Part 8

The sun was disappearing dramatically into the ocean, sending out streaks of gold and red and yellow across the ribbons of wispy clouds high up in the stratosphere. A hot, sultry darkness gathered in the east to take possession of the sky with the simmering promise of storms bubbling up later. It was beautiful and breathtaking – a sunset that was a fleeting moment but would last in memory.

Peck sighed deeply and moved his bottom slightly to snuggle backwards. He was sitting on the sand with the others as Brian threw another log on to the fire and the flames danced skywards once more. A sight such as this one, on this stretch of the Californian coast was not unusual, indeed as darkness fell, a number of other fires could be seen dotted brightly along the sweeping expanse of beach. But what was uncommon in this situation was Peck's proximity to Murdock. The two were seated together; Murdock directly behind with Peck occupying the patch of sand between the pilot's legs. As he leaned back Face touched the still lithe and alive body of Murdock in a series of intimate places that sent a current of pure electricity arcing through him. Murdock smiled and moved his hands forwards over Peck's shoulders to cuddle him close.

No one remarked but a few of the more perceptive, notably Mo and Amy and Tawnia, rolled their eyes, exchanged looks and nodded knowingly. Although they all knew about Face and Murdock and their relationship, none of them had seen such intimacy so clearly demonstrated in front of them before. Peck, in particular, had been at great pains to keep his distance from the other man and to reveal no emotion. No one remarked on it now but all wondered what had changed to cause this new behaviour. Now Peck simply sighed again as if unaware of the attention, closed his eyes and luxuriated in the feeling of closeness, wallowing in the sensation after one hundred and twenty one days of being alone.

"You OK, Faceman?" Murdock breathed in his ear, very conscious of the throbbing in his own body as a consequence of his partner's actions.

"Uh-huh," Peck responded unwilling to open his eyes or to use his voice for fear that such activity would break the spell of tranquillity that encased him.

Murdock looked across the fire to Tawnia and their eyes locked. They shared a knowing smile and then the pilot lay his head down on Peck's shoulder, closed his eyes and simply felt their intimacy. They had both waited a long time to be this close.

"How's Kyle?" Amy asked Mo, anxious to talk about something except the happenings in front of her.

The matronly lady's ample chest wobbled as she let out a long sigh. "He's doing OK," she said but her voice lacked the usual warm animation it held normally when discussing her sons. "Baghdad is hell, I think. But please God, he'll stay safe and come home soon."

Murdock felt Peck shudder and knew that his lover was thinking about another war, other suffering, friends lost and friends found; all in the sweaty, intense horror of Vietnam. So many years ago now but so deeply scarred into the fibres of the men they had both become that the memories were always hovering close to the surface and needed only the slightest opening to easily leap into consciousness.

BA strode up to the fire after settling his kids and the Leftcourts in their respective beds, back in the house. He growled. "What you two fools doing? Pawing each other like that!"

The women exchanged amused glances at the big man's lack of tact, especially as they had all worked so hard not to mention it. They looked across to Murdock and Peck expecting to see some self-conscious movement, or at least pleading of innocence but Peck just gave a beaming smile and leant back even further, his grin spread contentedly across the whole of his face.

Murdock scowled a little. "Chill, big guy!" he soothed. "Ain't doing nothing that's gonna cause any harm to anybody."

BA snorted but allowed Aisha to pull him down beside her. His face cracked into a smile and he let out his high pitched chuckle. "'Bout time!" he murmured.

Peck opened his eyes and regarded him. "Teasing?" he questioned. He looked back over his shoulder to Murdock who shrugged. "Good Lord, you haven't found a sense of humour, have you BA? Where did you discover that?"

BA's smile widened. "Same place you found an honest relationship, Faceman!" he laughed.

They sat around the fire for a long time chatting and drinking and generally just being friends. Finally people began to drift off to bed until there was just Aisha and BA, Face and Murdock left. BA's beautiful wife was fast asleep curled into her husband's safe barrelling chest.

Sure that she was asleep, BA looked at the two men before him, his eyes narrowing with worry. "I been hearing, things," he said.

Murdock let out a shriek and then said in his best southern drawl. "Oh my, the big guy's been hearing things! I told you not to get those big ears of yours syringed. What did you hear?"

BA's eyes glanced dismissively at Murdock but came back to rest on Face. "I still hear the word on the street," he shook his head slowly. "Brotherhood of the Black Coyotes is bad news and they is getting worse."

Peck sniffed and looked away. "I don't know what you're talking about," he muttered uncomfortably but doing nothing to subdue his natural, normal reaction at being challenged; he lied intuitively.

BA sighed. "You don't wanna cross 'em, Face. That's all I'm saying. And if you did, you better tell cos I can help."

"I'll bear that in mind," Peck responded, still not looking back into the other man's smouldering gaze.

"Hello?" Murdock said. "I am still here, aren't I? Cos there's a whole conversation going on here that I know nothing about! Hello?"

"Shut it, fool!"

"Oh, I am here then!"

"Not for long if my fists get to you." BA looked back at Peck. "Streets are hot, Face. Black man, he ain't happy and he want to cause pain. Black Coyotes is the worst. They don't understand nothing and they don't see anything 'cept the colour of your skin. You're either with 'em or you not. And you not! You hear what I'm saying, Faceman?"

"I hear BA but I don't understand why you're saying it to me."

"Like I say I hear things, Face and I know you; know that mouth of yours can get you into trouble, I know you couldn't keep it shut not for hundred and twenty days in prison - I heard stuff about you and I didn't like it."

"Face, what is he talking about?" Murdock was suddenly serious.

Peck lifted his arms in a gesture of innocence. "I don't know," he said.

"I don't want you hurt, Face." BA said. "You too old to get caught in a race war. Besides I known you long enough to know you're a disrespecting conman with a wise-ass mouth, but your heart is good."

"I don't want to be in a war either! Look BA there's no problem. I don't know what you're hearing but it's wrong. I don't know the Brotherhood of Black Coyotes… honestly!"

BA shook his head unconvinced. "Just remember what I said. And you, fool, look after him!"

Murdock was shaking his head violently, his serious persona slipping away as quickly as it had come. "Hello? Hello? Murdock calling earth. I am phasing in and out. Hello earth, do you read me?" He cocked his head and sticking his finger in his ear, wiggled it about.

"Murdock," Peck said and then more loudly. "Murdock, cut it out."

The pilot sighed with relief. "Am I back? Oh gee, I thought I'd gone for good then – had to think that cos I know you two are my bestest friends and you would never cut me out of a conversation on purpose, not when I was standing right next to you. You would never be so rude! Would you?"

BA growled and Face sighed in exasperation. "Look, there's nothing going on," he said. "Why will nobody trust me?"

BA looked unconvinced but had lived a long time with Peck's half truths and downright lies so he simply shrugged. Murdock pouted. "I just wanted….." he began.

"Enough!" Peck spoke over him. "You guys talk too much!" he said with a wry grin. Not wishing further discussion, he closed his eyes and let the warm relaxation flow through his weary body. Deep inside a little voice told him he should come clean with his friends, he should tell BA the truth but he quietened that voice with the expert skill he had gained from long practice at ignoring his conscience. After the company and the large amount of alcohol he had consumed, he felt a warm, contented feeling seeping over him and he did not want to puncture the soft cocoon in which he imagined himself to be. So he pushed it all away. It could all wait, it would all wait. He just wanted to drift off…

"It's gonna be OK, Face." He heard the familiar tone but it did not cut into his silky reverie instead it lapped at the edges of his awareness. Peck opened his eyes lazily and saw the ghostly vision of the grey haired Colonel. "It's not gonna be long now," Smith continued, the spark in his eyes dancing like the flames of the fire earlier. "I'm gonna bring you home, son."

Peck gulped. He tried to find his voice as he sat forwards. "Hannibal," he croaked and then more loudly. "Hannibal?"

"What?" BA sat up and Murdock stiffened beside him. "Who you talking to, Face?" the big man asked.

As soon as BA's voice uttered the words the apparition before Face blinked out of existence. BA stared at him, eyes wide, demanding an answer.

"You Ok, Face?" Murdock's voice was softer but his eyes were as questioningly wide as his friend's.

Peck gulped again and sat up abruptly. He opened his mouth to speak but hesitated. BA glared at him. "Did you say Hannibal?" he asked.

Peck snorted, looked away from those two wide curious pairs of eyes, away out to the black velvet blanket that was the sea. "I… eh….I.." Words would not come and he licked his lips nervously.

BA shook his head. "You as mad as Murdock!" he said but his tone was soft and supportive. "We all miss him, brother but you got to move on. Make a new life. He would want that."

Peck nodded. "I know BA, sometimes I just… I just miss him so much."

BA sighed. "Time we was all in bed," he said as he climbed to his feet, effortlessly lifting the form of his petite and still sleeping wife in his arms. Peck smirked and Murdock stifled a giggle. "I didn't mean that," BA glowered challengingly. "Not how you two took it anyway!"


The night was hot; the sweat dripping off Peck as he tossed and turned in the bed, suffering a familiar nightmare. The emotion, and the fear, tore at him, racing across tense, tight muscles and pulling him awkwardly out from the oblivion of sleep. It was raw and intense and terrifying, forcing him to feel, petrifying him completely; so he lay on the bed, sweating and motionless, every part of his body imprisoned by his anxiety.

As he came closer to consciousness it was the same old sensation; he had but a vague memory of what he had experienced just seconds before but he knew he had felt it before. He gulped in air violently, and then forced his breaths to come in and out more slowly, pressed the panic and the pain away, concentrating on nothing but control, until he dare move again.

He glanced at Murdock who appeared to be sleeping soundly beside him on the bed. The pilot snored softly and the sight brought Peck a brief rush of relief that he had not disturbed his companion. Lying back into the pillow, Peck tried to remember exactly what he had been dreaming.

He was afraid and he could recall the sense of loss but also of deep desperation. He glanced at the clock. It read 1.18. A strong wave of relief flushed through him at that but he did not understand why. Then it came to him; he had survived! But survived what? From deep in the depths of his subconscious he managed to drag forth the fact that he had believed he was going to die for something. But what? It had all appeared so real in his dream, so obvious but he could only remember his sense of complete certainty, the actual facts remained illusively out of his reach. He snorted, forcing his mind to think. He was going to die at 11 o'clock… there was something he had not done, something he had forgotten and for that he was going to die!

He rolled over and sat up, throwing his legs out of the bed. What the hell did it mean? Why had everything appeared so obvious? What mistake had he made? Who had he misjudged and why couldn't he remember it now?

He hated this all too frequent feeling of his mind running away from him. He wanted to be in control, he wanted to be sure but uncertainty ravaged through him. He sighed. The most frustrating thing of all was that in his dream he recalled that he had accepted his own death as if it was correct, as a punishment for something he had failed to compensate for. He knew he had acknowledged that it was a fitting and deserved conclusion but he could remember no more, hard as he tried. Something he hadn't done, something important…..

"Shit!" he muttered, ignoring the fear that was pooling inside his gut once more, knew it wasn't going to help him.

Three weeks since he had been released from prison and he had tried to put his life back together but the dream was getting worse, becoming more frequent, more intense and more frightening. He had a terrible sense of dread at what was to come and no matter how much Murdock tried to reassure him, he just could not shake it.

"What's up?" Murdock cut into his thoughts, sitting up behind him, gently reaching out to place a supporting hand on Peck's trembling shoulders. He passed across a glass of water, from which Face took a long gulp.

Peck returned the glass, lowered his head to rest in his hands, and his elbows his knees, his hair falling into his eyes. "I got such an overwhelming feeling of doom. Can't shake it, Murdock; something bad is going to happen."

"Bad?"

Peck nodded. "Real bad."

Murdock snorted. "How long have you been having this dream now, Face?"

Peck drew in a long, tired breath. "A year," he guessed.

"And you're still here."

"Yes but…."

"That's what we gotta hold on to, Face. No matter what is around the corner, we're here now and we gotta make the best of it. You can't control your dreams but you can live through them – I know you can. They're just that crazy old mind of yours playing games with you, believe me, I know these things. Now come on back to bed, you are so tired."

Peck yawned and allowed Murdock's unrelenting hands to gently ease him back on to the bed. "It's just a dream, Facey, it can't hurt you; not if you don't let it!"

Murdock began to softly stroke along Peck's chest and arms, his touch surprisingly light and feathered. Peck felt his eyelids becoming incredibly heavy as he gave himself up to the relaxation that oozed from his partner's touch. He was tired, soul shrinkingly tired, and he craved sleep so much. Murdock's hands moved over his clenched, taunt muscles, gently kneading them and the tight tension from deep within was suddenly released. Unintentionally Face let out a deep, long sigh and Murdock smiled.

"Sleep, Faceyman," he whispered and continued his massage until he was sure Peck was in a deep sleep.


It appeared at once to have the steadfastness of the hunter and the slyness of the long sought after quarry. The black figure moved stealthily through the night from one dark shadow to the next, hugging the anonymity, melting into the safe nothingness and then daring to venture furtively forth again, only to take a few steps before being swallowed by the next accumulation of shade.

As unremitting as the waves on the beach, it passed onwards, over the white picket fence, up to the porch, and silently bent to force the lock of the door. Once through the door, it paused, straining to hear any noise but the house and all inside it slept soundlessly; nothing penetrated the slumber.

The figure moved onwards, through the kitchen and along the hall way, up the couple of stairs to stop, gloved hand on door knob, as if drawing in one last gasp of courage. Then it opened the door and moved purposely toward the bed.

The engagingly rumpled figure lay there, lost in the obliviousness of sleep; handsome features peaceful and appearing to be untouched by time, silvering golden hair ruffled on the pillow as he breathed deeply and peacefully; he appeared to all intents and purposes an angel fallen to earth – so serene, so beautiful, so powerless. Templeton Peck slept, ironically for once at peace with the world.

The figure of blackness stood over the bed and then silently lifted its hand menacingly……..

TBC