Part 2

"My! She's beautiful!" Murdock muttered.

His sentiments went unheard as Peck was behind him closing the deal with the chopper's owner. Murdock was unaware of everything, he had eyes only for the state-of-the-art helicopter that sat on the pad in front of him.

Face came up behind him. "Reckon driving would take too long." His voice rose to reach the owner as he said, "Now let's go get the President!"

Murdock smiled. "Sure thing!"

They climbed into the cockpit. "Can you fly it?" Peck asked.

Murdock fixed him with a cold, confident stare. "Did Decker have piles?"

"How the hell should I know – urggh what a horrible thought!" Peck's features scrunched up with distaste. "Can you fly it?"

In answer Murdock flicked on the switches, the rotors began to whirl and within seconds they were rising into the air.

There were silent for a while except for Murdock's whoops of glee as he put the chopper through its paces. It had been a long time since he had flown and he had missed it, never realising how much until the pleasure was presented to him again.

Finally he turned to his companion. "Thanks, Facey," he said. "Still don't understand why though."

Peck snorted, avoiding the pilot's questioning stare, instead he chose to look out at the ground that flashed below them instead. "I'm sure that I don't always use six thousand, five hundred and seventy four words to answer your questions," he said touchily.

"No, you're right," Murdock's voice was stern. "I misrepresented the true facts there. Sometimes, especially when you are trying to change the subject, you use a hell of a lot more!" Peck pulled a scowl which got worse as Murdock continued. "And it hasn't passed by unnoticed that you are not beyond stooping to any level to get what you want."

Peck's eyes were wide as they came back to look at the pilot. "Murdock, I got you a chopper cos I knew you needed to fly." He ran his hand through his hair, nervously looking forwards again. "You get tetchy after a while and I was thinking of you." Murdock let out a guffaw and Peck looked hurt as he continued. "Honestly."

"Honestly?" Murdock parroted. "The only reason I know you know the meaning of the word is because you so completely disregard it all the time. I know life is just one big negotiation for you, Face. You give something, you want something back."

"Murdock! You wound me!" Peck was playing the offended innocent right to the hilt.

Murdock nodded. "OK, let me look into those gorgeous blue eyes while you tell me this chopper has nothing to do with getting you to LA as soon as possible, so you can carry out your crazy plan."

Peck snorted, looked away. "It's not crazy," he said sulkily.

"Oh no, not crazy at all. You just gonna turn up at Hannibal's graveside, have a little chat, put the record straight, chase off those demons and then walk on out. No hassle!"

"Christ I am not public enemy number one, Murdock! Embezzlement is not a hanging offence and I'm sure the LAPD have got a lot better things to do with their time than stakeout a war hero's grave!" Peck was fiddling with the buckle of his seatbelt now.

"I'm not thinking about the cops!" Murdock's exasperation could be heard in his voice. "There are other people with a more personal interest in you."

Peck sighed, nervy hand going back to his hair. "It's over six months, Stepford must be dead by now."

Murdock sent the chopper into a dive that forced them back into their seats. As he straightened the bird back again, Face glared at him. "What the hell was that for?"

"Sorry," Murdock said. "Had to avoid that pig coming in the other direction."

Peck's smile was tight. "Very funny," he muttered.

There were silent for a while before Peck sighed. "Besides maybe that's the way to go," he ventured.

Murdock looked at him, eyes narrowing. "What way?"

"Not slowly wearing out, losing your faculties until you can't eat or shit by yourself but down in a blaze of glory."

"You mean like Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid?"

"Exactly."

Murdock nodded. He hadn't liked the morbid way Face's thoughts were going but he couldn't ignore the fact that he liked this image. "You'd be Redford of course," he said.

Face smiled. "Of course."

"Which means I would be…."

"….Butch!" Peck rolled his eyes.

Murdock ignored the ironic gleam in his companion's eyes. "Yes," he said. "I like it." He shifted the stick and the helicopter swooped down a little more sedately than before but towards the ground below never-the-less.

"What you doing?" Peck asked.

"Looking for a good cliff to jump off like Butch and Sundance," Murdock replied.

Peck shook his head. "Murdock there are no 'good' cliffs to jump off! Jumping off cliffs is not good. In fact it's positively dangerous."

The pilot nodded. "Uh-huh," he agreed. "Just like you going to Hannibal's grave then, isn't it!"

Face groaned. He had really thought he had managed to divert Murdock's thoughts away from his plan. He knew it wasn't a very good one, in fact it was a down right unsafe one but something was pulling him back. He didn't know why but deep inside he knew that he had to make his peace with Hannibal or he would never be free of the dreams that haunted him. And he knew if he were to suffer them for any lengthy period of time he would not survive them. He felt suddenly tired and drained. "Look Murdock, I got the chopper for you, OK?" he began, his voice having lost the playfulness of earlier, it sounded as strung out as he felt. "You can believe what you want about my motives but I thought you understood me better than that. Either with or without your blessing I am going to do what I have to do."

Murdock sighed. He placed his hand on Peck's knee and squeezed it gently. "I know you are," he said softly. "And that's why I love you, Sundance!"

Peck drew in a long ragged breath as he stood motionless beside the grave. It was a scorchingly hot day, the sun blazing down from a smoggy blue/grey sky causing the heat to shimmer in the distance and making the very air appear to be melting. Peck could feel the pores of his skin evacuating sweat by the bucketful beneath his t-shirt and jeans as if to join in the overall liquefying experience. He was glad he had dumped his leather jacket in the car they had hired earlier but still he was seriously worried that if he stood out of the shade for much longer he would turn into a pathetic little puddle of grease and gore in the grass.

The cemetery was empty and the sounds of the road at the other side of the brick wall permeated into this quiet sanctuary only weakly through the sultry thick air, as if too hot to bother banging the sound molecules together. Face was alone and yet he knew that somewhere in the cool of the trees behind him Murdock watched, looking out for him, keeping him safe, as always.

Peck shuddered. He had expanded all his energy on getting here, now he had arrived, he was not sure of what to do. He looked down at the ornate grave stone but could not bring his eyes to fall on the words engraved there; words that decreed his Colonel's final resting place. Still Peck felt the familiar tingle at the back of his eyes as his vision blurred, he sniffed back the emotion – it served no purpose.

In his life, of all the people he had spoken to, he had confided in Hannibal more than any other. Still he had never been forthcoming about his feelings and Smith had had to work hard to get anything of note from him. Peck smiled ruefully as he remembered some of the conversations they had had. Relentlessly Smith had probed and pushed, eventually finding a way to get what he needed from his Lieutenant but the younger man had never made it easy for him. Before meeting the Colonel life had taught Peck to be circumspect about revealing his feelings. He had learned to hide behind his bland, shallow shell for years and in truth, Hannibal had been the first and possibly the only man, to ever reveal completely what lay beneath. He owed Hannibal so much and even through the years of their friendship though he had whined about plans and tasks, Face had kept his genuine fears deeply hidden.

He sighed deeply, not knowing if he could talk about them even now, not here, to a piece of land under which the Colonel lay. Hell, it had been hard enough to describe the content of his dreams to Murdock. He could not begin to articulate the base worries and concerns from which he suspected his nightmares bred.

He shuddered again, the cool flush running through his hot body was almost welcome in the heat. He knelt down onto the well kept green grass, its artificially watered and manicured blades sharp under his knees. He was hugely uncomfortable both mentally and physically.

"Hannibal," he released the name finally. "Jesus this is stupid!" He shook his head, tried again. "Hannibal I …. I'm sorry I wasn't there at the end. I should have found a way, should have got away from Stepford earlier, should have…." He hesitated again. For a man of many words he was having great difficulty finding any, let alone the ones that he needed to express himself clearly.

"Oh Lord," he sighed, running his hand through his hair. "What am I doing? What is your dumb-ass Lieutenant doing now? Smudge Marks would have made a better effort at it, I'm sure, eh Hannibal? It's just …. It's just that I miss you, I'm hollow inside and I don't know how to begin to fill up the hole you've left in me. I'm scared… scared to let you go, Hannibal, so I keep hold of you. Hold on so very tight that it's killing me." A tear broke from his eye and ran sweetly down his cheek. "I need to let you go… I know that. I need to stop dreaming about you cos it's doing me no good. But I just can't."

He sniffed, twisting his hands together. "Murdock's good for me and BA would come if I called but they're not you. You did all you could for me… hell of a lot more than you should but I have to do it alone now. Why can't I let you go? Why do I still believe you're gonna come marching over the hill, the goddamn cavalry come to rescue me like you did so many times before."

He drew in a deep breath. "It was stupid to come here, I know but I thought if I could see where you are, I could settle my demons … but it's not working, is it? Why am I so weak? Why can't I have a little of your strength? Hannibal?"

He wanted to shout, to beseech the earth and the sky! To rage at the grass and the trees, to weep, to scream, to beg … to do anything at all that would release his inner turmoil but instead he simply knelt by the grave, shivering slightly, eyes moist with their blue as he bit back his angst, his bitterness, his loss. He closed his eyes squeezing the emotion into small parcels, filing it away into the very depths of his mind, surviving, as he always had, by denying his pain.

He stood up stiffly. "I'm sorry, Hannibal," his voice was raw but soft. "I shouldn't have come here. There's nothing you can do is there? I should leave you to your peace, Christ knows you deserve it." Absently his hands brushed the grass cuttings from his pants and he turned to move away. But then he stopped, turning back to the grave with wide, expectant eyes.

Then his shoulders drooped a little and he sighed. "Shit, what the hell am I doing here?" he muttered. "You're not here are you, Hannibal?"

He walked away not looking back for he knew with complete surety that the answers he sought would not be found in this burning, unforgiving grave yard. As he reached the car, Murdock opened the door for him. The pilot was flushed and breathing heavily from running back. "Don't look now," he said. "You're being followed."

Peck groaned. "Who?"

"Pretty little blonde thing. She was hiding in the trees when I got there, watched you all the way. She's coming through the gates now." Murdock gently pulled the car out into the afternoon traffic, fiddling with the air con with his other hand.

As they pulled away, Face nonchalantly looked towards the cemetery. He let the breath whistle through his teeth as he saw the woman Murdock had described. "Not bad," he mused. "And not a cop for sure!"

Murdock snorted. "How can you tell?"

"The legs," replied Peck mysteriously.

"Oh?" Murdock raised his eyebrows but decided not to take it any further. "We need to find out more about her then."

Peck sighed and sat back into his seat, relaxing muscles he realised had been tense all day. "Maybe it's just the old Faceman charm," he mused.

Murdock threw him a knowing glance. "Maybe," he agreed. "Although not even you have boasted about women hiding in bushes to get a look at you!"

Face chewed his lip. "Not normally," he conceded thoughtfully. He looked back to where the girl could be seen hailing a cab. "You're right; further investigation is obviously required!"

TBA