A4 Simple Dreams and Flying Machines

by KennaC

Sequel to Mad Season: Nancy and Murdock are both stretched pretty thin, and things aren't about to improve when Nancy brings home a couple of stray . . . kids, that is. What could make things any more hectic?

4. Part 4

Night- and Day-mares

Cuttey had been in position now for over an hour, waiting for Ledley to exit Jester's. He had on black gloves, a blond wig, baseball cap pulled low over his brow, and sunglasses. He'd taken off the jacket he was wearing because it was warm, and decided that he'd leave it off.

By now all of the regular patrons and most of the restaurant staff had left to go home. The front of the restaurant was in fact dark, and looked totally closed down. He watched as another cab pulled past the alley in which he was waiting. He pulled out behind the cab, and pulled directly behind it in front of the bar. He got out of the car immediately and sidled up to the driver's side of the leading cab, waving a black-gloved hand casually, "Hey, man, how's it goin' tonight?"

The kid driving the cab was about 20 years old, with messy dish-water blond hair, and a scraggly goatee, and he jumped when Cuttey came walking up beside him. Glancing in the rear-view mirror he saw the other cab behind him and relaxed – it was just another grave-yard shift cabby, "OK, dude, how about you?"

"Better than you," Cuttey said, pulling out a small caliber pistol with a silencer and shooting the kid in the head. He pushed him over and slid behind the wheel. He pulled the cab a block ahead and down a dead-end alley. He took all the cash out of the kid's wallet and his pay bag, so it would look like a simple robbery, then hurried back to Jester's. Just another cabbie casualty, nothing new.

He had just sat down back in the cab when a group of five men came walking out of the front of the restaurant, laughing and talking loudly, Ledley was one of them.

"Here's my cab," Ledley slurred, and got in the back of the cab without a second thought, "Home, James," he said to Cuttey, laughing at his own joke.

"116 Sycamore, Sir?" Cuttey asked.

Ledley looked up blearily, "Huh, uh, yea, yea, 116 Syc-a-syc-a-a-more," he started giggling again, "Sounds like I got the hiccups . . . oh, maybe I do."

Cuttey pulled away from the curb with a satisfied smile – this was going to be easier than he thought. Ledley passed out in the back of the cab, and when they arrived at the cabin, barely woke up enough to stumble, with Cuttey's help, into the cabin, only to crash on the bed, totally oblivious to the fact that he wasn't at home. Cuttey shackled his hands, legs and neck and hooked him to the wall, then lay down in the other bed and went to sleep. Ledley wasn't going anywhere.

She was running down a dark alley, her heart pounding in her ears, and her breath coming in rasps. She kept looking over her shoulder. She could see nothing but shadows pursuing her, but she knew they were sinister. Were they getting closer? She couldn't tell, but raw fear kept her running, even though it felt like her heart would burst from her rib cage. Up ahead she could see a light, but it wasn't getting any closer. Wouldn't anyone help her? If she squinted into the light she could see someone beckoning, but she couldn't make out who it was, because the light was behind them and was blinding her. She slowed her pace and shaded her eyes, trying to make the person out.

A door appeared on her left and she stopped and opened it, hoping for a route of escape. When the door opened, it blocked the light from the end of the tunnel, plunging her into darkness. The smell of chloroform filled her nostrils as she struggled to remain awake. She could feel herself being swallowed up by the blackness . . .

Suddenly, someone grabbed her shoulder from behind . . .

Nancy blindly swung a fist around, landing it squarely on Murdock's jaw. He quickly recovered and put both arms around her upper arms, talking quietly and calmly to her, "Nan, wake up, it's just a dream. Sweetheart, it's alright, just open your eyes. I'm right here . . ."

Nancy struggled for a moment, before opening her eyes and staring in panic into the darkness that still enveloped her. Slowly Murdock's calm voice penetrated the nightmare, and her breathing slowed as she leaned back against him.

Finally she turned and looked into the worried face of her husband, "Did I hurt you?"

Murdock rubbed his chin, she had clipped him pretty good, "I'm just a little bruised – no permanent damage."

Nancy sighed, "I'm sorry."

"It's OK, Short Cake," he said, pushing sweat-soaked hair out of her face, "I should know better. Are you alright?"

Nancy took a deep calming breath, "I will be," she smiled at him, sinking into his arms. It was the best therapy she could imagine – but the intensity of the nightmare still had her heart thudding against her chest.

Murdock put his arms around her protectively, "So, who was after you?"

"No one . . ." she said uncertainly, "I'm in a long tunnel and I can't really see anyone . . ."

She chuckled, "Kinda cliché, isn't it – a long tunnel, and there's even a light at the end . . . but even that frightens me. It's like there's no escape. Every door . . .," she stopped, the door, the door led to a horrible memory, one she thought she'd buried with the man responsible.

Murdock kept his tone carefully neutral, "What's behind every door?"

"Bad things . . . bad . . . memories," her voice was barely above a whisper.

"What's in the light that frightens you?"

"I don't know . . .," she said, "I haven't made it there yet . . . maybe that's the point."

"What are the bad memories, Nan?" he asked gently, "Is it about your Mom?"

"No . . .," she admitted, "It's not about Mom."

Murdock was surprised, "Then what is it?"

"I . . .," she thought about what had happened, how could she explain. She couldn't even find a place to start, "I can't, HM," she said quietly.

Murdock's frustration sounded in his voice, "You can't, or you won't?"

The truth was that every time she tried to talk about it, it made her physically ill, "I can't."

"Why not? What is so bad you can't tell me?" Murdock felt like on some level he was failing her, but how could he help if he didn't know what was going on in that head of hers?

"HM, please don't do this . . .," her voice was pleading, "It's not you, it's me – I'm just not ready to talk about it."

He could hear the stress in her voice, and felt immediately sorry that he'd pushed her. She needed comfort, not accusations. He leaned down and kissed the top of her head, "I'm sorry, Short Cake, we don't have to talk about it if you don't want to. I'm just not sure how to help if I don't understand what's going on."

"The best thing you can do to help is just what you've always done, HM," she said earnestly, "Just hold me."

Ledley woke up with one hell of a hangover. He couldn't seem to move anything properly, his head hurt, and the world around him was one big blur. He lay perfectly still, willing his head to stop spinning. Once his equilibrium had returned, he opened his eyes, slowly focusing on the bare bulb that hung from the ceiling. Odd, his bedroom didn't have a bare bulb in it.

He turned his head, and reached up to try and figure out why his neck hurt. He heard the rattling, just as his fingers contacted the metal of the shackle around his neck. Now he was starting to feel panicked, as he realized that the rattling was coming from chains.

Cuttey watched from the bed, smoking leisurely, waiting for Ledley to come to a full understanding of his situation. He enjoyed the dawning of terror in the man's face. This was less about pain, and more about psychology. Cuttey smiled, maybe he'd write a book. He could call this research - a study in the psychology of fear.

Forcing the Issue

Murdock woke when Nancy got out of bed a little after 6am. He looked at the clock and sighed, "C'mon, Nan, it's Saturday. Come back to bed," after a week of 4am mornings, he was looking forward to sleeping in.

Nancy buttoned her shirt quickly, "You go back to sleep," she said, leaning down to give him a quick kiss, then pulling on a pair of maternity slacks, "I've got some work to get done." She grabbed a jacket off the closet door knob, which clattered to the floor. She sighed, "You are going to fix that some day, right?" she asked, before hurrying out of the room.

"Yea, but . . ." Murdock started to protest, but Nancy was already out of sight down the stairs. He sat up on the edge of the bed and looked after her in dismay. He decided he might as well get up – sleeping in wasn't nearly as much fun alone.

When Murdock got downstairs, Nancy was in her home office in the front room, packing her briefcase. He stood in the doorway with his arms crossed, "Where are you going?"

Nancy looked up, "I have to prepare for a meeting at noon," she said hurriedly.

Murdock shook his head, his expression disgruntled, "Don't you even have time for breakfast?"

Nancy zipped the overstuffed briefcase and stood, giving Murdock a harried look, "Yesterday was a total loss as far as work goes – I'm meeting with Casey today to go over some potential jobs and I haven't even reviewed the case files he gave me. Plus, we have visiting hours from 10-12, which I'll have to skip out early on as it is . . ."

"What about our meeting with Evanston?" Murdock asked sullenly, "If you aren't meeting with Casey until noon, you're gonna be pushing it to make it back in time."

Nancy grimaced, Murdock was right, she had originally scheduled the entire afternoon with Casey, "Well, I'll just have to see if Casey can meet a little earlier."

"And cut into visiting hours that much more," Murdock said, crossing his arms in irritation, "Why don't you let Zeb handle the meeting with Casey . . ."

"Zeb's overloaded as it is," Nancy said absently.

"And you're not!" he asked vehemently.

Nancy looked up at her husband, realizing that he was angry, "I don't know what you expect me to do," she said impatiently, "Zeb's not even in town, and this is too short notice anyway."

"Well, then why don't you cancel the meeting?" Murdock said, trying to keep his tone calm and even.

Nancy looked at him like he was nuts, which just served to get him going again, "Damn it, Nancy, you can't do everything. Call Casey and tell him you can't meet with him today."

They stood looking at each other angrily for several seconds. Nancy's face suddenly twisted in pain, and she clutched her belly. It took Murdock a split second to react. He put a hand on Nancy's shoulder, pulling the office chair over with the other, "What is it Short Cake?" he asked worriedly as he eased her into the chair.

It was a few seconds before Nancy could reply, "I don't know – felt like a really bad cramp."

"Is the pain gone?" he asked, crouching next to her and putting a hand protectively over her belly. He felt a kick from the babies with an overwhelming sense of relief.

Nancy took a deep breath, "Yea, it's gone."

He stood up, "I'm going to call Dr. Phillips," he said brusquely.

Dr. Phillips answered on the first ring, and upon hearing Murdock's anxious account of what had happened, asked to talk to Nancy.

"Nancy, are you leaking any fluids?" the doctor asked.

"No, there's no discharge at all," Nancy said certainly.

"Are the babies still moving around?"

Nancy chuckled, "You better believe it – I really don't think they liked it any more than I did."

"That's good," Dr. Phillips said, "Listen, I don't think there's anything to worry about, but I want you to take it easy for the rest of the weekend and come into the office first thing Monday morning, so I can give you a thorough once over."

"Take it easy?" Nancy asked quietly.

Dr. Phillips chuckled, "Yes, Nancy, take it easy – you know, put your feet up and let HM do all the work. I'd like you off your feet as much as possible for the next couple days, until you come see me. Let me talk to HM," she added thoughtfully.

Nancy handed the phone back to her husband hesitantly. He listened for a minute, then nodded, "You can count on me, Doc. We'll see you Monday at 9. Thanks!"

He shut the phone off and turned a critical eye on his wife, "Well, now you don't have any choice. Doctor's orders – you're to take it easy."

He held the phone out to her, "Better call Casey."

"I can't, I've put Casey off . . ." Nancy's voice faded at the look her husband gave her.

"Then you better figure out who's gonna go to the meeting in your place," Murdock said firmly.

Cuttey smiled at the terrified Ledley. He was winched up so that he had to balance on his toes to keep from choking, and his arms were bound tightly to his sides. Cuttey admired the simplicity and effectiveness of the setup.

Ledley was sputtering and drooling, "Whatta you want?" he gasped.

Cuttey smiled, "We'll get to that a little later. Comfy?"

Ledley looked into Cuttey's empty, cold eyes, "Go to hell," he spat, just before losing his balance and falling against the rope around his neck, grunting in pain, and scrabbling to right himself.

Cuttey smiled, "I live there."

Pinch Hitter

Murdock turned from the stove as Face came walking in the back door, "Hey, Facey, thanks for comin' over."

Face was all business in a three piece suit and tie. He poured himself a cup of coffee, "No problem, Murdock. Is Nan OK?"

Murdock's eyes strayed toward the front room, "Dr. Phillips said there was probably nothing to worry about, but she wants to see Nan on Monday, and said she should take it easy until then."

Face chuckled, "Good luck with that!"

"Tell me about it," Murdock said, "Want some breakfast?"

Face looked at the mounds of eggs, bacon and toast sitting on the counter and shook his head, "You know, Murdock, at some point in time, you're going to have to stop eating like you're 21."

"Is that a 'no'?"

"Yea, no thanks," Face confirmed with a smile, but snagged a piece of bacon, grinning at Murdock, "Except maybe one little piece of bacon."

Murdock shook his head, "Take a plate, Face, there's plenty," he said turning and handing his friend a plate."

Face's brows furrowed as Murdock turned so his face was lit by the sun coming in the kitchen windows, "Hey, you got something on your chin . . ."

"It's just a bruise," Murdock said, putting a hand up to touch the spot where Nancy had clipped him the night before, "Just a reminder never to wake anyone out of a nightmare."

"She had another one, huh?" Face asked quietly.

Murdock nodded, his expression worried, "They're gettin' worse, Face. And she refuses to talk about it."

"They started about the time Kennedy grabbed her, right?"

Murdock nodded, "I thought the worst she got out of that was a black eye, but now I'm not so sure . . ."

Callie came bounding into the kitchen and stopped short when she saw Face, "Hi," she said shyly.

"Good morning, Callie," Face said with a charming smile, kissing her hand with a little bow, "You're looking as beautiful as ever this morning."

Murdock smiled and shook his head – Face never lost his touch. He held a plate out to Callie, "Load her up, Strawberry."

Callie took the plate, "Where are we eating today?"

"In the living room – I need you're help today and tomorrow. We've gotta make sure Nan takes it easy."

"Is she sick?" Callie asked worriedly.

"Not really sick," Murdock said, "She had a contraction this morning and Dr. Phillips wants her to take it easy until she sees her on Monday."

As Callie started loading her plate, Face set his down on the counter. He'd finished his bacon already, and really didn't want anymore.

He turned back to Murdock, whose expression still reflected his worry about his wife, "Maybe she just needs some time, Murdock."

"Yea, maybe," he said uncertainly.

"It'll work out," Face said, glancing at his watch, "I better get in there – we'll talk some more later?"

Face walked into the front room, "Hey, Nan, how're you feeling?"

Nancy sighed, "I'm fine," then looking over her shoulder she repeated herself, more loudly, "I'm fine!"

Face started chuckling and Nancy gave him a withering look. He held up his hands, "Hey, I'm not the one clucking over you, so don't take it out on me," he said, a wide grin still on his face, "So what do you need me to take care of today, boss?"

Nancy indicated the files on the coffee table, "Casey has several projects that he's looking for some under-the-radar support on. He's expecting me at his office around noon – I was going to take him out to lunch."

Face sat down and picked up the nearest file, quickly skimming through it, "Looks like pretty standard stuff – so the Agency can deny everything if we get caught," he looked at Nancy for confirmation.

She nodded, "Yea – I think we should start charging a premium for that . . ."

Face had already started skimming through the next file, when Callie came in, followed closely by Murdock. Callie sat cross-legged on the floor in front of the coffee table and started eating. Murdock handed Nancy a plate, then sat down and started eating as well.

He looked up at Face, "Sure I can't get you somethin' more to eat Faceman?"

Face shook his head, "Naw – I ate before I left home."

He glanced up at Nancy, "Which reminds me, Amy said she and Jonny would be over later on – she's looking forward to repaying you for your help when she was on bed rest."

Nancy smiled, "Was the term she used 'repay', as in kindness, or 'pay back'?" she asked jokingly.

Face grinned and shrugged, turning his attention back to the files. He'd skimmed three of the four, and hadn't found anything unusual, "So, do you want to do this under the standard contract?"

"I think we can negotiate something more . . ." Nancy said thoughtfully, "I'm really getting concerned about the staffing problem right now, so I think we can afford to push for a higher margin. If Casey goes for it, I want a 10 increase over our normal fee. We'll put that towards a recruiting campaign – which we really need to get started."

"Sounds like a plan," Face said, gathering up the files and putting them in his briefcase, "Do you want me to pull up the old recruiting ads and get them ready to put out on the wire?"

"Um . . . sure, why not," Nancy said uncertainly, "If Casey gives you any problem with the fee-increase, tell him to find someone else that can provide the service we do . . ."

Face smiled at Nancy tolerantly, "I've got it covered, Nan – I'll have Casey eating out of my hands. Don't you worry about a thing," he stood up, "I really should get going – I need to stop by the Compound before the meeting. I'll see you later."

"'Bye, Face," Murdock said, then pointed at Nancy who had started to get up to follow Face out, "You – sit. Face said he can handle it, so . . . let him handle it."

Nancy dropped back onto the couch in resignation – there was no point in arguing with Murdock when he was in this kind of mood.

Lesley Jenkins had decided to hit the restaurant, Mi Mama's Casa, first thing Saturday morning, before the lunch crowd arrived. She walked through the front door, noting the plush, Italian décor – a little overdone for her taste, but cozy.

She was greeted by the hostess, "I'm sorry, Miss, the restaurant doesn't open until noon. There are tables in the bar, if you want to wait."

"Thanks, but actually, I just stopped by to ask after Juanita Temple," Les said with a smile, "You wouldn't happen to know her, would you?"

"Are you a cop?" the hostess asked suspiciously.

"No," Les assured her, "Just looking for a friend. She moved and I'm trying to locate her . . . she told me she really liked this place, and I was hoping I could get a line on her here."

The young woman considered Les seriously, then shrugged, "You don't look like a cop . . . what was the name again?"

Les smiled winningly, "Juanita Temple, dark wavy hair, brown eyes, about 5'6"."

"Juanita Temple . . ." the hostess repeated thoughtfully, "Doesn't ring a bell. Does she work here?"

"Not necessarily, she may just be a regular customer . . . perhaps a frequent takeout caller?" Les suggested.

"Oh, well, I don't take those orders – they go through to the back," she said, "We have a separate entrance for takeouts. You'll want to talk to Sep, he runs the kitchen and handles all the takeout stuff. Go around the side, I think the takeout door is open. Sep should be back there."

"Thanks," Les said, then pulled out a card and handed it to the hostess, "Listen, if you happen to hear anything about Juanita, could you give me a call. I'm Lesley," she indicated the written name above Nancy's crossed out name on the card, "I just started with Adam's Investigation, so I don't have my own cards yet," she explained.

The hostess looked at the card and wrinkled her nose, "I thought you said you wasn't a cop?"

"I'm not," 'anymore,' Les thought, out loud she said, "I'm a private investigator. It's not really an official case though, just looking into it, like I said, for a friend."

The hostess snorted disbelievingly, "Yea, whatever."

Les shrugged, "If you can help, I'd appreciate it."

She turned and walked back out the way she'd come in. She walked around the side of the restaurant, which sat on a corner, and saw the takeout entrance, as described. She watched for a few minutes as young Latinos walked in and out. She had a strong suspicion that food wasn't the only thing in their bags.

She wandered in the door and few minutes later and stopped at the window inside the little waiting area, speaking to the young man behind the counter, "Hi, I'm looking for Sep?"

"I'm Sep, who's askin'?" said a burly character with a cigar hanging out of his mouth. He pushed the kid aside and grinned at Les lopsidedly, "Hey there, pretty lady – Gissepie Milan at your service."

"Hi," Les said, returning the smile, "I was wondering if you knew of the whereabouts of a Juanita Temple?"

Sep's eyes narrowed, "Whatcha askin' for? Hey, you aren't a cop, are ya?"

Les pulled out another card and held it out to him, "No, I'm a private investigator. I'm looking for Juanita, a friend of hers is worried about her. She moved from her last apartment without notice and now we can't find her."

Sep looked at the card, then looked at Les, "Sorry, can't help you," he said, pocketing the card.

"Can't, or won't?" she asked ruefully.

"Don't make much difference as far as you're concerned, now does it," he said with a smile.

Les shrugged and smiled, "No, I guess not," she agreed, then indicated the pocket holding the card, saying hopefully, "If you remember anything, maybe you could give me a call?"

"Sure thing, sweet cheeks!"

The Submission

Murdock ran into the airfield, relieved to find Steve there, and able to stay all day. Amy and Jonny stopped by mid-morning and stayed and visited for about an hour until it was time to leave to visit Jack. At the hospital, Dr. Lyons stopped by while they were there. He told them that Jack would likely be released Monday, barring any unforeseen setbacks. They left when Jack's lunch was served at a little after noon. Murdock took Nancy and Callie out to lunch at DQ. They arrived home about 1:30pm.

When they walked in the house, Nancy immediately started straightening up, until Murdock grabbed her arm and led her to the couch, "Sit. Strawberry and I will take care of cleaning up."

With much coaching from Nancy, they managed to get the house in respectable shape before Sherry Evanston arrived, at 2:00 sharp.

Murdock and Callie were in the kitchen making a pitcher of lemonade when they heard the knock at the front door, "Go answer the door, Strawberry . . . and be polite!" he concluded to the retreating back.

Callie ran through the living room, waving Nancy back down on the couch, "I got it," she opened the door, "Hello, Ms. Evanston, please come in."

Sherry Evanston stepped through the door and Callie motioned towards the living room, "Have a seat," she offered, "I gotta go help HM in the kitchen."

Sherry watched as Callie ran back to the kitchen.

Nancy stood, "Hello Ms. Evanston," she said, extending her hand in greeting, "Please sit down."

Sherry shook Nancy's hand with a stiff smile before sitting down, "Hello Mrs. Murdock. I trust you didn't have any trouble with the forms."

Nancy sat also, "No, we've completed the application," she picked up the pile of forms and held them out to Sherry, "Hopefully everything's in order."

Sherry took the application and began skimming through it, "Charlotte Lincoln is one of your references . . ."

Nancy nodded, "If it hadn't been for Char, I'm not sure we would have gotten the application done."

"Ms. Lincoln has always been a devoted children's advocate, she'll weigh heavily in your favor," Sherry said grudgingly.

Murdock and Callie came in with the lemonade and cookies. Callie handed Sherry a glass and offered her a plate of cookies, which she politely declined.

Sherry looked at Callie shrewdly as she sat down next to Nancy on the couch, "So, Callie, it appears that you like it here."

Callie nodded earnestly, "It's a great place, Nan and HM got dogs . . ."

"Have," Nancy corrected automatically.

Callie looked at her, "Have dogs, and there's a pond out back, and I got . . . um have my own room with a four-poster bed. And Jackie'll get his own room, too . . ."

"Alright," Sherry said, holding up a hand to stem the flow of words out of Callie's mouth. She turned to Nancy, "You said you were going to see if you could find Juanita Temple – have you had a chance to check where they were living?"

Nancy reached over and got her purse from the edge of the couch, and pulled out her notebook, "The apartment is at 1535 Maple Avenue – they were in 402. But as Callie said, Juanita had moved out about two weeks ago, and she left no forwarding address. I have one of my operatives looking into a couple leads on her whereabouts, but there wasn't much to go on."

Sherry made a note on a notepad. She looked concerned. Nancy hesitated, then added, "I was going to file a missing persons report with the local police – it'll help to have her face out on the wire. I have a couple photos that we picked up at the apartment, but perhaps you have a better picture on file?"

Sherry looked at Nancy shrewdly, "Yes," she pulled a picture out of her brief case, "I'll need it back," she added as she handed it to Nancy.

"Certainly."

Sherry then flipped back in the application, "I see here that you list a Colonel John Smith as one of your references," she glanced up, a curious expression on her face, "That name sounds familiar . . ."

"Colonel John Smith was the leader of the A-Team," Nancy said matter-of-factly, "HM served with the Team in Vietnam. They are now working for Stockwell Enterprises."

Sherry looked at Nancy in disbelief, "I thought Stockwell Enterprises was an international policies think tank – what possible work could a group of mercenaries do at a think tank."

Nancy threw a warning look at Murdock, "Stockwell Enterprises does a wide variety of work, actually," she said evasively, adding, "Colonel Smith and his team oversee security and defense training for personnel."

"I see that both of you are currently employed by Stockwell Enterprises," Sherry said, "as well as having other jobs. Doesn't leave much time for children, does it?"

"We've managed," Nancy said quietly.

Callie jumped in, "They've been great – I went with HM to the airfield, and I've spent time with Nan at the Compound, uh, that's Stockwell Enterprises. And we haven't missed a single visiting hours to go see Jack," Nancy reached over and patted Callie's arm, trying to get her to calm down.

Sherry skimmed through a few more pages before gathering the application into a stack and shoving it into her briefcase, "Well, I will of course be checking your references and your backgrounds," she said, adding snidely, "I am not overly enamored of the idea of leaving Callie and Jack in the care of people that consider mercenaries appropriate references, but then that's just my opinion."

Nancy's composure snapped, "It seems to me you shouldn't judge when you don't know the whole story," she said angrily, color rising on her cheeks, "Colonel Smith and his men are not mercenaries. They are men who have served their country despite its treatment of them. Not only are they appropriate references, but they are role models that I would hold up as an example to any child."

Murdock's own anger had defused with Nancy's outburst, and he was now looking worriedly at his wife, whose face was flushed, "Nan, you need to calm down," he said quietly. Standing up, he turned to Sherry, "Listen," he said earnestly, keeping his own temper in check to try and defuse the situation, "Nancy's had a rough day and she's supposed to be taking it easy. I'd really appreciate it if we could cut this short for right now. If you have any more questions, maybe you could call . . . or we could set up another meeting later this week."

Sherry stood up, her own cheeks red, with embarrassment or anger, Murdock wasn't sure, "I certainly didn't mean to upset you Mrs. Murdock," she said apologetically, "I don't see a need to bother you further right now. If I have any further questions, I will be in touch. Thank you for your time."

Murdock walked Sherry out the front door, and onto the porch, "Ms. Evanston, I know we didn't get off on the right foot, but . . . I really hope that you'll review our application with an open mind," he said, "My background is less than . . . ideal, but I . . . we really care for these children. Nan and I will take good care of them."

Sherry looked down at the ground, then back up at Murdock, "I appreciate that, Mr. Murdock, but I have to be honest, my preference would still be to have the children reunited with their mother."

Murdock nodded, "I understand, and we're doing what we can to try to find her. Les Jenkins is one of Nan's best investigators. But until we do, we'll take good care of Callie and Jack. You have my word."

Sherry acknowledged the promise with a nod, "I'll be in touch, Mr. Murdock – Good day."

Murdock walked back in the house and closed the door behind him.

Nancy sighed, laying her head against the back of the couch, "I blew it," she said miserably.

"Don't sweat it, Short Cake," Murdock said, dropping into the chair that Sherry had vacated a few minutes before, "I think she was properly chastised – she was actually pretty pleasant to me when she was leaving. I'm just dreading what she's going to think if she digs too deep into my past."

"I suppose, on the surface of things, we probably don't appear to be the most appropriate people to raise children," Nancy said, running a hand over her face, "a self-destructive, gun-toting PI and an ex-mental patient with questionable associations – we're not exactly parent of the year material."

Callie stood and picked up her dishes, "You're parents of the century compared to my Mother," she said firmly, "Sherry Evanston has her nose too buried in forms and procedures to see what's starin' her right in the face."

She turned and walked into the kitchen, leaving Nancy and Murdock looking after her in surprise, "Out of the mouths of babes," Murdock said wonderingly.

Nancy convinced Murdock to leave a little early to visit Jack and stop by the police station on the way. Murdock and Callie sat and visited with Joe while Nancy filed the missing persons report on Juanita Temple. They then spent a couple hours with Jack, who was not at all happy when they left.

Empty Handed

Les stopped later that evening, after they had returned from visiting Jack. Callie and Murdock had discovered camaraderie in the kitchen, and were now working on making brownies and caramel corn. She came in the back door, with barely a knock to indicate her entrance. Murdock looked up from a huge bowl of popcorn, and grinned, "Howdy, Les. How's it goin'?"

"Fine," Les said, she smiled at Callie, "You must be Callie."

Murdock turned and took up the introductions, "Callie, this is Lesley Jenkins," Callie shook her hand, "Les is the one looking for your mom."

Callie made a face, "Great," she said, unenthusiastically, pointedly turning away from Les.

Murdock patted her shoulder, "Go finish getting' the brownies into the pan, Strawberry," he suggested, then looked at Les and said quietly "Sorry about that – it's kinda sensitive subject. Anyway, Nan's in the living room . . . and going quietly stir crazy."

Les chuckled, "I'll go occupy a little bit of her time for you," She turned and headed into the living room, while Murdock went to help Callie get the brownies in the oven.

"So," Les said, dropping into a chair in the living room, "How's the invalid?"

Nancy made a face at her, "I am not an invalid," she said irritably, then grinned apologetically, "Sorry – HM's clucking is starting to make me a little testy. How are you Les? Did you get a chance to check into those leads on Juanita?"

"Yea," Les said, flipping open her case book, "Will at the bar didn't know anything about Juanita's whereabouts. Said he hadn't seen her since she'd quit, sometime in late May. So that was a dead end."

"What about Con Smith's restaurant?" Nancy prodded.

"That was a little more interesting, though, still not terribly helpful," Les admitted, "I talked to the guy that runs the kitchen and 'takeout'," she raised an eyebrow at Nancy suggestively, "name of Gissepie Milan. He was hiding something, but I'm not sure if he was just nervous having a private dick snoopin' around or if it really had something to do with Juanita Temple."

Nancy sighed, shaking her head, "I really didn't think it would be that tough to run this woman down," she said in frustration.

"You filed the missing persons?" Les asked.

"Yea, maybe we'll get lucky and someone will spot her. As far as we could tell, the woman has no credit cards, no shopping cards, no health insurance. She's not on unemployment, no checking account. Hell, she doesn't even have a driver's license – she lost it on a DUI 7 years ago and never tried to get it back. Nothing to put a tracer on for activity. It's like she doesn't even exist in the electronic world."

"If we could at least narrow down our search area, we could do a more thorough sweep, but without a neighborhood to start in . . ." Les said.

"There is one other thing," Nancy looked over her shoulder towards the kitchen, seeing that Callie and Murdock were still engrossed in cooking, "I suspect Juanita is pregnant. If she doesn't have health insurance . . ."

"She may try to hit one of the free Family Planning clinics," Les finished Nancy's thought.

Nancy nodded, "It's worth a shot," She stood and went into the office, coming back out with a couple photos, "these aren't very good, but they'll give you something to work with," she said, handing them to Les.

Les stood and took the photos, "OK, well, I'll see what I can find. You might also make sure that the patrols in the neighborhood around Mi Mama's Casa keep a sharp eye out – just on the outside chance that she's around there somewhere. I think given what we know, that should probably be our focal point for the time being."

Nancy nodded, "Good idea – I'll give Tyler a call tomorrow. He didn't hold out a lot of hope for finding her, but maybe if they at least have a starting point we'll improve our chances."

"Any other associates of Juanita's we could shake down?" Les asked.

"A boyfriend, but so far all I've got is a nickname – 'Cuttey' - and it doesn't come up anywhere."

Les smiled, "I'll drop his name – maybe something will shake loose."

"Thanks for the help, Les," Nancy said sincerely.

"Anytime, Nan – I'll touch base with you on Monday," she turned back briefly, "Oh, and tell Riley to get off my ass – he says he's sick of your, how did he phrase it . . ."

"Charity work," Nancy finished for her, "I'll take care of Riley – and next time you see him, tell him that if I wasn't such a sucker for charity I'd have left him years ago."

Les laughed, "I'll be more than happy to convey the message."

What Murdock Doesn't Know

The remainder of the weekend seemed to last forever, to Nancy. Murdock and Callie managed to keep her in a chair with her feet up for the majority of it, except when they went to the hospital to see Jack, who was definitely getting better . . . and cranky about being left behind when visiting hours were over. By Monday morning, Nancy was more than ready to go see Dr. Phillips and be told that she could get her life back to normal.

Callie stayed with Maggie while Murdock and Nancy went to the doctor. When they arrived at the office, it was still a little before 9 and Nancy was apparently the first patient of the morning. The nurse, Celia, led Nancy back to an examining room to drop off her stuff, before being led to the scale.

Celia checked the scale reading twice and clucked her tongue, "OK, into the examining room, and we'll check your blood pressure and the fetal heartbeats."

In the examining room, Celia had Nancy get undressed and put on a gown and sit on the examining table with a sheet over her lap. She then took Nancy's blood pressure without comment, then had her lie back on the table and lift her gown. She managed to find each of the twins' hearbeats and Celia smiled, "They sound good and strong," she wiped Nancy's belly off, and helped her to a sitting position, "The doctor will be in to see you shortly."

After she'd left, Murdock leaned against the examining table and rubbed Nancy's lower back, "It was a relief to hear the heartbeats," he said quietly. Nancy nodded in agreement, leaning against his shoulder.

Dr. Phillips was not long in coming and stepped through the door after a brief knock, holding Nancy's chart in her hand. She greeted them, and sat down on the stool at the tiny desk. She looked up at Nancy, "Have you been relaxing, like I told you?"

"I didn't have much choice, you set Murdock on watch," Nancy said, looking at her husband and smiling tolerantly.

"Perhaps I should ask him, then," Dr. Phillips said, looking at Murdock with raised eyebrows.

"She behaved herself for the most part this weekend, Doc," he said, "I don't think she liked it but she kept her feet up."

Dr. Phillips stood and took Nancy's blood pressure again, making a note on the chart. She then had Nancy lie back on the table. She measured her belly, then checked her cervix. As she was helping Nancy sit up, she asked, "You haven't noticed any fluids leaking since the contraction?"

Nancy shook her head, "And you've had no further contractions since?"

Nancy hesitated, "Not like that one, but I've had some discomfort – like a belt tightening around my middle. It usually lasts for a minute or two then goes away."

Dr. Phillips nodded, and sat back down at the desk, making some notations on the chart. She turned and considered Nancy seriously, "I think that everything is fine, good strong heartbeats, rates at a good level, and your measurements are right on. I am going to order an ultrasound, just to make sure, but I'm fairly confident that the babies are OK."

Nancy and Murdock smiled in relief at each other, but the relief was short-lived, "I am however," the doctor continued, "concerned about a couple things. First of all, Nancy, you've lost 2 lbs since your last appointment – you should be steadily gaining during these last few months, especially with twins. Second, your blood pressure is up. Celia read it at 138 over 88, when I checked it was 135 over 89. I really don't like to see it so high, especially after a weekend of taking it easy."

Dr. Phillips looked at the chart, then back at Nancy, "You're still working full time?"

"More than full time," Murdock said tersely. Nancy looked at him sharply, but certainly couldn't argue with the validity of the statement.

Dr. Phillips nodded in understanding, "There's no indication of any of the diseases we would normally be concerned about. You're on the borderline, and I really want to avoid medicating you for high blood pressure," she looked at Nancy critically, "Nancy, I know you don't want to hear this, but you are going to have to slow down. We talked about this at your last appointment, and your blood pressure wasn't this high."

Nancy's jaw clenched, and Dr. Phillips raised an eyebrow at the young woman, "Let me put this another way, Nancy, I want to see you back here at the end of the week. I should have the ultrasound results back by then. If I don't see any improvement in your blood pressure, we are going to talk seriously about putting you on bed rest."

Dr. Phillips flipped the chart shut and stood, "Stop by the nurses' station and Celia will get you scheduled at the hospital for the ultrasound – preferably today. Then make an appointment for Friday."

She put a friendly hand on Nancy's shoulder, "This isn't a punishment, Nancy," she said, smiling, "The goal is to get you and the twins through this pregnancy with the least amount of risk possible. I know we've talked about this before – pregnancy, especially with twins, places a lot of stress on your body. We need to reduce the external stressors to try and get your blood pressure under control, and keep you healthy."

"Nothing like being knocked over the head with the obvious," Murdock said.

The ultrasound was scheduled for later that afternoon. They started out to the car, Nancy sullen and silent, Murdock agitated.

He couldn't decide if he was angrier than he was worried or the other way around. Obviously the blood pressure thing had cropped up last appointment and he couldn't remember why he wasn't there, but was kicking himself for missing it. And why hadn't Nancy told him about it?

"So your blood pressure was high last appointment, too?" he asked.

"Higher than usual, yes."

"And this wasn't the first time Dr. Phillips warned you to slow down?" he continued.

"No."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Nancy just looked at him as if the answer was obvious, and didn't say a word. They walked the rest of the way to the car in silence.

He hated it when Nancy clammed up like this. They rode in silence, until he couldn't stand it anymore, "Well, what do you want to do?"

"I need to go to the Compound," Nancy said flatly.

He felt his jaw tense but took a deep breath before responding, "You're baiting me."

Nancy looked at him defiantly, then cast her eyes down guiltily, "Yea, I guess I am."

"Everyone has been telling you to slow down, come to find out, even Dr. Phillips . . .," he started quietly.

"Please, don't," Nancy said, "I know, and I'm working on it . . . I really do need to go to the Compound," she added tentatively.

"Fine," he said flatly.

Nancy sighed, and looked purposely out the window. Murdock looked over at her, reached down and covered her hand with his, "I'm just worried about you, Short Cake, and the twins."

She turned and looked at him, "I know."

Cuttey was just finishing his smoke. As he'd just reported to Con Smith's lacky, Frank – things were going better than he had anticipated. Ledley hadn't taken much to break, and now it was all gravy. He had the guy eating out of his hands. Ledley just wanted out, and he would do anything to get out. He hadn't allowed Ledley to sleep, eat, or even drink for the last 48 hours, and on top of a hangover that was hell. Ledley was dehydrated and exhausted, and Cuttey had been relentlessly tormenting him the entire time.

Cuttey stubbed out his cigarette, and took a deep breath of fresh air before heading back into the cabin. Ledley hadn't been let off the leash since Friday, and had made a mess of himself in the cabin. The smell was beginning to get overwhelming. Degradation, along with other physical and mental torment were taking their toll.

Cuttey stepped into the cabin and Ledley spun around looking at him like a caged animal, "When are you going to tell me what you want? I'll tell you anything, do anything – just let me out of here."

"All in due time, Mr. Ledley, all in due time," Cuttey smiled, pulling on a pair of elbow-length gloves, while Ledley looked on in terror.

Making Progress

Nancy was sitting in the office at the Compound reviewing the contract that Face had negotiated with Casey, while Face sat quietly on the other side of the desk. She shook her head, and Face sat forward, "What's wrong?"

Nancy smiled, "Not a thing – I told you I wanted a 10 increase in fees . . ."

"Yea, well, Casey was amenable to a 15 increase," Face said with a shrug.

"You sound disappointed."

Face grinned, "Well, I asked for 25 - I don't usually allow myself to lose a full 10!"

Nancy flipped the file shut, stood up and walked around the desk, "Guess you win," she said quietly, "I talked to Hannibal earlier, since the Doc says I have to slow down . . . I want you to take over the new project development work, in addition to the recruiting program. I'm going to be stepping back from Stockwell Enterprises operations, at least in the short term."

Face stood with a broad smile, "You mean I get to be the boss?"

Nancy's eyes narrowed, "Not exactly, the boss, Face – I'm leaving that to Hannibal."

Face grimaced, "I'm going to report to him for the rest of my life."

Nancy grinned, "Cheer up, Face, at least in this position you shouldn't have to dodge too many bullets."

They turned and headed toward the door, Face put a brotherly arm around her shoulders and squeezed, "We've got things covered, Nan. You need to take care of yourself."

Nancy smiled gratefully at him, "That's the idea."

Murdock came around the door, "Hey, Faceman, hands off my wife," he said, only half jokingly, "we need to keep a sense of propriety here after all."

Nancy looked at Murdock with a raised eyebrow, deciding it was past time for him to get a reality check, "Propriety, huh," she said glibly. She turned and grabbed Face's lapels, pulling him down and kissing him full on the lips. She released a rather stunned Face and turned to her husband with an impish grin, "I suppose that's out then?" She turned and slid past him and into the hall.

Murdock pursed his lips, "Guess I deserved that," he said repentantly, as Face stepped up next to him, with a deep breath, trying hard not to laugh.

"Damn straight," Nancy said over her shoulder.

Murdock nodded thoughtfully, then looked sideways at his friend, "You didn't enjoy that, right?"

"Not at all," Face said, hurrying out the door and towards the gym, before his self-control was totally lost.

Ledley was lying in the fetal position, shivering. Cuttey nudged him with his toe. Ledley moaned, "Please, no more . . . no more."

Cuttey crouched next to him, grabbed a hand full of hair, and yanked his head back, forcing him to look at him, "OK, no more – let's talk about what I want from you."

"Anything, just please, stop," Ledley dissolved into tears, slobbering.

"Yes, you will do anything," Cuttey said, "But what I need is just for your to keep your trap shut – no more talking to the cops. No more testifying against your old friends."

"No, I promise, I'll keep quiet," Ledley said desperately.

"I know you will," Cuttey said, a cruel smile creasing his face, "Because you know, any time, anywhere – I can find you. And if you breath one word of any of this, we'll have another of these little sessions. And I won't be near as gentle."

"Now," Cuttey said, lifting a knife and admiring how it gleamed, "I'm just going to leave you a little permanent reminder of our deal."

Ledley shuddered involuntarily and collapsed back into the fetal position, muttering, "I promise," over and over again.

"That's all I have, Hannibal," Nancy said, "I'm not planning on being in the rest of the week. I'm going to leave things in your capable hands. If you need anything, you know where I live!"

Hannibal raised an eyebrow at her, "I really don't think the General is going to be wild about your delegation, Nancy. I don't think he ever wanted the A-Team running Stockwell Enterprises."

A funny smile curved Nancy's lips, "I never have made him happy – why start now?"

Hannibal just shook his head, Nancy tended to vacillate between an overwhelming desire to please her Uncle, to an almost destructive tendency to defy him. He'd seen the flip flop several times over the years since he'd met her, but it never ceased to amaze him.

She bridled at Hannibal's silence, taking it as tacit disagreement with her tactic, "Besides, I don't see where I have any other choice with everyone breathing down my neck. And now if I don't show some improvement by Friday, Dr. Phillips is going to shut me down totally . . . not to mention that Murdock is going to have a cow."

"Murdock is just worried about you . . . we all are," Hannibal chuckled, "and besides, I'm not questioning your motivation – I'm just wondering whether you're going to fess up, or hope that the General doesn't find out."

"I'm weighing my options," Nancy said, relaxing as she realized that Hannibal wasn't criticizing her actions. She didn't necessarily need his blessing, but it certainly made her feel better.

She stood up, "Well, I better go find HM and get moving. We need to pick Jack up at the hospital."

Hannibal stood, too, and walked with her to the door, "Try to relax and enjoy the time off, Nancy," he counseled, "We know what needs to be done and we'll do it. Things are well in hand."

"I know, Hannibal, and I'll do my best, but no promises," she said uncertainly, "I've never been very good at twiddling my thumbs."

"I don't really think that's going to be a problem with Callie and Jack around," he said with a smile, "I think they'll keep you busier than you realize. Try and enjoy it."

Murdock came walking in from the gym, "Ready to go, Short Cake?"

Nancy nodded, "Ready," she said, "See you later Hannibal, and thanks, again."

"Yea, thanks Hannibal – we'll see ya later," Murdock said as he put a protective arm around Nancy's shoulders and steered her out of the house.

Nee walked out of the apartment building, squinting against the sun, even with her sunglasses on. She shaded her eyes, and looked around nervously, clutching her purse to her side. She moved haltingly down the block, continuing to look around periodically. She reached the bus stop, on the next block and sat down to wait for the bus.

A patrol car slowed as it went by, the officer in the passenger side looking at Nee curiously. Nee clutched her purse closer, watching as the patrol car turned the next corner. She opened her purse and checked her money again – just enough for the bus fare to the old neighborhood and back. She wasn't going to have much time to look for the kids. Hopefully, they hadn't wandered too far from the apartment.

She pulled a card out of her purse curiously, noting that it was Sherry Evanston's. She considered the number thoughtfully, then put the card back in her purse and snapped it shut. She noticed that the patrol car was again slowly cruising past and looked up, her eyes looking directly into those of the officer in the passenger seat. Nee tried to calm her breathing, but when the patrol car parked and the officers got out and started walking back to her, she stood and started walking back towards the apartment.

One of the officers called to her, "Miss, could we have a word?"

Her adrenalin pumping, Nee started running and ducked down the next road and down a back alley, ducking into a doorway, and trying to disappear in the shadows.

She heard the officers running past. She huddled in the shadows and waited, thinking that the whole idea of going to find the kids was foolish to begin with – Cuttey would kill her if he came back and they were in the apartment. She wasn't sure how long she sat there, but by the time she headed back to the apartment it was beginning to get dark.

Once inside, she reached into her purse and took out the card she had found earlier and pulled the phone onto her lap. She dialed the number, and when the phone was answered, she said, "Sherry, this is Nee – I need your help."

Sherry Evanston gripped the phone, "Nee, where are you? I've been worried sick."

"I'm OK, Sherry, but you gotta help me," Nee pleaded, "You gotta go find the kids."

"I've got the kids in state custody, already," Sherry said soothingly, "Where are you? I can have them to you this afternoon."

"NO," Nee said vehemently, "I can't take them now – you gotta take care of 'em for me. I'll come get them as soon as I can. I'm just relieved to know they're OK – they are OK?"

Sherry debated what to say, "Well, yea, they are now," she said, "Jack's getting outta the hospital today."

"Oh God," Nee gasped, "What's wrong?"

"He had pneumonia," Sherry said, adding angrily, "He almost didn't make it, Nee – Callie said they'd been on the street for at least a couple weeks. Why didn't you call before now."

"I couldn't," Nee said simply, "I'm in trouble, Sherry . . . I can't explain, but I'm in big trouble and I don't want the kids involved. I'll come get 'em as soon as I can. Please, take good care of 'em for me."

"Nee, just tell me where you are, I'll come pick you up . . ."

"No," Nee said quietly, "You don't understand – he'd find me. I gotta figure somethin' else out. I'll call later."

"Nee . . ." Sherry said, but the line was dead. She put the phone down and opened up the file on her desk, looking up the number for Nancy Murdock.

Comin' Home

As they rode down the road, Murdock looked sideways at Nancy, "Thank you," he said simply.

Nancy smiled, "Yea, well, let's just chalk it up to a large learning curve."

He nodded, looking thoughtful, "I feel kinda like I'm on a role . . ." he said cautiously, "Do you think we could maybe tackle another problem . . ."

Nancy's brow furrowed, "What other problem?"

"The nightmares," he said tentatively, "What's going on, Nan – if it's not what happened with your Mom, what is it?"

Nancy licked her lips, "It's . . . it's not something I'm ready to discuss," she said hesitantly, "I think . . . well, that little encounter with Kennedy triggered a bit of a regression. It'll be alright, I just need to work through it."

"Nan, it's not . . . normal," he sighed, "I mean, this 'regression' seems pretty extreme."

Nancy looked at her hands, as Murdock pulled into Hannibal and Maggie's driveway. He turned to her, "This kind of reaction is indicative of some deeply rooted issue – and if you don't start facing it, you're never going to 'work though it'."

"HM, please don't psychoanalyze me," she said testily, then relented, "I'm sorry, just, please, give me a little time . . . and a little breathing room."

Callie came running out the front door, with Maggie trailing behind.

Murdock watched Callie with a smile playing around his lips, then he turned to Nancy, "You need to talk it out, Nan."

"Please don't push . . .," she said quietly.

Callie wrenched open the door, "Can we go get Jack now?" she asked anxiously.

Murdock hadn't taken his eyes off Nancy, but decided that now probably wasn't the time to push the issue – but it was coming, soon.

He smiled back at Callie, "Sure, Strawberry, let's go get Jack."

Les headed into the fourth family planning clinic that she'd visited that day. She'd started with Mi Mama's Casa as the center and worked out in a spiral from that point with no luck, whatsoever.

She walked up to the reception desk, and the woman behind the desk barely even looked up, "Sign in and take a clipboard. Make sure you fill out the entire form and sign it. That is your medical release."

Les ignored the clipboard, "I'm sorry, I'm not here for service," she said, pulling out a picture and a card, "I Les Jenkins, and I'm looking for this woman, Juanita Temple. Have you seen her in here recently?"

The woman looked at Les blankly for a moment, glanced at the photo, and shook her head, "I don't recall seeing her, but I'm only here part time."

"How many other receptionists are there?"

"Two," the woman answered, "Lois works Tuesday, Thursday, and Gerry works Saturday and Sunday – we're open 7 days a week."

Les made a note in her case log, "Would you mind taking a copy of the picture and leaving it with a note and my card asking the other two receptionists if they've seen her?"

"I suppose I could, but no promises," she said, taking the photo and turning to the copier. She returned the photo and accepted the business card, "the picture doesn't copy too good – you might want to stop by and see Lois and Gerry personally."

Les smiled, "I'll try. Thanks for your help."

She walked out to her car and sat down, contemplating the mostly wasted morning. She sighed and started the engine – maybe she'd get some lunch at Mi Mama's Casa. After all, she needed to eat.

At the hospital Jack was totally dressed and ready to go when they walked in the door, "I'm all ready," he said excitedly, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

Murdock scooped him up and sat him down on the bed, "I think you have your shoes on the wrong feet, buddy," he said as he set to correcting the problem.

Nancy smiled, "We can't leave 'til Dr. Lyons comes anyway," she said.

As if on cue, Dr. Lyons came walking in, "Well, if it isn't my most energetic patient," he said, smiling. He shook hands with Nancy and Murdock, "The nurse called me as soon as she saw you coming in, told me I'd be sorry if I didn't get down here to release him right away."

Jack jumped down off the bed, "Can we go now?"

"Hold your horses, there bucko," Dr. Lyons said, "Why don't you and your sister go play over there while I give Mr. and Mrs. Murdock your discharge instructions."

"C'mon, Jackie," Callie said, taking his hand, "it'll be boring anyway."

"But, I'm ready to go . . ." Jack protested as Callie led him to the end of the room.

Dr. Lyons watched them leave, then motioned to seats for Nancy and Murdock, "Please have a seat. I really wanted a chance to talk to you without the kids around."

He took a deep breath, then continued, "Jack is doing fine – the infection seems to be gone, though I'll be sending you home with a prescription for him. He'll stay on the antibiotics for awhile, just as a precaution against relapse."

He crossed his arms, and checked to make sure the kids were still at the end of the room, "What I really wanted to talk to you about, is . . . well, as part of the release, we did a complete physical examination of Jack, and I'm afraid . . . well, there's evidence of fairly recent sexual abuse."

Nancy felt her stomach lurch, "How recent?"

"Probably within the last month to 6 weeks, based on the extent of healing."

Murdock's jaw was clenched, "That would put it just before the kids ran away."

Dr. Lyons nodded, "I thought you should know. By the way, congratulations on becoming foster parents – you're doing a great thing for these kids," he said, "I was pleased to get the release forms from CS – they sure did hurry things along for you."

He stood, "That's really all I have. Jack should be fine, physically. Please make an appointment with my office in about 2 weeks – the number is on the release forms," he handed them the papers, and shook their hands, "Good luck, and if you have any questions, or there are any problems please don't hesitate to call. Take care."

He walked to the back of the room, and shook Jack's hand formally and told him he'd see him in a couple weeks, just to check on him.

Jack and Callie came running back to Nancy and Murdock, "Now, can we go?" Jack asked hopefully.

"Yes, Jack, now we can go!" Nancy said.

The hostess recognized Les when she walked in, "Back to ask more questions?"

Les smiled, "No actually, the food smelled so good last time I was here, I decided to give it a try – just one for lunch."

"Right this way," the hostess said, picking up a menu and leading Les back to a table.

Les ate a leisurely lunch watching the comings and goings of the patrons with passing interest. She was just about done when Con Smith came walking in with a contingent of thugs. They disappeared into the back room and Les decided to check it out. She left enough money on the table to cover her tab and a tip, and headed down the back hall. She noted the muscle covering a door at the end of the hall as she walked the opposite direction to the ladies restroom.

She sighed as she washed her hands – based on the brief look she'd gotten there was no sneaking into a spot where she could eavesdrop on the back room. Given the building layout, she was guessing it was an interior room, so there'd be no direct access from the outside either. That meant it was the front door, or bust.

She walked out of the bathroom, and straight up to the big guy standing at the door. She smiled at him winningly, "Hi!" she said brightly, "I was just wondering if a friend of mine was working – his name is, um, Cuttey."

"Cuttey ain't here."

"Oh, OK," Les said, feeling a surge of excitement, "If you see him, tell him Shelley said 'hey'." She waved and walked back out to the restaurant and out the front door.

She took a walk around the outside of the restaurant. On the back alley, she looked around, then pushed a wood box up under one of the windows, and after checking one more time, climbed up and looked through the window. It appeared to look into another hall, and she could see another thug at the entrance to a room – probably another entrance to the room she was interested in.

She jumped down and continued down the alley. The kitchen entrance was propped open, and the kitchen was bustling with activity. She stepped through the door, and waited for someone to notice her, but no one seemed to so she walked around the corner into a supply closet. There were dirty uniforms there, and she picked one up and put it on, stepping back out into the kitchen, she walked through the nearest swinging door, and found herself in another hallway, with another guarded entry. She immediately turned around and went back through the swinging door and stood there for a minute before going back into the supply closet.

She ditched the uniform, it wasn't going to do her any good. She stood there with her hands on her hips, trying to figure out a way in, when she looked up and smiled – a utility entry – totally unguarded.

She pushed a stool over under the hatch and stood on it, pushing the hatch cover up and over. She pulled a pen light out and with her hand covering the light to dim it some, she looked both directions. There was some ambient light from registers along the ducting, so she turned the light off and pulled herself up into the cramped duct work. Because of the tight space, she couldn't get the access cover back in place – she could barely crawl along on her belly. Going was very slow.

She made her way down the ventilation duct to the nearest register, which looked in on an empty office. Here there was a branch in the duct work, and she passed it, backed her way into it, and turned around – this allowed her to make her way back and put the hatch cover back in place, which made her feel more comfortable about not being discovered. She moved slowly backwards past the first register to the second. This one also looked in on an office, this one with a woman in it who was working on paperwork of some sort. At the third register, she hit pay dirt – it looked over a large room. There was a table within her line of sight that had four men sitting at it playing poker. This was the place. The group at the table was fairly quiet, concentrating on their game. She could also hear a conversation, closer than the poker players, off to the right, and out of her line of sight.

She listened intently, there were two voices, one had a funny whistling rasp every time he breathed in, like he was having trouble breathing. The other was apparently the boss.

The wheezer was saying, "Yea boss, we got everything set for the delivery. Shouldn't be no problems."

"Good, I don't want anything messin' this up," the boss (Con Smith, Les guessed) said, "Takin' over the west end is strapping us for goods. We're gonna have to up the order nex' time to cover."

A balding, rotund man in a suit and tie backed into view, "Will do, boss," he turned and walked out of the room, via the door that would lead to the hallway by the restaurant.

All was quiet for the next hour. The boss was served a huge meal, and Les was starting to doze off, when a new voice roused her. She was looking out the register on an angle and had missed the new arrival coming in, but he had taken a seat with the boss and was obviously providing a routine report on the 'business'.

The new guy was saying, "I just got off the phone with Cuttey, he said that his little project has gone much better than planned. He should be home tomorrow, and he said there ain't no way that bird is singin'."

"See Frank, I told you Cuttey's talents would come in handy . . . what else you got for me?"

"Well, I checked in with the Council, like you said," Frank said, "they said the payoff for the Murdock contract went up – Kennedy's turnin' up the heat. Rumor I heard was, he's gonna be out soon."

"Kennedy's good, but he ain't that good," the boss said disparagingly, "he's pegged as a flight risk – no way they'll set bail."

"I don't know," Frank said, "I think he's got a judge in his pocket. Anyway, I thought you might be interested, 'cause Kennedy's puttin' his business on the line – he'll partner in whoever completes the contract. That's pretty damned lucrative, 'specially if he ends up in the joint."

There was silence for a few seconds, "Alright, let's review what we've got on Murdock," the boss said, "there's some powerful muscle there – that's why nobody's taken the contract so far."

"I'll pull the file," Frank said, and apparently left by a door out of Les' line of sight.

Les let out the breath she was holding. This wasn't what she had been expecting. It was time to leave. She made her way slowly down the duct, her arms tingling painfully as the circulation came back into them. She lifted the access cover cautiously, but the supply closet was empty. She dropped down onto the stool and put the cover back in place. She managed to slip out into the alley undetected and ran back to her car.

The phone in Nancy's office started ringing at a little before 8 and Nancy looked at Jack apologetically, "Sorry, buddy – I gotta go get that. Can you read to yourself for a few minutes?"

"Sure, Nan," Jack said cheerfully, and Nancy headed into the front room.

She picked up the phone, "Hello, this is Nancy," she said.

"Nan, this is Riley," Riley said unnecessarily.

"What's up, Riley?"

"I've got Les here, Nan, and she just told me a real interesting story," Riley said and proceeded to provide Nancy with a summary of Les' evening.

While Nancy was listening, she closed the door to the office and sat down, "So she found Cuttey?" she asked excitedly.

Riley growled, "Damn it Nancy, who gives a flying fuck if she found Cuttey – you're in deep shit. There's a contract out on you."

"It's nothing new, Riley," Nancy said dismissively.

"He's raising the stakes, Nan," Riley insisted, "Eventually somebody's gonna bite."

"I'll be alright," Nancy said, "Was Les able to find out where Cuttey's staying?"

"No," Riley said, "Listen, I want you to call me at regular intervals . . ."

"Riley, drop it, OK," Nancy said irritably, "I'm at home with HM and the kids. Nothing is going to happen tonight, for goodness sake."

"OK," Riley said, "But tomorrow, after Murdock leaves in the morning, I'm going to keep track of you – either Les or I will call you on your cell. Make sure it's charged, and for Christ's sake, don't ignore it."

"Fine," Nancy conceded, "Have Les see if she can get a line on where Cuttey's living – that's where we'll find Juanita."

"Are we having the same fucking conversation," Riley asked impatiently.

Nancy chuckled, "I'll talk to you tomorrow, Riley. G'night."

Nancy opened the door and found Jack had fallen asleep reading his book. Callie and Murdock were still in the kitchen, making nachos to eat while they watched a history program that was due on at 8. She picked up Jack and took him up to his room and tucked him into bed. Then she went down and joined Callie and Murdock watching their program. By 9:00pm Callie was yawning and Nancy and HM took her up to bed and tucked her in.

They went down to the bathroom to get ready for bed. Murdock looked at Nancy, who was washing her face, "By the way, who called earlier?"

"Oh, it was Riley," Nancy said off-handedly. She finished rinsing her face and dried it on the towel, "Leslie got a lead on Cuttey – she's gonna follow it up tomorrow."

Murdock yawned and stretched, "You know, neither one of us really worked today, and we were still on the run all day," he said in wonder, "we need to institute a life simplification principal – no more new commitments, no more new partnerships, no more new anything. Let's see if we can get a handle on what we got."

Nancy rinsed her mouth, laughing, "I think it's a little late for that – there will be two new little babies in under three months. And there's no stopping that."

"Right, right," he smiled as she moved into his arms and he kissed the top of her head, "Previously sealed commitments aside, I mean."

They stood together for a few minutes. Nancy let her eyes close and leaned against him, her arms locked around his waist. Murdock smiled, running a hand through her hair and kissing the top of her head again, "C'mon, Short Cake, let's get to bed."

She smiled teasingly, as they turned and started towards the stairs, arm in arm, "I'm always ready to go to bed with you, flyboy."

"Better watch out, I might start gettin' ideas . . . he said, grinning suggestively.

"I certainly hope so."

She was running down a dark alley, her heart pounding in her ears, and her breath coming in rasps. She kept looking over her shoulder. She could see nothing but shadows pursuing her, but she knew they were sinister. Were they getting closer? She couldn't tell, but raw fear kept her running, even though it felt like her heart would burst from her rib cage. Up ahead she could see a light, but it wasn't getting any closer. Wouldn't anyone help her? If she squinted into the light she could see someone beckoning, but she couldn't make out who it was, because the light was behind them and was blinding her. She slowed her pace and shaded her eyes, trying to make the person out.

A door appeared on her left and she stopped and opened it, hoping for a route of escape. When the door opened, it blocked the light from the end of the tunnel, plunging her into darkness. The smell of chloroform filled her nostrils as she struggled to remain awake. She could feel herself being swallowed up by the blackness, unable to resist the drug.

Suddenly, she found herself strapped to a table, with a large, examining light blinding her so that she was forced to close her eyes. She couldn't move at all, and she was cold, so cold. She could feel something touching her, at first just here and there, but soon, everywhere, intimately and cruelly. She opened her mouth to scream, but her mouth was dry, and her tongue was swollen and felt like sand paper, making it impossible to make any sound.

The light went out, and she opened her eyes tentatively, looking into the black eyes of a mad man. He was talking to her, but even if she concentrated, she couldn't understand what he was saying. All she could see were his eyes, empty dead eyes; and his mouth, spewing gibberish that she knew she should understand but couldn't seem to make sense of. She wanted desperately to understand him, to understand why. She listened intently, for what seemed like an eternity, until she felt his hands stop their wandering and tighten around her neck. His mouth closed over hers . . .

Nancy sat up in bed, gasping for breath, her heart beating in her throat. Slowly, she realized that she was in her bedroom, in her home. She heard HM's slow even breathing, and focused on it as an anchor in reality, slowly coming out of the nightmare.

She turned and sat on the edge of the bed staring into the darkness. HM was right, the nightmares were getting worse, luckily tonight she hadn't awakened him. He was becoming more insistent, wanting to know what was going on, and she still wasn't sure she was ready to talk about it.

She stood and quietly left the room, heading downstairs. In the bathroom, she turned on the cold water and splashed her face, trying the freeze the images out of her head. The twins gave a comforting thump, and she smiled to herself – they seemed to know when Mom needed a reminder of reality.

She looked at the red numbers on the digital clock, the only light in the bathroom – 4:30 am. HM would be waking up soon, and he'd come looking for her if she wasn't in bed, but she needed to purge the nightmare. She dried her face and headed into her office. She opened the center drawer of her desk, reaching into the back she pulled out a dog-eared logbook and opened it to the next blank page and started writing.

She got to the part where she opened the door in the tunnel, with the darkness and the smell of chloroform. She'd never forget that smell, it triggered an intense, almost overwhelming terror . . . she stopped writing and closed her eyes allowing the memory of the smell and reaction to fill her mind. It caused an almost immediate physical reaction, causing her to tremble, but she consciously pushed it into a corner of her mind and closed the door. Opening her eyes, she looked at the page of notes, and next to that section she wrote 'Carson'. Kennedy had let that monster back out inside her head. She drew a door around the name and proceeded to totally color it in so that the name was obliterated, drawing a heavy padlock and key over the door knob.

She closed the book and headed back upstairs, checking in on Jack and Callie, before going back to her own bedroom.

HM was sitting up in bed when she came in, "Nightmare or contraction?" he asked, concern evident in his voice.

Nancy delayed answering, as she slipped into bed, "It was a nightmare," she finally answered, as he settled next to her and put his arms around her, resting his hands on her belly.

His lips touched the back of her head, "Are you OK?" he asked.

Nancy smiled and covered his hands with hers, "I am now," she said, "let's go back to sleep – it's still awful early."

Murdock took a deep breath, biting back the questions he knew she wouldn't answer, "OK, Short Cake – but promise me, only sweet dreams."

A Day of Discovery

Murdock woke when the sun came shining through the window. Nancy was sleeping peacefully, so he slipped out of bed, and quietly dressed. He went downstairs and into the kitchen, setting out eggs, milk and flour along with the other stuff to make pancakes. He wanted to make a big breakfast to celebrate Jack coming home. As he was working he started noticing an annoying beeping coming from somewhere towards the front of the house.

Murdock followed the sound into Nancy office – it sounded like a portable phone with a dying battery. He was shuffling through the papers on her desk, when he came across a dog-eared log book. He opened it assuming it was her current case book. She'd been keeping him up to date on the Juanita Temple search, but he always liked looking through her current case book, it provided an interesting glimpse into how her mind worked.

He sat down and flipped to a few pages before the last entry. As he began reading, he realized it wasn't her case book – it was much more interesting than that.

When Nancy came downstairs, Callie and Jack were helping Murdock set the table and finish breakfast. She smiled as she walked into the kitchen, saying cheerfully, "Smells good down here!"

Callie chirped a quick 'Good morning!' as she ferried silverware into the dining room.

Jack bounded up to her and hugged her legs, "We're havin' a feast to celebrate me gettin' outta the hopsital!" he said enthusiastically, "HM made Mickey Mouse pancakes, 'n eggs, 'n, 'n toast, 'n bacon."

"Good morning, Short Cake," Murdock said, giving her a quick peck on the cheek.

"Anything I can do to help?" Nancy asked.

"Naw," Murdock said, "I think everything is ready."

Callie took Nancy's arm and led her to the dining room table, "HM said you're still supposed to be taking it easy. And since he has to go to work today, he's put me in charge of making sure that you do."

"Is that right?" Nancy said, looking up with an amused smile to catch her husband's eye. She was disconcerted by the concern and hurt that she saw reflected in Murdock's face, and looked down at her plate in dismay. She felt certain he was worrying about her nightmares again, but when she glanced back up the expression was gone, and he was grinning at Jack, who was having trouble sitting still, and looked like a little bobble head.

"Alright, that's everything – let's dig in!" Murdock said.

Callie and Jack carried the conversation during the meal, making plans for all the things that they wanted to do.

Murdock finished his food, and stood about 15 minutes later, "I gotta get going. Enjoy you're day – and remember, you two, I know it's not easy, but try to keep Nan quiet."

The glance he threw at Nancy as he left carried a silent entreaty, and she smiled at him, "We aren't going to do anything more strenuous than walk the dogs back to the pond," she assured him.

He leaned down and gave her a kiss, "Make sure you behave, Short Cake."

Callie insisted that Nancy sit still while she and Jack cleared the table. She loaded the dishes into the dishwasher, telling Nancy, "This is way easier than washin' 'em by hand!"

Just as Callie was finishing the dishes, Amy and Jonny showed up. Billy and Ginger were begging for exercise, so the whole group ended up taking a walk back to the pond with the dogs.

Nancy remembered to take her cell phone, tucking it unobtrusively into her jacket pocket. Riley had only called once so far, and she was already tired of it. She also took her guitar, feeling an overwhelming need to play out some of her anxiety. Amy, Jonny and Nancy found a seat on a downed old tree near the pond and visited, while Callie and Jack raced Billy and Ginger all around the pond and played fetch.

Nancy and Amy were sitting in companionable silence, Nancy strumming absently on the guitar, when Callie came and sat down, "Whatcha doin', Nan?"

Nancy shrugged, looking at the guitar in surprise as if just realizing that she was even playing, "Nothing, really, just pickin'."

Amy chuckled, "Cal, Nancy will never tell you she actually plays that thing."

Nancy smiled self-consciously, "I play at playing – certainly not serious about it."

Callie asked curiously, "When you sing, do the songs mean anything to you?"

"Sure," Nancy said, leaning on the guitar, "When I sing, I try to put myself in it – like if it reminds me of a certain person, or a situation I've been in."

"Does it work both ways?" Callie asked, and seeing the confusion on Nancy's face, she clarified, "You know, if you look at a certain person, do they make you think of a song?"

"Sometimes," she said, smiling, "HM makes me think of This Must be the Place by David Byrne," and automatically she began picking out the tune on the guitar.

"Oh, I love that song," Amy said.

"What about when you think of me?" Callie asked intently.

"Boy, you're the girl with a thousand questions today . . .", Nancy said quietly, looking at Callie seriously and strumming randomly. Finally she sighed, "I don't know, Strawberry – I'll have to think about it for awhile."

"How did you and HM meet?"

"We met at the airfield, where else," Nancy replied, her gaze becoming unfocused as she remembered, "The first time I saw him, he was staring at Aunt Bea, but I couldn't help but notice his eyes. I can get lost in those big brown eyes."

"I don't think he was starting at the plane, Nan," Amy corrected, "Face said HM was smitten with you from the moment he laid eyes on you."

"Did you fall in love with him, right then, too?" Callie asked.

"No," Nancy said, looking at Callie with a little smile, "I didn't even know his name, then."

"Well, then when . . . when did you fall in love?"

"I don't know," Nancy said, scenes from their early relationship flashing through her mind – the first few frightening days, when she couldn't seem to get him out of her head, her departure to Chicago, and her unplanned return on Thanksgiving day, she sighed, "I guess, if I had to pick a defining moment it would probably be when he forgave me for running away."

Amy looked at Nancy and smiled, "That was a heck of a Thanksgiving, wasn't it?"

"No doubt," Nancy agreed, "And at the time, I had no idea what I was getting into."

"I told you," Amy said certainly, "Once you meet the A-Team, your life is never the same . . ."

Callie was still focused on Nancy's answer to her question, "You ran away?" she asked incredulously.

Nancy smiled, "Yea, well . . . it's kinda long story, Strawberry . . ."

Callie sat back, her curiosity was peaked, "I don't got nothin' else to do," she said crossing her arms.

"You have nothing else to do," Nancy corrected.

Callie just continued to sit there expectantly, and Nancy sighed, "OK, let's see, HM was working as a mechanic at the airfield at the time . . ."

"I thought he owned the airfield?" Callie interrupted.

"This was before he and Doc became partners," Nancy explained, "That just happened a few months ago. Anyway, I told you I saw him there that one day, but I didn't actually meet him until about a week later, when he was getting ready to work on Aunt Bea . . ."

About half an hour later, Callie blew out her breath, "I didn't know you could run away to home," she said, "That's not really running away, is it?"

Nancy shrugged, "That all depends on what you're running from," Nancy said, "At the time I thought I was running away from what HM made me feel . . . it didn't really work though. Even in Chicago I couldn't escape the fact that I was falling for him."

"Feelings aren't a place," Callie said practically, "How can you run away from them?"

Amy laughed, "She's got you there, Nan."

Nancy raised an eyebrow, "At least I only ran to Chicago – you ran all the way to Jakarta," she said with a knowing smile.

"Touche," Amy said, shaking her head.

"What?" Callie asked in confusion.

"Another long story, Cal," Amy said dismissively.

"The point is," Nancy said seriously, "running away is never the answer. I'm just lucky HM took me back – I could have lost him."

"Not a chance," Amy said, "He was head over heels for you already. If you hadn't shown up at the Compound that night, HM would've hopped a flight to Chicago and hunted you down."

"One of the few times in our relationship that I've beaten him to the punch," Nancy said ruefully, "The truth is that the only thing that kept me from bolting that night, besides Maggie's little pep talk, was the fear that if I did, I'd never see him again. Luckily, it was stronger than the fear of actually seeing him again."

"But you woulda found somebody else," Callie said matter-of-factly.

"I think I could search a lifetime and never meet anyone that I could love as much as I love HM," Nancy said reflectively, "and I almost threw it all away out of fear."

Callie looked at Nancy piercingly, "What were you afraid of?"

"Letting someone in," Nancy said, returning Callie's direct look, "It takes a lot of courage to allow someone to get that close to you. It means letting down your guard and making yourself vulnerable . . . maybe getting hurt. HM is much braver than I am, especially when it comes to things like that."

"HM is an amazing person," Amy agreed, "If it wasn't for his and Hannibal's intervention that day, Face and I would probably still be dancing around each other, both afraid to make a move . . ."

"It's hard to believe that it's only been a little over three years," Nancy said thoughtfully, "It feels like a lifetime . . .," she smiled, "I suppose in some respects it is. It was my lifetime before . . . now it's ours. There's no separation. Like that Shawn Colvin song . . .," Nancy strummed and sang, "Nothing in particular and everything in between, that's what you mean to me. Only you and only me, climbing in the right direction, on the way to everything . . .," she trailed off.

"You're right, Nan, it was a defining weekend," Amy said, then chuckled, "But then, I don't know, Christmas was pretty interesting . . ."

Nancy laughed, "That is another story!"

Amy sighed as she looked at her watch, "Yea, but that one'll have to wait 'til another time – Jonny and I need to get going."

Nancy stood, too and whistled, bringing the dogs running with a winded Jack close behind, "We'll walk back with you – it's almost time for lunch anyway."

When they got back to the house, they got Amy and Jonny off, then Nancy turned to the kids, "What do you think about a plane ride and a picnic lunch?"

Callie and Jack both screamed "Yea!"

Murdock felt guilty going behind Nancy's back, but he wanted to know what was going on. Who was 'Carson' and what did he have to do with Nancy's nightmares? He had stopped and seen Carl Clay, Nancy's father, first thing this morning. Unfortunately Carl had looked at him blankly at the mention of Carson. That served to peak Murdock's curiosity, and the only other person he could think of who might know was Trixie Martin, Nancy's best friend. She was on break between semesters at the college, so he had called from the airfield and asked if he could come see her. Now he was sitting in the Martin's kitchen, and not getting anywhere.

He sighed, he'd been trying to convince Trixie to tell him who Carson was for the last 15 minutes, and she was steadfastly refusing, "Come on, Trix. Obviously, you know what this is all about – just tell me who Carson is."

Trixie took her time drying the dish she was holding, and finally turned and looked at him, "HM, I can't – you need to talk to Nancy about it."

"I've tried," Murdock said irritably, "She's never mentioned anybody named Carson."

"It should come from Nancy and if she's not talking, neither am I," Trixie said certainly, "I'm sorry, HM. You gotta understand – her Dad doesn't even know."

Murdock slammed a frustrated fist on the table, causing Trixie to jump, "Damn it Trixie, I know, I already asked him," he stood suddenly, mumbling, 'sorry' as he turned and walked out of the kitchen afraid if he stayed he'd just vent more of his frustration on Trixie.

He practically ran down Joe, who was just coming home for an early lunch.

"Hey, Murdock, what's up?" Joe asked.

Murdock barely acknowledged his presence, walking on by and out the door, allowing it to slam behind him and gripping the porch railing to keep himself from lashing out. Something was very wrong with his wife, and he couldn't seem to get any answers.

Inside, Joe looked after him curiously, and glanced at his wife who was standing in the kitchen watching on with concern, "What's wrong?"

"Nancy has been having the nightmares, again - HM says they've been getting steadily worse ever since the run in with Kennedy," Trixie said uneasily, "I don't know how he knows, since she won't talk about it, but he was asking . . . who Carson is."

Joe crossed his arms and looked at his wife worriedly, "Nancy never told him what happened . . . ?" he asked.

Trixie shook her head, "And I'm not going to be the one to do it."

"Jesus, Trixie, if Nancy's having nightmares again, than something is wrong. Murdock needs to know."

Trixie shook her head stubbornly, "This is between them, Joe. Murdock should be asking Nancy these questions."

Just then Joe and Trixie's two children came running into the room, greeting their father enthusiastically, and successfully cutting off further conversation.

Joe extracted himself from the kids and turned to join Murdock out on the porch. Trixie put a hand on his arm, "Joe, don't, let HM go talk to Nancy."

"Murdock should at least know what he's walking into, Trixie," Joe said with conviction, walking through the door.

Trixie watched through the screen as her husband put a comforting hand on Murdock's shoulder, "C'mon, HM, let's go grab a bite to eat and talk."

Les walked into the family planning clinic and smiled as the same routine from the day before was repeated, though this time with a different person.

"I'm not a patient," she said, setting the clipboard she'd been handed back down on the desk, "I was in here yesterday, looking for a woman," she indicated the card and photocopied picture sitting on the credenza behind the woman.

The woman turned and picked up the packet, looking at the photo, "Not a very good picture . . ."

Les held out the original, which was in color, "Maybe this will help."

"Yea," the woman said, nodding her head, "I remember her . . . she came in for an appointment a week or so ago."

Les could hardly hide her excitement, this was the first solid lead she'd had, "Did she leave an address or a telephone number?"

"Well, she would have filled out the normal information," the woman said, "So I'm sure that information is on file."

"Could I see . . ."

"Absolutely not," the woman said irritably, "That is confidential information – I can't just go passing it out to every Tom, Dick, or . . . Harriet that comes asking."

Les sighed, she'd been afraid that would be the answer, "Can you at least tell me if you expect her back?"

"Of course, she's on regular appointments," the woman said snidely.

Les grimaced, that meant a stake out, "Thanks a lot."

Murdock and Joe took a seat at a rear booth in the bar and ordered a couple beers and burgers. They made small talk until their drinks came. Joe watched in surprise as Murdock slammed down a beer and ordered another – he'd never seen the pilot drink much, "HM, are you OK?"

Murdock looked at him directly, "No, I'm not. I'm starting to wonder if I should be committing my wife, and nobody will tell me what the hell is going on," his voice had risen as he'd spoken, and many heads in the bar had turned to see what was going on.

"I'll tell you what I know," Joe said calmly, "But you gotta calm down," he shook his head, taking a long swig of his own beer, "Nancy would be pissed if she knew . . ."

Joe sat looking into the amber liquid in his glass, trying to decide where to start. He put the beer down and leaned forward, "It was about . . . mmm . . . 10 years ago. No, not quite, let's see," he smiled slightly, "It was just before Trix and I got married, so that would be about 9 years ago. Anyway, I guess the exact time frame isn't really that important . . ." he picked up his beer and took another long draw.

Joe seemed to be casting about for a way to start, "How much has Nan ever told you about her schooling?" he finally asked.

Murdock sat back, taking a deep breath to keep his frustration in check, "I know she has a Human Psych degree from University of Chicago, took a couple semesters of Law, went to Quantico – what does that have to do . . ."

Joe shrugged and interrupted, "Nothing, directly, except that it kind of helps understand the circumstances . . . Nan probably told you she left Law school because she didn't like it," Murdock nodded, "Yea, well that's not entirely true, she was recruited by the FBI, and decided that she was more interested in that than in pursuing her Law Degree. See she'd done an undergraduate thesis on the development of a formal database for criminal profiling."

Their food was delivered, then Joe continued, "Her timing was really good – the FBI was just looking at developing a project to setup just such a database, on a national level. They were impressed, Nan had a natural talent for profiling and the guys who had started the formal program approached her about joining up. She jumped at the opportunity, and that's when she came to Langley."

"She breezed through the standard training, and was beta testing the profiling training that the FBI was planning to add to the curriculum. At the same time, we were dealing with a serial rapist in the greater DC area. We requested FBI aid with developing a profile of the perp – Nan was in on that work, and that's actually when I met her."

"You met Nancy before you met Trixie?" Murdock asked with interest, he'd never heard much about how Trixie and Joe had met.

"Yea, Nan introduced me and Trixie. Nancy asked Trixie to come in and consult on the case, you know her specialty is crime scene analysis. Together they were a pretty formidable force. Based on their analysis of the evidence, Nancy predicted that escalation was going to occur, we had a good rounded picture of the perp and we were able to develop a short list of suspects."

"It was a high profile case, all over the papers, but suddenly our perp seemed to have given up and Nancy started questioning the profile she'd developed. Things were quiet for about 4 months . . . everyone kinda forgot about it, and the case dropped to the back burner. Then we had a break. A couple kids found a body in the woods – turned out it was a dump. There were three bodies in all. He hadn't disappeared, he'd escalated as predicted and we now had a serial killer on our hands."

Joe drained his beer and motioned for another, "I don't know how much you know about serial criminals, but they are always planning their next attack. They stalk their next victim, learn their habits, plan to the nth degree. By the time we found the bodies, he already had his next victim in his sites . . .," he looked at Murdock ruefully, "it was Nancy."

"He'd seen her picture in the paper in relation to the case, and decided that she'd make the perfect example of his superiority. It was 8 days after we discovered the bodies that Nancy disappeared. We figured, based on the forensics evidence from the three dead women that we had 48 to 72 hours at the outside before he killed her."

Murdock's brow furrowed, "How did you know he had her?"

"Oh, he made sure we knew – it was a challenge of sorts. Him against the best the FBI had to offer. And in the balance, the life of the woman who had profiled him."

"How long . . ." Murdock started to ask.

"74 hours," Joe said without hesitation, "We had pretty much given up hope of finding her alive."

"What happened?"

"I don't really know, the perp, an Andrew Carson, was killed during the arrest, so there wasn't a lot of followup. Nancy spent two weeks in the hospital afterwards. She quit the FBI right after that and went to work for Riley," he chuckled humorlessly, "I guess the profiling thing had lost its allure."

Murdock felt sick to his stomach, "I can't believe this . . . she never mentioned it . . ."

Joe shook his head, "Nancy had a lot of trouble dealing with what happened. She refused to go to a psychologist – said she'd had enough of them as a kid. I think Riley was probably the best thing that could have happened to her – he really pulled her through the worst of it."

"Explains why she's so dedicated to him," Murdock said, then sat forward, "Actually, it explains several things . . . like her and Brett . . ."

Joe nodded, "They'd been seeing each other pretty seriously for a few months. Afterwards, Nancy developed a rather . . . self-destructive tendency. Brett tried to convince her to quit, even asked her to marry him. In the end, he couldn't hack it. He told her if she was intent on killing herself he wasn't going to stick around and watch. It pretty much ended their relationship."

Murdock sat back from his untouched sandwich, trying to absorb what he was hearing, "The kidnapping with Kennedy did cause her to regress, just like she said," Murdock said quietly, "I just didn't have a clue what she was regressing to."

Nancy, Callie, and Jack arrived at the old grass landing strip about 11:30. It was a cool day, so they were dressed warmly. The leaves on the trees in the woods beyond the meadow were beginning to get the first tint of color. The sky was full of white and grey clouds that would periodically part and allow bright sunlight to stream down.

Callie was ecstatic about getting to hold the controls, "That was so cool, Nan! When do you think I could learn to fly all by myself?"

Nancy chuckled, "First, there's a lot of stuff you need to learn . . ."

Jack tugged on Nancy's shirt, "What's this place for?"

"This is just a little grass strip for refueling crop dusters . . ."

Callie was tugging on her other arm, "How long will it take?"

Jack was also asking another question, "What's a crop buster, Nan?"

"Whoa you two, I can only carry on one conversation at a time . . .," she turned back to the plane and pulled out the picnic basket, "How 'bout we eat our lunch?"

They talked and laughed all through lunch, then packed up the trash and put the basket back in the plane and went for a walk along the grass strip to the tree line. As they wandered down the tree line, they collected colorful leaves, enjoying the periodic bursts of sunshine that filtered down through the light canopy. After about a half hour, Nancy herded Callie and Jack back to Aunt Bea and they headed back to the airfield. Nancy allowed Callie to hold the controls again.

After landing at the field, Nancy took the kids through the post-flight check, which bored Jack, but seemed to hold Callie's attention.

She closed the hood, and turned to the kids, "Let's go in and see if HM is here . . ." she suggested.

Inside, Steve smiled in greeting as Nancy walked up to the counter, "Hey, Nan. Hi there, Callie, Jack. Have a good flight?"

"I got to fly Aunt Bea, twice!" Callie told Steve enthusiastically.

Nancy glanced behind Steve to the office, "Where's HM?"

Steve shrugged, "Haven't seen him since early this morning. He said something about having some errands to run . . . and then a training session at the Compound this afternoon. Said he probably wouldn't see me 'til later today."

"Thanks, Steve, guess we'll try to catch up with him at the Compound."

Murdock was getting dressed in the locker room at the Compound when Face came walking in, "Hey, Murdock, you're a little early . . ."

Murdock looked up, and Face's brow furrowed with concern at his expression, "What's wrong?"

Murdock didn't even know where to start, "I don't know what to do, Face," he said quietly.

"Do about what?" Face had expressed concern to Hannibal about whether Murdock could handle the pressure in his life right now – it wasn't looking good.

Murdock didn't respond right away, wondering if it was even something that he should talk to Face about. But when it came right down to it, he needed to talk about it, and Face knew him better than anyone.

"It's about Nan . . .," he started, but stopped abruptly when one of the recruits came in to change, greeting them quietly.

Face took Murdock's arm and led him out of the locker room and into the office, shutting the door behind them, "OK, now out with it, what's wrong? Is Nancy sick?"

Murdock had commenced pacing in circles, clenching and unclenching his fists. His attitude worried Face – he hadn't seen this Murdock in some time, and when he had, it never turned out good. He knew his friend had a violent streak in him that he carefully hid and controlled, but sometimes there were triggers that let it out.

He reached out and put a hand on Murdock's shoulder to stop his pacing, "HM, what's wrong? Is something wrong with Nancy?"

Murdock stopped and ran both hands through his hair in agitation, "Not in the conventional sense of the word, no," he looked at Face desolately, "You know how I've been trying to figure out what's goin' on with Nan and these nightmares . . ."

"Yea?"

"Well, now I know, and I don't even know how to begin to deal with it," Murdock said. He dropped into a chair.

Face sighed, "I need a little more to go on than that, Murdock."

Murdock looked out the window for a full minute before turning to his best friend and stating flatly, "Nancy was kidnapped by a serial rapist/murderer about 10 years ago. It was 74 hours before the authorities found her. I don't know what happened to her in that 74 hours, but it had to be bad – she spent two weeks in the hospital afterwards."

Face looked at Murdock in shock, "When did you find this out?"

"Joe just told me," Murdock replied, "This all happened shortly after Nan moved to Langley . . . it's why she left the FBI . . . it's what came between her and Brett . . . and it's gotta be why what happened with Kennedy has affected her so badly."

"They usually offer therapy after something like that . . ." Face ventured.

"Joe said she refused – had enough of shrinks as a kid," Murdock said, then leaned forward, "What I really don't understand is why she never told me?"

Face shook his head, and sat down in another chair facing Murdock, "I don't know, but you gotta talk to her about this Murdock."

"And how exactly would you suggest I go about that," Murdock asked helplessly, "'Hey, Nan, wanna talk about getting raped?' I can't seem to come up with an opening line that doesn't make me wanna puke."

Face shrugged, "But you know, better than anybody, that she's gotta talk about it – it's the only way she'll ever deal with it."

"I know, I know," Murdock said, shifting agitatedly in the chair.

"Are you OK, Murdock?" Face asked.

"I haven't felt like this in long time . . .," he said, clenching his fists again, "Like I wanna beat the shit out of somebody, or vice versa."

At least Murdock recognized it, that was the first step, "Vice versa was the norm," he said smiling, hoping to lighten the pilot's mood, "'course that's just because you were always picking fights with Marines that were bigger than you."

Murdock smiled at him wanly, but wasn't that easily distracted, "I've lived with this woman for almost 4 years, Face . . . how could I not know about this?"

Face shrugged, "It's not an easy thing to talk about . . ."

Murdock stood and started pacing again, "I know, but . . .," he shook his head, "I thought we'd gotten beyond the running away thing. She's not taking off to Chicago, but she's shuttin' me out, Face. Why?"

"Nancy's not running away from you," Face said calmly, "she's just having trouble dealing with whatever happened. We all know how that is."

"I just don't know if I really know her anymore," Murdock said miserably, "Maybe we rushed into this marriage – I mean we sort of dived into the deep end without gettin' our feet wet first . . ."

Face sighed, he had been the one who had raised that concern when Murdock had first asked Nancy to marry him – after they'd only known each other for a few weeks. But anyone could see that it had been the right decision, "C'mon, Murdock, you're over-reacting to this. You and Nancy are fine – don't turn this into more than it is."

"No, Facey, I mean it," Murdock said quietly, "It's symptomatic . . . the first three years of our life we were barely in the same town together and now that that's changed . . . I don't know," he ended, looking at his hands, as if they would help him get his chaotic thoughts in order.

"So, what," Face asked incredulously, "are you saying that you wish you weren't married? Because guess what, Murdock, you are, and not only that but you've got twins on the way. This is a hell of a time to have second thoughts!"

Murdock looked at Face in surprise, "I didn't say that . . ."

"Well, it sure sounded that way," Face said harshly, "Get a grip, Murdock. This isn't about you. It's not even about you and Nan. It's about something horrible that happened to Nancy long before you came along. The fact that she didn't tell you about it is irrelevant. She needs you to be there for her, not running out on her!"

"I wouldn't run out on her," Murdock said quietly, "I love Nan more than anything . . . I'm just afraid I won't be able to help her through this . . . and I'm not sure she wants me to."

"You're a lot stronger than you've ever given yourself credit for, HM," Face said seriously, "As for whether Nan wants your help or not . . . like a lot of other things in her life, she may not really want to admit it but she needs the help. The trick is going to be getting her to accept it."

The door opened, and an irate Hannibal walked in, "What are you two doing in here?" he demanded, "You've got a room full of recruits waiting on you."

"We were just on our way out," Face said calmly, continuing matter-of-factly, "Murdock needed to get something off his chest – otherwise he woulda messed some recruit up, and we don't need a lawsuit," he slipped past Hannibal and out the door, knowing that Hannibal wouldn't let Murdock go without getting the story, "I'll take care of getting the class started."

Murdock went to follow Face, but Hannibal stopped him with a hand on his chest, "What's goin' on, Captain?"

"It's nothing, Colonel," Murdock said evasively.

Hannibal closed the door, "Face doesn't drop hints like that casually, Captain, now out with it."

Murdock sighed, "It's about something . . . that happened to Nan a long time ago," he looked at Hannibal ruefully, "I'm not sure she'd really want you to know about it . . . I don't even think she wanted me to know about it," 'obviously, dummy,' Murdock thought to himself, silently cursing Face for leaving him at Hannibal's mercy.

Hannibal looked in Murdock's face searchingly, "You found out about the serial killer, didn't you?"

Murdock looked at Hannibal in surprise, "You know about it?"

Hannibal shrugged, "Just what I read in the papers," he said, "When you started seeing Nancy, I did a background check on her, just as a precaution. It came up then."

Murdock's look turned accusing, his fists clenching again, "Why didn't you tell me, Hannibal?"

Hannibal shrugged, "I didn't really think it mattered," he said honestly, "Does it?" his blue eyes were piercing as he held Murdock's gaze.

Murdock let out the breath he had been holding, "No, I guess it really doesn't," he finally agreed, though the tension still showed in his stance.

Hannibal nodded, "Listen, Murdock, I know things have been kinda rough for you and Nancy for the last few months," he stopped, considering his words carefully, "Just remember why you're together . . . you two are good for each other."

"Like I told Face," Murdock said defensively, "I love Nan – I'm not going anywhere."

"I didn't mean to imply you would leave her," Hannibal said, "But, Murdock, you know the self-destructive thing can't be allowed to happen. That's what I'm worried about. You're no good to anyone when you get like that, remember?"

Murdock sighed, "Yea, OK, Hannibal," he said slowly, his posture finally relaxing, "I'm just worried about Nancy and I don't know what to do about it. It's very frustrating."

Hannibal nodded, "So, go take some of that frustration out in the self-defense class," he suggested, "But don't take it out on yourself."

"I won't," Murdock said, his face finally relaxing into his usual easy grin, "'Sides, there aren't any muscle-bound marines around to goad. I think I'm safe."

"Perhaps," Hannibal said, sensing that the crisis had passed, "But a couple of those recruits could kick your skinny ass. Just don't go there."

Murdock and Face had just finished a strenuous workout in self defense and hand to hand combat as part of a training session with the recruits, when Callie ran into the gym with Nancy and Jack following close behind, "HM, Nan let me hold the controls. I flew Aunt Bea all by myself!"

Murdock scooped her up with a big grin, "Before you know it, you'll be flying circles around me, Strawberry!" He leaned down and gave Nancy a kiss in greeting.

Face chuckled, "Make him proud, Cal," he said warmly.

Callie looked at him, her face beaming. Suddenly her expression blackened, and she looked at Face in horror. She struggled out of Murdock's grasp, and hid behind Nancy.

"What's wrong, Callie?" Nance asked, taking in the ashen face with concern.

Callie glanced out at Face like he'd just sprouted another head, and clung to Nancy's arm.

Nancy glanced up at Face – he was dressed in shorts and a tank top. His expression was confused, usually Callie adored him, so this reaction was very strange.

She knelt down in front of Callie, "C'mon, what is it, Cal?"

Callie pointed to Face, "His arm," she said vaguely.

Nancy looked up, "You mean his tattoo?"

Callie nodded and Jack piped up, "Yea, I see it, it's just like Cuttey's."

Nancy motioned for Face to come over, "Are you sure, Callie? Cuttey has a tattoo just like this?" Callie nodded.

Face raised an eyebrow, "That means he was Special Forces."

Face bent down and looked at Callie earnestly, "Callie, this tattoo doesn't mean that I'm a bad guy. Me, Hannibal and BA all have this tattoo. All it means is that we were in the same division of the Army."

Callie looked at him uncertainly, then looked over at Murdock, "But, I thought HM was in your unit, too. Why doesn't he have a tattoo?"

Murdock smiled, "Sharp as a tack, she is," he said proudly, "I was in airborne, Cal. Technically, not Special Forces."

"I'm still the same person, Cal – you don't need to be afraid," Face said intently, "Still friends?"

Callie smiled tentatively, "Yea, OK – sorry I freaked out. I really don't like Cuttey."

"I get that impression," Face said with a smile.

Nancy stood, and put a hand on Callie's shoulder, "Cal, why don't you take Jack out and play on the obstacle course – I'll be out to get you in a minute. And stay away from the shooting range," she added loudly to the retreating backs.

Nancy turned and looked at Murdock, "Are you done for the day?" she asked hopefully.

Murdock glanced at her uneasily, "No, I, uh, I gotta go to the field, why?"

"Sherry Evanston called this morning," Nancy said, "She wants me to come into the office, said she's been trying to get hold of me . . . not sure why she didn't try the cell," she added absently, then looked up at him, "If you've still got things to do, I can see if Maggie could watch the kids for a little bit."

Murdock nodded, "That would probably be best – will you be OK going to see Ms. Evanston alone?"

"She just wants an update on our search for Juanita - I think I can handle it, HM," Nancy looked at him curiously, "Are you OK?"

"Yea, I'm fine," he said quickly, "Just got a lot to do," he leaned down and gave her a kiss, "See ya later, Short Cake."

Nancy watched after him curiously.

Face was going to follow Murdock, and Nancy grabbed his arm, "Face, what's up with HM?"

Face shrugged noncommittally, "He's just worried about you, Nan . . ." he said, quietly adding, "the nightmares have him a little freaked out."

"Oh," Nancy said quietly, looking down from the direct gaze.

Face sighed, "You need to talk to him, Nan. You'd both feel a lot better if you just talked about it."

Nancy smiled tightly, "Easier said than done . . ."

Face decided he wasn't going to push it, but as he turned to follow Murdock out, Nancy stopped him again, "Face, could you . . . would you check into this Cuttey thing for me. So far I haven't even been able to get a real name for him, and I think he may be the key to finding Juanita. Maybe you'll have better luck through military channels."

"Sure, I'll let you know what I can dig up."

Nancy dropped the kids off with Maggie, who was watching Jonny already. Callie loved having a baby around to play with, and immediately took possession of the baby boy. Nancy told Maggie she'd be back in a couple hours and headed into town.

At the Children's Services offices, Nancy stopped at the receptionist, who sent her straight up to Sherry Evanston's office. She knocked on the door and walked in and took the seat that Sherry indicated with a wave of her hand, "Mrs. Murdock, I really appreciate you coming in today."

Nancy smiled, "Please call me Nancy - Mrs. Murdock makes me feel old."

Sherry returned the smile, "OK, Nancy, can I get you anything to drink?"

"No, I'm fine," Nancy said, "What is it that you needed, Sherry?"

"I wanted to find out what progress you had made finding Juanita Temple."

"To be honest," Nancy said, "I'm getting a bit frustrated. I really didn't think it would be this difficult to locate her. We finally got a concrete lead though, so I'm optimistic," she added, thinking of her conversation with Les just a little earlier. She smiled to herself, Les had been less than happy about having to sit on the clinic.

Sherry nodded, her face reflecting a true concern about Juanita - more than just a casual or business relationship would warrant.

Nancy sat forward, "If you don't mind, could I ask you a question."

Sherry shrugged, "Sure . . ."

"Why are you so interested in Juanita Temple? I mean I can understand you wanting to keep the family together, but your interest seems a bit out of proportion . . ."

Sherry sighed, "I've known Juanita since we were teenagers," she admitted.

Nancy nodded in understanding, "So you're friends, that explains a lot."

Sherry shrugged noncommittally, "I'm not sure I'd call us 'friends' - I just feel kind of responsible for her. She hasn't gotten a lot of breaks in her life. I've tried to help where I could."

"What can you tell me about her?" Nancy asked.

Sherry folded her hands, "Not much, really . . ."

"Sherry, anything you could tell me would help. I've found that the more you know about a person, the better your chances of finding them."

"You find a lot of people?"

"Yea, it's become something of a specialty. We handle quite a few missing persons cases."

Sherry considered Nancy seriously, then finally started explaining, "Juanita moved into my neighborhood towards the end of my 6th grade year. Her Dad was Special Forces and not long after they moved here, he was killed during training maneuvers."

"Her Mom never really got over it, and things got pretty bad for her at home. By the time she was 14, she was basically running the streets full time. She got pregnant when she was only 17, and her Mom kicked her out for good. My Mom was always helping kids out, and she took Nee in. Callie came along just after her 18 birthday."

Sherry shifted uneasily in her chair, "My Mom died of cancer about 6 months later. Mom made me promise that I would keep an eye on Nee and Callie," she looked at Nancy through hurt eyes, "I was only 18, and my Mother was more worried about this screwed up girl and her kid than she was about me. I . . . I understand it now, but at the time, I couldn't see straight through my grief. Nee and I ended up having a huge fight, and she took off. I didn't see her for the next 4 years, while I was away at college. Then one of the first cases I got after I started with the State was Juanita."

She sighed, "I felt so guilty . . . I hadn't done what my Mother had asked. I hadn't taken care of Nee and Callie and now they were on street. Well, anyway, you know the basics of the rest of the story. Nee's been in and out of bad relationships ever since – she seems to be attracted to . . . overbearing men."

"Overbearing," Nancy said questioningly, "or abusive?"

Sherry shrugged, "Both," she admitted, "I can usually tell – Nee ends the relationships with the overbearing ones. Callie effectively ends the relationships with the abusive ones by running with Jack. It's a cycle that's been going on ever since Jack was born. I had been checking in regularly, but Nee disappeared without leaving a forwarding about a year ago, and I hadn't been able to locate her or the kids – until you showed up with Cal and Jack. Since they ran – it's a pretty good indication that Nee's in one of her abusive relationships again."

Sherry sat forward, "Listen," she said hesitantly, "Nee called me yesterday."

Nancy looked at her in surprise, "Where is she?"

"I don't know," she said dejectedly, and proceeded to relate the basics of her conversation with Juanita, "She sounded really scared – I don't know what she's gotten herself into, but it sounds bad."

Nancy had pulled out her case book and was taking notes. Her finger moved up over her notes from the previous day, "Did Dr. Lyons call you . . .?"

Sherry's look hardened, "Yes," she said angrily, "I knew there was something Callie was holding back . . ."

Nancy nodded agreement, Callie wasn't trusting and she had a feeling there was a lot she wasn't telling them, "I'm betting it's this Cuttey that Juanita has been living with. I'm slowly getting a picture of a person that is rather . . . disturbing."

"Do you think Juanita is in danger?" Sherry asked worriedly.

"Possibly," Nancy said noncommittally, not wanting to worry Sherry unnecessarily, "the best way to help her now, is to find her."

Dealing with the Devil

Cuttey drugged Ledley and headed back to his home. He took him to his house, in the early hours of the morning, dragging him through the garage entrance and settled him into his bed, giving him one more dose of the psychotic for good measure before leaving. He then returned to the cabin, meticulously cleaning everything and leaving it immaculate.

He arrived at his apartment a little after 6am. He undressed and crawled into bed with Nee. He woke her out of a sound sleep and enjoyed himself for a half hour or so, releasing the last of his pent up energy. Afterwards, he headed to the shower, leaving Nee quietly sobbing in the bed. Frank had called. He was due to meet with Con Smith at 8am and he was curious to see what they wanted.

After leaving Sherry the day before, Nancy had picked the kids up and headed home. The evening had passed quietly enough, with Murdock getting home late from the airfield, just in time to put Callie and Jack to bed and heading to bed himself. She'd stayed up for awhile, watching TV, avoiding going to bed and getting pulled into a discussion about her nightmares with her husband. By the time she did go to bed he was sound asleep, or at least pretended to be.

When she woke up in the morning, Murdock was already gone, and Callie and Jack were watching cartoons in the living room. She wandered into the kitchen and ate a bowl of cereal and was just putting her dishes in the sink when the phone rang and she picked it up, "Hello?"

"Nancy, it's Les, just wanted to check in . . ."

"Hi, Les," Nancy said quietly, "Anything new on Juanita?"

"Actually, I just got off the phone with the PD, a patrol near Mi Mama's reported seeing a woman fitting her description at a bus stop, but when they approached her she bolted and they couldn't find her."

"Damn," Nancy said in frustration, "I talked to Sherry Evanston, too and Juanita called, but wouldn't tell her where she was. Said something about 'he'd find her' – I'm assuming she means Cuttey. He's the key. He's the one we should be concentrating on."

"Well, I'm fresh out of leads," Les said, "I'll hang at the family planning clinic, but if she's spooked, I doubt it'll do much good."

"Persistence . . ." Nancy said leadingly.

"I know, I know," Les said, "I'll let you know if I find out anything."

"Thanks, Les!"

Murdock pulled his truck up on the lift, "All set, BA?"

BA nodded, "Yea, man, that good. Set the emergency brake."

Murdock complied and got out, watching as BA hit the lift and raised the truck into the air. He walked under the truck, "Yea, look here, your pads are worn – I'll hafta pull the rotors. If they need work, it could take me a couple days."

"See what you get into," Murdock said, "If I need to I can have Nan come pick me up. I'm here today, anyway – Hannibal's got me working on the specialty training plan today."

BA nodded, and ducked out from under the truck, wiping his hands on a rag, "I'll let you know what I git into," he said, "How's things goin' with the kids?"

"With the kids, they're goin' just fine," Murdock said simply.

"You not yourself today, crazy man," BA said in concern, "What's goin' on?"

"I'm just worried 'bout Nan, big guy," Murdock said with a shrug, "She's been having really bad nightmares, and on top of everything else . . . it just seems, I don't know, like nothin' is goin' right lately."

"You 'n Nan'll get through it," BA said encouragingly, "You always have. Heck, if you can handle findin' out Stockwell's part o' the family, everythin' else oghta be gravy."

"You'd think so, wouldn't ya?" Murdock said doubtfully.

"C'mon, man," BA said, clapping him on the shoulder, "You always the optimistic one. Where's your faith?"

"Guess I've been runnin' a little short on that lately," Murdock said sullenly.

"Things'll look up soon," BA said certainly, "Takes lots o' lemons to make lemonade, right?"

Murdock looked at BA in surprise, "Is that wrench monkey philosophy?"

"Naw," BA said, "That crazy man philosophy - ev'ry once in a while I do actually listen to what you sayin'."

Murdock smiled at BA gratefully, "Thanks, BA – really."

"Any time, Murdock," BA said, grinning.

"Hey, maybe I could help you – we could commune over the breaks on my truck," Murdock said, the mischievous glint returning to his eyes, he picked up a wrench and turned to BA making an expansive gesture, "We could be simpatico, BA. You and me, wrestling the beast of machinery, conquering the insidious wear of time, mastering . . ."

"Man, get outta my shop," BA said, taking a threatening step towards the pilot, "We ain't 'conquering' nothin'. All you'd end up doin' is bustin' somethin'!"

"Awe, c'mon, BA," Murdock said, holding the wrench out to fend off the advancing mechanic, "I thought we connected there . . ."

"Only thing I gonna connect with is my fist with your face," BA said irritably, grabbing the wrench out of Murdock's hand, "Now git, and don' come back 'til I'm done."

Nancy sighed in exasperation, "I understand, Joe. But do you honestly think Kennedy would risk being slapped back in jail without bail to come after me? I'm not even a material witness."

Joe was sitting at his desk in the police station, getting more frustrated with each passing minute – this conversation which had been continuing for 10 minutes now, was going nowhere, "No, I don't think he'd chance it personally, but he's definitely going to turn up the heat. Don't you understand that this isn't about you being a witness?"

"Calm down, Joe . . . I promise I'll be careful. I'm not working that much right now, and we're headed out of town this weekend. I'll be fine."

"I'm going to increase patrols past your house, Nan," Joe said, "But I can't afford to set someone on you full time."

"I don't need a babysitter," Nancy said in irritation.

"So I suppose it's out of the question getting a couple Ables to shadow you . . ." he suggested tentatively.

"Absolutely out of the question – Stockwell Enterprises is short-staffed as it is."

"At least start carrying your gun with you."

"Good bye, Joe," Nancy said with finality and hung up the phone.

"Nancy," Joe said, then louder, "Nancy . . ." he heard the click in his ear, and slammed the phone down.

Brett looked over from an adjacent desk, "I told you, you should have just called Murdock."

Joe stood up and holstered his gun, "Obviously this is going to require some face to face discussion. I'll see you later, Brett."

"Sure you don't need some backup?" Brett asked facetiously, grinning, "Nan can be a handful when she's pissed, and she hates being clucked after. I should know," he added, almost to himself.

Brett watched Joe leave then picked up the phone – someone should tell Murdock.

Meanwhile, the phone had rung as soon as Nancy hung up from talking to Joe. Jazz was on the line, and she was sounding hysterical, "Nancy, Grant's getting out of jail – what am I going to do?"

"You're going to calm down," Nancy said firmly, "Kennedy isn't allowed to come near you."

"He doesn't play by the rules, Nan," Jazz said, her voice higher than usual, "Oh, God, what about Terra? What if he takes Terra?"

"Jazz, please calm down," Nancy repeated, "Listen, you've got a surveillance detail – it's been on you and Terra ever since Kennedy went down. Just as a precaution. Kennedy can't get near you without endangering his own case."

"A surveillance detail?" Jazz asked in surprise.

Nancy silently thanked her Uncle for that – he was the one who had set the detail – 4 Ables – around the clock surveillance, "Yes, surveillance – if you'd like I can have them make their presence a little more obvious . . ."

"Thank you, Nancy," Jazz said, her voice finally dropping back to its normal pitch, "I feel much better just knowing I'm not alone."

"Mr. Cuttey – good to see you," Smith said, motioning Cuttey to a chair, " We had your handiwork checked out and Frank said that you did a fine job with this last assignment."

Smith nodded to Frank, who handed Cuttey a thick envelope, "You'll find your payment in there along with a hefty bonus."

Cuttey thumbed through the bills then closed the envelope again, "Thanks, Mr. Smith."

Smith smiled, "Please call me 'Con'," he said, "I know you just got back . . ."

"Just this morning," Cuttey said, "Haven't really gotten to sleep yet."

Smith nodded, "I appreciate that, but I wanted to make a proposal to you . . . something for you to sleep on," he nodded to Frank, again, and Frank put a fat manila folder in front of Cuttey.

Cuttey looked at the folder then up at Smith, "What's this?"

"Just for your consideration," Smith said, sitting back and taking a drag on his cigarette, "You ever heard of Grant Kennedy?"

Cuttey shrugged, "Sure, who hasn't – but he's in jail, right?"

Smith considered Cuttey through narrowed eyes as he let out a stream of smoke, "Yea, well, from the sounds of it, not for much longer," he said, "and he's hot to get even with the chick that put him there – that's where you come in. Kennedy wants her to suffer . . ."

Cuttey smiled coldly, "That shouldn't be a problem . . ."

"Not so fast," Smith warned, "This chick's got muscle – her husband and his friends were Special Forces – and Kennedy has something special in mind. He wants her husband taken, not her, at least not right away. The details are in the file. Nobody's taken on the contract so far, precisely because of his background – but Kennedy's upped the ante, and I think I have just the man for the job," he smiled at Cuttey suggestively.

Cuttey was tapping his finger on the file, and flipped it open. On the top was a photo of Murdock in dress uniform, and Cuttey picked it up, raising an eyebrow, "This the guy you're after?"

"Yea, a Captain HM . . ." Smith began.

"Howlin' Mad Murdock," Cuttey interrupted, and gave Smith a calculating look, "this isn't just any special forces unit – this is the A-Team you're talkin' about messin' with. This isn't gonna be cheap."

"Does that mean you don't want the job?" Smith challenged.

Cuttey smiled, "Oh, not at all, but it's going to take more than just me – if we're going up against the A-Team, I'm going to want some hand-picked men to help me with the project, including Jimmie. What are you willing to bankroll?"

Smith glanced at Frank, before replying, "Mr. Harrington can be put at your disposal. As far as the money goes, how 'bout you give us a ball park on whatcha need, and we'll go from there."

Cuttey picked up a pencil from the table and started jotting numbers and notes down on the back of his pay envelope, considered what he'd written, then looked at Smith, "A quarter mil up front should get us started – I'll have to let you know from there."

Smith nodded, and Frank disappeared out the rear entrance, returning a few minutes later with the cash, which he handed to Smith.

Smith flipped through the bills, before holding the money out to Cuttey. Cuttey reached out to take it, but Smith didn't let go, "Just a friendly warning, Mr. Cuttey – don't fuck with me. I expect you to deliver. And if you don't I will find you – and I'll make sure that I extract every cent invested, in one way or another. Do we understand each other?"

Cuttey nodded, but if Smith had hoped to see intimidation, he was disappointed, "Don't, worry, Mr. Smith, you'll get your money's worth. By the way, my fee for this little project is another mil, above and beyond expenses. I'll bring you Murdock's and his bitches' head on a platter, but you better damn well have my money when I do."

Cuttey stood and walked out of the room by the rear entrance. As he entered the kitchen, Sep called to him, "Hey, Cuttey – hey man, I been wantin' to talk to you."

Cuttey stopped and waited while Sep made his way over to him through the bustling kitchen, "Hey – there was a PI chick in here the other day askin' after Nee," He reached in his pocket and pulled out the card, handing it to Cuttey, "thought you'd like to know. Don't know what it's all about – said she was a 'friend'."

Cuttey took the card, and smiled as he looked at the names on the card, particularly the typed one that was crossed out, "Thanks, Sep – I owe you one," he said. Turning and walking out the door he said to himself, "Merry fuckin' Christmas to me."

After hanging up the phone with Jazz, Nancy had gone out on the back porch and opened the gun safe. She was loading a clip for her Glock when Callie came wandering out.

"What's the gun for?" Callie asked in concern.

"Just a precaution," Nancy said lightly.

Callie continued to watch with interest as Nancy loaded the clip. Leaning forward she asked hopefully, "Do ya think you could teach me how to shoot?"

"I doubt that the state would look favorably on a foster parent teaching their charge to shoot a weapon," Nancy said with a slight smile.

Callie crossed her arms with a "humph" and Nancy snapped the last bullet into the clip and loaded the clip into the gun. She glanced thoughtfully at Callie, then turned the gun so she held it in her palm with the barrel directed at the ceiling. Holding it out towards Callie, she pointed to the safety, "See that," Callie nodded, "That's the safety, it's on right now. The gun shouldn't fire with the safety on . . . go ahead and take it . . ." Callie took the gun, the barrel pointing towards Nancy.

Nancy put a finger under the barrel, and redirected it to the ceiling, "The first, and most important rule with a gun – never point it at a living thing that you don't intend to kill."

Callie shrugged, "But you said the safety was on . . ."

"Never point a gun at a living thing that you do not intend to kill," Nancy repeated.

Callie looked at her in consternation, "But I thought you just, like, shot at their arms or their legs, so they couldn't get you . . ."

Nancy took a deep breath, "This is very important for you to understand, Callie – Never point a gun at a living thing that you do not intend to kill. You never know what could happen, guns misfire, triggers get touchy – you don't take chances with a gun. If you point it at something, you can expect that something to get blown away, either intentionally or by accident. Understand?"

Callie nodded, and Nancy took the gun from her, "That's it for today's lesson," she pulled her shoulder holster out and sighed, saying almost to herself, "And just where does Joe expect me to carry the damn thing . . ."

Callie was still standing there, "Don't I get to shoot it?"

"You can shoot the gun the day you bring me a paper with 'I will never point a gun at a living thing that I do not intend to kill' written on it, by hand, 100 times," and smiled at the scowl that crossed Callie's face, "Don't look at me like that – it's a simple enough assignment. If you want to learn to shoot, then first you have to prove that you have some discipline."

"But what if I need to protect myself . . . or Jack?"

Nancy looked at Callie in surprise, "Don't you feel safe here, Cal?"

Callie shrugged, "Sure, it's just, you know . . . like you said, 'a precaution'. So can I shoot the gun?"

"Not until you bring me that paper, like I said," Nancy replied sternly, then she smile and motioned back in the house, "Now, go get your brother, and let's take Billy and Ginger back to the pond for some exercise."

Murdock's jaw tensed, "Thanks, Brett, I really appreciate the call."

"What's wrong?" Jeff asked from the kitchen.

Murdock looked up as he hung up the phone, "Kennedy is out, and he's turning up the heat on the contract for Nancy."

"I thought they put him away without bail as a flight risk?" Jeff said in confusion.

"Yea, well, when you've got money and dirty lawyers, eventually you'll find a judge you can intimidate," Murdock said sourly.

"I gotta get home," He said turning towards the door. He stopped short, "Shit, I forgot, BA's got the truck up on the rack."

Jeff walked out of the kitchen, "I'll take you."

Murdock and Jeff pulled in the drive right behind Joe, who raised a hand in greeting.

"What are you doing here?" Murdock asked curiously.

"You're wife hung up on me, so I decided to come try to reason with her in person," Joe said in good-natured irritation, "I take it Brett called you."

"Yea."

The three men walked into the house together, noting the silence. Murdock's eyebrows furrowed, "Nancy? Callie?" A quick search of the house revealed that no one was around.

Murdock turned to Joe as they regrouped in the kitchen, "You just talked to her, right?"

Joe nodded, "I came straight here when I hung up – couldn't have been more than 20 minutes ago."

Murdock walked out the back door, with Joe and Jeff close behind, and noticed that the dog kennel was open, "Hang on, Billy and Gin aren't in the kennel . . ." he whistled, and they heard a chorus of barks off in the distance, behind the house.

"I think they just took a walk out back," Murdock said in relief, "Hey, you guys can take off – I'll stay home the rest of the day."

Joe nodded, "I'm going to increase patrols out here, HM. But like I told Nan – I can't afford to put anyone on her full time."

Murdock nodded, "Thanks, Joe," He looked over at Jeff, "Jeff . . ."

"I'm on it, Murdock – I'll talk to Zeb and Temp as soon as I get back to the Compound," He grinned at him, "Are you going to tell Nancy?"

Murdock considered the question seriously, "I think I'll have to. We can't afford to lose any Ables right now . . . and once she realizes she's got a tail, she's liable to shoot 'em."

Murdock got back to the pond and watched for a few minutes. Nancy was sitting on an old log while the kids threw the stick into the pond for the dogs. He walked up behind her silently.

Without turning, Nancy said, "Joe called you, didn't he?"

"How did you know it was me?" he asked as he walked around to the front of the log and sat down next to her, answering her question as an afterthought, "Actually, Brett called."

Nancy nodded, then answered his question, "I heard you whistle – figured you'd be back."

They sat in silence for a few minutes. Nancy finally sighed, "I just don't want a fuss."

Murdock nodded, "I know, Nan, but . . . ," he searched for the right words, and finally settled on, "I don't want to take any chances."

"I know . . .," she said, she'd been thinking about it for the last couple days, "maybe a surveillance detail is in order," she admitted grudgingly.

"I was hoping you'd say that," he said in relief, "Jeff is already getting the wheels moving."

Nancy nodded, "It'll make Les and Riley feel better, too. They've been taking turns calling me every couple hours while you're gone for the last day and a half."

Murdock looked at her sharply, "But Kennedy was just released today . . . ?"

Nancy licked her lips uncertainly, looking over at the kids through narrowed eyes, "Well, Les might have heard something that had her a little concerned . . ." she admitted grudgingly.

"And when did you plan to tell me about this?"

Nancy looked at him guiltily, and he exploded, "You weren't going to tell me, were you?"

She shook her head slightly, and Murdock crossed his arms in exasperation, "What is up with you lately?" he asked angrily, "I thought we were in this together? You know me – your husband? The father of your children? You've got to stop shutting me out, Nan."

"That's why I wasn't going to tell you," Nancy said reasonably, "You over-react."

"Over-react? I do not over-react," he argued, "I just have to react enough for both of us!"

"You're proving my point," Nancy said reasonably.

Murdock was pacing agitatedly, and stopped to look at her, sitting there as if she didn't have a concern in the world. His mind wandered back to when they had first met – he'd found that trait rather attractive then, and had to admit he still did, even if it infuriated him at times. She seemed so fearless.

He knelt down in front of her, "Nan, please, you have to understand," he caught her gaze and held it, taking her hands, "This package here – these three people right here – it's my world. Beyond my wildest fantasies, and I've had some pretty wild ones. I can't lose that. I . . . I really don't think I could handle it."

Nancy put her arms around him and they sat that way for a few minutes. She finally sat back and looked at him, "I promise, I won't try to ditch the surveillance. I'll be careful."

He smiled in relief and sat down next to her, "Thank you."

Cuttey pulled his baseball cap further down over his sunglasses. Seemed like the cops were everywhere. He stopped unobtrusively near a couple of flatfoots that were apparently swapping shifts.

"Yea, they spotted her here yesterday, but I haven't seen hide nor hair of her today," the one patrolman said to the other, "I have to of circled this area 20 times. Wild goose chase, if you ask me."

"What's with all the interest in this Temple woman anyway?" the other patrolman asked.

"What I heard was her kids are in state custody, and they're afraid she's got some maniac for a boyfriend that's keeping her locked up," he shook his head, "I heard through the grapevine that Stockwell Enterprises is involved somehow – that's why it's such a priority."

Cuttey moved away down an alley. So, Nee had been out of the apartment. He'd fix that. By the time he got back to the apartment, he had worked himself up, and slammed the door to the apartment angrily. Nee came out of the bedroom to see what was up, but before she could react to the fury she recognized in his eyes, he had backhanded her, sending her crashing to the floor, "I told you to stay in the apartment, bitch."

"I had to go out and get groceries," Nee defended weakly, tasting the blood in her mouth.

"O'Grady's delivers, I told you that," Cuttey said angrily, kicking her viciously in the midriff and causing her to double up.

"I . . . I forgot," Nee gasped miserably.

"Well we'll just have to make sure that doesn't happen again," he said coldly, picking up the phone and dialing Harrington's cell.

Ethan Johnson looked at Lumpy as they unloaded the last of the parts into the warehouse, "Tell me again, why we had to bring this stuff here? I thought we were mechanics, not delivery boys."

Lumpy shrugged, "Hey, man, pays the same either way. What you gettin' all huffy 'bout?"

Ethan looked around the old warehouse and shifted uncomfortably, "Hey, Lumpy, where's the john?"

"Through that door, back wall of the building by the office, but make it quick, huh," Lumpy replied, "I wanna get back to the shop – I'm itchin' to get my wrench on that Jag they brought in today. Seems a shame to chop up such a sweet ride."

Ethan wandered back through the door Lumpy had indicated, finding himself in another large room. Along the back wall he saw the office, which had a main entry hall with a large plate glass window looking out into the warehouse. To one side was a stair case that went up to a second floor that apparently ran the length of the back of the building. Below it was an old door, barely visible in the dim emergency lighting. On the other side of the entry to the office was another door. Neither was marked, so Ethan headed for the first one.

He knew immediately when he opened it that it was the wrong one. It led to an old cut stone staircase, and he could feel his bile rising at the smell that came up the steps. Like something had gone down there and died . . . maybe a lot of somethings. He quickly closed the door and hurried over to the other side of the office, opening the other door and finding the light in the bathroom.

When he got back out, Lumpy was pacing agitatedly by the truck, "C'mon, man, we gotta get outta here. Mr. Harrington was pissed when he saw we was still here."

Ethan looked over as he got into the truck, seeing Mr. Harrington standing there with the same guy that had come and taken the cab that he and Lumpy had outfitted just a few days ago, "Who is that guy with Mr. Harrinton, anyway?" he asked curiously.

"Man, I don't know, and I don't wanna know . . . know what I mean?" seeing that Ethan was still watching the two men with interest, Lumpy punched him in the arm to get his attention, "First lesson in this line o' work, E – the less you know the better. Don't go askin' a bunch o' questions. It'll just get you in trouble."