitting back and looking at Hannibal, who could only shrug. Murdock was frequently this verbose, and they just had to wait it out. Listen, parse out the important stuff and ask the right questions. He'd get there eventually.

"Yeah, painful cramps. And I've got headaches and palpitations and heartburn and nausea like nothin' you'd believe. And I'm anxious all the time."

"More anxious than…normal?" B.A. asked, looking confused. Again Hannibal gave him a look that told him to be quiet.

"Oh, hell, what's normal for me?" Murdock threw his hands up. "I don't even think I can remember 'normal'. Or if there was ever a 'normal'. Or does normal even exist? What is normal?" He frowned. "And sometimes I just can't seem to stop talking. I do that when I'm anxious. Or I fall asleep. I did that once, in a refrigerator. I mean, I was lookin' in the fridge and I was talking about somethin' that was really botherin' me and I just zonked out. Ended up with half-frozen ears and a numb forehead…"

"Murdock!" Face finally said, making an exasperated karate-chop motion. "Wait a minute…you're…uh…having cramps and cravings and…uh…all this stuff…geez, you'd think you were…like…er…pregnant or something." The conman yelped and bent down to rub his shin, which had been kicked by Hannibal.

"Pregnant?" Murdock squeaked, startled. "Hey, listen, I may be crazy an' ever'thing, but I know a guy can't get pregnant. It wasn't just the American Journal of Abnormal Psychology that I've read. I've also read biology textbooks, too, and passed Sex Ed in high school."

"Yeah, but a man can definitely get somebody el-…yeeeouch!" Tears filled B.A.'s eyes and he reached under the table to rub his ankle, giving Hannibal a cold glare. "Damn…"

Murdock got up and shuffled over to the French doors looking out over the gardens, and tapped twice on the glass. A man in a black suit appeared immediately. "Hey, go get me some jelly donuts," he said through the panes. "Raspberry, preferably. Hey, y'all want any jelly donuts? I'll order a bunch of 'em!"

"Uh…" Face scratched the back of his head. Murdock was a smart guy about just about everything, but clearly this was a subject he needed a bit of schooling about. "No thanks."

"I'll take some!" B.A. said eagerly. Hannibal covered his face with his hands, his shoulders shaking.

"Two dozen…make that three dozen raspberry jelly donuts!"

"Make some of 'em chocolate-cream filled," B.A. said. "And Bavarian cream, too."

"Yes…three dozen! Four dozen, actually. A dozen raspberry, a dozen chocolate, a dozen Bavarian cream, and a dozen…anybody?" He looked back at the others, who all shrugged, Hannibal still shaking. "Lemon cream! And swing by and get us some ice cream, on the way back."

The spook at the door was scribbling away at a notebook, and he finally looked up. "Anything else?" he yelled through the glass.

"Some antifreeze!" Murdock grinned. "Please."

Seaborn sat in her hotel room, wringing her hands and staring at the phone. All she had to do was make one call and she would finally see James – Lynch had offered to drive her if she decided to go. She would be able to just tell him, and his reaction would determine her future. She couldn't imagine him rejecting his children, but he might be angry enough at her to end whatever had ever existed between them. He might not appreciate having been kept in the dark for so long. He might even view this pregnancy as a means of entrapment.

Oh, but how she wanted to see him, particularly when she was still in a condition that he wouldn't immediately note, so long as she stayed in front of him. If she could just tell him before he noticed, maybe that would soften the shock a little and give him a little time to adjust. Yes. She nodded, snatched up the phone, and dialed the number Lynch had given her. Either way, James was just going to have to adjust.

It was getting late, and Murdock was bored. He didn't feel like sleeping, particularly since his cravings had started up again and all he could think about was bananas. He dug around in the cabinets for anything banana-flavored, and finally found a little jar of Runts. He dug out the banana candies and gobbled them, then got out a few of the leftover jelly donuts and limped into the living room. He sat down on the couch, switched on the TV and sat back, eating and letting his mind drift back to Seaborn again.

It wasn't as though he didn't think about her every damned day of the week. And lately, he hadn't just been experiencing cramps and cravings – he was also horny. That disturbed him, because his entire life he had always tried to be a gentleman and not cop feels or grope. Then again, it wasn't other women he was thinking about groping and feeling up – it was Seaborn. Only Seaborn, for the past three years. It seemed like every other women he had ever been with, dated or just thought about had been erased from his mind for good and replaced entirely with her, and no other woman he had met interested him even vaguely.

He remembered the way she felt beneath him, and her touch and her amateurish but mind-blowing caresses…and her kiss. He closed his eyes, grabbed another jelly donut and tried to beat down that craving with food. God, her skin had felt like silk, and those little cries she made in the back of her throat when she…

He rubbed his forehead and sighed, staring at the ceiling. Nights were the worst for him, now. Generally, he was master of his domain, so to speak, but he was also only human and since there was no one else around…

Damn.

He sat up sharply and grabbed another donut. He searched the TV for something unarousing to watch, and finally came across a National Geographic special on squids. It was either that or David Letterman, who annoyed the hell out of him. He put his feet on the coffee table, stretched out, and knew that a cold shower was in the offing tonight.

He was dozing off, smelling her perfume and feeling her fingertips against his jaw, when the sound of knocking brought him to his feet, alarmed. He looked at the clock and his brow furrowed – who would be coming here so late at night? He decided it must be Lynch, and grabbed his cane, so he could beat the jerk for waking him from that particular dream. He knew the others were upstairs, sleeping in comfortable beds and unlikely to wake up until some time around noon tomorrow, considering the donut consumption that had gone on earlier.

The house Lynch had obtained for them was CIA-owned and quite large and comfortable, with every kind of amenity, besides a detail of spooks on watch twenty-four/seven. It came with a cavernous kitchen, a master dining room that was right out of Veranda magazine and a living room that consisted of huge, overstuffed couches and a gigantic flat-screen TV. Upstairs were four enormous bedrooms with king-size beds and jet showers with knobs and buttons that made Murdock nervous. The only thing he didn't like about the house was the hardwood floors, on which his cane made a lot of noise. It was particularly noisy tonight as he thumped down the long hallway to the door.

Murdock opened the door cautiously, and his knees buckled, making him lean on his cane to keep from falling on his face.

"Hi," Seaborn said softly.

He blinked, unable to believe she was standing there, wearing a black turtleneck sweater and black miniskirt, looking so beautiful he nearly dropped to his knees to worship her.

"Can I come in?" she asked him.

"Uh…yes…of…of course…"

He found it odd that she scooted in, her back to the wall, and circled around him, still facing him when she stood under the chandelier in the foyer. He spun slowly on his good foot and studied her, bewildered, wondering if he was just dreaming. If so, it was a damned good dream so far. She looked…different. Beautiful and sexy, but still different.

"How are you?" she asked him.

"I'm…good. Uh…c-come on in the…uh…living room…want a…uh…donut?"

"Oh, yes. I'd love one." She turned then, and he saw her bulging belly, and Murdock's knees buckled again. "What? What? Are you…oh…" She touched her stomach. "I guess you saw."

"You're…"

She nodded. "Yes." Her expression was wary, and she stood absolutely still.

"Pregnant…"

"Yes." Seaborn drew in her breath. "I wanted to tell you sooner. I really did…but…you were in Germany and no one could contact you…"

"I know."

A tense silence fell between them, as he stood staring at her, wide-eyed, unable to move a muscle.

"Are…are you angry?" she asked him at last.

"Angry?" he gasped.

"I mean, I know this is a pretty big deal…it's…"

"Why would I be…angry? I don't…" He shook his head.

"The condoms…I guess they didn't…"

"I'm not angry. I'm…surprised…not angry." Surprised. Thrilled. Terrified. Excited. Horny…damn…

She exhaled, closing her eyes. "I've missed you, James," she finally whispered.

"I've missed you, too." That was the first thought that he was able latch on to. How much he had missed her. Just one night in her arms, and he was already spoiled for her. Before arriving in Long Beach, in the three years between Tomahawk and seeing her again, a few women had made themselves available to Murdock, but not one of them had interested in him. It was her or nobody.

They both flinched when they heard a noise, and they looked up to see Hannibal at the top of the stairs. The Colonel continued on past, oblivious to them in his quest to find the bathroom in the dark. They heard a dull thud, followed by an 'ouch!' and some muttering, and finally a door banged shut.

She stepped forward. "James, there's more."

He blinked. "More?"

"Yes," she nodded, taking a deep breath. "I'm having twins."

"Oh…that's…I'm…" He staggered a bit. "Twins?"

"A boy and a girl."

"Right…" He rubbed his face and finally ran a hand through his hair. "Twins run in my family. My…my father was a twin. But his brother died of heatstroke when he was ten…"

"Oh." She nodded, looking up into his eyes. "Are you okay?"

"Yes. I'm…okay. What…what do you want to do…?" he asked cautiously. "I'll…do…whatever you…ask…"

"Um…well…" She swallowed and chewed on her lip for a second, which immediately had his rapt attention. "We should…uh…talk over a few things and…and there's a few things I really need to say to you."

"Oh." He looked down, a thousand things running through his mind like zanies and bumping into each other. The first thing – the one that terrified him – was that she didn't want him involved in the babies' lives and that she never wanted to see him again, and that this visit was just out of courtesy: she would give him an address to where he should send the checks and to please leave her life forever. He would accept that, because it wasn't as though he had much choice in the matter, and besides, he was no prize to begin with. But it would likely just kill him. He would shrivel up and die of a broken heart…

"Right. Well, first of all, I'm due in the last couple of weeks in April. My doctor figures I'll go into labor around April the fifteenth or so, but the trial is also scheduled for April the twenty-fourth, which is actually my exact due date. I really wish you could be there for the delivery, but I kind of doubt the military will let you, but then again, there's also Agent Lynch, who seems capable of moving the odd mountain if he needs to…"

"Lynch knew about this first?" he said, astonished.

"Yes, I'm sorry. It was kind of inevitable. I mean…I mean, people see me from the front and then they start tilting to the side and see the bulge…and I'm so sorry, James, but Hannibal and Face and B.A. know, too. I would have rather you knew first, but…" She shrugged helplessly. "I'm sorry. You should have been the first to know. But I was throwing up all the time and crying constantly and…frankly, I'm not sure you would have enjoyed being around me at the time."

"It's…okay...I would have loved every minute..." he said, rubbing his forehead. "I need to sit down."

"Yes, I know this is a pretty big shock," she agreed.

"No, my knee hurts. A little." He snatched up the cane and limped down the hall and back to the living room. Seaborn followed him, and stood for a moment, uncertain of where to sit. He flopped onto the couch, and she could see he was regaining his wits – and his sense of mischief. Finally, nervously, she moved around the couch, and he patted the cushion next to him. "Sit, Ubu, sit."

She finally sat down, primly smoothing her black skirt and finally crossing her knees. "Excuse me, Ubu was a dog."

"You are not a dog. You are a serious hottie. A red hot mama."

"I'm getting fat, and I have cravings. Major cravings. Where's that donut, by the way?"

"Oh…right…donut." He snagged the plate from the table by the couch and presented her with a choice of raspberry and chocolate cream-filled jelly donuts. She picked chocolate and took a bite, sighing happily. "I was so sure you'd be angry."

"Why would I be angry? I don't get that."

"I just…I don't know…figured you would be upset. We used protection, after all, and…well, that's another thing. I'm the one who bought the condoms and…"

"Yeah, you did, didn't you, you naughty wench. A whole box of them, too. One of 'em must've been defective."

"Or just…broke. I bought the extra large size, but…"

He started snickering. "I remember that. I remember thinking, 'Wow, she has a high opinion of me!'"

She giggled. "I just figured you'd be…I mean…come on, James, I was a complete naïf. And frankly, I'm glad I did buy the…um…large ones, 'cause you're hardly small." She was turning pink, which shouldn't have turned him on, but it did. He swallowed and looked at the TV. A squid was killing some small, defenseless sea creature. He turned the TV off.

"Very true." He nodded, and she caught his smug little wink. "But you're…uh…not a naïf any more, huh?"

"Hardly."

"And…uh…" He just couldn't seem to stop himself – he finally reached over and touched her cheek, turning her head slightly. She didn't resist him, though, which was another surprise, but instead moved eagerly toward him. He kissed her, long and deep and grateful, and her hands moved to his shoulders and finally around his neck and he started moving her onto her back, positioning himself over her and finally moving into that age-old position – the one that had gotten her into her current condition, in fact. He suddenly jerked away, one worry niggling at the back of his head. "Is it safe…I mean…I mean, if…if you…you want to, I mean…I…"

"It's very safe, and actually good for my health and the babies', too. I have a friend who's a nurse and she told me that regular, vigorous sex is an excellent idea during pregnancy. Keeps everything…limber. She ought to know, anyway – she has two kids and is working on a third."

"Oh…right…uh…" He sat up on his knees, running a hand through his hair. He moved out of her way, and she got up, straightening her sweater, and studied him as he sat there, still looking a little bewildered. "You actually want…"

"I want you," she said softly. "Only you. It's only ever been you. There will never be another."

He finally stood up, facing her, and finally laughed a little. "This morning I told Lynch I didn't have any nerves. But now…I'm all shook up…I mean…twins…"

"Yes. Oh…" She blushed and giggled. "They're kicking." She took his hand and placed it over the spot on her belly. His eyes widened when he felt the fluttering against his palm.

"I felt it!" he said excitedly. "My son…or…daughter…" He pulled her to him and kissed her, sliding his hands around her waist and downwards, unashamedly cupping her fanny.

"We need to discuss names," she told him, in between increasingly heated kisses. "I'm partial to Alexander and Beatrice."

"Beatrice? No…I don't like Beatrice. I had a cousin named Beatrice…nasty little cow. She bit me once." He started nibbling her neck and her earlobe, which made her weak in the knees and lean against him for support.

"Okay," she answered breathlessly. "Something else that starts with a 'B'…" She took his hand and started leading him toward the stairs.

"Benedickte…"

"James…"

"Bonita? Belinda? Boudicea?"

"Very funny…come on…"

"Brunnhilde?"

"James! Take me upstairs this instant and make love to me!"

"Yes. Well…okay. Geesh, are you always gonna be this bossy?" he said, hurrying along now. "And am I wrong in guessing that you're also having…cravings?"

"Yes. Yes, I am." She stood on her toes and kissed him. "Only for you. It's always been for you. Now let's go!"

They were finally resting, James's ear to her belly, listening to his babies. He had insisted he could hear them telling him things, and after a while, Seaborn decided he wasn't just imagining things. He informed her that their daughter definitely wanted to be a pilot some day, while their son wanted to be a US Marshal.

"Shouldn't it be the other way 'round?" she asked dreamily, stroking his hair.

"Girls can be pilots. Her mother's a pilot."

"Not any more."

"Eh…that can be corrected. Once a pilot, always a pilot." He lifted his head and grinned at her, and she smiled back. He moved up again, kissing her deeply, and she moved to accommodate him, sighing softly as he entered her again. "Am I hurting you?" he asked her, gasping as she nibbled at the eagle below his collarbone.

"James, you have never hurt me." She lazily slipped her arms and legs around him, moaning as he began rocking above her, moving slowly and gently. Their lovemaking was much quieter than before, but just as passionate and meaningful. "Oh…that's…so…perfect…" Her fingernails began digging into his back, but he barely felt it – he had plenty of her scratches on his back now, and relished each one. He kissed her as her back arced, absorbing her shout. She tore her mouth away and began nibbling at his neck, finally sinking her teeth into his shoulder as she gave herself to him. "Oh…please…please don't leave me yet…"

"I won't," he whispered back. She sighed and began moving eagerly with him. She felt the babies kicking and the tension building in him, and began to buck against him, crying out his name. She heard his glottal cry into her neck and felt his release before he finally relaxed again, kissing her gently before slowly easing onto his side, pulling her into his arms for a fierce hug. She snuggled into his arms and nuzzled his neck, sighing in contentment, still trembling.

"Did you feel them kicking?" she asked softly.

"Yeah. I felt 'em." He kissed her forehead and sighed into her hair.

"Nakupenda," she whispered against his chest, the curly hair tickling her nose. "Ninapende wewe."

He pulled back a little and stared at her, and she wasn't surprised to see his cheeks pinking. "I…I said that to you, in Iraq."

"I found out what it means," she told him. "And I mean it, too. Always."

He was silent for several moments, and drew in his breath. "That day…"

She saw a cloud of distress cross his face, and shook her head, touching his lips with her fingers "That day was more than three years ago now. It almost seems like a lifetime ago. Eons. It'll always be a part of me, in some way, but…it doesn't matter to me any more. It's not who I am – it's only something that happened to me that can't be changed. And I already loved you then. I suspect I loved you even before…probably since Fort Bragg. I know I had a pretty hard crush on you from the day I saw you, fighting with Face and Hannibal and B.A. in the hangar about a chopper and…a plastic flamingo?"

He laughed softly and squeezed her. "I love you," he said at last. She smiled, blushing prettily. "I will always love you. I couldn't stop if I tried." He paused, thinking, and finally nodded. "Tuta wewe marika mie?"

"Do I need to Google that phrase, James?" she asked him softly, before kissing him sweetly. "Mmm…"

"I'll tell you in a few minutes…but…uh…would you mind…Googling me…?"

She giggled and slowly moved her hand down his belly before kissing again, nibbling lightly at his lips as she found her target. "I wouldn't mind a bit, Captain. It's been…what, five months since I've…Googled…?"

"Yeah," he said, becoming breathless. "And we all know that…that Google is our friend…"

"This is what the Communists were against, you know," Seaborn whispered. She was stretched out beside him, her head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat as it slowed back down to normal. "Decadence."

"Yeah. And that's why Communism doesn't work, by the way. No fun allowed. Aside from the starvation from disastrous collective farming schemes, and having to wear Bulgarian shoes. Plus the toilet paper is just awful…that's why they never smiled. Communism got its collective ass whupped by the Sony Walkman and Levi's stonewashed jeans. Knockin' down the Berlin Wall was really just a formality."

She giggled and startled him by sitting up, facing him, not even bothering to cover herself, and drawing her knees up, wrapping her arms around them. "Now…what were you asking me a while ago?"

"Oh…that…" He was pretty well distracted now.

"Yes, that. What did you say, James?"

"I asked you to marry me."

Seaborn looked up at him, and bit her lip nervously. "For the babies…?"

"For me. I'm being totally selfish here, believe me."

She started laughing. "Oh?"

"Well…if I'm married to you, then I'm happy and probably not a mental case quite as much. I'll have plenty of moments, but…no more lonely, no more wishin' I was free. I mean, there's an age difference, too, but hell, that's not a problem, is it?"

"No," she shook her head. "Definitely not. You wouldn't think you were trapped? I mean…I know you value your freedom, James."

"Marriage isn't a trap unless you make it one," he shrugged. "That's what Jack always told me. Hm…I really ought to call him. He'll be pretty excited…and I know he'll love you."

She smiled and lay down again, stretching like a cat and still not bothering to cover up at all. "I'll think about it, then."

"You'll…oh…okay." He looked around the room. It was getting light outside, and he finally looked at her, wondering how on earth a guy like him could have found somebody like her. "Right. Well, I guess I should go get us some food, huh?"

"That would nice. I am kind of hungry again."

"Cravings?"

"Just hungry, actually. Maybe sex cures the cravings? I don't know. But…" She turned onto her side and began to lazily trace the line of his Screaming Eagle tattoo. "You could get some stuff for us to eat up here, hm? Something…interesting?"

He nodded and climbed out of bed, with her lying there watching him as he pulled his jeans on. She smiled at him and sat up, and he moved back to her, crawling across the bed to kiss her. She didn't even slap his hand away when he started groping her, but she finally pulled away. "Food, James. Get some food!"

At first, they didn't even notice him. He was trying his best to be stealthy, but the moment he made it down the back stairs that lead into the kitchen, he spotted them and knew the game would be up soon. They were seated at the kitchen table, eating jelly donuts and talking. Fortunately, they all had their backs to him, which meant that so long as he didn't say anything, maybe they would leave him alone for now. He tip-toed to the fridge and opened it as quietly as possible, and started looking around.

Hm…whipped cream. He snatched up the tub and ducked back in. Was that really…a chocolate mousse? Seriously? He grabbed it, too, putting the tub of cream on top. He peeked over the top of the fridge door and noted that they were all still facing away from him. Hannibal had lit a breakfast cigar and Face was griping about something to do with strange thumping noises during the night. Murdock stifled a snicker and went back down to search for more. Oh, apple slices. Good, good…and maraschino cherries. Even better! Once the fridge had been properly raided, he looked around in the cabinets for anything else that looked interesting. There were three jelly donuts left – raspberry, chocolate and Bavarian cream, he noted with glee. He remembered the need for something to drink and went back to the fridge, grabbing the jug of orange juice.

Two clearing throats made him almost drop his entire load. "Jesus!"

"You kept me up all night!" Face said, arms folded across his chest, looking offended.

"I did?" Murdock squeaked back, trying his best to look innocent and not totally debauched.

"Yes! All that thumping! What, were you dancing in there?"

"Uh…yeah. Dancing. I was dancing."

"On your bad knee?" Hannibal asked him mildly. He had put away his cigar and was studying Murdock with amusement.

"Uh…um…part of the physical therapy, actually. The PT…he…he kinda…uh…suggested dancing as a means of…of…keeping it…uh…" The tub of whipped cream slid off the glass lid covering chocolate mousse, and Murdock was relieved it didn't explode and send fluffy white cream all over the floor. His brow furrowed then. "Where's B.A.?"

"Aaauuuggghhhh!"

"Oh my God! Get out! Get out of here!"

He was upstairs.

B.A. came clattering down the stairs just then, wide-eyed, and he skidded to a stop in the kitchen. He froze when he saw Murdock, whose eyes narrowed.

"I was up…I went in…I didn't…I swear I didn't…see…" Baracus was gasping, doing his best to do the honorable thing and erase that magnificent image from his mind. But he was also a guy and knew it would never go away from his subconscious, no matter how guilty it made him feel. Okay, so no eye contact with her for…the rest of his life, he figured. Good Lord…no wonder Murdock was crazy about that woman!

"See who?" Face said.

Hannibal rolled his eyes.

"Seaborn," B.A. said. "I swear to God, man, I didn't see…she was…I mean, she was…it was kinda dark…"

"You saw Seaborn naked?" Face gasped. "Aw, man…that's not fair!"

Murdock considered dumping his entire load of interesting breakfast food on Face's head, but that would ruin the fun he was going to have with Seaborn. He glared at his three friends, snatched the tub of Cool Whip up from the floor, lifted his chin, and stalked back up the stairs.

B.A. staggered to the table and sat down again. "I did notice that…that the plaster behind that headboard…needs to be…be replaced…" He covered his face with his hands. Face and Hannibal looked at each other, and Hannibal shrugged.

"Good God…all night…it's a wonder she's not carrying triplets!" Face said, looking up. B.A. put his head on the table and Hannibal went in search of another cigar.