Disclaimer: Same old, andhappy St. Paddy's Day!

Balladeer: It had been a considerable amount of time since Bo had found himself unable to get free of his bonds. Usually, these city bums were in such a hurry to tie him and Luke up, they often used common rope, and tied them up back to back, so that getting free was just a matter of waiting for their captors to leave their sight.

Farrell was not so dumb.

They were stretched out like Y's, in one corner of the bar, perpendicular to each other. Their hands were up and bound to the thickest beams in the wall by some kind of plastic stripping Bo only saw in the post office in Capitol City. The plastic strips were tight and just about cutting off the circulation in his wrist, bound together by a thicker piece of plastic. They were difficult to stretch and just left his skin raw and red. Their legs had been stretched out in front of them, their ankles crossed and then bound with the same plastic binding, to keep them from attempting to stand.

Henri-Mae seemed to be calming down. She had looked considerably shaken when Farrell had withdrawn his threat to do her bodily harm – neither would even let the word rape form in their heads – and her cheeks had been flushed so dark Bo had worried she might be ready to have a fainting spell. But her breathing had returned to normal, and she was actually resting her head back against the wooden planks of the wall, that had long since been worn soft with age. She hadn't even struggled in her bonds, which Bo just found plain strange.

"You okay?" Bo asked.

"Fine," she said, her head tilted away from him. Her eyes were distant, as if she were thinking very hard of something else.

"Don't worry, we'll get out of this," he said, very softly.

"I'm not worried," she said, still in that same, dreamy voice.

After a moment, Bo snorted. "Oh, that's right, I should have known. Little Miss Henri-Mae went off to the big city and got herself a big-city attitude. Nothing bothers you, I forgot."

Her eyes cleared and she lifted her head. "If I told you what I was doing, you wouldn't believe me. You might even make fun of me. Although you seem to already be doing that," she added with some bite.

"What, you're offended?" he mocked. "I hurt the lady deputy's feelings?"

"Bo, you're such a child," she sighed, looking away.

That set him off. "You should talk," he said. "You're still holding onto grudges that happened when we were in high school!"

She fixed him with a very angry, sharp look, and Bo almost drew back, like a scolded puppy. But no, she of all people had no right to criticize him for being immature. "You really want to do this now?" she asked in a low voice. "Why the heck are you mad at me, anyway? All I said was that I wasn't worried and you went and started yelling at me! What is your problem?"

Bo pulled back. True, he was being the more ornery of the two, and was nearly sure that it was Farrell's earlier comments about his feelings for Henri-Mae that had put him on the offensive. "All I'm saying," he said, his voice a bit more controlled now, "is that it's all right for you to do what you like, but I get punished over and over like a schoolboy."

"First of all," Henri-Mae said, her eyes flickering in and out, as if she were struggling to talk over some very intense thoughts, "you were the one who proposed to me, and then tried to break it off. You were the one I found in the barn with a cheerleader. So if you're going to make any kind of case that I don't have a right to still be mad at you for that, you're wasting your time."

"Yeah, but can't a man change?" Bo asked, realizing that this was possibly the first time they'd ever talked about this openly. The fact that both of them were bound and unable to go anywhere just added to the irony. Or maybe it was poetic justice. He never could get any of those terms straight.

"Have you changed?" she asked, fixing him with a look.

"I ain't had a steady girlfriend since you left," Bo said.

"That doesn't mean anything," Henri-Mae said. "Please, I see you. Everything in a skirt gets an extra long look. You make dates left and right. You can't commit – which is no real surprise to me."

"Well," Bo said, steeling his voice, "maybe the reason I date so many girls is because I can't for the love or life of me find anything close to what we had. Maybe I won't commit to a girl because I don't ever want to hurt anyone again like I hurt you. And maybe you should give me some credit for taking your side in all of this, when Farrell is right, that I, of ALL PEOPLE, shouldn't believe a damn word that comes out of your mouth!"

"Then why do you?" she snapped at him, voice rising. "Why the hell didn't you just stay at home?"

"Because I don't like seeing anything bad happen to you!" he roared back.

She paused. "Please," she snorted. "You have this notion you're Robin Hood, out fighting the system. I have nothing to do with it—"

"I believed you when you said Farrell attacked you," Bo cut her off. "Did anyone else?"

She paused. A long silence passed. "What do you want me to say, Bo?" she finally sighed, sounding exhausted.

"I want…" he paused. What did he want? "I want a truce," he said. "I want you to stop holding this stupid grudge against me. I want you to stop hating me."

Her look was almost mocking, except for the hurt that lingered behind it. "Because, by all means," she said, her voice caustically bitter, "we can't have the local Hazzard hero Bo Duke being dogged down by his imperfections."

"No, Henri-Mae," Bo said, his voice nearly pleading. "I want you to forgive me because it kills me whenever I see someone I loved so much look at me like I'm worse than that creep Farrell."

She considered his words, caught by the tone of his voice. After another pause, she said, "Do I really look at you like that?"

"Sometimes," he said. "Well, not so much, but…" He looked away from her.

"I remind you of your guilt," she said.

"You remind me of what we lost," he corrected her. "I know it was my doing, and no matter what I do, I can't take it away. I don't want you to forgive me because it'll make me feel better. I want you to forgive me because I want you to be able to be happy again."

"What makes you think I'm not happy?" she muttered.

"Ha!" Bo said, but it was venom-less and wasn't as unkind as it might have been.

She looked away for a long time. "I don't know, Bo," she said.

"Yeah, I get that," he said tiredly.

She gave him a look. There was uncertainty there, as if she were finally considered him seriously for once.

"Besides," he said with a last sigh, "I'm such a bastard, I'm really not worth all your attention."

This got her. A smile cracked her face, and she nearly chuckled. "You're right," she said simply.

"See? Even a blind pig can find a truffle now and again." He returned her almost-smile.

She sobered, but it lacked the hurt and bitterness of before. "So you want a truce," she said. "I don't how much of a truce I can offer, considering Boss might fire me if I stop harassing you Dukes."

"Oh, that I can live with," Bo said. "The last thing I'd want is for you to lose your job."

Another thoughtful pause, and then she said, "You know…it wouldn't ever be the same. You and me…I mean, we couldn't ever get back together, no matter what kind of truce or peace or whatever we wind up having."

He didn't answer. Part of it was the fact that she'd said it so openly; the other was that he had never imagined hearing those words would hurt so damn much. The other part was a small tapping of the wall behind him, which he distinctly recognized as Morse Code.

888888888888888

"So when is this happening?" Luke heard one of the men say.

"My sources say at about six-thirty," Farrell answered. "Be ready, like I told you."

"Doesn't it seem a little…rough?" another man asked. His voice was a bit older, more seasoned. "I mean, it's a smash and grab job. I thought Hogg brought you in on this because he wanted things to be more subtle."

"We're stealing ten million dollars," Farrell said. "That doesn't really get subtle. But don't worry, I've got things covered. The driver won't be giving us a hassle."

There was the low murmur of laughter. A while ago, Luke had watched as Bo and Henri-Mae had been tied up, but he'd been temporarily unable to help them. There were too many men and they looked meaner than any local thugs Boss might have used. He had long since learned in the military that the key to succeeding in any mission was to bide your time.

The other, rougher looking men went about their tasks, watching the road, guarding the prisoners. The older man and Farrell came into view, and Luke could heard their conversation, as he was currently close enough to touch one of them on the shoulder. Their voices were even softer than before, a considerable feat in the hushed woods.

"So tell me what's going to happen," the older man said.

"Barley, don't you trust me?" Farrell teased, sipping a thermos of coffee. "I set it up, everything. The two guards are both mine. Not of their own free will of course. Being a Fed does have its privileges. But if either one of them gives me a hard time they'll be rotting right alongside me in prison."

"Guess that works," Barley said, grinning. "Guess Boss was right about you then."

"Boss knows where the country dirt is," Farrell said. "Not the city dirt."

The two were chuckling meanly, the kind of self-satisfied, smug laughter that comes from men who are foolish enough to believe they're invincible. Luke managed to sneak his way to the back wall, watched the men who were slipping in and out of the shadows, and as if no more than a shadow himself, he dropped down into the brush.

Sliding against the rough wall, he moved along, tapping here and there, trying to locate Bo.

Balladeer: Now if y'all don't remember, Luke served some time in the marines, and he learned Morse Code, which he turned around and taught to Bo, but it was a long time ago and both of them were rusty. There wasn't any time to tap messages when you were blasting over Hazzard roads at a hundred and fifty plus miles and hour.

Then he heard something. It was muffled, but it had a pattern. He tapped again, the same message. Bo's name, over and over.

The message came back again, roughly. "Here."

8888888888888888

"What are you doing?" Henri-Mae asked, watching as Bo did some twisting with his knuckles to bounce them off the beam they were tied against. It wasn't the most comfortable-looking thing in the world. She was pretty sure the rough wood was giving him splinters, at the least.

"Answering," he muttered. His eyes focused on something past her and Henri-Mae looked around to see Farrell approaching.

"Thought I smelled something," Henri-Mae said, turning her nose in the air, looking down at Farrell, even though he towered above her.

Aptly, he ignored the insult. "You two comfy?" he asked, chin resting on his chest, rolling to one side as he eyed Henri-Mae. "Wouldn't want you to get all cramped up, considering you'll be spending the night here."

"And then what?" Henri-Mae asked. "You're not going to let us go, why don't you just shoot us and put us out of our misery?"

Farrell snorted a little laugh. "The guys said you to were arguing before. Lovers quarrels are such pains. Maybe I should put you both down – but I really don't want to get blood on the floor so soon."

Bo looked up, struggling to keep the fear from his face. Henri-Mae, however, was a rock. "What are you waiting for, then?" she said. "For us to beg for our lives?"

"Can't say that wouldn't be fun," Farrell said. "But no, I'm not." He just stared at her, then, and grew uncharacteristically silent.

"Then what?" she demanded. "Don't just stand there, you're not even trying to lord it over us. There's something else going on here and I want to know what."

"But if I told you, that would be telling," Farrell said softly, winking. "Nighty night." And he stepped away.

"What was that about?" Bo said when Farrell was out of earshot.

"Have not a clue," she said. "But I don't think they're going to kill us."

"That's a relief," Bo said skeptically.

"It's just a feeling," Henri-Mae said. "If they were going to kill us they would have already done it. For some reason Farrell thinks he needs us. I just haven't a clue for what."

"Pssst," came a whisper above them. Bo and Henri-Mae looked up and saw Luke hanging through an old window, high enough to be out of view but still in a risky place.

Bo shook his head at his cousin. Looking over, Luke saw how closely they were being guarded. With a frown, he fumbled at his waist for his pocketknife.

"Can you catch?" he mouthed. Bo flapped his hands uselessly. Luke reconsidered and re-pocketed the knife.

Henri-Mae tapped her heels against the floor, getting Luke's attention. "Find Gabrielle," she mouthed.

"Where?" Luke mouthed back.

"Outside," Henri-Mae shot back with a frown, as if Luke were an idiot. Luke was taken aback for a moment, and then vanished out the window.