Encounters Chapter 3: Day Three, an a-team fanfic

Encounters
Day Three:

Questions, Not Many Answers

"Murdock." Hannibal tried to shake Murdock awake for the third time. "Come on, Murdock, time to wake up."

Murdock turned and pulled the pillow over his head. "I just got to bed, Hannibal," he complained. The pillow did nothing to muffle his whine. He sounded like a little kid who didn't want to get up for school.

"You've been asleep all night." Worried about the pilot's condition, Hannibal had traded rooms with Face so he could watch over Murdock. Aside from a light snore, Murdock hadn't so much as stirred during the night. "Get up."

"I'm getting," Murdock mumbled. He slowly pushed the blankets away and reluctantly sat up.

Whatever it was he had been given, Murdock seemed to have slept it off. His speech was back to its norm, Hannibal was pleased to note. He sat up, then stood, without the slightest hint of a sway. His eyes were clear and focusing without a problem.

Murdock frowned down at his clothes. "Why'm I wearing these?" he asked himself in a puzzled tone. He made a disgusted noise at himself and headed toward the bathroom.

"How're you feeling?" Face asked after Murdock showered and changed.

"Good." Murdock stretched, hands nearly reaching the ceiling. "Starving though. Are we going back to the diner for breakfast?"

"Soon as we get to the van," Hannibal said by way of answer.

Murdock's arms flapped down hard. He tried to rush everyone out by holding open the door. "I want more of those little pancake saucers." He patted his growling stomach. "Maybe even have the strawberry ones, too."

Hannibal and Face smiled, glad to see Murdock's old self back. BA was equally happy, and showed it with a roll of his eyes.

"Do you remember what happened to you yesterday?" Hannibal asked once they had all settled in the van.

"Yesterday?" Murdock looked up as if the answers might be written on the van's ceiling. "I wasn't with you yesterday," he blurted, a bewildered expression on his face. "Why wasn't I with you yesterday."

"We were hoping you could tell us," Face said, concerned at the pilot's reaction.

"You were pretty out of it when we found you. What do you remember?" Hannibal pulled his trademark cigar out of his pocket.

"Flopping into bed. Then you waking me up."

"That's all?"

Murdock nodded. "Yeah, that's… Wait!" Murdock's face lit up at a sudden recollection. "I flew!"

"Flew what?" Hannibal asked, glad to finally get somewhere.

"I don't know." Murdock's sense of triumph faded. "I just remember the feeling of flying. Everything else is kind of…. vague."

A shadow of fear darkened his eyes. "What happened to me? Why don't I remember?"

"I don't know," Hannibal answered honestly. "But we're going to find out."

"Got that right," BA put in definitively.

_ _ _ _

"I see you found your friend," Sylvie greeted them when they entered the diner. She directed a wide smile to Hannibal. "Take a seat. I'll be right with you."

A small blonde head peeked over the counter. "They're back!" Sally squealed before disappearing again.

"You put those cups away before you go disappearing," Sylvie admonished. "I heard what you did to Devon. I'm not cleaning them up after you," she warned.

"Okay," Sally said with a sigh.

The diner was busier today. The three aging biker men were back, crammed around a booth table with two female companions dressed in similar leather garb. The elderly couple Face had spoken with walked out of the adjoining gift shop with three bags of recent purchases. They sat at the counter and proceeded to loudly discuss which grandchild would get what item. A trucker gave the door a puzzled look after being assaulted by the Halloween style door siren.

Presumably finished putting away her 'toys', Sally came racing out from behind the counter. She narrowly missed colliding with the trucker before skidding to a halt before the Team.

"You came back!" she said happily, giving BA an especially bright smile.

"Well, this place does have the best company in town," Face said.

Murdock leaned over and teasingly whispered, "I think she's a little too young to know what charm means, Faceman."

"No she isn't," Face replied, watching Hannibal stand up so Sally could sit next to BA.

Sylvie returned with cups of coffee and milk. She saw the small girl sitting next to BA and frowned. "Sally, quit pestering the customers."

"She's all right." Hannibal defended. He took the adjoining booth. "I'll eat over here."

"You sure?" Sylvie double checked.

"No problem," Face assured her. "BA loves the company. He's just a big kid at heart."

BA gave him a look. Face hastily took his cup and joined Hannibal at the next table.

"Is Lucy around?"

Sylvie nodded toward the kitchen. "Back helping Jess clean up."

Sylvie glanced around after taking their orders. All the customers seemed to be happy. So she stuck around to do what she had scolded Sally for. "Heard I missed you yesterday," she said to Hannibal. "Makes me wish I worked over."

Face tried not to laugh at her not-so-subtle interest. There was an equally amused glint in Hannibal's eyes.

"Like today?"

"Naw, this is my usual shift. I was only filling in because Lucy was late. Working graves makes for a boring night life."

Face choked on his coffee. It nearly came flying out his nose in his attempt to keep from laughing.

"Okay, kid?" Hannibal asked at his coughing fit.

"Yeah, all right," he said, recovering with some difficulty. He blinked back the tears the fit produced.

Sylvie gave Face a slightly disgusted look at the interruption.

"Not that the night life is boring around here," she tried again.

"Haven't noticed," Hannibal said, not rising to the bait.

"Two nights and you haven't seen the show?" Sylvie sounded aghast.

"What show?" Hannibal suspected he knew what she was talking about. He hoped she would confirm it and volunteer some information if he acted otherwise.

"The lights, of course," she answered. Hannibal shook his head, feigning ignorance. "Too bad. Everyone should see the lights before they leave," she said, her tone holding pity for them.

"Maybe tonight."

"Tonight?" she echoed, nonplused. Terry entered, she gave him an uneasy glance.

"Yeah," Face put in cheerfully. "This place is different. We thought we'd stay a while 'n' see the sights." Face pointed skyward.

"See the show," Hannibal added.

"Get to know the people," Face said suggestively.

Sylvie lost her smile. She jumped when Jess shouted that an order was ready.

Lucy came out of the kitchen as Sylvie picked up the orders. Lucy sighed and shook her head when Sylvie didn't so much as say hello to Terry, who patiently waited for service at the counter.

"I've got him, Sylvie," Lucy called. Sylvie only nodded.

A moment later, she came over and ruffled her daughter's hair. "Sally, are you pestering these poor men?"

"No. We're drawing," Sally said, as if that explained everything. She and Murdock were currently in a contest to see who could color in the place mats the fastest.

"You found your friend," she commented to Hannibal.

"Yes," Hannibal agreed. "He 'turned up' like everyone said he would."

"I'm glad." She smiled gratefully at Murdock's humoring the little girl.

Hannibal smiled. "We are too."

Sally looked at her mother, then regarded Murdock with wide, serious eyes. "The green men got you?" She spoke so quietly he could barely hear her.

"Green men?" Murdock paled slightly.

The others had told him about their day, and what they had learned as they searched for him. They told him the little girl was among those who had been abducted and returned. They failed, however, to mention her 'green men'.

"I don't know." He had in his mind a vague image of a person with a bulbous head. For some reason it made him nervous. "I don't remember much."

Sally nodded solemnly. "Were you scared?"

He glanced at BA, hoping to find inspiration to help banish the growing sense of unease.

"A little, I guess," he told Sally with a faint shrug.

"Me too," she whispered. "Did they take you into the sky with them?"

"I remember flying, yes." The usual sense of freedom he felt when speaking of his passion didn't carry into his voice. He was too wary of what other feelings Sally's questions might evoke.

"That was kind of scary, too," she said. "But also kinda fun."

"Flying's always fun," Murdock pronounced so solemnly that he made Sally laugh.

Lucy watched all this with an expression of wonder. "Sally hasn't said so much about it since we found her," she said with an air of disbelief.

"If you don't mind me asking," Face started, but didn't get a chance to finish.

"Lucy," Terry called from his seat at the counter. "Devon's going to start to worry if you don't get going soon."

Lucy sighed at the friendly reminder. "Terry's right, Sally." She suddenly looked very tired. "Your mommy needs some sleep before she starts packing again." After a little bit of whining and stalling on Sally's part, Lucy managed to collect their things and hustle her daughter out.

Terry watched them leave, then got up to join the Team.

"I'm glad you're back," he greeted Murdock. "I was getting worried your friends might take the town apart looking for you."

Murdock flashed a quick smile. His color wasn't quite back to normal yet.

Terry didn't wait for any further response. Uninvited, he took a seat next to Face. "So you plan on sticking around for a while?" he asked Hannibal, bringing up the last bit he had heard between them and Sylvie. He set his coffee cup down with slow care.

"Until we find out what happened to Murdock," Hannibal answered truthfully.

Terry broke eye contact to gaze at his drink. "I wish you luck," he said sincerely.

"Do you work here or at the garage?" Face started light conversation as most of the biker people started past them. The Team wondered at Terry's visit, but sensed he wasn't going to start talking with so many eavesdroppers.

"I work everywhere," Terry answered with a self-conscious shrug.

The windows vibrated with the combined revving of four motorcycles. The elderly couple's conversation seemed even louder, now, with fewer people in the diner. The one biker who remained went to sit at the counter and keep Sylvie company.

Terry took a long, fortifying drink from his coffee. The cup shook slightly when it reached his lips. After a pause and a deep breath, he asked softly, "What are your intentions?"

Hannibal sat back, his eyes narrowing slightly. "I told you, I intend to find out what happened to Murdock."

Terry didn't ask why Murdock didn't just tell them.

"How are going to do that?" Terry held Hannibal's gaze.

"Any way we have to." Hannibal countered an implied threat with an implied threat. A quiet warning bell went off in his head. He wasn't used to seeing people who made threats let their nervousness show so much. But Terry did not break his gaze.

"But we're going to start with questions," Hannibal added reasonably.

"Such as?" It sounded almost like a demand.

"What's going on around here?"

"Don't know." Terry answered promptly.

"Okay." Hannibal took this as tacit permission to continue. "How long have these disappearances been going on?"

"Two months last week." Terry looked at his empty cup. "If they've all been reported," he added.

Hannibal and Face exchanged glances.

"They all talked to you?" Face asked.

"Yes."

Sylvie arrived with their breakfast. She set everything down without a word, not even a smile in Hannibal's direction.

"Well, most folks do," Terry amended after she left. His cup was still empty. "It comes with the job," he answered vaguely.

"What else have most folks told you?" Hannibal asked.

"It happens only when it's dark. Nobody remembers clearly what happened to them after they return, those who remember anything at all." He looked pointedly at Murdock. "The abductions happen once a week, and your friend was right on schedule."

"How do you know all this?" Face asked.

Terry played with his cup. His hands were no longer shaking. "I know a lot of things," he said unhelpfully.

He looked at Sylvie and held up his cup. She did a round of refills reluctantly.

"What else?" Terry prompted when they were alone again.

Hannibal had food in his mouth, so Face spoke for him. "Who else did this happen to?"

"No," Terry said firmly. He wasn't going to give them that much, he shook his head to emphasize the point. "They don't remember. I won't help you disturb them more."

Hannibal accepted this ultimatum without comment. He tried a different angle. "What about the missing people who died?"

Terry looked at him with a creased brow. "They weren't missing."

"Then why would Lucy think they were?"

"Lucy?" Terry puzzled this one out. "Oh. I can see how she came to that conclusion." He chuckled. "Some folks around here really do believe they've been kidnapped by aliens. No surprise there, I guess. They were two of a handful that talked about it all the time, even before this rash of disappearances started."

"I take it you don't believe it." Hannibal didn't believe it, either.

"Aliens?" Terry snorted. "Here? Not too likely. If aliens wanted to visit America they'd go to New York or LA, not here."

"What if they didn't want anybody to know they were here?" Murdock finally spoke up.

"If you didn't want to be found," Terry said, "where better to hide than New York or LA?"

Hannibal gave Face an amused look. Where better, indeed?

Back to the matter at hand. "Tell us about these two."

"It's not related," Terry protested.

"Humor us," Face said.

Terry regarded his cup for a long moment.

At the counter, Sylvie and the biker were talking in low tones. Every once in a while, Sylvie would throw them dirty looks.

Terry sighed. "Okay. There's Lewis, my brother. I wouldn't count much of anything he might have said. He wasn't the most dependable witness. His favorite pastime was to drink, and he was good at it. He drank himself to death. I honestly don't know how much of his abduction stories were a joke and how much was hallucination."

"What did he say about them?" Face asked.

Terry shook his head. "He claimed to fly for them. At the risk of speaking ill of the dead, Lewis loved the skies but he couldn't fly if he fell from a cloud. He took lessons for I don't know how long. No one would allow him to fly solo."

"And the other one who died?" Hannibal prompted.

"Mr. Aberdeen, at least, had a good background." Terry shook his head. "But he was the craziest person I ever met."

BA and Face automatically looked at Murdock. Murdock blinked back. A phrase from one of his favorite cartoon characters popped into his head, "He don't know me beawy well, do he?"

Terry watched their reactions with a confused look.

Hannibal had to look away from Murdock's very innocent expression. He pulled his grin down to a more managable smile. "We have experience with crazy," he explained.

"I don't doubt that," Terry said ruefully.

"Tell us about this Aberdeen person."

"Right. Well, he was retired military. He was stationed here just before they shut the base down and never left. He thought he was making it up to the UFOs somehow by letting them use his yard." Terry's explanation earned confused looks.

"For what?" Face asked.

"His yard? I have no clue. He'd talk your ear off if you gave him half the chance. But that he kept to himself." Terry played with his cup as he answered the other meaning of Face's question. "As for making it up? Well, he was stationed overseas once for wartime efforts, he never said which war. Some mission he only referred to as 'that time' didn't go as planned. A lot of people were killed. He thought he'd killed a lot of innocent aliens."

"Oh," Face said.

They all fell silent. The Team knew the hard times of war a little too well. And what happened to those unable to cope. They knew pity and sadness for this fallen comrade they never met. And shared a moment of thanksgiving they had been spared. Mostly.

Hannibal broke the uncomfortable pause. "Where can we find Aberdeen's place?"

"Why?" Terry asked warily.

"Call it a hunch," Face replied, smiling.

"And you want to do some poking around to confirm it," Terry said softly. He shook his head in wonder. "You really are determined to get down to it, aren't you?"

"Look mister," Hannibal said, his eyes growing cold. "I don't like it when one of my people disappears at night." He wished he had a cigar out so he could emphasize his point by poking it at Terry. He settled for a finger instead. "And I don't like being played with. Someone in this town is doing just that."

"Yeah, man," BA put his two cents in. "Someone's gonna pay!"

Terry looked at each man in turn, gauging the seriousness of the Team. Decision made, he turned over a place mat, not paying heed to the coffee ring he smeared on the table in the process. He pointed to one of the few squares on the map that wasn't on Main Street. "Mr. Aberdeen lived here."

Hannibal found the number in the box corresponded with one under the sight seeing heading. "Flat Tree?" he asked, reading off the description.

"That was why he bought the property. He thought it was one of the UFOs that flattened it," Terry said with a shrug.

"What about Lewis?"

"My brother stayed with me when he moved here." Terry examined his cup again. "There's nothing to see but the garage."

"Thank you." Hannibal stood up, indicating he was ready to leave.

Terry followed him out.

Hannibal gratefully reached for a cigar. "You obviously don't like us here," He said to Terry as they waited for Face to take care of the bill. "So why are you helping us?" He wanted to get this one thing cleared up.

"I don't want any trouble," Terry said with a small half smile and a shrug. He countered with his own question. "The sheriff has had two months worth of investigating without being able to put this thing to rest. What make you think you'll figure it out?" He looked at them skeptically.

"We have something your sheriff doesn't," Hannibal said, putting the freshly lit cigar in his mouth.

"What's that?"

Hannibal smiled.

BA, with a shake of his head, answered for him. "It's called the jazz."

Clues

Face passed Terry on his way out to the van. He was glad to shut the sliding door on the heat. Even the short walk from the diner to the van made his shirt sit wrong on him.

Beside him, Murdock sat with his head resting on the back of the seat, his eyes closed.

"Are you okay, Murdock?" Face asked.

"Yeah. Just a little tired, Faceman." He turned his head towards Face, but didn't open his eyes. "Guess I didn't sleep well last night."

Actually, Murdock couldn't remember sleeping at all. It felt to him as if he had been shook awake immediately after closing his eyes the night before.

"Sure?" Face pressed on, sensing something else was bugging the pilot. "You were awfully quiet in the diner." This had Face a little worried. Murdock didn't do quiet for long.

"Don't complain," BA teased.

"Somethin' Sally said reminded me of something," Murdock admitted.

"About yesterday?" Hannibal asked.

"No, I don't think so." Murdock didn't sound very sure of himself. "Doesn't make any sense. Probably a dream or something." He tried to explain it away.

"What?" Face asked, curiously. He secretly enjoyed Murdock's wild imagination.

Murdock opened his eyes. A bit of amusement showed through, echoed by a lopsided smile. "Flying trash bags and glow in the dark people," he said with a self-deprecating chuckle. "The people were kinda green," Murdock explained the normal weird dream image.

"Flying trash bags, huh?" Hannibal sometimes wished he had such interesting dreams. "I'll have to remember that one."

"Why? Plannin' on traveling Trash Can Air?" Murdock joked. "Wouldn't recommend it. I hear they're cramped and their service really stinks." He got the intended groans from the pun.

"What was that?" Hannibal asked a few minutes later.

"What?" Face had an uncomfortable feeling of déjà vu. They were on the same stretch of road, though not quite as close to the motel as before, where they had had the encounter with the flash of light.

"Not again," Murdock moaned, slouching a bit in his chair.

"I heard something." Right on cue, they heard a low thud from somewhere up front.

"What is it?" Face asked, not really sure he wanted to know.

"Don't know." Both Hannibal and BA looked around for anything unusual, BA while also trying to keep an eye on the road.

Another thud, a little louder.

"Maybe it's the engine," Hannibal suggested after failing to find anything out of place.

BA tightened his grip on the steering wheel. "Nothin' wrong with my engine," he protested, not about to let the affront to his precious van slide.

As if to purposely contradict him, the thud sounded again. It was definitely coming from somewhere before him. BA grunted when it happened yet again only a few moments later. Wisely, no one said a word about his engine.

Not one to put things off when it came to his van, BA pulled off to the side of the road to check on it. Hannibal followed him out, Face and Murdock opted to stay where it was cooler.

BA put the hood up, muttering unhappily as he surveyed the engine. It didn't take long to spot the problem. A small black box dangled in a crevice between hoses, loosely attached to the engine by a piece of exposed wire. From the looks of it, it would have taken only a couple more hours of driving and vibrations, and the wire would have worked its way off.

"Somebody been messin' with my van!" BA said, outraged. He carefully disengaged the wire, letting the little box drop.

"What is it?" Hannibal picked it up while BA double-checked the engine for other surprises. He turned it over in his hands. It was nothing more than plastic and wire.

"I don't care. Somebody been messin' with my van!" Satisfied there was no further tampering, BA closed the hood with more force than was needed.

They went back inside, BA muttering the phrase for yet a third time, as if he couldn't believe it.

"Who would mess with your van, big guy?"

BA growled, Murdock quickly sat back.

"What happened, Hannibal?" Hannibal tossed the little box to Face in answer to his question. "What is it?" Face turned the box around, unknowingly echoing Hannibal's earlier question and motion.

Hannibal shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine, kid."

"That attendant!" BA said suddenly, hitting the steering wheel. He hadn't started up the van yet.

"What?" Hannibal eyed the steering wheel. Surprisingly, it seemed to be holding up under the recent beatings.

"That man, Terry. I left the van with him when we first got in," BA admitted reluctantly. Anger quickly overcame any embarrassment at not having watched the van well enough. "Sucka's gonna pay," he declared.

"Cool it, BA," Hannibal said.

"Cool it?" BA couldn't believe his ears. "But the man…."

"I know, I know," Hannibal interrupted. "But he's behind us right now, and I don't want to make a scene at the diner. We'll talk to him," Hannibal assured BA before he could start up again. "Later. Right now we've got a job to do."

Face smiled at the glint in Hannibal's eyes. "So, what's the plan, Hannibal?" And hopefully the job would give BA time to get his temper under control.

"A split up," Hannibal said. "Murdock came back acting drugged, maybe the others did too. The local doctor probably took a look at them. I want to know what he had to say about it, what he thinks they were given. Face, we're going to leave you and Murdock to cover that angle," Hannibal explained. "See if you can persuade him to give us some names. I want to talk to the others this has happened to."

"What do you expect me to do, Hannibal?" Face frowned at him. "I can't exactly go in there in some disguise or another. This isn't like LA. They'd notice another person," Face whined.

"You'll think of something," Hannibal dismissed. His smile seemed to grow.

"Gee, thanks." It was nice to have his confidence, but there were times when Face thought the only reason Hannibal had such faith in his abilities was because Hannibal couldn't think of anything himself.

Snooping Around

Doctor Wentworth's office was number 7 on the map, following the grocery store and the pet shop respectively. Like every other building on Main Street, it looked like a converted warehouse.

"What's the plan, Faceman?" Murdock asked for the second time since Hannibal and BA had dropped them off. They were standing in the shade a little ways down the street from the office.

"I'm thinking, I'm thinking." Face dreamt up and discarded several scenarios already. This just was not going to be an easy scam day.

"Well think a little faster," Murdock said, impatiently waiting on Face to come up with a scheme. "I'm gonna die of heat out here!"

"The heat," Face muttered absently. His face lit up. "I got it!"

"What?" Murdock asked warily. Murdock had the feeling he was going to get the hard part of this job.

"We're going to borrow a page from Hannibal's book." Face smiled at him.

"Oh no," Murdock groaned. Hannibal operated from a very thin book. There weren't many pages to choose from. "Not the front door method. You couldn't think of something more original?"

"Why mess with perfection?" Face started walking up the street. "Come on, Murdock. You've been out in the sun too long. You're not looking too good."

"Why do I always have to be the distraction?" Murdock asked Face's retreating back. He might be good at them, but he wasn't in a distraction kind of mood.

The office, they were disappointed to find, wasn't kept very cool. The waiting room was empty. No one responded to the bell on the door – which, thankfully, was just a bell.

"Maybe he's not here," Murdock suggested hopefully.

"Hello?" Face was suspicious of any such hope. No one being there would make their job a little too easy. "Anyone home?"

"Uh, hi. Just a minute," a voice called. To one side of a plain metal desk was a propped open door leading to a short hallway. They could see a man wearing jeans and crumpled T-shirt approaching them from the other side. His hair was askew and his eyes drooped a little, as if he'd just been asleep.

"Are you the doctor?" Face didn't let the man do more than nod. "Good. My friend here, he isn't feeling so good. Hasn't been since last night." The doctor jumped slightly at the mention of the previous night. Face wondered at it, but didn't let it faze him. "I really think you need to take a look at him." He looked at Murdock and prompted, "Don't you think he needs to take a look at you?"

"Uhm…." Murdock found himself even more uncomfortable. He had seen enough doctors to have strict rules about them. One of was never trust a doctor who looked more uncomfortable than his patients.

"See?" Face tried to speed things along. Confusion was usually a good strategy. "Can you see him now? You can have your secretary give me…."

"I don't have a secretary," Wentworth managed to get in sideways.

"Oh." Unruffled, and secretly pleased, Face put on a thoughtful expression. "Well, then," he flashed his patented winning smile, "you can give me the paperwork to fill out while you see my friend." Face pushed an unhappy Murdock at an equally unhappy doctor.

Wentworth paused at the desk to pull out a clipboard and some forms.

"Thank you," Face said brightly. He took them from the harried doctor and pretended to read through the forms.

Wentworth led Murdock through the small hallway and into one of the rooms. As soon as Wentworth closed the door, Face put the clipboard down and started snooping around.

"What's your name?" Wentworth asked as he directed Murdock to the standard issue examination bed.

"Howard Miller," Murdock mumbled.

The lie also seemed to startle Wentworth. He certainly acted as if he expected something else. "Oh. Uhm, I'm Dr. Wentworth. Friend said you weren't feeling well?"

"Tired," Murdock answered truthfully. "Probably the heat," he added when the doctor didn't say anything.

Hoping to give Face more time, Murdock went into a spiel about how sleeping when it was too hot out gave him the strangest dreams and went on to describe some of his tamer, yet still bizarre, dreams. He hoped Face was quick in doing his part, because Wentworth wasn't even giving him the usual 'is that so' of someone humoring a crazy man.

Murdock watched Wentworth's hands as he performed the usual doctorly stuff. They were sweaty and shook slightly. They had been steady when he greeted them in the waiting room. That was another rule Wentworth hit. Never trust a doctor with sweating hands. You never know what they might drop, or when. Shaking hands Murdock could handle; he'd met some very good doctors who had permanently trembling hands. 'Course, most of those were psychiatrists. Even they didn't fumble things like Wentworth was doing. He nearly dropped the tongue depressor, twice.

Murdock sat through this, talking constantly, but not giving any information about his so called illness. Wentworth didn't ask any leading questions in a very un-doctor-like way. It was as if Wentworth wanted Murdock out of there as much as Murdock wanted to be out of there.

After too quick of an 'examination', Wentworth prescribed rest and staying out of the sun for a few days. That was all. He left Murdock in the examination room, blinking and wondering if Face had enough time to find anything.

Murdock sighed and slowly made his way toward the waiting room.

"Pssst!"

Murdock found Face peeking around a door opposite of the examination room. Face waved him over. Murdock looked down the hall. Dr. Wentworth had his back turned to him, and was in the process of picking up a ringing phone.

Murdock hurried into the half-opened room, careful not to jar the door. Face pulled him to concealment behind it. Murdock thought it was a ridiculous place to hide. If he thought someone was in a room that should be empty, behind the door would be the first place he would look. Right after that would be under the desk. The desk, in this case, he could clearly see under. And the filing cabinets were arranged in such a way as to not provide any convenient hiding places. Murdock sighed. They were stuck hiding behind the door.

"Did you find anything?" he whispered.

"No. You let him out too early," Face scolded.

"Sorry." Murdock raised his arms and let them fall in exasperation.

Face accepted the apology without saying anything more about it. "Well, now we just have to find a way out of here."

Face carefully stuck his head out for a peek. The doctor had put down the phone and was looking around. He apparently just realized his patient was gone. Wentworth found the clipboard where Face had set it. He picked it up, looked at the still blank forms with a frown.

"He's still out there," Face whispered to Murdock.

"There's gotta be a back door," Murdock reasoned.

"If there is, we can't get to it without going through him, first."

Murdock rolled his eyes. "Great," he groaned.

And to make matters worse, the tinkling of bells announced someone coming into the office.

"Maybe another patient," Murdock hoped aloud.

"Terry!" Wentworth called, "I'm glad you're here."

"Or maybe not," Face said.

Wentworth now had his back to them. He gestured animatedly to the man Face couldn't see. "Some men just came in. One of them wasn't feeling good so naturally I looked at him. I turned around for a minute, and they were gone!"

"What did they look like?"

For someone who had been half asleep when they arrived, Wentworth did a remarkably good job describing them.

Murdock looked out, standing on his toes so he could see over Face's head better.

"I'll talk to them," Terry said to the doctor.

Wentworth wasn't happy with that. "Talk to them? Talk to them! But they left without paying! And they didn't even fill out the proper paperwork." The doctor waved the clipboard around.

"I said I'll talk to them, Doctor." Terry insisted.

"But they could have left by now." Wentworth sounded strangely hopeful. "You should go after them before they.…"

"Why does he want a mechanic to go after us?" Murdock asked. Face just shrugged.

Terry cut Wentworth off with a dismissing tone. "I know where to find them."

He sounded very sure of himself. Too sure for Face's comfort. Fearing they might have been seen by the still unseen Terry, Face pulled Murdock back behind the door.

"I want to see my brother's files," Terry said in demanding tone.

"What?" Wentworth said confused at the sudden change in topic.

"Lewis! I forgot," Face groaned. He went to one of filing cabinets, paused. "Do you remember his last name?" he asked Murdock.

"Who's?"

"Lewis's," Face hissed, annoyed at not being able to raise his voice when he wanted to.

"He's Terry's brother," Murdock provided unhelpfully.

"I know that!" Face rolled his eyes. "What's their last name?"

"Try Graham."

Face pulled open the appropriate drawer. "Why?" he asked even as he ruffled through the files.

Murdock shrugged. "Graham's Garage."

Face didn't ask why Murdock would assume the name on the garage belonged to it's employees. He was too annoyed at himself for not thinking of such an obvious place to start. And there it was, Lewis Graham. Face quickly pulled the file. He reached the drawer on top and grabbed Aberdeen's.

He paused for a moment to listen at the door. Wentworth and Terry were having a nice heated discussion. He didn't stay long enough to hear what they were arguing over. It didn't sound like it was ending, which was good enough for Face. He hoped they were making enough noise at each other to not notice the sound of the copy machine.

Face put the files away and returned to the door just in time to hear the departing shots.

"…dead, they don't have privacy anymore!" Terry sounded very flustered.

"Sorry." Wentworth didn't sound the least bit sorry.

Face risked a peek around the door. Wentworth had his back to them. Terry was leaning against the desk with his arms crossed.

"Fine." Terry pushed himself away from the desk. "If you won't give it to me willingly, I'll have to find another means," he threatened.

"You do that!" Wentworth spat angrily.

Terry turned and stalked out of the office. Face and Murdock ducked their heads back inside when Wentworth walked down the hallway. He went into the examination room and picked up the phone. Face and Murdock snuck past the door while Wentworth had his back turned toward them.

"Yeah, it's me," they heard him say as they went by. "We have to talk."

They didn't hear the rest of the conversation as they made it unspotted to the waiting room, then unheard out the front door.

_ _ _ _

Aberdeen owned a small house on a piece of land barren except for the tree. The tree was not quite as 'flat' as the descriptor on the map made it sound, but was close enough to horizontal to be interesting. Had it been upright, it would have stood taller than the house itself. As it was, it lay at an angle that put the Leaning Tower of Pisa to shame.

The ground around the base of the tree was bowl-shaped, as if it had caved in. It was deeper on the side facing the house, exposing several thick cords of roots. Hannibal circled the tree, careful not to get too close to the depression for fear that the cause might still remain.

Despite its haphazard condition, the tree was the only non-potted flourishing vegetation Hannibal had seen in days. Decidedly deciduous in nature, the needles were crisp and green except on the underside of the tree. The branches were thick with them on the top and one side, while the backyard side was sparser and gap filled.

The backyard was little more than hard packed soil and dust. It looked as if the area had been used often, though he couldn't tell how long ago that was. There was half-smeared scuffs and partial prints of more than one foot. But nothing to give away who had been there or why.

Hannibal made one more circle of the tree then decided to try the house. He was surprised to find the door locked. Suspicious people live even in small towns like this, it would appear. He twisted the knob once more. Then he heard the noise: a very familiar click.

Hannibal let go of the door-knob and slowly put his hands out by his sides where they could be easily seen. He turned around with just as much care. He found the business end of a shotgun pointed at his mid-section. Holding it was the man Terry had been hollering at yesterday morning at the garage.

"Brandon, right?" Hannibal asked when the quiet man with the lopsided beard didn't say anything.

Brandon took a startled step backwards.

"I saw you talking to Terry yesterday, when you borrowing the pickup," Hannibal reminded him. "He wasn't too happy about the paint not being dry before you packed your stuff in it."

Brandon stepped back again. Hannibal hadn't made a move. After a moment, the other man risked a nod. The barrel of the shotgun lowered slightly.

Hannibal looked at Brandon, trying to measure him up. Brandon, uncomfortable, shuffled back yet again. Hannibal sighed. It would be tedious if he had to stand there and stare Brandon back all day.

"Name's Hannibal," Hannibal offered, deciding Brandon wasn't going to instigate the familiar questioning or demands that usually came with having a weapon pointed at him. "My friend over there is BA."

Brandon nearly dropped the shotgun. BA stood near the van, his own weapon drawn and one of his meaner scowls pointed at Brandon. The startled man recovered before the gun hit the ground. It shook slightly as Brandon held it aimed at the ground he just saved it from.

"Put it away, BA." Hannibal doubted Brandon had ever intended to use the shotgun. It was obvious he was too nervous to even think about doing so now.

"You're the ones with the missing man?" Brandon finally found his voice.

Hannibal motioned for BA to stay where he was. It would be difficult to carry on a conversation if he had to shout to be heard. "We were." Hannibal didn't move to close the distance the other man had put between them. "We found him."

Pause. "Then you aren't looking for him here." The soft statement seemed to be as close to a demand for answers for their presence as Brandon was going to make.

"No," Hannibal smiled. "We're looking for answers here."

Brandon was apparently a man who considered every word before he spoke. Another pause was followed by a riddle. "Answers are everywhere if you ask the right questions."

Hannibal frowned, then understood. Brandon was fishing for answers by not asking the questions.

"We want to find out what happened to our friend," he explained. "We were told Major Aberdeen's would be…."

"You called him 'Major'," Brandon burst in, surprising Hannibal.

"Ranks are generally well earned," Hannibal said.

Brandon surprised him further by stepping closer. He had a sad smile on his face. "He would like you," he pronounced. "Most don't honor him that way."

"I noticed everyone's on a first name basis around here except for him." Hannibal hoped to keep Brandon at ease and get more out of him.

Brandon nodded once. "He was always a Sir or Ma'am, Mr. or Mrs. kind of person. The Major only called close friends by their first names."

"He didn't have any here?"

"I considered him a friend," Brandon said slowly. He answered questions by not answering them, too. "Most thought him crazy," he added sadly.

"Because of the UFOs?" Hannibal tried to keep the skepticism out of his voice without much success.

Brandon snorted. "Our UFOs mind their own business," he stated. "They don't bother the neighbors. They don't make a sound." He sounded like he was describing the perfect neighbor. "They move faster. And they don't steal," he added bitterly.

"Someone's been stealing from you?"

Brandon nodded twice. "Glow in the dark paint is expensive," he mourned.

Hannibal raised his brows. "Glow in the dark?" He was beginning to feel a bit like Face when trying to figure out something Murdock was saying.

Brandon nodded again.

"Hannibal," BA called. He'd finally lost his patience waiting for Hannibal to get to something interesting. "We're wastin' our time here."

"Hold on, BA." Hannibal turned to Brandon again. "Would this paint happen to be green?"

Brandon's eyebrows went up, and the not quite so thick side of his beard twitched.

Hannibal took the gesture to be a surprised yes. He gave BA a what-did-I-tell-you look. "I don't suppose you know who took this paint?"

Brandon frowned. Hannibal translated that as a no. "Someone who likes a lot of light and noise," Brandon said. "And liked to pester Major Aberdeen at night."